To all this Robin listened, and as he listened his gorge rose.  Well he knew of this Guy of Gisbourne, and of all the bloody and murderous deeds that he had done in Herefordshire, for his doings were famous throughout all the land.  Yet, although he loathed the very presence of the man, he held his peace, for he had an end to serve.  “Truly,” quoth he, “I have heard of thy gentle doings.  Methinks there is no one in all the world that Robin Hood would rather meet than thee.”

At this Guy of Gisbourne gave another harsh laugh.  “Why,” quoth he, “it is a merry thing to think of one stout outlaw like Robin Hood meeting another stout outlaw like Guy of Gisbourne.  Only in this case it will be an ill happening for Robin Hood, for the day he meets Guy of Gisbourne he shall die.”

“But thou gentle, merry spirit,” quoth Robin, “dost thou not think that mayhap this same Robin Hood may be the better man of the two?  I know him right well, and many think that he is one of the stoutest men hereabouts.”

“He may be the stoutest of men hereabouts,” quoth Guy of Gisbourne, “yet, I tell thee, fellow, this sty of yours is not the wide world.  I lay my life upon it I am the better man of the two.  He an outlaw, forsooth!  Why, I hear that he hath never let blood in all his life, saving when he first came to the forest.  Some call him a great archer; marry, I would not be afraid to stand against him all the days of the year with a bow in my hand.”

“Why, truly, some folk do call him a great archer,” said Robin Hood, “but we of Nottinghamshire are famous hands with the longbow.  Even I, though but a simple hand at the craft, would not fear to try a bout with thee.”

At these words Guy of Gisbourne looked upon Robin with wondering eyes, and then gave another roar of laughter till the woods rang.  “Now,” quoth he, “thou art a bold fellow to talk to me in this way.  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.”