e ferns until he came to the edge of the brook; then, covered by the
noise of the falling water, essayed to creep up the course of the
stream.

The distance from the road could scarcely have been two hundred ells,
but it seemed to Robin more like to a league. He got his feet and legs
wet and bemired; and cut his hands over the rocks about the brook. Yet
he came nearer and nearer still to the roadway without having given
alarm.

Robin saw at length the close turf which bordered the road, and spied
his little grey horse. Forthwith he rose to his feet and made a bold
dash for it.

The jennet was untethered and Robin upon its back in a flash; then the
lad heard the whizz of an arrow past him. He bent his head down close to
the neck of his jennet and whispered a word into its ear. The little
mare, shaking herself suddenly to a gallop, understood; and now began a
race between bow and beast.

These outlaws were no common archers, for sure. Twice did their shafts
skim narrowly by Robin and his flying steed; the third time a sudden
pricking told the youth that he was struck in the back.

He had no time for thought of pain. Everything depended on the beast
under him. He pressed his legs softly but firmly against her streaming
sides.

She was more swift in the end than the cruel arrows. Robin saw the
countryside flashing by him through a cloud of dust; saw that Nottingham
gate was reached; that a party with surprised faces watched his furious
approach. The little mare swayed and rolled as she went, and Robin came
to the ground, with the outlaw's arrow still in him. He was conscious
that someone ran to him and lifted him tenderly: he perceived dimly,
through circling blackness, the anxious face of Stuteley.

"Are you hurt, dear master?" he seemed to see, rather than hear, him
say.

Then Stuteley, Nottingham, and reason fled swiftly together, and the day
became as night.

CHAPTER VIII

When he recovered himself Robin found them binding his shoulder. He
smiled up at Warrenton to show that the hurt was little. "Are we too
late for the joustings, Will?" he murmured, spying out Stuteley's face
of concern.

"We are to bring back the golden arrow with us which the Sheriff has
offered as prize to the best marksman," answered Warrenton, before the
other could speak. "Now, you are to remember all that I have shown you,
and shoot in confidence. Now come: the gates of Nottingham are opened,
and your wound is neatly band