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.  Then of a sudden he turned his horse’s head, and plunging his spurs into its sides he gave a great shout, and, rising in his stirrups, came down upon Little John like the wind.  Then Little John raised his deadly bow and drew the gray goose feather to his cheek.  But alas for him!  For, ere he could loose the shaft, the good bow that had served him so long, split in his hands, and the arrow fell harmless at his feet.  Seeing what had happened, the Sheriff’s men raised a shout, and, following their master, came rushing down upon Little John.  But the Sheriff was ahead of the others, and so caught up with the yeoman before he reached the shelter of the woodlands, then leaning forward he struck a mighty blow.  Little John ducked and the Sheriff’s sword turned in his hand, but the flat of the blade struck the other upon the head and smote him down, stunned and senseless.

“Now, I am right glad,” said the Sheriff, when the men came up and found that Little John was not dead, “that I have not slain this man in my haste!  I would rather lose five hundred pounds than have him die thus instead of hanging, as such a vile thief should do.  Go, get some water from yonder fountain, William, and pour it over his head.”

The man did as he was bidden, and presently Little John opened his eyes and looked around him, all dazed and bewildered with the stun of the blow.  Then they tied his hands behind him, and lifting him up set him upon the back of one of the horses, with his face to its tail and his feet strapped beneath its belly.  So they took him back to the King’s Head Inn, laughing and rejoicing as they went along.  But in the meantime the widow’s three sons had gotten safely away, and were hidden in the woodlands.