“Only pricked him a bit,” said Little
John, when he heard of the adventure. “Serve
the young wretch right. But the quarter-staff.
My word, big un, I’d have given something to
have been there to hear his bones rattle. Well,
I didn’t teach you for naught. But look
here, if you meet that fellow in the forest again don’t
you wait for him to begin; you go at him at once.”
Robin nodded his head, but he never saw the swineherd
again.
Young Robin’s father, the Sheriff, suffered
very sadly from the loss of his son and his goods,
and Robin’s aunt came to Nottingham and wept
bitterly over the loss of the little boy she loved
dearly. For David, the old servant in whose charge
Robin had been placed when he was going home, had
done what too many weak people do, tried to hide one
fault by committing another.
Robin was given into his charge to protect and take
safely home to his father, and when the attack was
made by the outlaw’s men, instead of doing anything
to protect the little fellow and save him from being
injured by Robin Hood’s people, he thought only
of himself. He threw his charge into the first
bushes he came to, and galloped away, hardly stopping
till he reached Nottingham town.
There the first question the Sheriff asked was, not
what had become of the pack mules and the consignment
of cloth, but where was Robin, and the false servant
said that he had fought hard to save him in the fight,
but fought in vain, and that the poor boy was dead.
And then months passed and a year had gone by, and
people looked solemn and said that it seemed as if
the Sheriff would never hold up his head again.
But they thought that he should have gathered together
a number of fighting men and gone and punished Robin
Hood and his outlaws for carrying off that valuable
set of loads of cloth.
But Robin’s father cared nothing for the cloth
or the mules; he could only think of the bright happy
little fellow whom he loved so well, and whom he wept
for in secret at night when there was no one near
to see.
Robin’s aunt when she came and tried to comfort
him used to shake her head and wipe her eyes.
She said little, only thought a great deal, and she
came over again and again to try and comfort her dead
sister’s husband; but it made no difference,
for the Sheriff was a sadly altered man.
Then all at once there was a change, and it was at
a time when Robin’s aunt was over to Nottingham.
For one day a man came to the Sheriff’s house
and wanted him. But the Sheriff would not see
him, for he took no interest in anything now, and
told his servant that the man must send word what his
business was.
The servant went out, and came back directly.
“He says, sir, that he was taken prisoner by
Robin Hood’s men a week ago, and that he has
just come from the camp under the greenwood tree,
and has brought you news, master.”
