"Will you show me the way home, then?"
The boy shook his head again, and now stared at the velvet jerkin,
then at his own garb, which consisted of a piece of sack with slits
in it for his head and arms to come through, and a strip of
cow-skin for a belt to hold it in.
"I could show you where to get something," he said at last.
"Well, show me," cried Robin.
"You give me that jacket and cap, then," cried the boy, in a husky,
low voice.
"Give you my clothes?" said Robin, wonderingly. "I can't do that."
"Then I shall take 'em?" said the boy, in a husky growl.
"I'm so hungry," cried Robin. "Show me where to get something, and
I'll give you my cap and feather."
"I wants the jacket too," said the boy.
"I tell you I can't give you that," cried Robin.
"Then I means to take it."
Robin shrank away, and the boy turned upon him fiercely.
"None of that," he cried. "See this here stick? If you was to try
to run away I should send it spinning after you, and it would break
your legs and knock you down, and I could send the tigs after you,
and they'd soon bring you back."
Robin drew a deep breath; he felt hot, and his hands clenched as he
longed to strike out at his tyrant.
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