over then that he was but a
yeoman, and not him whom they sought.

"I did hear my master's horn, mother," cried Little John, when the
Prioress had opened the wicket to them. "Three blasts it gave."

[Illustration: THE PASSING OF ROBIN HOOD

_Leaning heavily against Little John's sobbing breast, Robin Hood flew
his last arrow out through the window, far away into the deep green of
trees._]

"'Twas the wind in the trees," said she, serenely. "He sleeps." She
prepared to close the wicket quietly. "Disturb him not."

But Little John was alarmed and began to fear a trap. With his sword he
hewed and hacked at the stout oak door, whilst Stuteley sought to prise
it open.

When it yielded they rushed in upon a sorry scene. Robin lay by the
window in a pool of blood, his face very white.

"A boon, a boon!" cried Little John, with the tears streaming from his
eyes. "Let me slay this wretch and burn her body in the ruins of this
place."

His master answered him with a voice from the grave: "'Twas always my
part never to hurt a woman, John. I will not let you do so now. Look to
my wishes, both of you. Marian's grave--it is to be kept well and
honorably. And my two sons--but Geoffrey will care for them. For me,
dear hearts, bury me near by, in some quiet grave. I could not bear
another journey."

They sought to lift him up. "Give me my bow," said Robin, suddenly, "and
a good true shaft." He took them from Stuteley's shaking hands, and,
leaning heavily against Little John's sobbing breast, Robin Hood flew
his last arrow out through the window, far away into the deep green of
the trees.

A swift remembrance lit up the dying man's face. "Ah, well," he cried,
"Will o' th' Green--you knew! Marian, my heart ... and that day when
first we met, beside the fallen deer! And she is gone, and my last arrow
is flown.... It is the end, Will----" He fell back into Little John's
arms. "Bury me, gossips," he murmured, faintly, "where my arrow hath
fallen. There lay a green sod under my head and another beneath my feet,
and let my bow be at my side."

His voice became presently silent, as though something had snapped
within him. His head dropped gently upon Little John's shoulder.

"He sleeps," whispered Stuteley, again and again, trying to make himself
believe it was so. "He is asleep, Little John--let us lay him quietly
upon his bed."

So died Robin Fitzooth, first Earl of Huntingdon, under treacherous
hands. Near by Kirklees Abbey