"No matter where I do dwell,
For a butcher am I, and to Nottingham
Am I going, my flesh to sell."

The next morning the weather had turned ill, and Robin Hood's band
stayed close to their dry and friendly cave. The third day brought a
diversion in the shape of a trap by a roving party of the Sheriff's men.
A fine stag had been struck down by one Of Will Stutely's fellows, and
he and others had stepped forth from the covert to seize it, when twenty
bowmen from Nottingham appeared at the end of the glade. Down dropped
Will's men on all fours, barely in time to hear a shower of arrows
whistle above their heads. Then from behind the friendly trees they
sent back such a welcome that the Sheriff's men deemed it prudent not to
tarry in their steps. Two of them, in sooth, bore back unpleasant wounds
in their shoulders, from the encounter.

When they returned to town the Sheriff waxed red with rage.

"What," he gasped, "do my men fear to fight this Robin Hood, face to
face? Would that I could get him within my reach, once. We should see
then; we should see!"

What it was the Sheriff would see, he did not state. But he was to have
his wish granted in short space, and you and I will see how he profited
by it.

The fourth day and the one following this friendly bout, Little John was
missing. One of his men said that he saw him talking with a beggar, but
did not know whither they had gone. Two more days passed. Robin grew
uneasy. He did not doubt the faith of Little John, but he was fearful