enison and quaff the stoutest ale, and mine own good right-hand
man shalt thou be, for never did I see such a cudgel player in all my
life before. Speak! Wilt thou be one of my good merry men?"

"That know I not," quoth the stranger surlily, for he was angry at being
so tumbled about. "If ye handle yew bow and apple shaft no better than
ye do oaken cudgel, I wot ye are not fit to be called yeomen in my
country; but if there be any man here that can shoot a better shaft than
I, then will I bethink me of joining with you."

"Now by my faith," said Robin, "thou art a right saucy varlet, sirrah;
yet I will stoop to thee as I never stooped to man before. Good Stutely,
cut thou a fair white piece of bark four fingers in breadth, and set it
fourscore yards distant on yonder oak. Now, stranger, hit that fairly
with a gray goose shaft and call thyself an archer."

"Ay, marry, that will I," answered he. "Give me a good stout bow and a
fair broad arrow, and if I hit it not, strip me and beat me blue with
bowstrings."

Then he chose the stoutest bow among them all, next to Robin's own, and
a straight gray goose shaft, well-feathered and smooth, and stepping to
the mark--while all the band, sitting or lying upon the greensward,
watched to see him shoot--he drew the arrow to his cheek and loosed the
shaft right deftly, sending it so straight down the path that it clove
the mark in the very center. "Aha!" cried he, "mend thou that if thou
canst"; while even the yeomen clapped their hands at so fair a shot.

"That is a keen shot indeed," quoth Robin. "Mend it I cannot, but mar
it I may, perhaps."

Then taking up his own good stout bow and nocking an arrow with care, he
shot with his very greatest skill. Straight flew the arrow, and so true
that it lit fairly upon the stranger's shaft and split it into
splinters. Then all the yeomen leaped to their feet and shouted for joy
that their master had shot so well.

"Now by the lusty yew bow of good Saint Withold," cried the stranger,
"that is a shot indeed, and never saw I the like in all my life before!
Now truly will I be thy man henceforth and for aye. Good Adam Bell[1]
was a fair shot, but never shot he so!"

[1] Adam Bell, Clym o' the Clough, and William of Cloudesly were three
noted north-country bowmen whose names have been celebrated in many
ballads of the olden time.

"Then have I gained a right good man this day," quoth jolly Robin.
"What name goest thou by, g