But ere the yeoman had gone far the Sheriff roused
himself. "After him!" he roared in a mighty voice; for he knew now who
it was with whom he had been talking, and wondered that he had not known
him before.
Little John heard the Sheriff's words, and seeing that he could not hope
to reach the woodlands before they would be upon him, he stopped and
turned suddenly, holding his bow as though he were about to shoot.
"Stand back!" cried he fiercely. "The first man that cometh a foot
forward, or toucheth finger to bowstring, dieth!"
At these words the Sheriff's men stood as still as stocks, for they knew
right well that Little John would be as good as his word, and that to
disobey him meant death. In vain the Sheriff roared at them, calling
them cowards, and urging them forward in a body; they would not budge an
inch, but stood and watched Little John as he moved slowly away toward
the forest, keeping his gaze fixed upon them. But when the Sheriff saw
his enemy thus slipping betwixt his fingers he grew mad with his rage,
so that his head swam and he knew not what he did.
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