as bid to fashion her a staff such as these palmers carry in their
hands. Then with sandalled feet----"

"Did she go forth from here upon the day of the rioting in Nottingham,
when Stuteley and the others escaped?"

"It was upon the morning of that day," the man replied; "and I promise
you, we have not seen her since."

Robin turned abruptly from him. Next minute he was running blindly under
the night towards the city gates.

* * * * *

The Sheriff's prize had been announced far and wide. For the best archer
there was an Arab horse, coal-black and worth a bag of gold, and with
the horse there would be a saddle of silver and fine leather. Also a
silk purse, worked by the demoiselle Marie, containing a hundred pieces.

There were other rewards for the quarter-staff and single-stick, but
this year there would be no tourney.

It was a fete-day, and folk crowded into Nottingham by all gates. These
had been lowered hospitably and were to remain down all day. The stages
had been erected for quarter-staff.

There was a fellow, one Nat of Nottingham, who was believed to be the
finest player at the game for many miles around. Several had tried their
skill with Nat, but he had soon knocked every man of them off the stage
rudely to the ground. He began boasting then of his prowess, and called
them all cowardly and the like.

A lame beggar who had pushed himself well to the front of the ring about
the stage came in for a share of Nat's abuse. This was a strange-looking
fellow, with very dirty ragged clothes upon him, and a black patch over
one eye. He wore a beard, pointed and untrimmed, and he listened very
calmly to the other's noisy chattering.

"Come up here, you dirty villain; and I'll dust your rags for you,"
cried Nat, flourishing his staff.

"If you will use a shorter staff than this, Master Wind-bag," said the
beggar, quietly, and showing his stick, "I'll take all the beating _you_
can give me."

With scornful laughter Nat accepted this challenge.

The beggar took off his ragged coat and limped painfully on to the
stage.

[Illustration: ROBIN HOOD DEFEATS NAT OF NOTTINGHAM AT QUARTER-STAFF

_The beggar dealt his foe a back-thrust so neatly, so heartily, and so
swiftly that Nat was swept off the stage into the crowd as a fly off a
table._]

They fenced for an opening, both playing well. The beggar, for all
his limp and one eye, had a pretty notion of the sport, but he had th