hands and his clothing, with great
sound of weeping.
After a while Robin looked around him with tear-dimmed eyes and said,
in a husky voice, "Now, I swear that never again will I leave these dear
woodlands. I have been away from them and from you too long. Now do I
lay by the name of Robert, Earl of Huntingdon, and take upon me once
again that nobler title, Robin Hood, the Yeoman." At this a great shout
went up, and all the yeomen shook one another's hands for joy.
The news that Robin Hood had come back again to dwell in Sherwood as
of old spread like wildfire all over the countryside, so that ere a
se'ennight had passed nearly all of his old yeomen had gathered about
him again. But when the news of all this reached the ears of King John,
he swore both loud and deep, and took a solemn vow that he would not
rest until he had Robin Hood in his power, dead or alive. Now there
was present at court a certain knight, Sir William Dale, as gallant a
soldier as ever donned harness. Sir William Dale was well acquainted
with Sherwood Forest, for he was head keeper over that part of it that
lay nigh to good Mansfield Town; so to him the King turned, and bade him
take an army of men and go straightway to seek Robin Hood. Likewise the
King gave Sir William his signet ring to show to the Sheriff, that he
might raise all his armed men to aid the others in their chase of Robin.
So Sir William and the Sheriff set forth to do the King's bidding and to
search for Robin Hood; and for seven days they hunted up and down, yet
found him not.
Now, had Robin Hood been as peaceful as of old, everything might have
ended in smoke, as other such ventures had always done before; but he
had fought for years under King Richard, and was changed from what he
used to be. It galled his pride to thus flee away before those sent
against him, as a chased fox flees from the hounds; so thus it came
about, at last, that Robin Hood and his yeomen met Sir William and the
Sheriff and their men in the forest, and a bloody fight followed. The
first man slain in that fight was the Sheriff of Nottingham, for he fell
from his horse with an arrow in his brain ere half a score of shafts had
been sped. Many a better man than the Sheriff kissed the sod that day,
but at last, Sir William Dale being wounded and most of his men slain,
he withdrew, beaten, and left the forest. But scores of good fellows
were left behind him, stretched out all stiff beneath the sweet green
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