last arrow out through the window, far away
into the deep green of trees

ROBIN HOOD AND HIS ADVENTURES

CHAPTER I

"Well, Robin, on what folly do you employ yourself? Do you cut sticks
for our fire o' mornings?" Thus spoke Master Hugh Fitzooth, King's
Ranger of the Forest at Locksley, as he entered his house.

Robin flushed a little. "These are arrows, sir," he announced, holding
one up for inspection.

Dame Fitzooth smiled upon the boy as she rose to meet her lord. "What
fortune do you bring us to-day, father?" asked she, cheerily.

Fitzooth's face was a mask of discontent. "I bring myself, dame,"
answered he, "neither more nor less."

"Surely that is enough for Robin and me!" laughed his wife. "Come, cast
off your shoes, and give me your bow and quiver. I have news for you,
Hugh, even if you have none for us. George of Gamewell has sent his
messenger to-day, and bids me bring Robin to him for the Fair." She
hesitated to give the whole truth.

"That cannot be," began the Ranger, hastily; then checked himself. "What
wind is it that blows our Squire's friendship toward me, I wonder?" he
went on. "Do we owe him toll?"

"You are not fair to George Montfichet, Hugh--he is an open, honest
man, and he is my brother." The dame spoke with spirit, being vexed that
her husband should thus slight her item of news. "That Montfichet is of
Norman blood is sufficient to turn your thoughts of him as sour as old
milk----"

"I am as good as all the Montfichets and De Veres hereabout, dame, for
all I am but plain Saxon," returned Fitzooth, crossly, "and the day may
come when they shall know it. Athelstane the Saxon might make full as
good a King, when Henry dies, as Richard of Acquitaine, with his
harebrained notions and runagate religion. There would be bobbing of
heads and curtseying to us then, if you like. Squire George of Gamewell
would be sending messengers for me cap in hand--doubt it not."

"For that matter, there is ready welcome for you now at my brother's
house," said Mistress Fitzooth, repenting of her sharpness at once.
"Montfichet bade us _all_ to Gamewell; but here is his scroll, and you
may read it for yourself." She took a scroll from her bosom as she spoke
and offered it to her husband.

He returned to the open door that he might read it. His brow puckered
itself as he strove to decipher the flourished Norman writing. "I have
no leisure now for this screed, mother; read it to me later,