“What’s a yew bow?”

“I don’t know.

It’s some kind of a bow, of course. And if he hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and cry — and curse. But we’ll play Robin Hood — it’s nobby fun. I’ll learn you.”

“I’m agreed.”

So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a remark about the morrow’s prospects and possibilities there. As the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill.