They're as much opposed to work as I am. That's why they're my
followers. We're the friends of the poor, because they have nothing we
want, and we're the enemies of the rich because they have a lot we do
want and that we often take. Still, we couldn't get along very well,
if there were no rich for us to rob. It's like taking sugar water from
a maple tree. We won't take too much, because it would kill the tree
and we want to take its sugar water again, and many times. Do you
understand?"
"Yes," replied the big youth, but Harry knew he didn't. Harry meanwhile
was listening keenly to all that was passing in the forest, and he was
sure that no other soldier had wandered near. It was perhaps partly a
feeling of loneliness on his own part that caused him to linger in his
talk with Michael Stanislav.
"Michael," he continued, "you appreciate our respective positions,
don't you?"
"Ah!" said Michael, in a puzzled voice.
"I've explained carefully to you that I'm Robin Hood, and you at the
present moment represent the rich."
"I am not rich. Before I turn soldier I work in a mill at Bridgeport."
"That's all very well, but you can't get out of it by referring to your
past. Just now you are a proxy of the rich, and it's my duty to rob you.
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