of Nottingham an' all sorts of caddish barons, an' tie them to
trees.

"My Imp," I said, shaking my head, "the times are sadly changed.
One cannot tie barons - caddish or otherwise - to trees in these
degenerate days."

"No, I s'pose not," sighed the Imp dolefully; "but I do wish you
would be Little-John, Uncle Dick."

"Oh, certainly, Imp, if it will make you any happier; though of a
truth, bold Robin," I continued after the manner of the story books,
Little-John hath a mind to bide awhile and commune with himself
here; yet give but one blast upon thy bugle horn and thou shalt find
my arm and quarter-staff ready and willing enough, I'll warrant you!"

"That sounds awfull' fine, Uncle Dick, only - you haven't got a
quarter-staff, you know."

"Yea, 'tis here!" I answered, and detached the lower joint of my
fishing rod. The Imp rose, and folding his arms, surveyed me as
Robin Hood himself might have done - that is to say, with an 'eye
of fire.'

"So be it, my faithful Little-John," quoth he; "meet me at the
Blasted Oak at midnight. An' if I shout for help - I mean blow my
bugle - you'll come an' rescue me, won't you, Uncle Dick?"

"Ay; trust me for that," I answered, all unsuspecting.