“Nay,” answered the stranger quietly, “if there be two more of you, and each as stout as this good fellow, I am like to have my hands full.  Nevertheless, come on, and I will strive my best to serve you all.”

“Stop!” cried Robin Hood, “we will fight no more.  I take my vow, this is an ill day for thee and me, Little John.  I do verily believe that my wrist, and eke my arm, are palsied by the jar of the blow that this stranger struck me.”

Then Little John turned to Robin Hood.  “Why, how now, good master,” said he.  “Alas!  Thou art in an ill plight.  Marry, thy jerkin is all befouled with the dust of the road.  Let me help thee to arise.”

“A plague on thy aid!” cried Robin angrily.  “I can get to my feet without thy help, good fellow.”

“Nay, but let me at least dust thy coat for thee.  I fear thy poor bones are mightily sore,” quoth Little John soberly, but with a sly twinkle in his eyes.

“Give over, I say!” quoth Robin in a fume.  “My coat hath been dusted enough already, without aid of thine.”  Then, turning to the stranger, he said, “What may be thy name, good fellow?”

“My name is Gamwell,” answered the other.

“Ha!” cried Robin, “is it even so?  I have near kin of that name.  Whence camest thou, fair friend?”

“From Maxfield Town I come,” answered the stranger.  “There was I born and bred, and thence I come to seek my mother’s young brother, whom men call Robin Hood.  So, if perchance thou mayst direct me—­”

“Ha!  Will Gamwell!” cried Robin, placing both hands upon the other’s shoulders and holding him off at arm’s length.  “Surely, it can be none other!  I might have known thee by that pretty maiden air of thine—­that dainty, finicking manner of gait.  Dost thou not know me, lad?  Look upon me well.”

“Now, by the breath of my body!” cried the other, “I do believe from my heart that thou art mine own Uncle Robin.  Nay, certain it is so!” And each flung his arms around the other, kissing him upon the cheek.

Then once more Robin held his kinsman off at arm’s length and scanned him keenly from top to toe.  “Why, how now,” quoth he, “what change is here?  Verily, some eight or ten years ago I left thee a stripling lad, with great joints and ill-hung limbs, and lo! here thou art, as tight a fellow as e’er I set mine eyes upon.  Dost thou not remember, lad, how I showed thee the proper way to nip the goose feather betwixt thy fingers and throw out thy bow arm steadily?  Thou gayest great promise of being a keen archer.  And dost thou not mind how I taught thee to fend and parry with the cudgel?”

“Yea,” said young Gamwell, “and I did so look up to thee, and thought thee so above all other men that, I make my vow, had I known who thou wert, I would never have dared to lift hand against thee this day.  I trust I did thee no great harm.”