The wind was from the south, sighing softly through the trees--the sun had gone down about half an hour--the moon was rising, though not yet visible to the eye, except to the watchers on castle towers, or the lonely shepherd on the mountain. The night was as warm as midsummer, though the year had now waned far; and in the sky there were none but light and fleecy clouds, which scarcely dimmed the far twinkling stars as they shone out in the absence of the two great rulers of the night and day. It was one of those sweet evenings which we would choose to wander through some fair scene with the lady that we love, looking for the moon\'s rising from behind the old ivy-clad ruin, and re-peopling the shady recesses of wood and dale with the fairy beings of old superstition, though they have long given place to the harsher realities of a state of society which has become, to use Rosalind\'s term, "a working-day world indeed."

Such was the night when, under the brown boughs of the wood, with yellow leaves overhead and long fern around, sat a party of some seven or eight stout men, dressed in the green garb which we have already described in another place. Their bows rested against the trees close by, their swords hung in the baldrics by their side, some horses were heard snorting and champing at no great distance, and a large wallet lay in the midst, from which the long-armed dwarf, Tangel, was drawing forth sundry articles of cold provision, together with two capacious leathern bottles and a drinking cup of horn. There were two persons there whom the reader already knows--the bold leader of the forest outlaws, and the old Earl of Monthermer--now, alas! an outlaw likewise. Though his wounds had been severe, and he had suffered much both in body and in mind, the old knight\'s spirit seemed still unquenched. On the contrary, indeed, with no weighty matters pressing on his mind, with the fate and fortune of others, nay, of his country itself, no longer hanging on his advice, it seemed as if a load had been removed from his bosom; and as he half sat, half lay, upon the turf, he could jest with the men around him more lightly than in his stately hours of power and influence.

"Poor hunting, Robin! poor hunting!" he said. "Now I would not have this day\'s sport recorded against us, as true foresters, for very shame."

"\'Tis no want of craft, my good lord," replied Robin, "\'tis the nearness of the court which drives all honest beasts away. We might have had bucks enough, but that they are rank just now."

"Like the age, Robin--like the age!" answered the Earl. "However, we must e\'en make the best of our fate, and put in the bag what fortune chooses to send. There are hares enow, and a fine doe, though you were as tender of them as if they had been children."

"I never love to wing an arrow at a doe," said Robin Hood. "I know not why, they always look to me like women, and often do I lie in the spring time and see them trip along with their dainty steps, their graceful heads moving to and fro, and their bright black eyes looking as conscious as a pretty maid\'s at a May-day festival; and I think there must be some truth in the old story of men\'s souls sometimes taking possession of a beast\'s body."

"Not so often, Robin," rejoined the Earl, "as a beast\'s soul taking possession of a man\'s body. I could pick you out as goodly a herd from the court of England as ever trooped through the shades of Sherwood, or were driven out by the piping swineherd to eat acorns in the lanes by Southwell."

"Doubtless, doubtless, my lord," replied Robin; "men will make beasts of themselves in all places, while the honester four-legged things of the forest seem as if they wanted to gem up, manward. Why, down by that very place, Southwell, there is a fallow doe who knows me as well as if she were one of my band; she comes when I call her, if she be within hearing, and lets me rub her long hairy ears by the half-hour. Then what long talks will we have together! I ask her all sorts of questions; and she contrives to answer one way or another, till, if I be too saucy with her about her antlered loves, she butts at me with her round hornless head, and stamps her tiny foot upon the ground. You would say \'twas a very woman, if you saw her."

"\'Tis a wonder that she has escaped without an arrow in her side," replied the Earl.

"Nay," cried Robin; "there is not a man in Sherwood or twenty miles round, who would pierce a hole in her brown bodice for all that he is worth. Every one knows Robin Hood\'s doe; and foul befal him that hurts her. But come, Tangel, what hast thou got there? \'Tis so dark, I cannot see."

"A huge hare pie," said Tangel, "and bottles of stuff to baste it with; but the crust\'s as hard as the sole of a shoe, and unless thine anelace be somewhat sharper than thy wit, thou wilt go without thy supper, and be obliged to take the testament of the Scotch tinker."

"And what is that?" asked Robin.

"Drink for all," replied the dwarf; "but I will light a torch, Robin, lest thou shouldst cut thine invaluable thumb, and spoil thy shooting for the next month."

A torch was soon lighted; and, seated round the great hare pasty, Robin Hood and his friends began their evening meal. But the horn cup had only gone once round when the outlaw held up his hand, crying, "Silence!" and interrupting a burst of merriment which one of Tangel\'s hard jests upon a forester opposite had just produced. All was silent in a moment amongst the little party; but no other sound reached their ears, and Robin Hood was again resuming the conversation, saying, "I thought I heard a horn," when the notes were repeated, but it was still far in the distance.

"It is Yockley, from the second mere," said the outlaw, starting up. "It must be your nephew, my lord, who sounded first. I expect no one from such a quarter to-night; but I must answer; and Yockley will bring him hither."

Thus saying, he put his horn to his lips and blew a long blast upon it, very different from that which they had just heard, but well understood by all the foresters as indicating where their leader was to be found.

"Is it not dangerous, Robin?" said the Earl. "I expect not my nephew here, and we are but six."

"We could soon call more," replied Robin; "and our horses are near. But if there be any danger in the party, Yockley will not bring them hither. Now, take some more food, my lord, and send round the cup again. It must be the Lord Hugh, escaped from the revel of the castle, to take a ride in Sherwood by the moon\'s light."

No more was said in regard to the sounding of the horn; and the merry jest again went on, around the green table where their viands were spread. The torch, stuck in a hole in the ground, shed its light upon the various faces in the circle and upon the sylvan repast; and a song from one of the foresters cheered the minutes, till, at length, again the horn hastened much nearer, and Robin again gave his accustomed reply. In about three minutes more the forms of a man on horseback and another on foot by his side, were seen coming through the trees, while the eyes of the whole party round the torch were turned towards them.

"Why, who is this?" exclaimed the Earl; "my good yeoman, Tom Blawket, as I live! He has found his old lord out, even in Sherwood."

The eyes of Blawket had not been idle as he came up; and though the Earl was no longer habited as the high noble of a splendid and ostentatious age, the faithful servant singled him out instantly. Springing from his horse, he kissed his master\'s hand with affectionate reverence, while a tear stood in his eye; but he could utter nothing except, "Oh, my lord!"

"Well, Blawket," replied the Earl, laying his hand on the yeoman\'s shoulder, "I am glad to see thee, my good friend, though thy coming may be somewhat dangerous."

"I come not without cause, my lord," said Blawket, "and sad cause too, and I must give my message hastily, for there is no time to lose. Your nephew, sir, has been arrested on suspicion of treason, being seen conversing with three masked men in the forest. He dared not say that one of them was yourself, my lord, because a price has been set upon your head; and the first word of your being near would send half the nobles of the court hunting you through Sherwood."

"Let them come!" said Robin Hood, calmly; "we would entertain them well."

"He refused to answer their questions," continued Blawket, "and has gained some four and twenty hours--that is, till to-morrow at the hour of two or three, when they will be put to him again, he, in the meantime, remaining a close prisoner. He therefore prays you, my lord, to provide for your own safety with all speed, leaving this part of the forest, and betaking yourself to a distance from Nottingham."

"Where is the Prince?" demanded the old Earl.

"He is gone to Derby, as I hear," replied the yeoman, "to put down some rough-handed clowns amongst the mountains there, who will not believe that the great Earl of Leicester is dead."

"These are bad tidings, indeed," said Robin Hood; "we cannot storm Nottingham Castle, I fear, and set him free."

"Bad tidings, indeed," repeated the Earl; "and I know not well whether to go at once to the King\'s court and justify poor Hugh, or----"

"Nay, nay, my lord," cried Robin Hood, "that will not do. I have always found it best when one of sound discretion, whom we love, beseeches us for his sake to do this or that, not to aim at more than he requires, thinking that we can better his advice, but simply to perform his bidding if we can. Otherwise, not knowing all the secret causes of his desire, we often break his purpose while we seek to mend it. He asks you to go, my lord; \'twere better to do so far. I will remain: nay, go nearer still to Nottingham, this very night; and the castle walls will be thicker and stronger than they ever have been yet, if I hear not all that takes place within them. Nay, more--should danger threaten the good young lord, we will find means to give him help. Although, as the old song goes, \'The castle walls are strong and high,\' yet there are means of leaping over them, if one have but a good will.--Fear not, my lord--fear not! All that your nephew asks is to be enabled, by your absence in some place of safety, to acknowledge whom it was he met in the forest here, without danger to yourself. Was it not so, Tom?"

"Exactly so," replied the yeoman, "and he seemed no way cast down. But the King\'s people are eager enough after him, that is clear, for I found that they dogged me nearly to Lambley Haggard, which made me so long, otherwise I should have been down two hours ago, for I was forced to ride on, and then come back again. I found one of them still waiting near the Mere; but, as he was teasing a pretty boy who seemed to have lost his way, I picked a quarrel with the vermin, and so belaboured him that he will dog no honest man again for some weeks to come, even if he can contrive to drag his bones back to Nottingham to-night."

"Well done, yeoman--well done, Tom!" cried several voices; and the old Earl, who had been buried in thought while his servant spoke, now turned to his forest companion, saying, "Send a quick messenger to the Prince, Robin. It is with him that Hugh\'s safety rests. It seems that I ought to go hence, and therefore I will do so at once; but, Blawket--you speed back to Lord Hugh, and tell him, that if need be, I am willing, at a moment\'s notice, to surrender myself into the Prince\'s hand--ay, or the King\'s, though that, I know, were death--for the few days of my old life are worth nought compared with the long high course before him. Speed you back, Blawket, at once, while I will mount and away! Robin, let me have one of your men with me. Come, Morton of the Moor, you shall show me the way."

A few words more passed between Robin and the Earl, ere the old nobleman departed; but, as soon as he was gone, the bold forester turned to Blawket, who was already on his horse\'s back, exclaiming, "Stay, Tom, a moment! Who was this boy you spoke of?--Where have you left him?"

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