At length he succeeded in pricking Robin on the cheek.
"Hast enough, fellow?"
"A rest would be welcome," admitted Robin, with a laugh.
They called a truce and sat down side by side beneath a tree. The stranger eyed Robin thoughtfully; and Robin glanced back at him, with his suspicions slowly growing to certainty. Presently:
"You are he whom they call Robin Hood, I take it," said the stranger, "although I do not know you by such a strange name."
"It is my own name," replied the outlaw, "and I am proud of it. Are you not Geoffrey of Gamewell?"
"That was my name, cousin, even as yours was once Robin Fitzooth, but now I call myself Will Scarlett. 'Tis a whimsey; but since Geoffrey Montfichet has a bigger price on his head than I can afford to pay, why, I have buried him under a prettier name! But tell me why you are dressed so plainly. On my life, I did not know you when first we met."
"A man should have clothes to suit his work, cousin," argued Robin. "And 'tis a wonder to me that you should have been able to kill yon stag with such a wild color upon you. Howbeit, thy arrow was shrewd enough, and I'll say no more than to tell how well pleased I am to have fallen in with you again. Here's my hand in all true affection, cousin Scarlett."
"And mine, cousin Hood."
They carried the stag between them to Barnesdale; and Robin learned that his cousin had a letter with him for Marian. When Robin heard who had given it to Will Scarlett his suspicions were immediately awakened.