I like thy spirit
in so speaking up to me, for few men have dared to do so. Put up a
garland, lad, and I will try a bout with thee."
"Tut, tut," quoth Robin, "only babes shoot at garlands hereabouts. I
will put up a good Nottingham mark for thee." So saying, he arose, and
going to a hazel thicket not far off, he cut a wand about twice the
thickness of a man's thumb. From this he peeled the bark, and,
sharpening the point, stuck it up in the ground in front of a great oak
tree. Thence he measured off fourscore paces, which brought him beside
the tree where the other sat. "There," quoth he, "is the kind of mark
that Nottingham yeomen shoot at. Now let me see thee split that wand if
thou art an archer."
Then Guy of Gisbourne arose. "Now out upon it!" cried he. "The Devil
himself could not hit such a mark as that."
"Mayhap he could and mayhap he could not," quoth merry Robin, "but that
we shall never know till thou hast shot thereat."
At these words Guy of Gisbourne looked upon Robin with knit brows, but,
as the yeoman still looked innocent of any ill meaning, he bottled his
words and strung his bow in silence.
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