are with us. Ho, lads! Set up a garland at the end
of the glade."

Then, as the yeomen ran to do their master's bidding, Tuck turned to one
of the mock friars. "Hearest thou our master?" quoth he, with a sly
wink. "Whenever he cometh across some poor piece of wit he straightway
layeth it on the shoulders of this Gaffer Swanthold--whoever he may be--
so that the poor goodman goeth traveling about with all the odds and
ends and tags and rags of our master's brain packed on his back." Thus
spake Friar Tuck, but in a low voice so that Robin could not hear him,
for he felt somewhat nettled at Robin's cutting his talk so short.

In the meantime the mark at which they were to shoot was set up at
sixscore paces distance. It was a garland of leaves and flowers two
spans in width, which same was hung upon a stake in front of a broad
tree trunk. "There," quoth Robin, "yon is a fair mark, lads. Each of
you shoot three arrows thereat; and if any fellow misseth by so much as
one arrow, he shall have a buffet of Will Scarlet's fist."

"Hearken to him!" quoth Friar Tuck. "Why, master, thou dost bestow
buffets from thy strapping nephew as though they were love taps from
some bouncing lass. I warrant thou art safe to hit the garland thyself,
or thou wouldst not be so free of his cuffing."

First David of Doncaster shot, and lodged all three of his arrows within
the garland. "Well done, David!" cried Robin, "thou hast saved thine
ears from a warming this day." Next Midge, the Miller, shot, and he,
also, lodged his arrows in the garland. Then followed Wat, the Tinker,
but alas for him! For one of his shafts missed the mark by the breadth
of two fingers.

"Come hither, fellow," said Will Scarlet, in his soft, gentle voice, "I
owe thee somewhat that I would pay forthwith." Then Wat, the Tinker,
came forward and stood in front of Will Scarlet, screwing up his face
and shutting his eyes tightly, as though he already felt his ears
ringing with the buffet. Will Scarlet rolled up his sleeve, and,
standing on tiptoe to give the greater swing to his arm, he struck with
might and main. "WHOOF!" came his palm against the Tinker's head, and
down went stout Wat to the grass, heels over head, as the wooden image
at the fair goes down when the skillful player throws a cudgel at it.
Then, as the Tinker sat up upon the grass, rubbing his ear and winking
and blinking at the bright stars that danced before his eyes, the yeomen
roared with mirth