“Now,” quoth the stranger, “I will tan thy hide till it be as many colors as a beggar’s cloak, if thou darest so much as touch a string of that same bow that thou holdest in thy hands.”

“Thou pratest like an ass,” said Robin, “for I could send this shaft clean through thy proud heart before a curtal friar could say grace over a roast goose at Michaelmastide.”

“And thou pratest like a coward,” answered the stranger, “for thou standest there with a good yew bow to shoot at my heart, while I have nought in my hand but a plain blackthorn staff wherewith to meet thee.”

“Now,” quoth Robin, “by the faith of my heart, never have I had a coward’s name in all my life before.  I will lay by my trusty bow and eke my arrows, and if thou darest abide my coming, I will go and cut a cudgel to test thy manhood withal.”

“Ay, marry, that will I abide thy coming, and joyously, too,” quoth the stranger; whereupon he leaned sturdily upon his staff to await Robin.

Then Robin Hood stepped quickly to the coverside and cut a good staff of ground oak, straight, without new, and six feet in length, and came back trimming away the tender stems from it, while the stranger waited for him, leaning upon his staff, and whistling as he gazed round about.  Robin observed him furtively as he trimmed his staff, measuring him from top to toe from out the corner of his eye, and thought that he had never seen a lustier or a stouter man.  Tall was Robin, but taller was the stranger by a head and a neck, for he was seven feet in height.  Broad was Robin across the shoulders, but broader was the stranger by twice the breadth of a palm, while he measured at least an ell around the waist.

“Nevertheless,” said Robin to himself, “I will baste thy hide right merrily, my good fellow”; then, aloud, “Lo, here is my good staff, lusty and tough.  Now wait my coming, an thou darest, and meet me an thou fearest not.  Then we will fight until one or the other of us tumble into the stream by dint of blows.”

“Marry, that meeteth my whole heart!” cried the stranger, twirling his staff above his head, betwixt his fingers and thumb, until it whistled again.

Never did the Knights of Arthur’s Round Table meet in a stouter fight than did these two.  In a moment Robin stepped quickly upon the bridge where the stranger stood; first he made a feint, and then delivered a blow at the stranger’s head that, had it met its mark, would have tumbled him speedily into the water.  But the stranger turned the blow right deftly and in return gave one as stout, which Robin also turned as the stranger had done.  So they stood, each in his place, neither moving a finger’s-breadth back, for one good hour, and many blows were given and received by each in that time, till here and there were sore bones and bumps, yet neither thought of crying “Enough,” nor seemed likely to fall from off the bridge.  Now and then they stopped to rest, and each thought