gone ill with the youth, even to the losing of his young life, had not Sir Richard come to this fair; for of a sudden shouts were heard, and steel flashed in the air, and blows were given with the flat of swords, whilst through the midst of the crowd Sir Richard of the Lea came spurring on his white horse. Then the crowd, seeing the steel-clad knight and the armed men, melted away like snow on the warm hearth, leaving the young man all bloody and dusty upon the ground.

The crowd overcome the young stranger.

Finding himself free, the youth arose, and, wiping the blood from his face, looked up. Quoth he, “Sir Richard of the Lea, mayhap thou hast saved my life this day.”

“Who art thou that knowest Sir Richard of the Lea so well?” quoth the Knight. “Methinks I have seen thy face before, young man.”

Sir Richard of the Lea cometh to the rescue of the stranger and findeth an old friend.

“Yea, thou hast,” said the youth, “for men call me David of Doncaster.”

“Ha!” said Sir Richard; “I wonder that I knew thee not, David; but thy beard hath grown longer, and thou thyself art more set in manhood since this day twelvemonth. Come hither into the tent, David, and wash the blood from thy face. And thou, Ralph, bring him straightway a clean jerkin. Now I am sorry for thee, yet I am right glad that I have had a chance to pay a part of my debt of kindness to thy good master, Robin Hood, for it might have gone ill with thee had I not come, young man.”

So saying, the Knight led David into the tent, and there the youth washed the blood from his face and put on the clean jerkin.

In the mean time a whisper had gone around from those that stood nearest that this was none other than the great David of Doncaster, the best wrestler in all the midcountry, who only last spring had cast stout Adam o’ Lincoln in the ring at Selby, in Yorkshire, and now held the midcountry champion belt. Thus it happened that when young David came forth from the tent along with Sir Richard, the blood all washed from his face, and his soiled jerkin changed for a clean one, no sounds of anger were heard, but all pressed forward to see the young man, feeling proud that one of the great wrestlers of England should have entered the ring at Denby fair. For thus fickle is a mass of men.

Then Sir Richard called aloud, “Friends, this is David of Doncaster; so think it no shame that your Denby man was cast by such a wrestler. He beareth you no ill-will for what hath passed, but let it be a warning to you how ye treat strangers henceforth. Had ye slain him it would have been an ill day for you, for Robin Hood would have harried your town as the kestrel harries the dove-cote. I have bought the pipe of wine from him, and now I give it freely to you to drink as ye list. But never hereafterwards fall upon a man for being a stout yeoman.”

At this all shouted amain; but in truth they thought more of the wine than of the Knight’s words. Then Sir Richard, with David beside him and his men-at-arms around, turned about and left the fair.

But in after days, when the men that saw that wrestling bout were bent with age, they would shake their heads when they heard of any stalwart game, and say, “Ay, ay; but thou shouldst have seen the great David of Doncaster cast stout William with the Scar at Denby fair.”

Robin Hood stood in the merry greenwood with Little John and most of his stout yeomen around him, awaiting Sir Richard’s coming. At last a glint of steel was seen through the brown forest leaves, and forth from the covert into the open rode Sir Richard at the head of his men. He came straight forward to Robin Hood, and leaping from off his horse clasped the yeoman in his arms.

Sir Richard cometh to keep his tryst.

“Why, how now,” said Robin, after a time, holding Sir Richard off and looking at him from top to toe; methinks thou art a gayer bird than when I saw thee last.”

“Yes, thanks to thee, Robin,” said the Knight, laying his hand upon the yeoman’s shoulder. “But for thee I would have been wandering in misery in