Many years now elapsed, during which King Henry died and King Richard came to the throne.  Robin, still pursued by the sheriff, once discovered in the forest a man clad in horse-skin, who, having been an outlaw too, had been promised his pardon if he would slay Robin.  Hearing him boast about what he would do, Robin challenged him first to a trial of marksmanship, and then to a bout of sword play, during which the strange outlaw was slain.  Then, donning the fallen man’s strange apparel, Robin went off to Nottingham in quest of more adventures.

Meantime, Little John had entered a poor hut, where he found a woman weeping because her sons had been seized as poachers and sentenced to be hanged.  Touched by her grief, Little John promised to rescue them if she would only supply him with a disguise.  Dressed in a suit which had belonged to the woman’s husband, he entered Nottingham just as the sheriff was escorting his captives to the gallows.  No hangman being available, the sheriff gladly hired the stranger to perform that office.  While ostensibly fastening nooses around the three lads’ necks, Little John cleverly whispered directions whereby to escape.  This part of his duty done, Little John strung his bow, arguing it would be a humane act to shorten their agony by a well-directed shaft.  But, as soon as his bow was properly strung, Little John gave the agreed signal, and the three youths scampered off, he covering their retreat by threatening to kill any one who attempted to pursue them.

The angry sheriff, on perceiving Robin, who just then appeared, deeming him the man he sent into the forest, demanded some token that he had done his duty.  In reply Robin silently exhibited his own sword, bugle, and bow, and pointed to his blood-stained clothes.  The officers having meantime captured Little John, the sheriff allowed Robin—­as a reward—­to hang his companion.  By means of the same stratagem as Little John employed for the rescue of the youths, Robin saved his beloved mate, and, when the sheriff started to pursue them, blew such a blast on his horn that the terrified official galloped away, one of Robin’s arrows sticking in his back.

Two months after, there was great excitement in Nottingham, because King Richard was to ride through the town.  The gay procession of knights, pages, and soldiers was viewed with delight by all the people, among whom Robin’s outlaws were thickly dotted.  Riding beside the king, the Sheriff of Nottingham paled on recognizing in the crowd Robin himself, a change of color which did not escape Richard’s eagle eye.  When the conversation turned upon the famous outlaw at the banquet that evening, and sheriff and bishop bitterly declared Robin could not be captured, Richard exclaimed he would gladly give a hundred pounds for a glimpse of so extraordinary a man!  Thereupon one of the guests rejoined he could easily obtain it by entering the forest in a monk’s garb, a suggestion which so charmed the Lion-hearted monarch that he started out on the morrow with seven cowled men.  They had not ridden far into the forest before they were arrested by a man in Lincoln green—­Robin himself—­who conducted them to the outlaw’s lair.