your father's stead,
who shall then say you nay?"

"My father does not shoot the King's deer, except those past their
time," answered Robin, quickly. "He tends them, and slays instead any
robbers who would maltreat or kill the does. Do you think I could hit
yon beast, father? He makes a pretty mark, and my arrow would but prick
him?"

[Illustration: ROBIN AND HIS MOTHER GO TO NOTTINGHAM FAIR

_The road wound in and about the forest, and at noon they came to a part
where the trees nigh shut out the sky._]

The clerk glanced toward Mistress Fitzooth. "Dame," said he, gravely,
"do you not think that here, in this cool shadow, we might well stay our
travelling? Surely it is near the hour of noon? And," here he sank his
voice to a sly whisper, "it would be well perhaps to let this temptation
pass away from before our Robin! Else, I doubt not, the King will be one
stag the less in Sherwood."

"I like not this dark road, father," began the dame. "We shall surely
come to a brighter place. Robin, do you ride near to me, and let your
bow be at rest. Warrenton, your uncle's man, told me but yesterday----"

Her voice was suddenly drowned in the noise of a horn, wound so shrilly
and distantly as to cause them all to start. Then, in a moment, half a
score of lusty rascals appeared, springing out of the earth almost. The
men-at-arms were seized, and the little cavalcade brought to a rude
halt.

"Toll, toll!" called out the leader. "Toll must you pay, everyone, ere
your journey be continued!"

"Forbear," cried Robin, waving his dagger so soon as the man made
attempt to take his mother's jennet by the bridle. "Tell me the toll,
and the reason for it; and be more mannerly."

The man just then spied that great stag which Robin had longed to shoot,
bounding away to the left of them. Swiftly he slipped an arrow across
his longbow and winged it after the flying beast.

"A miss, an easy miss!" called Robin, impatiently. Dropping his dagger,
he snatched an arrow from his quiver, fitted it to his bow and sent it
speeding towards the stag. "Had I but aimed sooner!" murmured Robin,
regretfully, when his arrow failed by a yard to reach its quarry; and
the clerk held up his hands in pious horror of his words.

"The shot was a long one, young master," spoke the robber, and he
stooped to pick up Robin's little weapon. "Here is your bodkin--'tis no
fault of yours that the arrow was not true."

They all laughed right merrily; but Robin