"Ah, but that was before I gave up drinking," Bobby said.
Marion strung her own bow. "I see it's time to put you in your place again," she said. "Very well." She nocked an arrow and, choosing a stout oak tree on the far side of the camp, she drew her bow back and let fly. The arrow sailed across the camp, narrowly missing one of the men who had just exited his hut. He yelped and dove back inside. The arrow struck the tree trunk and stuck there.
"Right," said Marion. "Let's see how close you can place your shaft to mine. Perhaps you'll even split it as you did Hubert's." She laughed, mockingly.
Bobby removed his quiver from his shoulder, handing it to John.
"Hold that for me, will you, Little John?"
Finn winked at Bobby as Bobby drew out a black arrow. With Bobby standing between him and Marion, Finn reached into the quiver and drew out the little black box.
"A black arrow?" Marion said.
"A new idea of mine," said Bobby. "I thought to have all the merry men use black arrows."
"Why?"
"To strike fear into the hearts of our enemies, to mark that the arrow comes from one of Robin Hood's merry men."
"Ah, I see," said Marion, with mock gravity. "Perhaps we should all wear some sort of crest upon our chests, as well? Crossed black arrows upon a cask of ale?"
By way of an answer, Bobby nocked the arrow, first taking care to quickly disarm it, drew the bow back to his ear, and let it fly. The black box did the rest. Marion's arrow was neatly split.
The merry men cheered, throwing their caps into the air and pounding one another on the back. Marion stared at him with total disbelief.
"I could not believe that story about your winning the tournament," she said, "yet now I see it with my own two eyes! You really can shoot!"
"And you doubted me," said Bobby.
Marion unstrung her bow, then swung it with both hands. It whistled through the air and struck Bobby on the side of his head.
"Jesus!" He clapped his hand to his left ear, wincing with pain. "Are you crazy?"
"All this time, you could shoot so well, and yet you deprived me of such marksmanship by being a drunkard!" She grabbed him by the hair and shook his head furiously. "If I ever see you touch a drop of drink again, God be my judge, you 'II live out the remainder of your life a gelding!"
She shoved him away from her, then turned to face the merry men, who all instantly grew silent.
"Tomorrow, we start to learn these new tricks of fighting," she said. "And from this moment on, any man who cannot hold his drink will be hung up by his thumbs! Neither are you excluded, Tuck, holy friar or not." She stalked off to her lean-to, but paused and turned around before entering. "One more thing," she said. "From now on, we use black arrows."
The merry men glared balefully at Finn and Bobby.
"Well, how about that?" said Bobby.
"She sure is some kind of lady," Finn said.
"What kind is that?"
Finn grinned. "I guess you'll find out tonight."
"I have a feeling we're not very popular around here right this minute," Bobby said.
Finn nodded. "We'll be even less popular tomorrow morning, when I start in on these rampant specimens of manhood."
"We may have some desertions," Bobby said.
Finn shook his head. "I don't think so."
"Why not?"