as one quite demented, and Robin
interposed.

"Let us not punish the man for his master's fault, Will," cried he.
"Deal with him only on the score of my quarrel with him, when I shall
say--let him go. For I should always feel shame were we to be as harsh
with an enemy as he would be with us. It would show us no better then
he."

"Take him then, since Locksley will have it so, and tie his legs under
the belly of his horse--first setting him face to tail upon it," said
Will. "And you, Hal, go and cut me the antlers from off yon poor beast."

When this was done he caused his men to attach the horns by means of a
cord to Master Carfax's head; then, with his own hand, Will gave the
horse a lead towards Nottingham.

Then, with a "view halloo," the steed bearing the unfortunate man was
started in real earnest; and the foresters sent staggering by after it
along the road to Nottingham.

When they were out of sight, Robin thanked the outlaw again for all
that he had done for them. Will merely shrugged his shoulders, as one
who would say: "'Tis a matter not worth breath"; and, giving his men a
signal, prepared to return to his own fastnesses. Robin begged them to
take the body of the deer, and, with small reluctance, the outlaws
accepted the offer.

The Lincoln men bade Robin farewell also, saying that they would now go
on towards their own homes with a light heart: for, having met the
outlaws and found them most agreeable company, they had no more fear of
Sherwood.

So Robin and little Stuteley, waving farewell to all these strange
friends, moved on towards Gamewell, although Robin really had little
hope now of coming by the Prince's grace into what seemed to be but his
rights. The Sheriff and Simeon Carfax would attend to that, no doubt.

A curious dejection settled upon Robin. He had nothing but gloomy
thoughts upon him as he trudged towards the Squire's domain. Nor did his
spirits rise at his reception by old Gamewell. The Squire appeared
almost uneasy with him; and was short in his speech, although once or
twice a kindlier light flashed in his bright eyes.

"Already he regrets that he should have pressed me to take up the
Montfichet name," thought Robin to himself, imagining that herein was
the cause of the Squire's distemper.

He began to tell Montfichet of their doings and adventures: but had no
sooner come to that part of the narrative referring to the Prince's
purse than the Squire broke out: "Talk not to m