fellow, peering in. "I see him in the
corner by the cupboard. Shall we slay him with our pikes?"

"Nay," said the Bishop, "take him alive if you can. We'll make the
biggest public hanging of this that the shire ever beheld."

But the joy of the Bishop over his capture was short lived. Down the
road came striding the shabby figure of the old woman who had helped him
set the trap; and very wrathy was she when she saw that the cottage door
had been battered in.

"Stand by, you lazy rascals!" she called to the soldiers. "May all the
devils catch ye for hurting an old woman's hut. Stand by, I say!"

"Hold your tongue!" ordered the Bishop. "These are my men and carrying
out my orders."

"God-mercy!" swore the beldame harshly. "Things have come to a pretty
pass when our homes may be treated like common gaols. Couldn't all your
men catch one poor forester without this ado? Come! clear out, you and
your robber, on the instant, or I'll curse every mother's son of ye,
eating and drinking and sleeping!"

"Seize on the hag!" shouted the Bishop, as soon as he could get in a
word. "We'll see about a witch's cursing. Back to town she shall go,
alongside of Robin Hood."

"Not so fast, your worship!" she retorted, clapping her hands.

And at the signal a goodly array of greenwood men sprang forth from all
sides of the cottage, with bows drawn back threateningly. The Bishop saw
that his men were trapped again, for they dared not stir. Nathless, he
determined to make a fight for it.

"If one of you but budge an inch toward me, you rascals," he cried, "it
shall sound the death of your master, Robin Hood! My men have him here
under their pikes, and I shall command them to kill him without mercy."

"Faith, I should like to see the Robin you have caught," said a clear
voice from under the widow's cape; and the outlaw chief stood forth with
bared head, smilingly. "Here am I, my lord, in no wise imperiled by your
men's fierce pikes. So let us see whom you have been guarding so well."

The old woman who, in the garb of Robin Hood, had been lying quiet in
the cottage through all the uproar, jumped up nimbly at this. In the
bald absurdity of her disguise she came to the doorway and bowed to the
Bishop.

"Give you good-den, my lord Bishop," she piped in a shrill voice; "and
what does your Grace at my humble door? Do you come to bless me and give
me alms?"

"Aye, that does he," answered Robin. "We shall see if his saddle-bags
contain