Twigs snapped sharply beneath the combatants' feet as they pushed one another to and fro in determined efforts to bring about a fall. But with Arkness and Flenton there rested all the moral advantage that comes of fighting in the presence of friends, and slowly but surely the tide of battle turned in their favour.
"You've got him this time, Robin!" somebody shouted. "His back's bending; he'll be down in a second."
Osbody made a last gallant effort to prove that this prophecy was all wrong, and managed to spin out the struggle half a minute longer. Then over he went with Robin on top of him, and almost simultaneously Little John succeeded in putting Grain flat on his back.
"Hurrah!" cried the Merry Men, rushing to the spot to relieve Robin and Little John of the custody of the vanquished Squirms.
"By Jove, that was a tough job," Robin panted. Then, remembering the part it was his delight to play, he continued:
"Chins up, foemen, for I would have speech with ye. Little did ye guess, when ye talked of burning the matting and letting the blame fall on me and my Merry Men, that beneath it I and they lay snugly hidden, ready to pounce out upon ye, and drub ye soundly for such villainous behaviour."
"Villain yourself!" snapped Osbody. "Who pretended to go footballing, and sneaked round here instead? You and your dirty dogs of Men!"
"Bandy not such words with me, caitiff, or it shall go hard with thee and thy crawling Squirms. Fair as the day was the trick we played on ye—a stratagem to draw ye to the Forest, whither ye would have been too chicken-hearted to venture had ye thought to meet us there. Yet ye and Grain have fought a good fight to-day, and I am minded to treat ye well."
"I don't want any of your favours," said Osbody, sulkily.
"I will give thee the chance, nevertheless," said Robin. "Tell me the names of those who put out our fire with garden-syringes, and all but choked us into the bargain."