But Little John did not stop at teaching young Robin to shoot, for one day the boy found him smoothing and scraping a nice new piece of ash as thick as his little finger, which was not little at all.

“You don’t know what this is for,” said the big fellow.

“It looks like a little quarter-staff,” said young Robin, “like all the men have.”

“Well done.  Guessed it first time.  Now guess who it is for?”

“Me,” said the boy promptly.  And so it was, and what was more, Little John, in the days which followed, taught him how to handle it so as to give blows and guard himself, till the little fellow became as clever and active as could be, making the men roar with laughter when in a bout he managed to strike so quickly that his staff struck leg or arm before his opponent could guard.

“Why, you’re getting quite a forester, Robin,” said the captain, smiling, “and what with your skill with bow and quarter-staff you’ll soon be able to hold your own.”

Robin Hood’s words were put to the proof in autumn, for one day when the acorns had swollen to such a size that they could no longer sit in their cups, and came rattling down from the sunny side of the great oak-trees, young Robin was having a glorious ramble.  He had filled his satchel with brown hazel nuts, had a good feast of blackberries, and stained his fingers.  He had had a long talk to a tame fawn which knew him and came when he whistled, and tempted a couple of squirrels down with some very brown nuts, laying them upon the bark of a fallen tree, and then drawing back a few yards, with the result that the bushy-tailed little animals crept softly down, nearer and nearer, ending by making a rush, seizing the nuts, and darting back to the security of a high branch of a tree.

“I shouldn’t hurt you,” said Robin, as he stood leaning upon his little quarter-staff, watching them nibble away the ends of the nuts to get at the sweet kernel.  “If I wanted to I could unsling my bow, string it, and bring you down with an arrow; but I don’t want to.  Why can’t you both be as tame as my fawn?”

The squirrels made no answer, but went on nibbling the nuts, and suddenly darted up higher in the tree, while Robin grew so much interested in the movements of the active little creatures that he heard no sound behind him, nor did he awaken to the fact that he was being stalked by some one creeping bare-footed from tree to tree to get within springing distance, till all at once he felt the whole weight of something alighting on his back and driving him forward so that he dropped his quarter-staff and came down on hands and knees.

“Got yer, have I, at last?” cried a familiar voice, as he felt his ribs nipped, his assailant having seated himself on his back.  “Didn’t I tell yer I’d wait, and you was to bring me back a lot to eat?”

Young Robin waited for no more, but in his agony of spirit he gave himself a wrench sidewise, dislodging his rider, and made an effort to struggle up again.