It was a proud day when Mrs. Power was invited to inspect the result of the boys’ labours. True, the wall was of such an unstable nature that their guest had to be well warned not to lean even her hand against it, in case it should fall. What did it matter that the stone part of it only attained to about the height of Robin’s elbow? The rest of it was satisfactorily completed by a dilapidated wooden gate perched on the top, and interwoven with fern and twigs, so as to form an impenetrable screen from the outer world. An old rug had been suspended by its corners across the top of the pit, making a grand roof when supplemented by branches laid in thick layers above. Moss had been laboriously collected from all parts of the wood wherewith to cover the floor, and ferns were ingeniously planted in crannies in the sandy walls to make it look more natural, Julius said. It was a glorious moment when the kettle at length boiled upon the camp-fire kindled at the entrance, and still more delightful when Mrs. Power and the two boys all squeezed inside the hut to enjoy smoked tea in enamelled mugs, and regale themselves with ginger biscuits and toffee. "You told us to get what we liked with the sixpence, mother," explained Robin, "so Julius chose the toffee, and I took the biscuits." "It is hardly what I should have selected myself," answered Mrs. Power, "but if it’s what you like, I’m more than satisfied." "What do you think we ought to call the house?" asked Julius. "Robin says ’The Outlaw’s Castle’ would be a good name, but I think it’s a very silly one, as we’ve no battlements or dungeons, not even a drawbridge." "Julius wanted to call it ’Farncourt Arbour,’" said Robin contemptuously, "which would be simply awful." "What do you say to ’Robin Hood’s Lair’?" suggested Mrs. Power. "I believe that was really the name of one of his retreats." "It’s better than ’Farncourt Arbour,’" responded Robin. "Let us call it that." "I wish we had a cupboard for the mugs and the kettle," remarked Julius, "but perhaps the tramps might find them and take them away. It does seem a pity we can’t sleep here, for I’m sure not a drop of rain would come through the roof." "There is just one thing I shall bring to leave here always," said Robin, "and that’s the text I painted the first Sunday Julius was with us. If you will lend me two of your long hat-pins, mother, I shall stick it up on that smooth piece of the wall, so that if anyone did happen to come in he would see it at once. It will make the inside of the house quite bright and cheerful and much more home-like. And you know, mother," he added shyly, "the words might do a poor tramp good." *CHAPTER IX* *The Tramp*