"I said that I had lived about these parts all my life and I never heard that he did a poor man any harm. Then he laughed, and all his people laughed too, and he said I was a merry fellow. 'Give him plenty to eat and drink,' he said, 'for two or three days, and then send him on his way.' Yes, Master Sheriff, that he did, and a fine jolly time I had. Why, I almost felt as if I should like to stay altogether."
And all this time the Sheriff was watching the man very keenly, and suddenly he caught him by the arm.
[Illustration: The Sheriff was watching the man very keenly, and suddenly caught him by the arm.]
"Speak out," he said; "you did not come to tell me only that. What is it you are keeping back? Why don't you speak?"
"Because, master," said the man softly, "I was afraid you couldn't bear it, for I was a father once and my son died, and though you never knew me, I knew you, and was sorry when the news came that your little boy was killed. Can you bear to hear good news as well as bad?"
The Sheriff was silent for a few minutes, during which he closed his eyes and his lips moved, and he looked so strange that Robin's aunt crossed the room to where he sat, and took hold of his hand, as she whispered loving words.
"Yes, yes," he said softly, "I can bear it now. Speak, pray speak, and tell me all."
"But you will not be angry with me if I am wrong, Master Sheriff?"
"No, no," said Robin's father; "speak out at once."
"Well, Master Sheriff, no one would tell me when I asked questions, but there's a little fellow there, dressed all in Lincoln green, like one of Robin Hood's fighting men, with his sword and bugle, and bow and arrows, and somehow I began to think, and then I began to ask, whether he was Robin Hood's son; but those I asked only shook their heads.