“‘Go back,’ cried he to Robin Hood, ‘or ’twill be the worse for thee.’
“‘Ha! ha!’ laughed Robin, ‘surely thou jestest, man. Were I to bend this good bow of mine I could send an arrow through thy heart before thou could’st even strike;’ and stepping back a pace or two he drew a shaft from his quiver and fixed it ready to shoot.
“‘Thou talk’st like a coward,’ replied the stranger; ‘with a long bow drawn against one who has but an oaken staff.’
“‘I am no coward,’ answered Robin Hood, ‘and that thou shalt see. Stay on the bridge awhile. I’ll be with thee again in the twinkling of an arrow.’ And laying aside his bow he ran back along the plank, plunged into a thicket close at hand, and quickly returned bearing a good oak branch.
“‘Now,’ cried he to the traveller, ‘now we are equally matched; let’s fight out our quarrel on the bridge; whoever throws the other into the water shall win the day, and so we’ll part.’
“‘With all my heart,’ replied the stranger, ‘for go back I will not;’ and without a word farther he bestowed such a thwack on the head of Robin Hood that his teeth chattered together.
“‘Thou shalt have as good as thou giv’st,’ cried Robin, and laid such a blow on the shoulder of his opponent that every bone in his body rung again. At it they then went in right earnest, and thick and fast rattled the staves upon their heads and backs, appearing like men threshing corn. Getting more enraged at every stroke, they laid about each other with so much fury that their jackets smoked as if they had been on fire; but at last the stranger gave Robin Hood a blow upon the side of his head that made him stagger, and losing his balance the outlaw tumbled into the brook.
“‘Where art thou now, my fine fellow?’ cried the victorious stranger, laughing.
“‘Good faith,’ replied Robin Hood, ‘I’m in the water, and floating bravely with the tide. But thou art a bold yeoman I needs must say, and I’ll fight no more with thee. Thou hast got the day and there’s an end of our battle.’ Then wading to the bank he caught hold of a projecting branch of a tree, pulled himself out of the brook, and setting his bugle to his lips blew three such loud and lusty blasts that the woods and valleys echoed and re-echoed them, till they reached the ears of his merry bowmen. In a few minutes they all appeared dressed in their bright green coats, and ranged themselves round Robin Hood, who was lying on the grass to rest his bruised limbs.
“‘Good master,’ cried one of them, named Will Stutely, ‘what wantest thou with thy merry men? Hast thou fallen into the brook?’