"WHOOF!" came his palm against the Tinker's head, and down went stout Wat to the grass, heels over head, as the wooden image at the fair goes down when the skillful player throws a cudgel at it.
Then, as the Tinker sat up upon the grass, rubbing his ear and winking and blinking at the bright stars that danced before his eyes, the yeomen roared with mirth till the forest rang.

As for King Richard, he laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.

Thus the band shot, each in turn, some getting off scot free, and some winning a buffet that always sent them to the grass.

And now, last of all, Robin took his place, and all was hushed as he shot.

The first shaft he shot split a piece from the stake on which the garland was hung; the second lodged within an inch of the other.