"Why?" said Robin promptly.

"Because it wouldn't stop your legs growing, and it's boys' legs
that grow the most when they're young. I say, though, what's
become of all those arrows I made you?"

"Shot them away."

"And only two left. You mustn't waste arrows like that. Why
didn't you look for them after you shot?"

"I did," cried Robin, "but they will hide themselves so. They
creep right under the grass and among the weeds so that you can't
find them again. But you'll make me some more, won't you?"

"Well," said Little John, "I suppose I must; but you will have to
be more careful, young un. I can't spend all my time making new
arrows for you. But there, I want you to shoot so that the captain
will be proud of you, and some day you'll have to shoot a deer."

"I don't think I should like to shoot a deer," said the boy,
shaking his head.

"Why not?" They're good to eat."

"They look so nice and kind, with their big soft eyes."

"Well, a man then."