er in this shire. I am only sorry that we let them
have the golden arrow."

As he spoke a missive sped through a window and fell clattering upon his
plate, causing him to spring back in alarm.

It was the golden arrow, and on its feathered shaft was sewed a little
note which read:

"This from one who will take no gifts from liars; and who henceforth
will show no mercy. Look well to yourself. R.H."

CHAPTER XX

HOW WILL STUTELY WAS RESCUED

Forth of the greenwood are they gone,
Yea, all courageously,
Resolving to bring Stutely home,
Or every man to die.

The next day dawned bright and sunny. The whole face of nature seemed
gay as if in despite of the tragedy which was soon to take place in the
walls of Nottingham town. The gates were not opened upon this day, for
the Sheriff was determined to carry through the hanging of Will Stutely
undisturbed. No man, therefore, was to be allowed entrance from without,
all that morning and until after the fatal hour of noon, when Will's
soul was to be launched into eternity.

Early in the day Robin had drawn his men to a point, as near as he
dared, in the wood where he could watch the road leading to the East
gate. He himself was clad in a bright scarlet dress, while his men, a
goodly array, wore their suits of sober Lincoln green. They were armed
with broadswords, and 'each man carried his bow and a full quiver of new
arrows, straightened and sharpened cunningly by Middle, the tinker. Over
their greenwood dress, each man had thrown a rough mantle, making him
look not unlike a friar.

"I hold it good, comrades," then said Robin Hood, "to tarry here in
hiding for a season while we sent some one forth to obtain tidings.
For, in sooth, 'twill work no good to march upon the gates if they be
closed."

"Look, master," quoth one of the widow's sons. "There comes a palmer
along the road from the town. Belike he can tell us how the land ties,
and if Stutely be really in jeopardy. Shall I go out and engage him in
speech?"

"Go," answered Robin.

So Stout Will went out from the band while the others hid themselves
and waited. When he had come close to the palmer, who seemed a slight,
youngish man, he doffed his hat full courteously and said,

"I crave your pardon, holy man, but can you tell me tidings of
Nottingham town? Do they intend to put an outlaw to death this day?"

"Yea," answered the palmer sadly. "'Tis true enough, sorry be the day.
I have