y cared not a whit whether Little John were hanged or not, they hated
to see him butchered in cold blood. But the Sheriff called to them in
a loud voice, ordering them to take the yeoman down from the horse and
lean him against the tree, as the other bade.

While they were doing this Robin Hood strung both his bow and that of
Guy of Gisbourne, albeit none of them took notice of his doing so. Then,
when Little John stood against the tree, he drew Guy of Gisbourne's
sharp, double-edged dagger. "Fall back! fall back!" cried he. "Would
ye crowd so on my pleasure, ye unmannerly knaves? Back, I say! Farther
yet!" So they crowded back, as he ordered, many of them turning their
faces away, that they might not see what was about to happen.

"Come!" cried Little John. "Here is my breast. It is meet that the same
hand that slew my dear master should butcher me also! I know thee, Guy
of Gisbourne!"

"Peace, Little John!" said Robin in a low voice. "Twice thou hast said
thou knowest me, and yet thou knowest me not at all. Couldst thou not
tell me beneath this wild beast's hide? Yonder, just in front of thee,
lie my bow and arrows, likewise my broadsword. Take them when I cut thy
bonds. Now! Get them quickly!" So saying, he cut the bonds, and Little
John, quick as a wink, leaped forward and caught up the bow and arrows
and the broadsword. At the same time Robin Hood threw back the cowl of
horse's hide from his face and bent Guy of Gisbourne's bow, with a keen,
barbed arrow fitted to the string. "Stand back!" cried he sternly. "The
first man that toucheth finger to bowstring dieth! I have slain thy
man, Sheriff; take heed that it is not thy turn next." Then, seeing that
Little John had armed himself, he clapped his bugle horn to his lips and
blew three blasts both loud and shrill.

Now when the Sheriff of Nottingham saw whose face it was beneath Guy of
Gisbourne's hood, and when he heard those bugle notes ring in his ear,
he felt as if his hour had come. "Robin Hood!" roared he, and without
another word he wheeled his horse in the road and went off in a cloud of
dust. The Sheriff's men, seeing their master thus fleeing for his life,
thought that it was not their business to tarry longer, so, clapping
spurs to their horses, they also dashed away after him. But though
the Sheriff of Nottingham went fast, he could not outstrip a clothyard
arrow. Little John twanged his bowstring with a shout, and when the
Sheriff dashed in through the