Then a silence
fell, and Little John sat with Robin Hood's hand in his, gazing out of
the open window, ever and anon swallowing a great lump that came in his
throat. Meantime the sun dropped slowly to the west, till all the sky
was ablaze with a red glory. Then Robin Hood, in a weak, faltering
voice, bade Little John raise him that he might look out once more upon
the woodlands; so the yeoman lifted him in his arms, as he bade, and
Robin Hood's head lay on his friend's shoulder. Long he gazed, with a
wide, lingering look, while the other sat with bowed head, the hot tears
rolling one after another from his eyes, and dripping upon his bosom,
for he felt that the time of parting was near at hand. Then, presently,
Robin Hood bade him string his stout bow for him, and choose a smooth
fair arrow from his quiver. This Little John did, though without
disturbing his master or rising from where he sat. Robin Hood's fingers
wrapped lovingly around his good bow, and he smiled faintly when he felt
it in his grasp, then he nocked the arrow on that part of the string
that the tips of his fingers knew so well.
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