ford had been so deeply smitten in his pride, that he
had lost no time in summoning a considerable body of the Sheriff's men,
offering to double the reward if Robin Hood could be come upon. This
company was now at his heels, and after the first shock of mutual
surprise, the Bishop gave an exultant shout and spurred upon the outlaw.

It was too late for Robin to retreat by the way he had come, but quick
as a flash he sprang to one side of the road, dodged under some bushes,
and disappeared so suddenly that his pursuers thought he had truly been
swallowed up by magic.

"After him!" yelled the Bishop; "some of you beat up the woods around
him, while the rest of us will keep on the main road and head him off on
the other side!"

For, truth to tell, the Bishop did not care to trust his bones away from
the highroad.

About a mile away, on the other side of this neck of woods, wherein
Robin had been trapped, was a little tumbledown cottage. 'Twas where
the widow lived, whose three sons had been rescued. Robin remembered the
cottage and saw his one chance to escape.

Doubling in and out among the underbrush and heather with the agility
of a hare, he soon came out of the wood in the rear of the cottage, and
thrust his head through a tiny window.

The widow, who had been at her spinning wheel, rose up with a cry of
alarm.

"Quiet, good mother! 'Tis I, Robin Hood. Where are your three sons?"

"They should be with you, Robin. Well do you know that. Do they not owe
their lives to you?"

"If that be so, I come to seek payment of the debt," said Robin in a
breath. "The Bishop is on my heels with many of his men."

"I'll cheat the Bishop and all!" cried the woman quickly. "Here, Robin,
change your raiment with me, and we will see if my lord knows an old
woman when he sees her."

"Good!" said Robin. "Pass your gray cloak out the window, and also your
spindle and twine; and I will give you my green mantle and everything
else down to my bow and arrows."

While they were talking, Robin had been nimbly changing clothes with the
old woman, through the window, and in a jiffy he stood forth complete,
even to the spindle and twine.

Presently up dashed the Bishop and his men, and, at sight of the
cottage and the old woman, gave pause. The crone was hobbling along with
difficulty, leaning heavily upon a gnarled stick and bearing the spindle
on her other arm. She would have gone by the Bishop's company, while
muttering to herself