etly, and passed the rest of them
into Nottingham. Midge and the palmer came last of all. "Now spread
yourselves about into groups of twos and threes," said Robin, "and have
your swords ready when you hear my horn. Little John, prithee draw the
bridge again, so that none may suspect us; but leave the winch loose,
for we may have to use it hastily. Go you first, and Heaven speed thee."

Will Stuteley at length came out of the castle surrounded by the
Sheriff's guards; and behind him walked dejectedly the widow's three
sons. Poor Will looked ghastly pale, and marks of the torturings showed
upon his skin. His face was drawn and lined with anguish.

Monceux was there, dressed out in his best; and was blowing out his fat
cheeks in vast self-importance. Beside the Sheriff was Master Carfax,
lean-faced as ever. They were mounted on white horses; and behind them
were two score of archers and pikemen.

Stuteley, seeing that no help appeared at hand, asked, in a weak voice,
that he might have words with the Sheriff.

Monceux went up to him and bade him speak out.

Stuteley said, in a sad tone: "Sheriff, seeing that I must die to-day,
grant me this one boon, that I may not be hanged upon a gallows-tree,
but rather that I die with my sword in my hand, fighting you and all
your men to the last."

The Sheriff laughed coarsely: "Not so, my man; you shall die instead a
shameful death, and after you your master, Robin Hood, that false
butcher, so soon as I have him fast."

"That you will never do," answered Stuteley, with prophecy, in his weak
voice. "But unbind my hands, Sheriff, for your soul's sake, and let me
meet my end valiantly."

"To the gallows with him!" roared Monceux, giving the sign to the
executioner; and Stuteley was hustled into the rude cart which was to
bear him under the gallows until his neck had been leashed. Then it
would be drawn roughly away and the unhappy man would swing out over
the tail of it into another world.

Two fellows had great knives with them ready to cut him down, and
quarter his body whilst life was in it, as the cruel sentence had
ordained.

"Let me, at the least, shrive this man's soul ere it be hurled into
eternity," said the palmer, stepping forward.

Monceux's face grew black with rage; and yet he scarcely liked to
refuse, for fear it should injure him too much in the eyes of the
people. "Perform the duty quickly then, Sir Priest," he snarled; and
then rode back to Carfax. "Watch