shall you tell of a good yeoman,
His name was Robin Hood.

Robin was a proud outlaw,
While as he walked on the ground.
So courteous an outlaw as he was one
Was never none else found.

In the days of good King Harry the Second of England--he of the warring
sons--there were certain forests in the north country set aside for the
King's hunting, and no man might shoot deer therein under penalty of
death. These forests were guarded by the King's Foresters, the chief
of whom, in each wood, was no mean man but equal in authority to the
Sheriff in his walled town, or even to my lord Bishop in his abbey.

One of the greatest of royal preserves was Sherwood and Barnesdale
forests near the two towns of Nottingham and Barnesdale. Here for some
years dwelt one Hugh Fitzooth as Head Forester, with his good wife and
son Robert. The boy had been born in Lockesley town--in the year 1160,
stern records say--and was often called Lockesley, or Rob of Lockesley.
He was a comely, well-knit stripling, and as soon as he was strong
enough to walk his chief delight was to go with his father into the
forest. As soon as his right arm received thew and sinew he learned to
draw the long bow and speed a true arrow. While on winter evenings his
greatest joy was to hear his father tell of bold Will o' the Green, the
outlaw, who for many summers defied the King's Foresters and feasted
with his men upon King's deer. And on other stormy days the boy learned
to whittle out a straight shaft for the long bow, and tip it with gray
goose feathers.

The fond mother sighed when she saw the boy's face light up at these
woodland tales. She was of gentle birth, and had hoped to see her son
famous at court or abbey. She taught him to read and to write, to doff
his cap without awkwardness and to answer directly and truthfully both
lord and peasant. But the boy, although he took kindly to these lessons
of breeding, was yet happiest when he had his beloved bow in hand and
strolled at will, listening to the murmur of the trees.

Two playmates had Rob in these gladsome early days. One was Will
Gamewell, his father's brother's son, who lived at Gamewell Lodge, hard
by Nottingham town. The other was Marian Fitzwalter, only child of the
Earl of Huntingdon. The castle of Huntingdon could be seen from the top
of one of the tall trees in Sherwood; and on more than one bright day
Rob's white signal from this tree told Marian that he awaited her t