companionship. Every time he twanged the string of the long bow against
his shoulder and heard the gray goose shaft sing, it told him of happy
days that he could not recall.

One morning as Rob came in to breakfast, his uncle greeted him with, "I
have news for you, Rob, my lad!" and the hearty old Squire finished his
draught of ale and set his pewter tankard down with a crash.

"What may that be, Uncle Gamewell?" asked the young man.

"Here is a chance to exercise your good long bow and win a pretty prize.
The Fair is on at Nottingham, and the Sheriff proclaims an archer's
tournament. The best fellows are to have places with the King's
Foresters, and the one who shoots straightest of all will win for prize
a olden arrow--a useless bauble enough, but just the thing for your lady
love, eh, Rob my boy?" Here the Squire laughed and whacked the table
again with his tankard.

Rob's eyes sparkled. "'Twere indeed worth shooting for, uncle mine," he
said. "I should dearly love to let arrow fly alongside another man. And
a place among the Foresters is what I have long desired. Will you let me
try?"

"To be sure," rejoined his uncle. "Well I know that your good mother
would have had me make a clerk of you; but well I see that the greenwood
is where you will pass your days. So, here's luck to you in the bout!"
And the huge tankard came a third time into play.

The young man thanked his uncle for his good wishes, and set about
making preparations for the journey. He traveled lightly; but his yew