Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 98 — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

— — Ee a —_—_— —_— ti ad ee i a rr — BSE ES a SES. oo. 2 -_ ee ee eee ee — Pa Fi Ey ES SE ES -* ae ee ee eee —— lA A .— 4 ~ a a a ee i te i LE LLL LLL LE OOD eee eee = ~ s == » _- —. * + 2. es 14. Qt -_——— i They reached the practicing-ground at noon of the first day, ‘eo as the games were about to begin, and mingled unnoticed in the press with the throng of gayly-dressed archers that crowd- ed the lists. None of them shot on the first day ; and on the second, only Maid Marian and Friar Tuck entered for the prize; shooting so well that the sturdy yeomen crowded to see them. Both won prizes which they received without being recognized, for Prince John had not come on the ground as yet. The third day was tobe the grand one. In the opening trials no one was allowed to take a second shot who could not strike the bull’s-eye every time, and a single miss disqualified the archer from further competition. On this day the prince arrived early, and at once inquired whether any wonderful shooting had been done, hoping thus to find Robin Hood. Much to his mortification, he was told that the marksmanship had been decidedly poor, and at once jumped to the conclusion that his old enemy had not come to the meeting. Concealing his chagrin as he might, he order- ed the pames to proceed. The first trial was at the two-hundred-yard target, black with a small white bull’s-eye, and norings to count. Out of two hundred bowmen present, only thirty-five had success enough to earn a second shot, and further and severer trial reduced that number to three. Then it was that the seven strangers in scarlet advanced to the scratch, and shot their arrows together with such mar- velous skill, that all seven quivered in a sheaf in the midst of the white bull’s-eye. A dead si- lence of amazement was succeeded by a loud roar of applause, amid which John started up on his throne and cried aloud: ‘‘Tt must be the band of the outlaw! Such shooting was never done save by the devil or Robin Hood!” CHAPTER XVII. THE WORD OF A PRINCE. THE sudden exclamation of Prince John was followed by a silence among the courtiers, and then the whisper began to pass through the out- skirts of the crowd, that ‘‘ Robin Hood was come to London,” In an incredibly short time every person of the many thousands on the heath was shouting ‘Robin Hood forever! The people’s friend!” at the top of his or her voice, while an indescrib- able scene of confusion ensued. Such pushing and crowding for front places, such trampling and scuffling, never were seen before at an arch- ery meeting. The brilliant retinue of the prince, which had before attracted all eyes, became a subject of secondary interest in the presence of the renowned outlaw chief. John sunk back on his seat, pale with mortification, as he heard the shouts of joy which told him that his own unjust outlawry of the Earl of Huntington had resulted in making his rival the most popular man in the country. Meanwhile, in the midst of all this clamor, the roped inclosure of the lists remained free of all ve the little group of competitors and the officers of the games. The three archers who had survived the pre- liminary test were all king’s keepers, stalwart fellows in green livery, and they stood staring with amazement at the party of seven in scar- let who had just performed such an amazing feat with perfect coolness. ‘¢ Well, sir marshal,” said Robin Hood to the official in attendance, regardless of the clamor outside the lists, ‘‘ which target shall we shoot at now? We have spoiled one bull’s-eye for the Londoners.” “Take the other butt, in St. Hubert’s name,” replied the marshal, in tones of wonder. ‘ Such shooting never saw I before!” At the end of the list were two banks of earth about forty feet high and broad, called ‘* butts,” on which the targets were placed. The second butt presented nothing but an apple, hung by a string in front of a white cloth for the second trial. At that distance it was hardly visible, save as a brown speck. ; ‘OTs manners to let the king’s men shoot first,” observed the outlaw chief. ‘Take good aim, friends, and miss not the apple.” With ut a word, but looking anxious and pre- occupied at the formidable rivals suddenly dis- closed to them, the three keepers advanced to- the seratch, took long and caretul aim, and shot, one after the other. The first missed the apple as a puff | 7 ee mem Robin Hoo jump to one side, but the third struck it fair and nailed it fast to the butt. With faces of deep mortification the other two at once retired, leav- ing but one competitor against Robin Hood. “What is th y name, good fellow?” asked the outlaw in a careless tone, as he advanced to the scratch. ‘My name is Clym 0’ the Clough,” replied the keeper in a deep bass voice. ‘‘ Worse luck me, when I left the merry town of Loxley to be a king’s keeper, or I might be with bold Rob- in Hood to-day.” “An thou shoot as well all the time, Clym, thou canst roam the woods with me forever, for I am Robin Hood,” observed the other, coolly. ‘‘ Well, I am sorry for thine arrow, for I must split it. See!” As he spoke he drew the shaft to its head, loos- ed the string, and away flew the arrow of Clym o’ the Clough, shivered to pieces, the apple disappearing in fragments under the shock. _ By this time the people had settled down in silence to watch the shooting, for the news that | Robin. Hood was present had caused an absorb- ing interest in the target. ‘This is but poor 8 rt,” continued the outlaw to the marshal. ‘‘Set up a swinging apple. There is your true woodman’s mark.” The marshal, who was on horseback, galloped to the butts, and a few minutes later a long rod was waved from the top of the butt, hanging from which, by a slender line, was another apple, swinging to and fro, the holder of the rod protected from, stray shots by a huge square steel shield, called a pavesse. ‘‘ Now, lads, shoot away,” cried Robin Hood, mm ee | ' | | for | | attach thee for a traitor. /men, and yonder woman in male attire. silence for fully a minute, when John at last spoke. ‘Friend archer, what is thy name—thou who hast won the golden arrow?’ ‘*My name is Robin Hood,” answered the out- law boldly. ‘‘l came hither on the plighted faith of John of England, to shoot for the gold- en arrow, and return to my home in satety.” ‘‘The arrow is thine,” said the prince, coldly. “Take it. I have rewarded thee for thy shoot- ing. Now I will punish thee for thy treason. Robin Fitzooth, outlawed Ear] of Huntington, I Seize him and his ‘Lo the Tower with them!” | not have been more astonished. ' to execute the order, Had a thunderbolt fallen, the courtiers could No one stirred Robin Hood alone seemed to feel no dismay, as he said, bitterly: ‘‘T have found to-day the value of the word ofa prince. John of England, thou hast called me a traitor. Thou liest.” So saying, he and his men started back and drew their bows, even to Clym o’ the Clough, threatening the courtiers all round, The scene of confusion that ensued was amaz- ing. A ery of ‘‘ Rescue! Rescue!” burst from the enormous crowd, and in a moment guards, prince, courtiers and all, were swept away by the tumultuous rush of the London mob, while and forth stepped Little John, followed by the | others in succession, down even to Maid Marian. When all had shot, the apple was full of arrows and resembled a shuttlecock. Then Robin Hood took a careful aim, and once more the apple flew all to pieces, while the other arrows fell to the ground. He had broken the bunch. ‘Captain, I yield,” said Clym o’ the Clough, frankly. the outlaws were hustled away in the opposite direction by hundreds of friendly, if unwashed hands. A regular riot of true medieval proportions en- sued, as the men-at-arms of the prince, seeing their master’s danger, came galloping down in- to the press, striking down with their lance- blades on the heads of the people, while stones _and clubs were freely used by the excited citi- zens. The riot was eventually quelled, but not without some shedding of blood; and by the | time it was over, the outlaw’s party was out of ‘Your men have left meno mark to | shoot at, and I am not fit to join Robin Hood’s | band.” “Tush, man, never give up,” responded the chief. ‘‘See, he has slung another apple. Try thy luck!” The keeper obeyed and struck the apple fair- ly, when Robin Hood clapped him on the | ' rapid traveler; and long before it had reached shoulder. ‘‘Now by St. Hubert, my brave Clym,” he exclaimed, “fan thou’lt follow me to Sherwood, thou shalt have the livery of Robin Hood's merry men and twenty pounds a year to boot. Wilt come?’ ‘Captain, I will,” replied the tall yeoman, heartily, ‘‘for I serve none but the best man in ingland, and thou art he, since the good king Richard is gone away. As for this John, he is but—,” and the archer spat on the ground with an expression of strong disgust. ‘Be it so,” answered Robin. ‘‘ Now for the last trial and the prize of the day.” The final test had indeed come. A man on horseback, carrying a long slender lance, on the top of which fluttered on a crossbar a pigeon tied by a long string, was to ride across the butts from right to left at full gallop, the arch- ers to shoot at the pigeon successively. The ir- regular motion of horse and bird made the task one of extraordinary difficulty, and one after another tried and _ failed. ittle John and Scathelock struck the perch, but neither hit the bird. At last came Robin Hood’s turn, when all had retired. The outlaw chief took his sta- tion calmly, suddenly drew his bow with a steady motion just as the pigeon paused at the end of its cord, and the next moment a mighty roar of applause announced that the bird was transfixed. “The arrow to Robin Hood! The archer king!” shouted the people, and_ the marshal came up ata gallop, Syne: ‘“* By St. Hubert, good fellow, whoever thou art, Robin Hood or the devil, the golden arrow is thine, and the Prince wills that thou come at once to receive it.” “FRollow me all, and keep your quivers ready,” said the outlaw in a low, resolute tone. ‘The games are over, but the fun is about to begin. Marian, sweetheart, keep close, for Heaven’s good love.” So saying, the little band, accompanied by the sanctuary limits and riding gayly away to the north, no longer as peaceful peddlers, but in all their bravery of bow and buckler, with Clym o’ the Clough in their midst. That stout keeper had torn off the insignia of the royal livery on reaching the limit, and now wore the scarlet of Robin Hood, to be exchanged for the forest green when he arrived at Sherwood. The hue and cry was started after them; but in those days that was of little consequence to a Nottingham they were safe in the leafy recesses | of Sherwood forest. | | Clym o’ the Clough, walked eslmly across the | lists to the foot of the throne on which sat Prince John, surrounded by bis nobles, and bear- ing in his hand Ahe golden arrow. ) Hood approached, the eyes of the base prince | glowed with joy, for he instantly recognized of wind waved it aside, the second | his old rival and Marian in her forest attire. grazed it slightly, as could be seen hy its sudden |! The archers stood before the throne amid a deep As Robin | ‘‘Thou seest, sweetheart, I have won the ar- row and saved my head into the bargain,” cried Robin Hood that night, as they stood by the blazing fire, surrounded by their idolizing men. ‘‘T never doubted that my Robin would win it,” she rejoined, smiling; ‘but if I were not b thee to warn thee, that head of thine would fall many a time from its Owner’s rashness.” Scathelock and Friar Tuck were regaling their hearers with a recital of their London adven- tures, and Clym o’ the Clough was greeting his new comrades, as Marian sighed deeply and murmured: ** And yet we are only outlaws and thieves to the world.” Robin Hood started and gazed at her anxious- ly a moment, then turned away his head with an echoing sigh. “Too true, sweetheart,” he said; “I have brought thee to this by my spendthrift ways, that thou art an outlaw’s bride and that other women shun thee. Would to God we had never met, for thou mightst be still the happy Marian Fitz Walter.” In a moment her arms were round him. ‘Robin! Love! I would die for thee ten times over,” she murmured. “‘It is not that, but—when I know thy worth and valor—to see ap here—oh! Robin, if Allan-a-dale were only ack.” ‘He will be back, sweetheart,” answered the outlaw in a more cheering tone. ‘‘This heavi- ness cannot last forever. “Tis now the early leaf time of June. If he come not before the hazel- nuts are ripe we may indeed fear; but ’tis three months to that now. Come, they call us to supper, and we must not be gloomy. While IT am Robin Hood be thou our blithe Maid Mari- an, and let us throw [care to the dogs under the greenwood tree.” Hardly had he spoken when the distant note of a bugle, sweet, sad, and echoing over bill and dale, struck on their ears. All the outlaws started up and listened. The call was repeated and Robin Hood cried aloud: “Tt is Allan-a-dale. I would know his call among a thousand. He has found the king. | Seour the woods and answer him blithely, - merry men all.” | An hour later. the wandering minstrel, pale | OOo) comic S