ce that
you could hear every arrow rap against the target as it struck it. Then,
when the last shaft had sped, a great roar went up; and the shooting, I
wot, was well worthy of the sound. Once again Gilbert had lodged three
arrows in the white; Tepus came second with two in the white and one in
the black ring next to it; but stout Clifton had gone down and Hubert of
Suffolk had taken the third place, for, while both those two good yeomen
had lodged two in the white, Clifton had lost one shot upon the fourth
ring, and Hubert came in with one in the third.

All the archers around Gilbert's booth shouted for joy till their
throats were hoarse, tossing their caps aloft, and shaking hands with
one another.

In the midst of all the noise and hubbub five men came walking across
the lawn toward the King's pavilion. The first was Richard Partington,
and was known to most folk there, but the others were strange to
everybody. Beside young Partington walked a yeoman clad in blue, and
behind came three others, two in Lincoln green and one in scarlet. This
last yeoman carried three stout bows of yew tree, two fancifully inlaid
with silver and one with gold. While these five men came walking across
the meadow, a messenger came running from the King's booth and summoned
Gilbert and Tepus and Hubert to go with him. And now the shouting
quickly ceased, for all saw that something unwonted was toward, so the
folk stood up in their places and leaned forward to see what was the
ado.

When Partington and the others came before the spot where the King and
Queen sat, the four yeomen bent their knees and doffed their caps unto
her. King Henry leaned far forward and stared at them closely, but the
Bishop of Hereford, when he saw their faces, started as though stung by
a wasp. He opened his mouth as though about to speak, but, looking up,
he saw the Queen gazing at him with a smile upon her lips, so he said
nothing, but bit his nether lip, while his face was as red as a cherry.

Then the Queen leaned forward and spake in a clear voice. "Locksley,"
said she, "I have made a wager with the King that thou and two of thy
men can outshoot any three that he can send against you. Wilt thou do
thy best for my sake?"

"Yea," quoth Robin Hood, to whom she spake, "I will do my best for thy
sake, and, if I fail, I make my vow never to finger bowstring more."

Now, although Little John had been somewhat abashed in the Queen's
bower, he felt himself the s