Meantime the shooting had been going forward, and Robin’s men had done so well that the air was filled with shouts. One cried, “Blue jacket!” another cried, “Brown!” And a third cried, “Brave Yellow!” But the fourth man said, “Yon man in red In this place has no fellow.” For that was Robin Hood himself, For he was clothed in red, At every shot the prize he got, For he was both sure and dead. Thus went the second round of the shooting, and thus the third and last, till even Gilbert of the White Hand was fairly beaten. During all this shooting, Robin exchanged no word with his men, each treating the other as a perfect stranger. Nathless, such great shooting could not pass without revealing the archers. The Sheriff thought he discovered, in the winner of the golden arrow, the person of Robin Hood without peradventure. So he sent word privately for his men-at-arms to close round the group. But Robin’s men also got wind of the plan. To keep up appearances, the Sheriff summoned the crowd to form in a circle; and after as much delay as possible the arrow was presented. The delay gave time enough for the soldiers to close in. As Robin received his prize, bowed awkwardly, and turned away, the Sheriff, letting his zeal get the better of his discretion, grasped him about the neck and called upon his men to arrest the traitor. But the moment the Sheriff touched Robin, he received such a buffet on the side of his head that he let go instantly and fell back several paces. Turning to see who had struck him, he recognized Little John. “Ah, rascal Greenleaf, I have you now!” he exclaimed springing at him. Just then, however, he met a new check. “This is from another of your devoted servants!” said a voice which he knew to be that of Much the miller’s son; and “Thwack!” went his open palm upon the Sheriff’s cheek sending that worthy rolling over and over upon the ground. By this time the conflict had become general, but the Sheriff’s men suffered the disadvantage of being hampered by the crowd of innocent on-lookers, whom they could not tell from the outlaws and so dared not attack; while the other outlaws in the rear fell upon them and put them in confusion. For a moment a fierce rain of blows ensued; then the clear bugle-note from Robin ordered a retreat. The two warders at the nearest gate tried to close it, but were shot dead in their tracks. David of Doncaster threw a third soldier into the moat; and out through the gate went the foresters in good order, keeping a respectful distance between themselves and the advancing soldiery, by means of their well-directed shafts.