Then Little John strode in, and never a word said he, but up the winding stone steps he ran till he reached the room wherein his master was.

Here he found the door locked also, but, putting his shoulder against it, he burst the locks as though they were made of brittle ice.
There he saw his own dear master leaning against the gray stone wall, his face all white and drawn, and his head swaying to and fro with weakness.

Then, with a great, wild cry of love and grief and pity, Little John leaped forward and caught Robin Hood in his arms.

Up he lifted him as a mother lifts her child, and carrying him to the bed, laid him tenderly thereon.
And now the Prioress came in hastily, for she was frightened at what she had done, and dreaded the vengeance of Little John and the others of the band; then she stanched the blood by cunning bandages, so that it flowed no more.

All the while Little John stood grimly by, and after she had done he sternly bade her to begone, and she obeyed, pale and trembling.
Then, after she had departed, Little John spake cheering words, laughing loudly, and saying that all this was a child's fright, and that no stout yeoman would die at the loss of a few drops of blood.