tes
had been attained. Then the soldiers and pikemen grew very valiant, and
shot out clouds of arrows, through the loopholes in the castle towers,
upon townsmen and rioters alike.

Half a score of men were killed ere this day was ended, amongst them
being that very apprentice who had wrestled on the day of Nottingham
Fair with little Stuteley, the tumbler, for Squire o' th' Hall's purse.
Robin had an arrow through his hand, and nigh broke the shaft in pulling
it out.

The greenwood men, well satisfied with the day's work, commenced an
orderly retreat. Little John lowered the bridge for them, when they
reached the city gates, and all fell back into Sherwood in good style.
Stuteley had been rescued, and walked joyfully by the side of his
master. Next to him was Little John, and near him the widow's three
sons. They had already asked for and obtained permission to take up a
free life in the woods of Sherwood.

Two of the band had been killed by the murderous arrows of the Sheriff's
fellows, and most of the outlaws bore wounds of some sort. Yet they were
not cast down. Sorrow sat upon them for the loss of those two brave
hearts, but for their own hurts they cared naught. The bodies of their
comrades were being carried with them into the free and happy woods, and
there should find rest.

"Tell me, Midge," said Robin, presently, and looking round for him,
"what did become of the palmer who was so wishing to be of service to
our Stuteley? He seemed a likeable old man, and I would not that we
should seem ungrateful."

"I much fear me that Monceux's fellows did capture him, the same who
bore off thee, Will," said Midge. "But they will scarcely do him hurt,
being a holy man."

"I have no trust in either of them," Robin answered, vexed, "and I am
grievously angry with you, Midge, for keeping this news to yourself.
The palmer must be recovered from Monceux, and at once. I will bethink
me upon some plan to this end."

They walked on in silence. After a while, "I ne'er thought, master,"
said Stuteley, brokenly, "that I should see these woods again--nor meet
Little John, either in quarrel or in friendship, nor see any of your
dear faces again."

"By my crown, which is the hardest part of me," Little John cried, "I
swear that in future you shall meet me how you will, gossip. Here's my
hand on it."

Thus began the great friendship between these two, which was to last
them all their days. Robin was glad enough of it; but the