"Catch him by the middle," he shouted. "Now you have him, lording, fairly. Throw him prettily!" And sure enough Stuteley came down.
"Does Master Gamewell play at archery here, Warrenton?" Robin asked, presently, when he and Will were tired of wrestling. "Are they not targets that I see yonder?"
The old man's eye lit up with pride. "Squire's as pretty a marksman as any in Nottingham, lording, for all his years!" cried he. "And old Warrenton it was who taught him. Yon target is a fair mark for any shaft from where we stand. Yet I dare swear that Gamewell's lord would never miss the bull in fifty shots at it!"
"Have you bow and quiver here?" inquired Robin, eagerly. "Mine I have left in my room."
"Cross bow, longbow, or what you will, most noble. All that Gamewell has I am to give you. Such were my master's commands. An your esquire will run to the little hut near by, within the trees, he will find all that we need."
"Go, Will. Haste you, and bring me a proper bow," cried Robin, with sparkling eyes. "Now I'll bend the yew and see if I cannot do better than in Sherwood."
Master Stuteley, having journeyed to the hut, peeped in and started back with a cry of affright.
"The Yellow Woman, Robin!" called he, scampering back to them. "She is in there, and did snatch at me! Let us run, quickly!"
"Beshrew me, master, but this is an adventure, for sure! The Yellow One, was it? Then your days are numbered, and we had better be seeking a new esquire," said Warrenton.
"Are you afraid, Warrenton?" said Robin, moving involuntarily nearer to him. He glanced from one to the other, undecided whether to believe Will or stand and laugh at his fears.