The next moment Robin faced round in the open beyond the tree, and
stood on guard as he had been taught.

"Ah, would yer?" snarled the young swineherd; "take that then."

Whisk went the staff and then crack as it was received by Robin
across his own, and then, profiting by Little John's lessons, he
brought his own over from the left and delivered a sounding blow on
his assailant's head.

The swineherd uttered a savage yell as he staggered back, but came
fiercely on again, striking with all his might, but so wildly that
Robin easily avoided the blow, and brought his own staff down
whack, crash, on his enemy's shoulders, producing a couple more
yells of pain. From that moment Robin had it all his own way, for
he easily guarded himself from the swineherd's fierce strokes and
retorted with swinging blows on first one arm, then on the other.
Then he brought his staff down with a blow beside his enemy's left
leg, then half behind the right, making him dance and limp as he
yelled and sought in vain to beat down his active little adversary,
who delivered a shower of cleverly directed blows in response to
the wild swoops given with the worst of aim.

In the heat and excitement Robin had felt no fear. He was on his
mettle, and fighting for liberty, to gain which he felt that he
must effectually beat his enemy; and thanks to Little John's
lessons he thrashed him so well that at the end of five minutes the
young swine-herd received a final stroke across the knuckles which
made him shriek, drop his staff, and turn to run down a long