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Next came Will Scarlet, Stukely, and Little John, all proper men and tall, attired in Lincoln green, like Robin Hood, and similarly equipped. Like him, too, they were all foresters of Bowland, owning service to the bow-bearer, Mr. Parker of Browsholme hall; and the representative of Little John, who was six feet and a half high, and stout in proportion, was Lawrence Blackrod, Mr.
“He has forsaken us,” spoke Artazostra, harshly, to her husband. “He has paid kindness with disloyalty. He has chosen the lot of his desperate race rather than princely state amongst the Aryans. Your sister is in agony.” “And I with her,” returned the bow-bearer, gravely, “but let us not forget one thing—this man has saved our lives. And all else weighs small in the balance.”
When the two men were alone, the bow-bearer asked a question. “Dear Prexaspes, do you not think I should bless the twelve archangels I possess so beautiful a sister?” “She is so fair, I wonder that Zeus does not haste from Olympus to enthrone her in place of Hera.” The bow-bearer laughed. “No, I crave for her only a mortal husband.
"And various other perquisites, quae nunc praescribere longum," said the Abbot, summing, with his own lordly voice, the advantages attached to the office of conventional bow-bearer.
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