h Robin
Hood."

The good Bishop of Hereford did not intend to give this villain a single
chance. Were he brought out into the open, he might, by some magic,
contrive an escape. Lying in this hut under the pikes of the Bishop's
men he was safe, and if the worst came to the worst might readily be
slain.

The messenger detached from his escort had not carried the Bishop's
message to the Sheriff very far ere his master would have wished to
change it. In a moment, whilst my lord of Hereford was complacently
gloating over his capture--whilst indeed he was himself peering into the
dark cottage in order to catechise his prisoner--there appeared on the
high road the shabby figure of that very old woman who had innocently
helped to set the trap.

She called out in a strident voice to the soldiers about her dwelling.
"Stand by, lazy rascals," cried she, "stand away from my gates. What are
you doing on my ground?"

"Madam," answered the Bishop, turning round to her, "these are my men,
and I have given them the order to guard this cottage."

"God-a-mercy!" swore the beldame, harshly. "Things have come to a pass
in sooth when our homes may be treated like common jails. Take away this
robber and your fellows from my house on the instant, or I will curse
you all in eating and drinking and sleeping."

"Not so fast, mother," argued the Bishop, smiling easily at her
simulated rage. "All this has been done by my orders, and is therefore
in law."

The old woman clapped her hands impatiently. At the signal the greenwood
men sprang out on all sides of the cottage. The Bishop saw himself and
his men-at-arms trapped; but he determined to make a fight for it. "If
one of you but stir an inch towards me, rascals," he cried, spitefully,
"it shall be to sound the death of your master Robin Hood. My men have
him here under their pikes, and I will command them to kill him
forthwith. Further, he shall be killed an you do not at once disperse."

Then Robin stepped out before his men. He flung off the old crone's cap
which he had worn so cleverly. "Come, kill me, then, lord," he called,
cheerfully. "Here am I, waiting for your pikes and their pokes. Hasten
to make sure business of it, for I am in no gentle humor."

The old woman, who, in the garb of Robin Hood, had been lying silent and
still so long within the cottage, jumped up then quite nimbly. In all
the bald absurdity of her disguise she came to the door of the cottage
and looked forth.