After Middle’s mishap, others of the band seemed to lose their balance, and fared in the same fashion. The garland would topple over in a most impish way at every breath, although the arrows went through it. So Middle ‘gan to feel better when he saw this one and that one tumbling on the sward.
At last came Robin’s turn. He shot carefully, but as ill luck would have it the shaft was ill-feathered and swerved sidewise so that it missed the garland by full three fingers. Then a great roar went up from the whole company; for ‘twas rare that they saw their leader miss his mark. Robin flung his bow upon the ground from very vexation.
“A murrain take it!” quoth he. “The arrow was sadly winged. I felt the poor feather upon it as it left my fingers!”
Then suddenly seizing his bow again, he sped three shafts as fast as he could sent them, and every one went clean through the garland.
“By Saint George!” muttered the knight. “Never before saw I such shooting in all Christendom!”
The band cheered heartily at these last shots; but Will Scarlet came up gravely to Robin.
“Pretty shooting, master!” quoth he, “but ‘twill not save you from paying for the bad arrow. So walk up and take your medicine!”
“Nay, that may not be!” protested Robin. “The good friar belongs to my company and has no authority to lift hands against me. But you, Sir Knight, stand as it were for the King. I pray you, serve out my blow.”
“Not so!” said Friar Tuck. “My son, you forget I stand for the church, which is greater even than the King.”
“Not in merry England,” said the knight in a deep voice. Then rising to his feet, he added, “I stand ready to serve you, Master Hood.”
“Now out upon ye for an upstart knight!” cried Friar Tuck. “I told you last night, sirrah, that we should yet see who was the better man! So we will e’en prove it now, and thus settle who is to pay Robin Hood.”
“Good!” said Robin, “for I want not to start a dispute between church and state.”
“Good!” also said the knight. “‘Tis an easy way to end prattling. Come, friar, strike and ye dare. I will give you first blow.”
“You have the advantage of an iron pot on your head and gloves on your hands,” said the friar; “but have at ye! Down you shall go, if you were Goliath of Gath.”