"Yes, please," said the boy, dolefully.

"What? Don't want to ride on one of the mules, do you?"

"Yes, I do," said the boy. "I should be more comfortable sitting
on one of the packs. I'm sure aunt would have said I was to sit
there, if she had known."

"Look here, young squire," said the man, sourly; "you've too much
tongue, and you know too much what aren't good for you. Your aunt,
my old missus, says to me:

"'David,' she says, 'you are to take young Master Robin behind you
on the horse, where he can hold on by your belt, and you'll never
lose sight of him till you give him into his father the Sheriff's
hands, along with the bales of cloth; and you can tell the Sheriff
he has been a very good boy during his visit'; and now I can't."

"Why can't you?" said the boy, sharply.

"'Cause you're doing nothing but squirming and working about behind
my saddle. I shall never get you to the town, if you go on like
this."

The boy puckered up his forehead, and was silent as he wondered
whether he could manage to sit still for the two hours which were
yet to elapse before they stopped for the night at a village on the
outskirts of Sherwood Forest, ready to go on again the next morning.