ot the King's beasts, stripling?" he asked severely.

"I have as much right to shoot them as the King himself," answered the
page haughtily. "How dare you question me?"

The voice stirred Robin strongly. It seemed to chime into his memories
of the old days. He looked at the page sharply, and the other returned
the glance, straight and unafraid.

"Who are you, my lad?" Robin said more civilly.

"No lad of yours, and my name's my own," retorted the other with spirit.

"Softly! Fair and softly, sweet page, or we of the forest will have to
teach you manners!" said Robin.

"Not if _you_ stand for the forest!" cried the page, whipping out his
sword. "Come, draw, and defend yourself!"

He swung his blade valiantly; and Robin saw nothing for it but to draw
likewise. The page thereupon engaged him quite fiercely, and Robin found
that he had many pretty little tricks at fencing.

Nathless, Robin contented himself with parrying, and was loth to exert
all his superior strength upon the lad. So the fight lasted for above a
quarter of an hour, at the end of which time the page was almost spent
and the hot blood flushed his cheeks in a most charming manner.

The outlaw saw his distress, and to end the fight allowed himself to be
pricked slightly on the wrist.

"Are you satisfied, fellow?" asked the page, wincing a little at sight
of the blood.

"Aye, honestly," replied Robin; "and now perhaps you will grant me the
honor of knowing to whom I owe this scratch?"

"I am Richard Partington, page to Her Majesty, Queen Eleanor," answered
the lad with dignity; and again the sound of his voice troubled Robin
sorely.

"Why come you to the greenwood alone, Master Partington?"

The lad considered his answer while wiping his sword with a small lace
kerchief. The action brought a dim confused memory to Robin. The lad
finally looked him again in the eye.

"Forester, whether or no you be a King's man, know that I seek one Robin
Hood, an outlaw, to whom I bring amnesty from the Queen. Can you tell me
aught of him?" And while awaiting his answer, he replaced the kerchief
in his shirt. As he did so, the gleam of a golden trophy caught the
outlaw's eye.

Robin started forward with a joyful cry.

"Ah! I know you now! By the sight of yon golden arrow won at the
Sheriff's tourney, you are she on whom I bestowed it, and none other
than Maid Marian!"

"You--are--?" gasped Marian, for it was she; "not Robin!"

"Robin's self!" said he ga