“I told yer I would,” said the young ruffian,
with a grin. “You should ha’ given
’em to me at first, and then I shouldn’t
have hurt yer. Come on; I’ll show yer
now where yer can get something to eat.”
In his anger and shame Robin felt that he wanted no
food now, only to go and hide himself away among the
trees; but his enemy’s next words had their
effect.
“You didn’t want this here,” he
said. “You’ve got plenty on you
now. Better nor I have. There, go straight
on there, and I’ll show yer. D’yer
hear?”
“I don’t want to go now,” said Robin
fiercely.
“Oh, don’t yer? Then I do.
You’re agoing afore I makes yer, and when they’ve
give yer a lot, you’re going to eat part and
bring some to me so’s I can help eat the rest.
You bring a lot, mind, ’cause I can eat ever
so much. Now then, go on.”
“I can’t—I don’t want
to,” cried Robin. “You go first.”
“What, and master come, p’raps, and find
me gone! Likely! he’d give me the strap
again. There, get on.”
Robin winced, for the young ruffian picked up his
stick and poked him as he would one of his pigs.
But the little fellow could not help himself, and
he went on in the required direction among the trees,
the forest growing darker and darker, till suddenly
voices were heard, and the boy stopped,
“You go straight along there,” he said,
“and I’ll wait.”
“No, you go,” said Robin. “You
know them.”
“Oh! yes, and them want some more pigs!
Want me to be leathered again?”
Robin said “No,” but he felt all the time
that he should like to see the young tyrant flogged
and forced to return the folded up doublet; and he
thought sadly of his spoiled and lost cap.
“Now then, don’t you be long,” cried
the young swineherd, and he raised his stick threateningly,
and made another thrust at Robin, which was avoided;
and feeling desperate now as well as hungry, feeling
too, that it would be better to fall into any other
hands, the little fellow ran on, following a faint
track in and out among the trees, till he came suddenly
into an opening, face to face with a group of fifty
or sixty people busily engaged around a heap beneath
a spreading beech tree.
Robin’s first act was to stand and stare, for
the heap consisted of bales similar to those with
which he had seen the mules laden a couple of days
back, and tied up together a few yards away were the
very mules, while the little crowd of men who were
busy bore a very strong resemblance to those by whom
the attack was made on the previous day.
Robin knew nothing in those days about the old proverb
of jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire, but
he felt something of the kind as he found himself
face to face with the marauders who had seized upon
the bales of cloth and put his aunt’s servants
to flight, and without a moment’s hesitation
he turned and began to hurry back, but ran into the
arms of a huge fellow who caught him up as if he had
been a baby.
