failed in my bidding. I fear me, though, there
is but poor chance of my seeing such a pleasant sight." So saying, he
stretched himself at length upon the ground, that he might not only see
the sport the better, but that he might enjoy the merry sight at his
ease.

As you may have seen two dogs that think to fight, walking slowly round
and round each other, neither cur wishing to begin the combat, so those
two stout yeomen moved slowly around, each watching for a chance to take
the other unaware, and so get in the first blow. At last Little John
struck like a flash, and--"rap!"--the Tanner met the blow and turned it
aside, and then smote back at Little John, who also turned the blow; and
so this mighty battle began. Then up and down and back and forth they
trod, the blows falling so thick and fast that, at a distance, one would
have thought that half a score of men were fighting. Thus they fought
for nigh a half an hour, until the ground was all plowed up with the
digging of their heels, and their breathing grew labored like the ox in
the furrow. But Little John suffered the most, for he had become unused
to such stiff labor, and his joints were not as supple as they had been
before he went to dwell with the Sheriff.

All this time Robin Hood lay beneath the bush, rejoicing at such a
comely bout of quarterstaff. "By my faith!" quoth he to himself, "never
had I thought to see Little John so evenly matched in all my life.
Belike, though, he would have overcome yon fellow before this had he
been in his former trim."

At last Little John saw his chance, and, throwing all the strength he
felt going from him into one blow that might have felled an ox, he
struck at the Tanner with might and main. And now did the Tanner's
cowhide cap stand him in good stead, and but for it he might never have
held staff in hand again. As it was, the blow he caught beside the head
was so shrewd that it sent him staggering across the little glade, so
that, if Little John had had the strength to follow up his vantage, it
would have been ill for stout Arthur. But he regained himself quickly
and, at arm's length, struck back a blow at Little John, and this time
the stroke reached its mark, and down went Little John at full length,
his cudgel flying from his hand as he fell. Then, raising his staff,
stout Arthur dealt him another blow upon the ribs.

"Hold!" roared Little John. "Wouldst thou strike a man when he is
down?"

"Ay, marry would