Presently up dashed the Bishop and his men, and, at sight of the cottage and the old woman, gave pause. The crone was hobbling along with difficulty, leaning heavily upon a gnarled stick and bearing the spindle on her other arm. She would have gone by the Bishop’s company, while muttering to herself, but the Bishop ordered one of his men to question her. The soldier laid his hand upon her shoulder. “Mind your business!” croaked the woman, “or I’ll curse ye!” “Come, come, my good woman,” said the soldier, who really was afraid of her curses. “I’ll not molest you. But my lord Bishop of Hereford wants to know if you have seen aught of the outlaw, Robin Hood?” “And why shouldn’t I see him?” she whined. “Where’s the King or law to prevent good Robin from coming to see me and bring me food and raiment? That’s more than my lord Bishop will do, I warrant ye!” “Peace, woman!” said the Bishop harshly. “We want none of your opinions. But we’ll take you to Barnesdale and burn you for a witch if you do not instantly tell us when you last saw Robin Hood.” “Mercy, good my lord!” chattered the crone, falling on her knees. “Robin is there in my cottage now, but you’ll never take him alive.” “We’ll see about that,” cried the Bishop triumphantly. “Enter the cottage, my men. Fire it, if need be. But I’ll give a purse of gold pieces, above the reward, to the man who captures the outlaw alive.” The old woman, being released, went on her way slowly. But it might have been noticed that the farther she got away from the company and the nearer to the edge of the woods, the swifter and straighter grew her pace. Once inside the shelter of the forest she broke into a run of surprising swiftness. “Gadzooks!” exclaimed Little John who presently spied her. “Who comes here? Never saw I witch or woman run so fast. Methinks I’ll send an arrow close over her head to see which it is.” “O hold your hand! hold your hand!” panted the supposed woman. “‘Tis I, Robin Hood. Summon the yeomen and return with me speedily. We have still another score to settle with my lord of Hereford.” When Little John could catch his breath from laughing, he winded his horn. “Now, mistress Robin,” quoth he, grinning. “Lead on! We’ll be close to your heels.” Meanwhile, back at the widow’s cottage the Bishop was growing more furious every moment. For all his bold words, he dared not fire the house, and the sturdy door had thus far resisted all his men’s efforts. “Break it down! Break it down!” he shouted, “and let me soon see who will fetch out that traitor, Robin Hood!” At last the door crashed in and the men stood guard on the threshold. But not one dared enter for fear a sharp arrow should meet him halfway. “Here he is!” cried one keen-eyed fellow, peering in. “I see him in the corner by the cupboard. Shall we slay him with our pikes?” “Nay,” said the Bishop, “take him alive if you can. We’ll make the biggest public hanging of this that the shire ever beheld.”