The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood, by Howard Pyle

Published：2026-07-31 01:34:27 Source: interactive globes for 7 year olds under 30 dollars Author: Award Toys

THE MERRY ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD

by Howard Pyle

PREFACE

FROM THE AUTHOR TO THE READER

You who so plod amid serious things that you feel it shame to giveyourself up even for a few short moments to mirth and magnetic construction sets under 100 dollarsjoyousness in theland of Fancy; you who think that life hath nought to do with innocentlaughter that can harm no one; these pages are not for you. Clap to theleaves and go no farther than this, for I tell you plainly that if yougo farther you will be scandalized by seeing good, sober folks of realhistory so frisk and caper in gay colors and motley that you wouldnot know them but for the names tagged to them. Here is a stout, lustyfellow with a quick temper, yet none so ill for all that, who goes bythe name of Henry II. Here is a fair, gentle lady before whom all theothers bow and call her Queen Eleanor. Here is a fat rogue of a fellow,dressed up in rich robes of a clerical kind, that all the good folk callmy Lord Bishop of Hereford. Here is a certain fellow with a sour temperand a grim look—the worshipful, the Sheriff of Nottingham. And here,above all, is a great, tall, merry fellow that roams the greenwood andjoins in homely sports, and sits beside the Sheriff at merry feast,which same beareth the name of the proudest of the Plantagenets—Richardof the Lion's Heart. Beside these are a whole host of knights, priests,nobles, burghers, yeomen, pages, ladies, lasses, landlords, beggars,peddlers, and what not, all living the merriest of merry lives, and allbound by nothing but a few odd strands of certain old ballads (snippedand clipped and tied together again in a score of knots) which drawthese jocund fellows here and there, singing as they go.

Here you will find a hundred dull, sober, jogging places, all trickedout with flowers and what not, till no one would know them in theirfanciful dress. And here is a country bearing a well-known name, whereinno chill mists press upon our spirits, and no rain falls but what rollsoff our backs like April showers off the backs of sleek drakes; whereflowers bloom forever and birds are always singing; where every fellowhath a merry catch as he travels the roads, and ale and beer and wine(such as muddle no wits) flow like water in a brook.

This country is not Fairyland. What is it? 'Tis the land of Fancy, andis of that pleasant kind that, when you tire of it—whisk!—you clapthe leaves of this book together and 'tis gone, and you are ready foreveryday life, with no harm done.

And now I lift the curtain that hangs between here and No-man's-land.Will you come with me, sweet Reader? I thank you. Give me your hand.

Contents

How Robin Hood Came to Be an Outlaw

IN MERRY ENGLAND in the time of old, when good King Henry the Secondruled the land, there lived within the green glades of Sherwood Forest,near Nottingham Town, a famous outlaw whose name was Robin Hood. Noarcher ever lived that could speed a gray goose shaft with such skilland cunning as his, nor were there ever such yeomen as the sevenscoremerry men that roamed with him through the greenwood shades. Rightmerrily they dwelled within the depths of Sherwood Forest, sufferingneither care nor want, but passing the time in merry games of archery orbouts of cudgel play, living upon the King's venison, washed down withdraughts of ale of October brewing.

Not only Robin himself but all the band were outlaws and dwelled apartfrom other men, yet they were beloved by the country people round about,for no one ever came to jolly Robin for help in time of need and wentaway again with an empty fist.

And now I will tell how it came about that Robin Hood fell afoul of thelaw.

When Robin was a youth of eighteen, stout of sinew and bold of heart,the Sheriff of Nottingham proclaimed a shooting match and offered aprize of a butt of ale to whosoever should shoot the best shaft inNottinghamshire. "Now," quoth Robin, "will I go too, for fain would Idraw a string for the bright eyes of my lass and a butt of good Octoberbrewing." So up he got and took his good stout yew bow and a scoreor more of broad clothyard arrows, and started off from Locksley Townthrough Sherwood Forest to Nottingham.

It was at the dawn of day in the merry Maytime, when hedgerows are greenand flowers bedeck the meadows; daisies pied and yellow cuckoo buds andfair primroses all along the briery hedges; when apple buds blossom andsweet birds sing, the lark at dawn of day, the throstle cock and cuckoo;when lads and lasses look upon each other with sweet thoughts; when busyhousewives spread their linen to bleach upon the bright green grass.Sweet was the greenwood as he walked along its paths, and bright thegreen and rustling leaves, amid which the little birds sang with mightand main: and blithely Robin whistled as he trudged along, thinking ofMaid Marian and her bright eyes, for at such times a youth's thoughtsare wont to turn pleasantly upon the lass that he loves the best.

As thus he walked along with a brisk step and a merry whistle, he camesuddenly upon some foresters seated beneath a great oak tree. Fifteenthere were in all, making themselves merry with feasting and drinkingas they sat around a huge pasty, to which each man helped himself,thrusting his hands into the pie, and washing down that which they atewith great horns of ale which they drew all foaming from a barrel thatstood nigh. Each man was clad in Lincoln green, and a fine show theymade, seated upon the sward beneath that fair, spreading tree. Then oneof them, with his mouth full, called out to Robin, "Hulloa, where goestthou, little lad, with thy one-penny bow and thy farthing shafts?"

Then Robin grew angry, for no stripling likes to be taunted with hisgreen years.

"Now," quoth he, "my bow and eke mine arrows are as good as shine; andmoreover, I go to the shooting match at Nottingham Town, which same hasbeen proclaimed by our good Sheriff of Nottinghamshire; there I willshoot with other stout yeomen, for a prize has been offered of a finebutt of ale."

Then one who held a horn of ale in his hand said, "Ho! listen to thelad! Why, boy, thy mother's milk is yet scarce dry upon thy lips, andyet thou pratest of standing up with good stout men at Nottingham butts,thou who art scarce able to draw one string of a two-stone bow."

"I'll hold the best of you twenty marks," quoth bold Robin, "that I hitthe clout at threescore rods, by the good help of Our Lady fair."

At this all laughed aloud, and one said, "Well boasted, thou fairinfant, well boasted! And well thou knowest that no target is nigh tomake good thy wager."

And another cried, "He will be taking ale with his milk next."

At this Robin grew right mad. "Hark ye," said he, "yonder, at theglade's end, I see a herd of deer, even more than threescore rodsdistant. I'll hold you twenty marks that, by leave of Our Lady, I causethe best hart among them to die."

"Now done!" cried he who had spoken first. "And here are twenty marks. Iwager that thou causest no beast to die, with or without the aid of OurLady."

Then Robin took his good yew bow in his hand, and placing the tip athis instep, he strung it right deftly; then he nocked a broad clothyardarrow and, raising the bow, drew the gray goose feather to his ear; thenext moment the bowstring rang and the arrow sped down the glade as asparrowhawk skims in a northern wind. High leaped the noblest hartof all the herd, only to fall dead, reddening the green path with hisheart's blood.

"Ha!" cried Robin, "how likest thou that shot, good fellow? I wot thewager were mine, an it were three hundred pounds."

Then all the foresters were filled with rage, and he who had spoken thefirst and had lost the wager was more angry than all.

"Nay," cried he, "the wager is none of thine, and get thee gone,straightway, or, by all the saints of heaven, I'll baste thy sidesuntil thou wilt ne'er be able to walk again." "Knowest thou not," saidanother, "that thou hast killed the King's deer, and, by the laws ofour gracious lord and sovereign King Harry, thine ears should be shavenclose to thy head?"

"Catch him!" cried a third.

"Nay," said a fourth, "let him e'en go because of his tender years."

Never a word said Robin Hood, but he looked at the foresters with a grimface; then, turning on his heel, strode away from them down the forestglade. But his heart was bitterly angry, for his blood was hot andyouthful and prone to boil.

Now, well would it have been for him who had first spoken had he leftRobin Hood alone; but his anger was hot, both because the youth hadgotten the better of him and because of the deep draughts of ale thathe had been quaffing. So, of a sudden, without any warning, he sprang tohis feet, and seized upon his bow and fitted it to a shaft. "Ay," criedhe, "and I'll hurry thee anon." And he sent the arrow whistling afterRobin.

It was well for Robin Hood that that same forester's head was spinningwith ale, or else he would never have taken another step. As it was, thearrow whistled within three inches of his head. Then he turned aroundand quickly drew his own bow, and sent an arrow back in return.

"Ye said I was no archer," cried he aloud, "but say so now again!"

The shaft flew straight; the archer fell forward with a cry, and lay onhis face upon the ground, his arrows rattling about him from out of hisquiver, the gray goose shaft wet with his; heart's blood. Then, beforethe others could gather their wits about them, Robin Hood was gone intothe depths of the greenwood. Some started after him, but not with muchheart, for each feared to suffer the death of his fellow; so presentlythey all came and lifted the dead man up and bore him away to NottinghamTown.

Meanwhile Robin Hood ran through the greenwood. Gone was all the joy andbrightness from everything, for his heart was sick within him, and itwas borne in upon his soul that he had slain a man.

"Alas!" cried he, "thou hast found me an archer that will make thy wifeto wring! I would that thou hadst ne'er said one word to me, or thatI had never passed thy way, or e'en that my right forefinger had beenstricken off ere that this had happened! In haste I smote, but grieve Isore at leisure!" And then, even in his trouble, he remembered the oldsaw that "What is done is done; and the egg cracked cannot be cured."

And so he came to dwell in the greenwood that was to be his home formany a year to come, never again to see the happy days with the lads andlasses of sweet Locksley Town; for he was outlawed, not only because hehad killed a man, but also because he had poached upon the King's deer,and two hundred pounds were set upon his head, as a reward for whoeverwould bring him to the court of the King.

Now the Sheriff of Nottingham swore that he himself would bring thisknave Robin Hood to justice, and for two reasons: first, because hewanted the two hundred pounds, and next, because the forester that RobinHood had killed was of kin to him.

But Robin Hood lay hidden in Sherwood Forest for one year, and in thattime there gathered around him many others like himself, cast out fromother folk for this cause and for that. Some had shot deer in hungrywintertime, when they could get no other food, and had been seen in theact by the foresters, but had escaped, thus saving their ears; some hadbeen turned out of their inheritance, that their farms might be added tothe King's lands in Sherwood Forest; some had been despoiled by a greatbaron or a rich abbot or a powerful esquire—all, for one cause oranother, had come to Sherwood to escape wrong and oppression.

So, in all that year, fivescore or more good stout yeomen gathered aboutRobin Hood, and chose him to be their leader and chief. Then they vowedthat even as they themselves had been despoiled they would despoil theiroppressors, whether baron, abbot, knight, or squire, and that from eachthey would take that which had been wrung from the poor by unjust taxes,or land rents, or in wrongful fines. But to the poor folk they wouldgive a helping hand in need and trouble, and would return to them thatwhich had been unjustly taken from them. Besides this, they swore neverto harm a child nor to wrong a woman, be she maid, wife, or widow; sothat, after a while, when the people began to find that no harm wasmeant to them, but that money or food came in time of want to many apoor family, they came to praise Robin and his merry men, and to tellmany tales of him and of his doings in Sherwood Forest, for they felthim to be one of themselves.

Up rose Robin Hood one merry morn when all the birds were singingblithely among the leaves, and up rose all his merry men, each fellowwashing his head and hands in the cold brown brook that leaped laughingfrom stone to stone. Then said Robin, "For fourteen days have we seen nosport, so now I will go abroad to seek adventures forthwith. But tarryye, my merry men all, here in the greenwood; only see that ye mind wellmy call. Three blasts upon the bugle horn I will blow in my hour ofneed; then come quickly, for I shall want your aid."

So saying, he strode away through the leafy forest glades until hehad come to the verge of Sherwood. There he wandered for a long time,through highway and byway, through dingly dell and forest skirts. Now hemet a fair buxom lass in a shady lane, and each gave the other a merryword and passed their way; now he saw a fair lady upon an ambling pad,to whom he doffed his cap, and who bowed sedately in return to thefair youth; now he saw a fat monk on a pannier-laden ass; now a gallantknight, with spear and shield and armor that flashed brightly in thesunlight; now a page clad in crimson; and now a stout burgher from goodNottingham Town, pacing along with serious footsteps; all these sightshe saw, but adventure found he none. At last he took a road by theforest skirts, a bypath that dipped toward a broad, pebbly streamspanned by a narrow bridge made of a log of wood. As he drew nigh thisbridge he saw a tall stranger coming from the other side. ThereuponRobin quickened his pace, as did the stranger likewise, each thinking tocross first.

"Now stand thou back," quoth Robin, "and let the better man crossfirst."

"Nay," answered the stranger, "then stand back shine own self, for thebetter man, I wet, am I."

"That will we presently see," quoth Robin, "and meanwhile stand thouwhere thou art, or else, by the bright brow of Saint AElfrida, I willshow thee right good Nottingham play with a clothyard shaft betwixt thyribs."

"Now," quoth the stranger, "I will tan thy hide till it be as manycolors as a beggar's cloak, if thou darest so much as touch a string ofthat same bow that thou holdest in thy hands."

"Thou pratest like an ass," said Robin, "for I could send this shaftclean through thy proud heart before a curtal friar could say grace overa roast goose at Michaelmastide."

"And thou pratest like a coward," answered the stranger, "for thoustandest there with a good yew bow to shoot at my heart, while I havenought in my hand but a plain blackthorn staff wherewith to meet thee."

"Now," quoth Robin, "by the faith of my heart, never have I had acoward's name in all my life before. I will lay by my trusty bow andeke my arrows, and if thou darest abide my coming, I will go and cut acudgel to test thy manhood withal."

"Ay, marry, that will I abide thy coming, and joyously, too," quoth thestranger; whereupon he leaned sturdily upon his staff to await Robin.

Then Robin Hood stepped quickly to the coverside and cut a good staff ofground oak, straight, without new, and six feet in length, and came backtrimming away the tender stems from it, while the stranger waited forhim, leaning upon his staff, and whistling as he gazed round about.Robin observed him furtively as he trimmed his staff, measuring him fromtop to toe from out the corner of his eye, and thought that he had neverseen a lustier or a stouter man. Tall was Robin, but taller was thestranger by a head and a neck, for he was seven feet in height. Broadwas Robin across the shoulders, but broader was the stranger by twicethe breadth of a palm, while he measured at least an ell around thewaist.

"Nevertheless," said Robin to himself, "I will baste thy hide rightmerrily, my good fellow;" then, aloud, "Lo, here is my good staff,lusty and tough. Now wait my coming, an thou darest, and meet me an thoufearest not. Then we will fight until one or the other of us tumble intothe stream by dint of blows."

"Marry, that meeteth my whole heart!" cried the stranger, twirling hisstaff above his head, betwixt his fingers and thumb, until it whistledagain.

Never did the Knights of Arthur's Round Table meet in a stouter fightthan did these two. In a moment Robin stepped quickly upon the bridgewhere the stranger stood; first he made a feint, and then delivereda blow at the stranger's head that, had it met its mark, would havetumbled him speedily into the water. But the stranger turned the blowright deftly and in return gave one as stout, which Robin also turned asthe stranger had done. So they stood, each in his place, neither movinga finger's-breadth back, for one good hour, and many blows were givenand received by each in that time, till here and there were sore bonesand bumps, yet neither thought of crying "Enough," nor seemed likely tofall from off the bridge. Now and then they stopped to rest, and eachthought that he never had seen in all his life before such a hand atquarterstaff. At last Robin gave the stranger a blow upon the ribs thatmade his jacket smoke like a damp straw thatch in the sun. So shrewd wasthe stroke that the stranger came within a hair's-breadth of falling offthe bridge, but he regained himself right quickly and, by a dexterousblow, gave Robin a crack on the crown that caused the blood to flow.Then Robin grew mad with anger and smote with all his might at theother. But the stranger warded the blow and once again thwacked Robin,and this time so fairly that he fell heels over head into the water, asthe queen pin falls in a game of bowls.

"And where art thou now, my good lad?" shouted the stranger, roaringwith laughter.

"Oh, in the flood and floating adown with the tide," cried Robin, norcould he forbear laughing himself at his sorry plight. Then, gaining hisfeet, he waded to the bank, the little fish speeding hither and thither,all frightened at his splashing.

"Give me thy hand," cried he, when he had reached the bank. "I mustneeds own thou art a brave and a sturdy soul and, withal, a good stoutstroke with the cudgels. By this and by that, my head hummeth like to ahive of bees on a hot June day."

Then he clapped his horn to his lips and winded a blast that wentechoing sweetly down the forest paths. "Ay, marry," quoth he again,"thou art a tall lad, and eke a brave one, for ne'er, I bow, is there aman betwixt here and Canterbury Town could do the like to me that thouhast done."

"And thou," quoth the stranger, laughing, "takest thy cudgeling like abrave heart and a stout yeoman."

But now the distant twigs and branches rustled with the coming of men,and suddenly a score or two of good stout yeomen, all clad in Lincolngreen, burst from out the covert, with merry Will Stutely at their head.

"Good master," cried Will, "how is this? Truly thou art all wet fromhead to foot, and that to the very skin."

"Why, marry," answered jolly Robin, "yon stout fellow hath tumbled meneck and crop into the water and hath given me a drubbing beside."

"Then shall he not go without a ducking and eke a drubbing himself!"cried Will Stutely. "Have at him, lads!"

Then Will and a score of yeomen leaped upon the stranger, but thoughthey sprang quickly they found him ready and felt him strike right andleft with his stout staff, so that, though he went down with press ofnumbers, some of them rubbed cracked crowns before he was overcome.

"Nay, forbear!" cried Robin, laughing until his sore sides ached again."He is a right good man and true, and no harm shall befall him. Nowhark ye, good youth, wilt thou stay with me and be one of my band? Threesuits of Lincoln green shalt thou have each year, beside forty marks infee, and share with us whatsoever good shall befall us. Thou shalt eatsweet venison and quaff the stoutest ale, and mine own good right-handman shalt thou be, for never did I see such a cudgel player in all mylife before. Speak! Wilt thou be one of my good merry men?"

"That know I not," quoth the stranger surlily, for he was angry at beingso tumbled about. "If ye handle yew bow and apple shaft no better thanye do oaken cudgel, I wot ye are not fit to be called yeomen in mycountry; but if there be any man here that can shoot a better shaft thanI, then will I bethink me of joining with you."

"Now by my faith," said Robin, "thou art a right saucy varlet, sirrah;yet I will stoop to thee as I never stooped to man before. Good Stutely,cut thou a fair white piece of bark four fingers in breadth, and set itfourscore yards distant on yonder oak. Now, stranger, hit that fairlywith a gray goose shaft and call thyself an archer."

"Ay, marry, that will I," answered he. "Give me a good stout bow and afair broad arrow, and if I hit it not, strip me and beat me blue withbowstrings."

Then he chose the stoutest bow among them all, next to Robin's own, anda straight gray goose shaft, well-feathered and smooth, and steppingto the mark—while all the band, sitting or lying upon the greensward,watched to see him shoot—he drew the arrow to his cheek and loosed theshaft right deftly, sending it so straight down the path that it clovethe mark in the very center. "Aha!" cried he, "mend thou that if thoucanst;" while even the yeomen clapped their hands at so fair a shot.

"That is a keen shot indeed," quoth Robin. "Mend it I cannot, but mar itI may, perhaps."

Then taking up his own good stout bow and nocking an arrow with care, heshot with his very greatest skill. Straight flew the arrow, and sotrue that it lit fairly upon the stranger's shaft and split it intosplinters. Then all the yeomen leaped to their feet and shouted for joythat their master had shot so well.

"Now by the lusty yew bow of good Saint Withold," cried the stranger,"that is a shot indeed, and never saw I the like in all my life before!Now truly will I be thy man henceforth and for aye. Good Adam Bell(1)was a fair shot, but never shot he so!"

(1) Adam Bell, Clym o' the Clough, and William of Cloudesly     were three noted north-country bowmen whose names have been     celebrated in many ballads of the olden time.

"Then have I gained a right good man this day," quoth jolly Robin. "Whatname goest thou by, good fellow?"

"Men call me John Little whence I came," answered the stranger.

Then Will Stutely, who loved a good jest, spoke up. "Nay, fair littlestranger," said he, "I like not thy name and fain would I have itotherwise. Little art thou indeed, and small of bone and sinew,therefore shalt thou be christened Little John, and I will be thygodfather."

Then Robin Hood and all his band laughed aloud until the stranger beganto grow angry.

"An thou make a jest of me," quoth he to Will Stutely, "thou wilt havesore bones and little pay, and that in short season."

"Nay, good friend," said Robin Hood, "bottle thine anger, for the namefitteth thee well. Little John shall thou be called henceforth, andLittle John shall it be. So come, my merry men, we will prepare achristening feast for this fair infant."

So turning their backs upon the stream, they plunged into the forestonce more, through which they traced their steps till they reached thespot where they dwelled in the depths of the woodland. There had theybuilt huts of bark and branches of trees, and made couches of sweetrushes spread over with skins of fallow deer. Here stood a great oaktree with branches spreading broadly around, beneath which was a seat ofgreen moss where Robin Hood was wont to sit at feast and at merrymakingwith his stout men about him. Here they found the rest of the band, someof whom had come in with a brace of fat does. Then they all built greatfires and after a time roasted the does and broached a barrel of hummingale. Then when the feast was ready they all sat down, but Robin placedLittle John at his right hand, for he was henceforth to be the second inthe band.

Then when the feast was done Will Stutely spoke up. "It is now time, Iween, to christen our bonny babe, is it not so, merry boys?" And "Aye!Aye!" cried all, laughing till the woods echoed with their mirth.

"Then seven sponsors shall we have," quoth Will Stutely, and huntingamong all the band, he chose the seven stoutest men of them all.

"Now by Saint Dunstan," cried Little John, springing to his feet, "morethan one of you shall rue it an you lay finger upon me."

But without a word they all ran upon him at once, seizing him by hislegs and arms and holding him tightly in spite of his struggles, andthey bore him forth while all stood around to see the sport. Then onecame forward who had been chosen to play the priest because he had abald crown, and in his hand he carried a brimming pot of ale. "Now, whobringeth this babe?" asked he right soberly.

"That do I," answered Will Stutely.

"And what name callest thou him?"

"Little John call I him."

"Now Little John," quoth the mock priest, "thou hast not livedheretofore, but only got thee along through the world, but henceforththou wilt live indeed. When thou livedst not thou wast called JohnLittle, but now that thou dost live indeed, Little John shalt thou becalled, so christen I thee." And at these last words he emptied the potof ale upon Little John's head.

Then all shouted with laughter as they saw the good brown ale streamover Little John's beard and trickle from his nose and chin, while hiseyes blinked with the smart of it. At first he was of a mind to be angrybut found he could not, because the others were so merry; so he, too,laughed with the rest. Then Robin took this sweet, pretty babe, clothedhim all anew from top to toe in Lincoln green, and gave him a good stoutbow, and so made him a member of the merry band.

And thus it was that Robin Hood became outlawed; thus a band of merrycompanions gathered about him, and thus he gained his right-hand man,Little John; and so the prologue ends. And now I will tell how theSheriff of Nottingham three times sought to take Robin Hood, and how hefailed each time.

Robin Hood and the Tinker

Now it was told before how two hundred pounds were set upon Robin Hood'shead, and how the Sheriff of Nottingham swore that he himself wouldseize Robin, both because he would fain have the two hundred pounds andbecause the slain man was a kinsman of his own. Now the Sheriff did notyet know what a force Robin had about him in Sherwood, but thought thathe might serve a warrant for his arrest as he could upon any other manthat had broken the laws; therefore he offered fourscore golden angelsto anyone who would serve this warrant. But men of Nottingham Town knewmore of Robin Hood and his doings than the Sheriff did, and many laughedto think of serving a warrant upon the bold outlaw, knowing well thatall they would get for such service would be cracked crowns; so that noone came forward to take the matter in hand. Thus a fortnight passed, inwhich time none came forward to do the Sheriff's business. Then said he,"A right good reward have I offered to whosoever would serve my warrantupon Robin Hood, and I marvel that no one has come to undertake thetask."

Then one of his men who was near him said, "Good master, thou wottestnot the force that Robin Hood has about him and how little he cares forwarrant of king or sheriff. Truly, no one likes to go on this service,for fear of cracked crowns and broken bones."

"Then I hold all Nottingham men to be cowards," said the Sheriff. "Andlet me see the man in all Nottinghamshire that dare disobey the warrantof our sovereign lord King Harry, for, by the shrine of Saint Edmund,I will hang him forty cubits high! But if no man in Nottingham darewin fourscore angels, I will send elsewhere, for there should be men ofmettle somewhere in this land."

Then he called up a messenger in whom he placed great trust, and badehim saddle his horse and make ready to go to Lincoln Town to see whetherhe could find anyone there that would do his bidding and win the reward.So that same morning the messenger started forth upon his errand.

Bright shone the sun upon the dusty highway that led from Nottinghamto Lincoln, stretching away all white over hill and dale. Dusty was thehighway and dusty the throat of the messenger, so that his heart wasglad when he saw before him the Sign of the Blue Boar Inn, when somewhatmore than half his journey was done. The inn looked fair to his eyes,and the shade of the oak trees that stood around it seemed cool andpleasant, so he alighted from his horse to rest himself for a time,calling for a pot of ale to refresh his thirsty throat.

There he saw a party of right jovial fellows seated beneath thespreading oak that shaded the greensward in front of the door. Therewas a tinker, two barefoot friars, and a party of six of the King'sforesters all clad in Lincoln green, and all of them were quaffinghumming ale and singing merry ballads of the good old times. Loudlaughed the foresters, as jests were bandied about between the singing,and louder laughed the friars, for they were lusty men with beardsthat curled like the wool of black rams; but loudest of all laughed theTinker, and he sang more sweetly than any of the rest. His bag and hishammer hung upon a twig of the oak tree, and near by leaned his goodstout cudgel, as thick as his wrist and knotted at the end.

"Come," cried one of the foresters to the tired messenger, "come join usfor this shot. Ho, landlord! Bring a fresh pot of ale for each man."

The messenger was glad enough to sit down along with the others who werethere, for his limbs were weary and the ale was good.

"Now what news bearest thou so fast?" quoth one, "and whither ridestthou today?"

The messenger was a chatty soul and loved a bit of gossip dearly;besides, the pot of ale warmed his heart; so that, settling himself inan easy corner of the inn bench, while the host leaned upon the doorwayand the hostess stood with her hands beneath her apron, he unfolded hisbudget of news with great comfort. He told all from the very first:how Robin Hood had slain the forester, and how he had hidden in thegreenwood to escape the law; how that he lived therein, all against thelaw, God wot, slaying His Majesty's deer and levying toll on fat abbot,knight, and esquire, so that none dare travel even on broad WatlingStreet or the Fosse Way for fear of him; how that the Sheriff had a mindto serve the King's warrant upon this same rogue, though little would hemind warrant of either king or sheriff, for he was far from being alaw-abiding man. Then he told how none could be found in all NottinghamTown to serve this warrant, for fear of cracked pates and broken bones,and how that he, the messenger, was now upon his way to Lincoln Town tofind of what mettle the Lincoln men might be.

"Now come I, forsooth, from good Banbury Town," said the jolly Tinker,"and no one nigh Nottingham—nor Sherwood either, an that be themark—can hold cudgel with my grip. Why, lads, did I not meet that madwag Simon of Ely, even at the famous fair at Hertford Town, and beat himin the ring at that place before Sir Robert of Leslie and his lady? Thissame Robin Hood, of whom, I wot, I never heard before, is a right merryblade, but gin he be strong, am not I stronger? And gin he be sly, amnot I slyer? Now by the bright eyes of Nan o' the Mill, and by mine ownname and that's Wat o' the Crabstaff, and by mine own mother's son,and that's myself, will I, even I, Wat o' the Crabstaff, meet this samesturdy rogue, and gin he mind not the seal of our glorious sovereignKing Harry, and the warrant of the good Sheriff of Nottinghamshire,I will so bruise, beat, and bemaul his pate that he shall never movefinger or toe again! Hear ye that, bully boys?"

"Now art thou the man for my farthing," cried the messenger. "And backthou goest with me to Nottingham Town."

"Nay," quoth the Tinker, shaking his head slowly from side to side. "GoI with no man gin it be not with mine own free will."

"Nay, nay," said the messenger, "no man is there in Nottinghamshirecould make thee go against thy will, thou brave fellow."

"Ay, that be I brave," said the Tinker.

"Ay, marry," said the messenger, "thou art a brave lad; but our goodSheriff hath offered fourscore angels of bright gold to whosoever shallserve the warrant upon Robin Hood; though little good will it do."

"Then I will go with thee, lad. Do but wait till I get my bag andhammer, and my cudgel. Ay, let' me but meet this same Robin Hood, andlet me see whether he will not mind the King's warrant." So, afterhaving paid their score, the messenger, with the Tinker striding besidehis nag, started back to Nottingham again.

One bright morning soon after this time, Robin Hood started off toNottingham Town to find what was a-doing there, walking merrily alongthe roadside where the grass was sweet with daisies, his eyes wanderingand his thoughts also. His bugle horn hung at his hip and his bow andarrows at his back, while in his hand he bore a good stout oaken staff,which he twirled with his fingers as he strolled along.

As thus he walked down a shady lane he saw a tinker coming, trolling amerry song as he drew nigh. On his back hung his bag and his hammer, andin his hand he carried a right stout crabstaff full six feet long, andthus sang he:

"In peascod time, when hound to horn     Gives ear till buck be killed,     And little lads with pipes of corn     Sit keeping beasts afield—"

"Halloa, good friend!" cried Robin.

"Halloa!" cried Robin again.

"Halloa! Art thou deaf, man? Good friend, say I!"

"And who art thou dost so boldly check a fair song?" quoth the Tinker,stopping in his singing. "Halloa, shine own self, whether thou be goodfriend or no. But let me tell thee, thou stout fellow, gin thou be agood friend it were well for us both; but gin thou be no good friend itwere ill for thee."

"And whence comest thou, my lusty blade?" quoth Robin.

"I come from Banbury," answered the Tinker.

"Alas!" quoth Robin, "I hear there is sad news this merry morn."

"Ha! Is it indeed so?" cried the Tinker eagerly. "Prythee tell itspeedily, for I am a tinker by trade, as thou seest, and as I am in mytrade I am greedy for news, even as a priest is greedy for farthings."

"Well then," quoth Robin, "list thou and I will tell, but bear thyselfup bravely, for the news is sad, I wot. Thus it is: I hear that twotinkers are in the stocks for drinking ale and beer!"

"Now a murrain seize thee and thy news, thou scurvy dog," quoth theTinker, "for thou speakest but ill of good men. But sad news it isindeed, gin there be two stout fellows in the stocks."

"Nay," said Robin, "thou hast missed the mark and dost but weep for thewrong sow. The sadness of the news lieth in that there be but two in thestocks, for the others do roam the country at large."

"Now by the pewter platter of Saint Dunstan," cried the Tinker, "I havea good part of a mind to baste thy hide for thine ill jest. But gin menbe put in the stocks for drinking ale and beer, I trow thou wouldst notlose thy part."

Loud laughed Robin and cried, "Now well taken, Tinker, well taken! Why,thy wits are like beer, and do froth up most when they grow sour! Butright art thou, man, for I love ale and beer right well. Therefore comestraightway with me hard by to the Sign of the Blue Boar, and if thoudrinkest as thou appearest—and I wot thou wilt not belie thy looks—Iwill drench thy throat with as good homebrewed as ever was tapped in allbroad Nottinghamshire."

"Now by my faith," said the Tinker, "thou art a right good fellow inspite of thy scurvy jests. I love thee, my sweet chuck, and gin I go notwith thee to that same Blue Boar thou mayst call me a heathen."

"Tell me thy news, good friend, I prythee," quoth Robin as they trudgedalong together, "for tinkers, I ween, are all as full of news as an eggof meat."

"Now I love thee as my brother, my bully blade," said the Tinker, "elseI would not tell thee my news; for sly am I, man, and I have in hand agrave undertaking that doth call for all my wits, for I come to seeka bold outlaw that men, hereabouts, call Robin Hood. Within my pouch Ihave a warrant, all fairly written out on parchment, forsooth, with agreat red seal for to make it lawful. Could I but meet this same RobinHood I would serve it upon his dainty body, and if he minded it notI would beat him till every one of his ribs would cry Amen. But thoulivest hereabouts, mayhap thou knowest Robin Hood thyself, good fellow."

"Ay, marry, that I do somewhat," quoth Robin, "and I have seen him thisvery morn. But, Tinker, men say that he is but a sad, sly thief. Thouhadst better watch thy warrant, man, or else he may steal it out of thyvery pouch."

"Let him but try!" cried the Tinker. "Sly may he be, but sly am I, too.I would I had him here now, man to man!" And he made his heavy cudgel tospin again. "But what manner of man is he, lad?

"Much like myself," said Robin, laughing, "and in height and build andage nigh the same; and he hath blue eyes, too."

"Nay," quoth the Tinker, "thou art but a green youth. I thought him tobe a great bearded man. Nottingham men feared him so."

"Truly, he is not so old nor so stout as thou art," said Robin. "But mendo call him a right deft hand at quarterstaff."

"That may be," said the Tinker right sturdily, "but I am more deft thanhe, for did I not overcome Simon of Ely in a fair bout in the ring atHertford Town? But if thou knowest him, my jolly blade, wilt thou gowith me and bring me to him? Fourscore bright angels hath the Sheriffpromised me if I serve the warrant upon the knave's body, and ten ofthem will I give to thee if thou showest me him."

"Ay, that will I," quoth Robin, "but show me thy warrant, man, until Isee whether it be good or no."

"That will I not do, even to mine own brother," answered the Tinker. "Noman shall see my warrant till I serve it upon yon fellow's own body."

"So be it," quoth Robin. "And thou show it not to me I know not to whomthou wilt show it. But here we are at the Sign of the Blue Boar, so letus in and taste his brown October."

No sweeter inn could be found in all Nottinghamshire than that of theBlue Boar. None had such lovely trees standing around, or was so coveredwith trailing clematis and sweet woodbine; none had such good beer andsuch humming ale; nor, in wintertime, when the north wind howled andsnow drifted around the hedges, was there to be found, elsewhere, sucha roaring fire as blazed upon the hearth of the Blue Boar. At such timesmight be found a goodly company of yeomen or country folk seated aroundthe blazing hearth, bandying merry jests, while roasted crabs(2) bobbedin bowls of ale upon the hearthstone. Well known was the inn to RobinHood and his band, for there had he and such merry companions as LittleJohn or Will Stutely or young David of Doncaster often gathered when allthe forest was filled with snow. As for mine host, he knew how to keepa still tongue in his head, and to swallow his words before they passedhis teeth, for he knew very well which side of his bread was spread withbutter, for Robin and his band were the best of customers and paid theirscores without having them chalked up behind the door. So now, whenRobin Hood and the Tinker came thereto and called aloud for two greatpots of ale, none would have known from look or speech that the host hadever set eyes upon the outlaw before.

(2) Small sour apples.

"Bide thou here," quoth Robin to the Tinker, "while I go and see thatmine host draweth ale from the right butt, for he hath good October, Iknow, and that brewed by Withold of Tamworth." So saying, he went withinand whispered to the host to add a measure of Flemish strong waters tothe good English ale; which the latter did and brought it to them.

"By Our Lady," said the Tinker, after a long draught of the ale, "yonsame Withold of Tamworth—a right good Saxon name, too, I would havethee know—breweth the most humming ale that e'er passed the lips of Wato' the Crabstaff."

"Drink, man, drink," cried Robin, only wetting his own lips meanwhile."Ho, landlord! Bring my friend another pot of the same. And now for asong, my jolly blade."

"Ay, that will I give thee a song, my lovely fellow," quoth the Tinker,"for I never tasted such ale in all my days before. By Our Lady, itdoth make my head hum even now! Hey, Dame Hostess, come listen, an thouwouldst hear a song, and thou too, thou bonny lass, for never sing I sowell as when bright eyes do look upon me the while."

Then he sang an ancient ballad of the time of good King Arthur, called"The Marriage of Sir Gawaine," which you may some time read yourself, instout English of early times; and as he sang, all listened to that nobletale of noble knight and his sacrifice to his king. But long before theTinker came to the last verse his tongue began to trip and his head tospin, because of the strong waters mixed with the ale. First his tonguetripped, then it grew thick of sound; then his head wagged from side toside, until at last he fell asleep as though he never would waken again.

Then Robin Hood laughed aloud and quickly took the warrant from out theTinker's pouch with his deft fingers. "Sly art thou, Tinker," quoth he,"but not yet, I bow, art thou as sly as that same sly thief Robin Hood."

Then he called the host to him and said, "Here, good man, are ten broadshillings for the entertainment thou hast given us this day. See thatthou takest good care of thy fair guest there, and when he wakes thoumayst again charge him ten shillings also, and if he hath it not, thoumayst take his bag and hammer, and even his coat, in payment. Thus doI punish those that come into the greenwood to deal dole to me. As forthine own self, never knew I landlord yet that would not charge twice anhe could."

At this the host smiled slyly, as though saying to himself the rusticsaw, "Teach a magpie to suck eggs."

The Tinker slept until the afternoon drew to a close and the shadowsgrew long beside the woodland edge, then he awoke. First he looked up,then he looked down, then he looked east, then he looked west, for hewas gathering his wits together, like barley straws blown apart by thewind. First he thought of his merry companion, but he was gone. Then hethought of his stout crabstaff, and that he had within his hand. Then ofhis warrant, and of the fourscore angels he was to gain for serving itupon Robin Hood. He thrust his hand into his pouch, but not a scrap nora farthing was there. Then he sprang to his feet in a rage.

"Ho, landlord!" cried he, "whither hath that knave gone that was with mebut now?"

"What knave meaneth Your Worship?" quoth the landlord, calling theTinker Worship to soothe him, as a man would pour oil upon angry water."I saw no knave with Your Worship, for I swear no man would dare callthat man knave so nigh to Sherwood Forest. A right stout yeoman I sawwith Your Worship, but I thought that Your Worship knew him, for fewthere be about here that pass him by and know him not."

"Now, how should I, that ne'er have squealed in your sty, know all theswine therein? Who was he, then, an thou knowest him so well?"

"Why, yon same is a right stout fellow whom men hereabouts do call RobinHood, which same—"

"Now, by'r Lady!" cried the Tinker hastily, and in a deep voice like anangry bull, "thou didst see me come into thine inn, I, a staunch, honestcraftsman, and never told me who my company was, well knowing thine ownself who he was. Now, I have a right round piece of a mind to crack thyknave's pate for thee!" Then he took up his cudgel and looked at thelandlord as though he would smite him where he stood.

"Nay," cried the host, throwing up his elbow, for he feared the blow,"how knew I that thou knewest him not?"

"Well and truly thankful mayst thou be," quoth the Tinker, "that I bea patient man and so do spare thy bald crown, else wouldst thou ne'ercheat customer again. But as for this same knave Robin Hood, I gostraightway to seek him, and if I do not score his knave's pate, cutmy staff into fagots and call me woman." So saying, he gathered himselftogether to depart.

"Nay," quoth the landlord, standing in front of him and holding out hisarms like a gooseherd driving his flock, for money made him bold, "thougoest not till thou hast paid me my score."

"But did not he pay thee?"

"Not so much as one farthing; and ten good shillings' worth of ale haveye drunk this day. Nay, I say, thou goest not away without paying me,else shall our good Sheriff know of it."

"But nought have I to pay thee with, good fellow," quoth the Tinker.

"'Good fellow' not me," said the landlord. "Good fellow am I not whenit cometh to lose ten shillings! Pay me that thou owest me in broadmoney, or else leave thy coat and bag and hammer; yet, I wot theyare not worth ten shillings, and I shall lose thereby. Nay, an thoustirrest, I have a great dog within and I will loose him upon thee.Maken, open thou the door and let forth Brian if this fellow stirs onestep."

"Nay," quoth the Tinker—for, by roaming the country, he had learnedwhat dogs were—"take thou what thou wilt have, and let me depart inpeace, and may a murrain go with thee. But oh, landlord! An I catch yonscurvy varlet, I swear he shall pay full with usury for that he hathhad!"

So saying, he strode away toward the forest, talking to himself, whilethe landlord and his worthy dame and Maken stood looking after him, andlaughed when he had fairly gone.

"Robin and I stripped yon ass of his pack main neatly," quoth thelandlord.

Now it happened about this time that Robin Hood was going through theforest to Fosse Way, to see what was to be seen there, for the moon wasfull and the night gave promise of being bright. In his hand he carriedhis stout oaken staff, and at his side hung his bugle horn. As thus hewalked up a forest path, whistling, down another path came the Tinker,muttering to himself and shaking his head like an angry bull; and so,at a sudden bend, they met sharply face to face. Each stood still for atime, and then Robin spoke:

"Halloa, my sweet bird," said he, laughing merrily, "how likest thouthine ale? Wilt not sing to me another song?"

The Tinker said nothing at first but stood looking at Robin with a grimface. "Now," quoth he at last, "I am right glad I have met thee, and ifI do not rattle thy bones within thy hide this day, I give thee leave toput thy foot upon my neck."

"With all my heart," cried merry Robin. "Rattle my bones, an thoucanst." So saying, he gripped his staff and threw himself upon hisguard. Then the Tinker spat upon his hands and, grasping his staff, camestraight at the other. He struck two or three blows, but soon found thathe had met his match, for Robin warded and parried all of them, and,before the Tinker thought, he gave him a rap upon the ribs in return. Atthis Robin laughed aloud, and the Tinker grew more angry than ever, andsmote again with all his might and main. Again Robin warded two of thestrokes, but at the third, his staff broke beneath the mighty blows ofthe Tinker. "Now, ill betide thee, traitor staff," cried Robin, as itfell from his hands; "a foul stick art thou to serve me thus in minehour of need."

"Now yield thee," quoth the Tinker, "for thou art my captive; and ifthou do not, I will beat thy pate to a pudding."

To this Robin Hood made no answer, but, clapping his horn to his lips,he blew three blasts, loud and clear.

"Ay," quoth the Tinker, "blow thou mayest, but go thou must with me toNottingham Town, for the Sheriff would fain see thee there. Now wiltthou yield thee, or shall I have to break thy pretty head?"

"An I must drink sour ale, I must," quoth Robin, "but never have Iyielded me to man before, and that without wound or mark upon mybody. Nor, when I bethink me, will I yield now. Ho, my merry men! Comequickly!"

Then from out the forest leaped Little John and six stout yeomen clad inLincoln green.

"How now, good master," cried Little John, "what need hast thou thatthou dost wind thy horn so loudly?"

"There stands a tinker," quoth Robin, "that would fain take me toNottingham, there to hang upon the gallows tree."

"Then shall he himself hang forthwith," cried Little John, and he andthe others made at the Tinker, to seize him.

"Nay, touch him not," said Robin, "for a right stout man is he. A metalman he is by trade, and a mettled man by nature; moreover, he doth singa lovely ballad. Say, good fellow, wilt thou join my merry men all?Three suits of Lincoln green shalt thou have a year, besides forty marksin fee; thou shalt share all with us and lead a right merry life inthe greenwood; for cares have we not, and misfortune cometh not uponus within the sweet shades of Sherwood, where we shoot the dun deer andfeed upon venison and sweet oaten cakes, and curds and honey. Wilt thoucome with me?"

"Ay, marry, will I join with you all," quoth the Tinker, "for I love amerry life, and I love thee, good master, though thou didst thwack myribs and cheat me into the bargain. Fain am I to own thou art both astouter and a slyer man than I; so I will obey thee and be thine owntrue servant."

So all turned their steps to the forest depths, where the Tinker was tolive henceforth. For many a day he sang ballads to the band, until thefamous Allan a Dale joined them, before whose sweet voice all othersseemed as harsh as a raven's; but of him we will learn hereafter.

The Shooting Match at Nottingham Town

THEN THE SHERIFF was very wroth because of this failure to take jollyRobin, for it came to his ears, as ill news always does, that the peoplelaughed at him and made a jest of his thinking to serve a warrant uponsuch a one as the bold outlaw. And a man hates nothing so much asbeing made a jest of; so he said: "Our gracious lord and sovereign Kinghimself shall know of this, and how his laws are perverted and despisedby this band of rebel outlaws. As for yon traitor Tinker, him willI hang, if I catch him, upon the very highest gallows tree in allNottinghamshire."

Then he bade all his servants and retainers to make ready to go toLondon Town, to see and speak with the King.

At this there was bustling at the Sheriff's castle, and men ran hitherand thither upon this business and upon that, while the forge fires ofNottingham glowed red far into the night like twinkling stars, forall the smiths of the town were busy making or mending armor for theSheriff's troop of escort. For two days this labor lasted, then, onthe third, all was ready for the journey. So forth they started in thebright sunlight, from Nottingham Town to Fosse Way and thence to WatlingStreet; and so they journeyed for two days, until they saw at last thespires and towers of great London Town; and many folks stopped, asthey journeyed along, and gazed at the show they made riding along thehighways with their flashing armor and gay plumes and trappings.

In London King Henry and his fair Queen Eleanor held their court, gaywith ladies in silks and satins and velvets and cloth of gold, and alsobrave knights and gallant courtiers.

Thither came the Sheriff and was shown into the King's presence.

"A boon, a boon," quoth he, as he knelt upon the ground.

"Now what wouldst thou have?" said the King. "Let us hear what may bethy desires."

"O good my Lord and Sovereign," spake the Sheriff, "in Sherwood Forestin our own good shire of Nottingham, liveth a bold outlaw whose name isRobin Hood."

"In good sooth," said the King, "his doings have reached even our ownroyal ears. He is a saucy, rebellious varlet, yet, I am fain to own, aright merry soul withal."

"But hearken, O my most gracious Sovereign," said the Sheriff. "I senta warrant to him with thine own royal seal attached, by a right lustyknave, but he beat the messenger and stole the warrant. And he killeththy deer and robbeth thine own liege subjects even upon the greathighways."

"Why, how now," quoth the King wrathfully. "What wouldst thou haveme do? Comest thou not to me with a great array of men-at-arms andretainers, and yet art not able to take a single band of lusty knaveswithout armor on breast, in thine own county! What wouldst thou haveme do? Art thou not my Sheriff? Are not my laws in force inNottinghamshire? Canst thou not take thine own course against those thatbreak the laws or do any injury to thee or thine? Go, get thee gone, andthink well; devise some plan of thine own, but trouble me no further.But look well to it, Master Sheriff, for I will have my laws obeyed byall men within my kingdom, and if thou art not able to enforce them thouart no sheriff for me. So look well to thyself, I say, or ill may befallthee as well as all the thieving knaves in Nottinghamshire. When theflood cometh it sweepeth away grain as well as chaff."

Then the Sheriff turned away with a sore and troubled heart, and sadlyhe rued his fine show of retainers, for he saw that the King was angrybecause he had so many men about him and yet could not enforce thelaws. So, as they all rode slowly back to Nottingham, the Sheriff wasthoughtful and full of care. Not a word did he speak to anyone, and noone of his men spoke to him, but all the time he was busy devising someplan to take Robin Hood.

"Aha!" cried he suddenly, smiting his hand upon his thigh "I have itnow! Ride on, my merry men all, and let us get back to Nottingham Townas speedily as we may. And mark well my words: before a fortnightis passed, that evil knave Robin Hood will be safely clapped intoNottingham gaol."

But what was the Sheriff's plan?

As a usurer takes each one of a bag of silver angels, feeling each cointo find whether it be clipped or not, so the Sheriff, as all rode slowlyand sadly back toward Nottingham, took up thought after thought in turn,feeling around the edges of each but finding in every one some flaw.At last he thought of the daring soul of jolly Robin and how, as he theSheriff knew, he often came even within the walls of Nottingham.

"Now," thought the Sheriff, "could I but persuade Robin nigh toNottingham Town so that I could find him, I warrant I would lay handsupon him so stoutly that he would never get away again." Then of asudden it came to him like a flash that were he to proclaim a greatshooting match and offer some grand prize, Robin Hood might beoverpersuaded by his spirit to come to the butts; and it was thisthought which caused him to cry "Aha!" and smite his palm upon histhigh.

So, as soon as he had returned safely to Nottingham, he sent messengersnorth and south, and east and west, to proclaim through town, hamlet,and countryside, this grand shooting match, and everyone was bidden thatcould draw a longbow, and the prize was to be an arrow of pure beatengold.

When Robin Hood first heard the news of this he was in Lincoln Town, andhastening back to Sherwood Forest he soon called all his merry men abouthim and spoke to them thus:

"Now hearken, my merry men all, to the news that I have brought fromLincoln Town today. Our friend the Sheriff of Nottingham hath proclaimeda shooting match, and hath sent messengers to tell of it through all thecountryside, and the prize is to be a bright golden arrow. Now I fainwould have one of us win it, both because of the fairness of the prizeand because our sweet friend the Sheriff hath offered it. So we willtake our bows and shafts and go there to shoot, for I know right wellthat merriment will be a-going. What say ye, lads?"

Then young David of Doncaster spoke up and said, "Now listen, I praythee, good master, unto what I say. I have come straight from our friendEadom o' the Blue Boar, and there I heard the full news of this samematch. But, master, I know from him, and he got it from the Sheriff'sman Ralph o' the Scar, that this same knavish Sheriff hath but laid atrap for thee in this shooting match and wishes nothing so much as tosee thee there. So go not, good master, for I know right well he dothseek to beguile thee, but stay within the greenwood lest we all meetdole and woe."

"Now," quoth Robin, "thou art a wise lad and keepest thine ears open andthy mouth shut, as becometh a wise and crafty woodsman. But shall we letit be said that the Sheriff of Nottingham did cow bold Robin Hood andsevenscore as fair archers as are in all merry England? Nay, good David,what thou tellest me maketh me to desire the prize even more than I elseshould do. But what sayeth our good gossip Swanthold? Is it not 'A hastyman burneth his mouth, and the fool that keepeth his eyes shut fallethinto the pit'? Thus he says, truly, therefore we must meet guile withguile. Now some of you clothe yourselves as curtal friars, and some asrustic peasants, and some as tinkers, or as beggars, but see that eachman taketh a good bow or broadsword, in case need should arise. As formyself, I will shoot for this same golden arrow, and should I win it, wewill hang it to the branches of our good greenwood tree for the joy ofall the band. How like you the plan, my merry men all?"

Then "Good, good!" cried all the band right heartily.

A fair sight was Nottingham Town on the day of the shooting match. Allalong upon the green meadow beneath the town wall stretched a row ofbenches, one above the other, which were for knight and lady, squire anddame, and rich burghers and their wives; for none but those of rank andquality were to sit there. At the end of the range, near the target, wasa raised seat bedecked with ribbons and scarfs and garlands of flowers,for the Sheriff of Nottingham and his dame. The range was twoscorepaces broad. At one end stood the target, at the other a tent ofstriped canvas, from the pole of which fluttered many-colored flags andstreamers. In this booth were casks of ale, free to be broached by anyof the archers who might wish to quench their thirst.

Across the range from where the seats for the better folk were raisedwas a railing to keep the poorer people from crowding in front of thetarget. Already, while it was early, the benches were beginning to fillwith people of quality, who kept constantly arriving in little carts orupon palfreys that curveted gaily to the merry tinkle of silver bells atbridle reins. With these came also the poorer folk, who sat or lay uponthe green grass near the railing that kept them from off the range.In the great tent the archers were gathering by twos and threes; sometalking loudly of the fair shots each man had made in his day; somelooking well to their bows, drawing a string betwixt the fingers to seethat there was no fray upon it, or inspecting arrows, shutting one eyeand peering down a shaft to see that it was not warped, but straight andtrue, for neither bow nor shaft should fail at such a time and for sucha prize. And never was such a company of yeomen as were gathered atNottingham Town that day, for the very best archers of merry Englandhad come to this shooting match. There was Gill o' the Red Cap, theSheriff's own head archer, and Diccon Cruikshank of Lincoln Town, andAdam o' the Dell, a man of Tamworth, of threescore years and more, yethale and lusty still, who in his time had shot in the famous matchat Woodstock, and had there beaten that renowned archer, Clym o' theClough. And many more famous men of the longbow were there, whose nameshave been handed down to us in goodly ballads of the olden time.

But now all the benches were filled with guests, lord and lady, burgherand dame, when at last the Sheriff himself came with his lady, he ridingwith stately mien upon his milk-white horse and she upon her brownfilly. Upon his head he wore a purple velvet cap, and purple velvet washis robe, all trimmed about with rich ermine; his jerkin and hose wereof sea-green silk, and his shoes of black velvet, the pointed toesfastened to his garters with golden chains. A golden chain hung abouthis neck, and at his collar was a great carbuncle set in red gold. Hislady was dressed in blue velvet, all trimmed with swan's down. So theymade a gallant sight as they rode along side by side, and all the peopleshouted from where they crowded across the space from the gentlefolk;so the Sheriff and his lady came to their place, where men-at-arms, withhauberk and spear, stood about, waiting for them.

Then when the Sheriff and his dame had sat down, he bade his heraldwind upon his silver horn; who thereupon sounded three blasts thatcame echoing cheerily back from the gray walls of Nottingham. Then thearchers stepped forth to their places, while all the folks shouted witha mighty voice, each man calling upon his favorite yeoman. "Red Cap!"cried some; "Cruikshank!" cried others; "Hey for William o' Leslie!"shouted others yet again; while ladies waved silken scarfs to urge eachyeoman to do his best.

Then the herald stood forth and loudly proclaimed the rules of the gameas follows:

"Shoot each man from yon mark, which is sevenscore yards and ten fromthe target. One arrow shooteth each man first, and from all the archersshall the ten that shooteth the fairest shafts be chosen for to shootagain. Two arrows shooteth each man of these ten, then shall the threethat shoot the fairest shafts be chosen for to shoot again. Three arrowsshooteth each man of those three, and to him that shooteth the fairestshafts shall the prize be given."

Then the Sheriff leaned forward, looking keenly among the press ofarchers to find whether Robin Hood was among them; but no one wasthere clad in Lincoln green, such as was worn by Robin and his band."Nevertheless," said the Sheriff to himself, "he may still be there, andI miss him among the crowd of other men. But let me see when but ten menshoot, for I wot he will be among the ten, or I know him not."

And now the archers shot, each man in turn, and the good folk never sawsuch archery as was done that day. Six arrows were within the clout,four within the black, and only two smote the outer ring; so that whenthe last arrow sped and struck the target, all the people shouted aloud,for it was noble shooting.

And now but ten men were left of all those that had shot before, andof these ten, six were famous throughout the land, and most of the folkgathered there knew them. These six men were Gilbert o' the Red Cap,Adam o' the Dell, Diccon Cruikshank, William o' Leslie, Hubert o' Cloud,and Swithin o' Hertford. Two others were yeomen of merry Yorkshire,another was a tall stranger in blue, who said he came from London Town,and the last was a tattered stranger in scarlet, who wore a patch overone eye.

"Now," quoth the Sheriff to a man-at-arms who stood near him, "seestthou Robin Hood among those ten?"

"Nay, that do I not, Your Worship," answered the man. "Six of them Iknow right well. Of those Yorkshire yeomen, one is too tall and theother too short for that bold knave. Robin's beard is as yellow as gold,while yon tattered beggar in scarlet hath a beard of brown, besidesbeing blind of one eye. As for the stranger in blue, Robin's shoulders,I ween, are three inches broader than his."

"Then," quoth the Sheriff, smiting his thigh angrily, "yon knave is acoward as well as a rogue, and dares not show his face among good menand true."

Then, after they had rested a short time, those ten stout men steppedforth to shoot again. Each man shot two arrows, and as they shot, nota word was spoken, but all the crowd watched with scarce a breath ofsound; but when the last had shot his arrow another great shout arose,while many cast their caps aloft for joy of such marvelous shooting.

"Now by our gracious Lady fair," quoth old Sir Amyas o' the Dell, who,bowed with fourscore years and more, sat near the Sheriff, "ne'er sawI such archery in all my life before, yet have I seen the best hands atthe longbow for threescore years and more."

And now but three men were left of all those that had shot before. Onewas Gill o' the Red Cap, one the tattered stranger in scarlet, and oneAdam o' the Dell of Tamworth Town. Then all the people called aloud,some crying, "Ho for Gilbert o' the Red Cap!" and some, "Hey for stoutAdam o' Tamworth!" But not a single man in the crowd called upon thestranger in scarlet.

"Now, shoot thou well, Gilbert," cried the Sheriff, "and if thine be thebest shaft, fivescore broad silver pennies will I give to thee besidethe prize."

"Truly I will do my best," quoth Gilbert right sturdily. "A man cannotdo aught but his best, but that will I strive to do this day." Sosaying, he drew forth a fair smooth arrow with a broad feather andfitted it deftly to the string, then drawing his bow with care hesped the shaft. Straight flew the arrow and lit fairly in the clout, afinger's-breadth from the center. "A Gilbert, a Gilbert!" shouted allthe crowd; and, "Now, by my faith," cried the Sheriff, smiting his handstogether, "that is a shrewd shot."

Then the tattered stranger stepped forth, and all the people laughed asthey saw a yellow patch that showed beneath his arm when he raised hiselbow to shoot, and also to see him aim with but one eye. He drew thegood yew bow quickly, and quickly loosed a shaft; so short was the timethat no man could draw a breath betwixt the drawing and the shooting;yet his arrow lodged nearer the center than the other by twice thelength of a barleycorn.

"Now by all the saints in Paradise!" cried the Sheriff, "that is alovely shaft in very truth!"

Then Adam o' the Dell shot, carefully and cautiously, and his arrowlodged close beside the stranger's. Then after a short space they allthree shot again, and once more each arrow lodged within the clout, butthis time Adam o' the Dell's was farthest from the center, and again thetattered stranger's shot was the best. Then, after another time of rest,they all shot for the third time. This time Gilbert took great heed tohis aim, keenly measuring the distance and shooting with shrewdest care.Straight flew the arrow, and all shouted till the very flags thatwaved in the breeze shook with the sound, and the rooks and daws flewclamoring about the roofs of the old gray tower, for the shaft hadlodged close beside the spot that marked the very center.

"Well done, Gilbert!" cried the Sheriff right joyously. "Fain am Ito believe the prize is thine, and right fairly won. Now, thou raggedknave, let me see thee shoot a better shaft than that."

Nought spake the stranger but took his place, while all was hushed, andno one spoke or even seemed to breathe, so great was the silencefor wonder what he would do. Meanwhile, also, quite still stood thestranger, holding his bow in his hand, while one could count five; thenhe drew his trusty yew, holding it drawn but a moment, then loosed thestring. Straight flew the arrow, and so true that it smote a gray goosefeather from off Gilbert's shaft, which fell fluttering through thesunlit air as the stranger's arrow lodged close beside his of the RedCap, and in the very center. No one spoke a word for a while and no oneshouted, but each man looked into his neighbor's face amazedly.

"Nay," quoth old Adam o' the Dell presently, drawing a long breathand shaking his head as he spoke, "twoscore years and more have I shotshaft, and maybe not all times bad, but I shoot no more this day, forno man can match with yon stranger, whosoe'er he may be." Then hethrust his shaft into his quiver, rattling, and unstrung his bow withoutanother word.

Then the Sheriff came down from his dais and drew near, in all his silksand velvets, to where the tattered stranger stood leaning upon hisstout bow, while the good folk crowded around to see the man who shot sowondrously well. "Here, good fellow," quoth the Sheriff, "take thouthe prize, and well and fairly hast thou won it, I bow. What may be thyname, and whence comest thou?"

"Men do call me Jock o' Teviotdale, and thence am I come," said thestranger.

"Then, by Our Lady, Jock, thou art the fairest archer that e'er mineeyes beheld, and if thou wilt join my service I will clothe thee with abetter coat than that thou hast upon thy back; thou shalt eat and drinkof the best, and at every Christmastide fourscore marks shall be thywage. I trow thou drawest better bow than that same coward knave RobinHood, that dared not show his face here this day. Say, good fellow, wiltthou join my service?"

"Nay, that will I not," quoth the stranger roughly. "I will be mine own,and no man in all merry England shall be my master."

"Then get thee gone, and a murrain seize thee!" cried the Sheriff, andhis voice trembled with anger. "And by my faith and troth, I have a goodpart of a mind to have thee beaten for thine insolence!" Then he turnedupon his heel and strode away.

It was a right motley company that gathered about the noble greenwoodtree in Sherwood's depths that same day. A score and more of barefootfriars were there, and some that looked like tinkers, and some thatseemed to be sturdy beggars and rustic hinds; and seated upon a mossycouch was one all clad in tattered scarlet, with a patch over one eye;and in his hand he held the golden arrow that was the prize of the greatshooting match. Then, amidst a noise of talking and laughter, he tookthe patch from off his eye and stripped away the scarlet rags from offhis body and showed himself all clothed in fair Lincoln green; andquoth he, "Easy come these things away, but walnut stain cometh not sospeedily from yellow hair." Then all laughed louder than before, for itwas Robin Hood himself that had won the prize from the Sheriff's veryhands.

Then all sat down to the woodland feast and talked among themselvesof the merry jest that had been played upon the Sheriff, and of theadventures that had befallen each member of the band in his disguise.But when the feast was done, Robin Hood took Little John apart and said,"Truly am I vexed in my blood, for I heard the Sheriff say today, 'Thoushootest better than that coward knave Robin Hood, that dared not showhis face here this day.' I would fain let him know who it was who wonthe golden arrow from out his hand, and also that I am no coward such ashe takes me to be."

Then Little John said, "Good master, take thou me and Will Stutely, andwe will send yon fat Sheriff news of all this by a messenger such as hedoth not expect."

That day the Sheriff sat at meat in the great hall of his houseat Nottingham Town. Long tables stood down the hall, at which satmen-at-arms and household servants and good stout villains,(1) in allfourscore and more. There they talked of the day's shooting as they atetheir meat and quaffed their ale. The Sheriff sat at the head of thetable upon a raised seat under a canopy, and beside him sat his dame.

(1) Bond-servants.

"By my troth," said he, "I did reckon full roundly that that knave RobinHood would be at the game today. I did not think that he was such acoward. But who could that saucy knave be who answered me to my beardso bravely? I wonder that I did not have him beaten; but there wassomething about him that spoke of other things than rags and tatters."

Then, even as he finished speaking, something fell rattling among thedishes on the table, while those that sat near started up wonderingwhat it might be. After a while one of the men-at-arms gathered courageenough to pick it up and bring it to the Sheriff. Then everyone sawthat it was a blunted gray goose shaft, with a fine scroll, about thethickness of a goose quill, tied near to its head. The Sheriff openedthe scroll and glanced at it, while the veins upon his forehead swelledand his cheeks grew ruddy with rage as he read, for this was what hesaw:

"Now Heaven bless Thy Grace this day     Say all in sweet Sherwood     For thou didst give the prize away     To merry Robin Hood."

"Whence came this?" cried the Sheriff in a mighty voice.

"Even through the window, Your Worship," quoth the man who had handedthe shaft to him.

Will Stutely Rescued by His Companions

NOW WHEN THE SHERIFF found that neither law nor guile could overcomeRobin Hood, he was much perplexed, and said to himself, "Fool that I am!Had I not told our King of Robin Hood, I would not have gotten myselfinto such a coil; but now I must either take him captive or have wrathvisited upon my head from his most gracious Majesty. I have tried law,and I have tried guile, and I have failed in both; so I will try whatmay be done with might."

Thus communing within himself, he called his constables together andtold them what was in his mind. "Now take ye each four men, all armedin proof," said he, "and get ye gone to the forest, at different points,and lie in wait for this same Robin Hood. But if any constable findstoo many men against him, let him sound a horn, and then let each bandwithin hearing come with all speed and join the party that calls them.Thus, I think, shall we take this green-clad knave. Furthermore, to himthat first meeteth with Robin Hood shall one hundred pounds of silvermoney be given, if he be brought to me dead or alive; and to him thatmeeteth with any of his band shall twoscore pounds be given, if such bebrought to me dead or alive. So, be ye bold and be ye crafty."

So thus they went in threescore companies of five to Sherwood Forest, totake Robin Hood, each constable wishing that he might be the one to findthe bold outlaw, or at least one of his band. For seven days and nightsthey hunted through the forest glades, but never saw so much as a singleman in Lincoln green; for tidings of all this had been brought to RobinHood by trusty Eadom o' the Blue Boar.

When he first heard the news, Robin said, "If the Sheriff dare sendforce to meet force, woe will it be for him and many a better manbesides, for blood will flow and there will be great trouble for all.But fain would I shun blood and battle, and fain would I not deal sorrowto womenfolk and wives because good stout yeomen lose their lives. OnceI slew a man, and never do I wish to slay a man again, for it is bitterfor the soul to think thereon. So now we will abide silently in SherwoodForest, so that it may be well for all, but should we be forced todefend ourselves, or any of our band, then let each man draw bow andbrand with might and main."

At this speech many of the band shook their heads, and said tothemselves, "Now the Sheriff will think that we are cowards, and folkwill scoff throughout the countryside, saying that we fear to meet thesemen." But they said nothing aloud, swallowing their words and doing asRobin bade them.

Thus they hid in the depths of Sherwood Forest for seven days and sevennights and never showed their faces abroad in all that time; but earlyin the morning of the eighth day Robin Hood called the band together andsaid, "Now who will go and find what the Sheriff's men are at by thistime? For I know right well they will not bide forever within Sherwoodshades."

At this a great shout arose, and each man waved his bow aloft and criedthat he might be the one to go. Then Robin Hood's heart was proud whenhe looked around on his stout, brave fellows, and he said, "Brave andtrue are ye all, my merry men, and a right stout band of good fellowsare ye, but ye cannot all go, so I will choose one from among you, andit shall be good Will Stutely, for he is as sly as e'er an old dog foxin Sherwood Forest."

Then Will Stutely leaped high aloft and laughed loudly, clapping hishands for pure joy that he should have been chosen from among them all."Now thanks, good master," quoth he, "and if I bring not news of thoseknaves to thee, call me no more thy sly Will Stutely."

Then he clad himself in a friar's gown, and underneath the robe he hunga good broadsword in such a place that he could easily lay hands uponit. Thus clad, he set forth upon his quest, until he came to the vergeof the forest, and so to the highway. He saw two bands of the Sheriff'smen, yet he turned neither to the right nor the left, but only drew hiscowl the closer over his face, folding his hands as if in meditation.So at last he came to the Sign of the Blue Boar. "For," quoth he tohimself, "our good friend Eadom will tell me all the news."

At the Sign of the Blue Boar he found a band of the Sheriffs mendrinking right lustily; so, without speaking to anyone, he sat down upona distant bench, his staff in his hand, and his head bowed forward asthough he were meditating. Thus he sat waiting until he might see thelandlord apart, and Eadom did not know him, but thought him to be somepoor tired friar, so he let him sit without saying a word to him ormolesting him, though he liked not the cloth. "For," said he to himself,"it is a hard heart that kicks the lame dog from off the sill." AsStutely sat thus, there came a great house cat and rubbed against hisknee, raising his robe a palm's-breadth high. Stutely pushed his robequickly down again, but the constable who commanded the Sheriffs mensaw what had passed, and saw also fair Lincoln green beneath the friar'srobe. He said nothing at the time, but communed within himself in thiswise: "Yon is no friar of orders gray, and also, I wot, no honest yeomangoeth about in priest's garb, nor doth a thief go so for nought. Now Ithink in good sooth that is one of Robin Hood's own men." So, presently,he said aloud, "O holy father, wilt thou not take a good pot of Marchbeer to slake thy thirsty soul withal?"

But Stutely shook his head silently, for he said to himself, "Maybethere be those here who know my voice."

Then the constable said again, "Whither goest thou, holy friar, uponthis hot summer's day?"

"I go a pilgrim to Canterbury Town," answered Will Stutely, speakinggruffly, so that none might know his voice.

Then the constable said, for the third time, "Now tell me, holy father,do pilgrims to Canterbury wear good Lincoln green beneath their robes?Ha! By my faith, I take thee to be some lusty thief, and perhaps one ofRobin Hood's own band! Now, by Our Lady's grace, if thou movest hand orfoot, I will run thee through the body with my sword!"

Then he flashed forth his bright sword and leaped upon Will Stutely,thinking he would take him unaware; but Stutely had his own swordtightly held in his hand, beneath his robe, so he drew it forth beforethe constable came upon him. Then the stout constable struck a mightyblow; but he struck no more in all that fight, for Stutely, parrying theblow right deftly, smote the constable back again with all his might.Then he would have escaped, but could not, for the other, all dizzy withthe wound and with the flowing blood, seized him by the knees with hisarms even as he reeled and fell. Then the others rushed upon him, andStutely struck again at another of the Sheriff's men, but the steelcap glanced the blow, and though the blade bit deep, it did not kill.Meanwhile, the constable, fainting as he was, drew Stutely downward, andthe others, seeing the yeoman hampered so, rushed upon him again, andone smote him a blow upon the crown so that the blood ran down his faceand blinded him. Then, staggering, he fell, and all sprang upon him,though he struggled so manfully that they could hardly hold him fast.Then they bound him with stout hempen cords so that he could not moveeither hand or foot, and thus they overcame him.

Robin Hood stood under the greenwood tree, thinking of Will Stutely andhow he might be faring, when suddenly he saw two of his stout yeomencome running down the forest path, and betwixt them ran buxom Makenof the Blue Boar. Then Robin's heart fell, for he knew they were thebearers of ill tidings.

"Will Stutely hath been taken," cried they, when they had come to wherehe stood.

"And is it thou that hast brought such doleful news?" said Robin to thelass.

"Ay, marry, for I saw it all," cried she, panting as the hare pants whenit has escaped the hounds, "and I fear he is wounded sore, for one smotehim main shrewdly i' the crown. They have bound him and taken him toNottingham Town, and ere I left the Blue Boar I heard that he should behanged tomorrow day."

"He shall not be hanged tomorrow day," cried Robin; "or, if he be,full many a one shall gnaw the sod, and many shall have cause to cryAlack-a-day!"

Then he clapped his horn to his lips and blew three blasts right loudly,and presently his good yeomen came running through the greenwood untilsevenscore bold blades were gathered around him.

"Now hark you all!" cried Robin. "Our dear companion Will Stutely hathbeen taken by that vile Sheriff's men, therefore doth it behoove us totake bow and brand in hand to bring him off again; for I wot that weought to risk life and limb for him, as he hath risked life and limb forus. Is it not so, my merry men all?" Then all cried, "Ay!" with a greatvoice.

So the next day they all wended their way from Sherwood Forest, but bydifferent paths, for it behooved them to be very crafty; so the bandseparated into parties of twos and threes, which were all to meet againin a tangled dell that lay near to Nottingham Town. Then, when they hadall gathered together at the place of meeting, Robin spoke to them thus:

"Now we will lie here in ambush until we can get news, for it dothbehoove us to be cunning and wary if we would bring our friend WillStutely off from the Sheriff's clutches."

So they lay hidden a long time, until the sun stood high in the sky. Theday was warm and the dusty road was bare of travelers, except an agedpalmer who walked slowly along the highroad that led close besidethe gray castle wall of Nottingham Town. When Robin saw that no otherwayfarer was within sight, he called young David of Doncaster, who wasa shrewd man for his years, and said to him, "Now get thee forth, youngDavid, and speak to yonder palmer that walks beside the town wall, forhe hath come but now from Nottingham Town, and may tell thee news ofgood Stutely, perchance."

So David strode forth, and when he came up to the pilgrim, he salutedhim and said, "Good morrow, holy father, and canst thou tell me whenWill Stutely will be hanged upon the gallows tree? I fain would not missthe sight, for I have come from afar to see so sturdy a rogue hanged."

"Now, out upon thee, young man," cried the Palmer, "that thou shouldstspeak so when a good stout man is to be hanged for nothing but guardinghis own life!" And he struck his staff upon the ground in anger. "Alas,say I, that this thing should be! For even this day, toward evening,when the sun falleth low, he shall be hanged, fourscore rods from thegreat town gate of Nottingham, where three roads meet; for therethe Sheriff sweareth he shall die as a warning to all outlaws inNottinghamshire. But yet, I say again, Alas! For, though Robin Hood andhis band may be outlaws, yet he taketh only from the rich and the strongand the dishonest man, while there is not a poor widow nor a peasantwith many children, nigh to Sherwood, but has barley flour enough allthe year long through him. It grieves my heart to see one as gallant asthis Stutely die, for I have been a good Saxon yeoman in my day, ereI turned palmer, and well I know a stout hand and one that smitethshrewdly at a cruel Norman or a proud abbot with fat moneybags. Had goodStutely's master but known how his man was compassed about with perils,perchance he might send succor to bring him out of the hand of hisenemies.

"Ay, marry, that is true," cried the young man. "If Robin and his menbe nigh this place, I wot right well they will strive to bring him forthfrom his peril. But fare thee well, thou good old man, and believe me,if Will Stutely die, he shall be right well avenged."

Then he turned and strode rapidly away; but the Palmer looked after him,muttering, "I wot that youth is no country hind that hath come to seea good man die. Well, well, perchance Robin Hood is not so far awaybut that there will be stout doings this day." So he went upon his way,muttering to himself.

When David of Doncaster told Robin Hood what the Palmer had said to him,Robin called the band around him and spoke to them thus:

"Now let us get straightway into Nottingham Town and mix ourselves withthe people there; but keep ye one another in sight, pressing as nearthe prisoner and his guards as ye can, when they come outside the walls.Strike no man without need, for I would fain avoid bloodshed, but if yedo strike, strike hard, and see that there be no need to strike again.Then keep all together until we come again to Sherwood, and let no manleave his fellows."

The sun was low in the western sky when a bugle note sounded from thecastle wall. Then all was bustle in Nottingham Town and crowds filledthe streets, for all knew that the famous Will Stutely was to be hangedthat day. Presently the castle gates opened wide and a great array ofmen-at-arms came forth with noise and clatter, the Sheriff, all clad inshining mail of linked chain, riding at their head. In the midst of allthe guard, in a cart, with a halter about his neck, rode Will Stutely.His face was pale with his wound and with loss of blood, like the moonin broad daylight, and his fair hair was clotted in points upon hisforehead, where the blood had hardened. When he came forth from thecastle he looked up and he looked down, but though he saw some facesthat showed pity and some that showed friendliness, he saw none thathe knew. Then his heart sank within him like a plummet of lead, butnevertheless he spoke up boldly.

"Give a sword into my hand, Sir Sheriff," said he, "and wounded manthough I be, I will fight thee and all thy men till life and strength begone."

"Nay, thou naughty varlet," quoth the Sheriff, turning his head andlooking right grimly upon Will Stutely, "thou shalt have no sword butshall die a mean death, as beseemeth a vile thief like thee."

"Then do but untie my hands and I will fight thee and thy men with noweapon but only my naked fists. I crave no weapon, but let me not bemeanly hanged this day."

Then the Sheriff laughed aloud. "Why, how now," quoth he, "is thy proudstomach quailing? Shrive thyself, thou vile knave, for I mean that thoushalt hang this day, and that where three roads meet, so that all menshall see thee hang, for carrion crows and daws to peck at."

"O thou dastard heart!" cried Will Stutely, gnashing his teeth at theSheriff. "Thou coward hind! If ever my good master meet thee thou shaltpay dearly for this day's work! He doth scorn thee, and so do all bravehearts. Knowest thou not that thou and thy name are jests upon the lipsof every brave yeoman? Such a one as thou art, thou wretched craven,will never be able to subdue bold Robin Hood."

"Ha!" cried the Sheriff in a rage, "is it even so? Am I a jest with thymaster, as thou callest him? Now I will make a jest of thee and a sorryjest withal, for I will quarter thee limb from limb, after thou arthanged." Then he spurred his horse forward and said no more to Stutely.

At last they came to the great town gate, through which Stutely saw thefair country beyond, with hills and dales all clothed in verdure, andfar away the dusky line of Sherwood's skirts. Then when he saw theslanting sunlight lying on field and fallow, shining redly here andthere on cot and farmhouse, and when he heard the sweet birds singingtheir vespers, and the sheep bleating upon the hillside, and beheld theswallows flying in the bright air, there came a great fullness to hisheart so that all things blurred to his sight through salt tears, and hebowed his head lest the folk should think him unmanly when they sawthe tears in his eyes. Thus he kept his head bowed till they had passedthrough the gate and were outside the walls of the town. But when helooked up again he felt his heart leap within him and then stand stillfor pure joy, for he saw the face of one of his own dear companions ofmerry Sherwood; then glancing quickly around he saw well-known facesupon all sides of him, crowding closely upon the men-at-arms who wereguarding him. Then of a sudden the blood sprang to his cheeks, for hesaw for a moment his own good master in the press and, seeing him, knewthat Robin Hood and all his band were there. Yet betwixt him and themwas a line of men-at-arms.

"Now, stand back!" cried the Sheriff in a mighty voice, for the crowdpressed around on all sides. "What mean ye, varlets, that ye push uponus so? Stand back, I say!"

Then came a bustle and a noise, and one strove to push between themen-at-arms so as to reach the cart, and Stutely saw that it was LittleJohn that made all that stir.

"Now stand thou back!" cried one of the men-at-arms whom Little Johnpushed with his elbows.

"Now stand thou back thine own self," quoth Little John, and straightwaysmote the man a buffet beside his head that felled him as a butcherfells an ox, and then he leaped to the cart where Stutely sat.

"I pray thee take leave of thy friends ere thou diest, Will," quoth he,"or maybe I will die with thee if thou must die, for I could never havebetter company." Then with one stroke he cut the bonds that bound theother's arms and legs, and Stutely leaped straightway from the cart.

"Now as I live," cried the Sheriff, "yon varlet I know right well is asturdy rebel! Take him, I bid you all, and let him not go!"

So saying, he spurred his horse upon Little John, and rising in hisstirrups smote with might and main, but Little John ducked quicklyunderneath the horse's belly and the blow whistled harmlessly over hishead.

"Nay, good Sir Sheriff," cried he, leaping up again when the blow hadpassed, "I must e'en borrow thy most worshipful sword." Thereupon hetwitched the weapon deftly from out the Sheriff's hand, "Here, Stutely,"he cried, "the Sheriff hath lent thee his sword! Back to back with me,man, and defend thyself, for help is nigh!"

"Down with them!" bellowed the Sheriff in a voice like an angry bull;and he spurred his horse upon the two who now stood back to back,forgetting in his rage that he had no weapon with which to defendhimself.

"Stand back, Sheriff!" cried Little John; and even as he spoke, a buglehorn sounded shrilly and a clothyard shaft whistled within an inch ofthe Sheriff's head. Then came a swaying hither and thither, and oaths,cries, and groans, and clashing of steel, and swords flashed in thesetting sun, and a score of arrows whistled through the air. And somecried, "Help, help!" and some, "A rescue, a rescue!"

"Treason!" cried the Sheriff in a loud voice. "Bear back! Bear back!Else we be all dead men!" Thereupon he reined his horse backward throughthe thickest of the crowd.

Now Robin Hood and his band might have slain half of the Sheriff's menhad they desired to do so, but they let them push out of the press andget them gone, only sending a bunch of arrows after them to hurry themin their flight.

"Oh stay!" shouted Will Stutely after the Sheriff. "Thou wilt nevercatch bold Robin Hood if thou dost not stand to meet him face to face."But the Sheriff, bowing along his horse's back, made no answer but onlyspurred the faster.

Then Will Stutely turned to Little John and looked him in the face tillthe tears ran down from his eyes and he wept aloud; and kissing hisfriend's cheeks, "O Little John!" quoth he, "mine own true friend, andhe that I love better than man or woman in all the world beside!Little did I reckon to see thy face this day, or to meet thee this sideParadise." Little John could make no answer, but wept also.

Then Robin Hood gathered his band together in a close rank, with WillStutely in the midst, and thus they moved slowly away toward Sherwood,and were gone, as a storm cloud moves away from the spot where a tempesthas swept the land. But they left ten of the Sheriff's men lying alongthe ground wounded—some more, some less—yet no one knew who smote themdown.

Thus the Sheriff of Nottingham tried thrice to take Robin Hood andfailed each time; and the last time he was frightened, for he felt hownear he had come to losing his life; so he said, "These men fear neitherGod nor man, nor king nor king's officers. I would sooner lose mineoffice than my life, so I will trouble them no more." So he kept closewithin his castle for many a day and dared not show his face outside ofhis own household, and all the time he was gloomy and would speak to noone, for he was ashamed of what had happened that day.

Robin Hood Turns Butcher

NOW AFTER all these things had happened, and it became known to RobinHood how the Sheriff had tried three times to make him captive, he saidto himself, "If I have the chance, I will make our worshipful Sheriffpay right well for that which he hath done to me. Maybe I may bring himsome time into Sherwood Forest and have him to a right merry feast withus." For when Robin Hood caught a baron or a squire, or a fat abbot orbishop, he brought them to the greenwood tree and feasted them before helightened their purses.

But in the meantime Robin Hood and his band lived quietly in SherwoodForest, without showing their faces abroad, for Robin knew that it wouldnot be wise for him to be seen in the neighborhood of Nottingham, thosein authority being very wroth with him. But though they did not goabroad, they lived a merry life within the woodlands, spending the daysin shooting at garlands hung upon a willow wand at the end of the glade,the leafy aisles ringing with merry jests and laughter: for whoevermissed the garland was given a sound buffet, which, if delivered byLittle John, never failed to topple over the unfortunate yeoman. Thenthey had bouts of wrestling and of cudgel play, so that every day theygained in skill and strength.

Thus they dwelled for nearly a year, and in that time Robin Hood oftenturned over in his mind many means of making an even score with theSheriff. At last he began to fret at his confinement; so one day he tookup his stout cudgel and set forth to seek adventure, strolling blithelyalong until he came to the edge of Sherwood. There, as he rambled alongthe sunlit road, he met a lusty young butcher driving a fine mare andriding in a stout new cart, all hung about with meat. Merrily whistledthe Butcher as he jogged along, for he was going to the market, and theday was fresh and sweet, making his heart blithe within him.

"Good morrow to thee, jolly fellow," quoth Robin, "thou seemest happythis merry morn."

"Ay, that am I," quoth the jolly Butcher, "and why should I not be so?Am I not hale in wind and limb? Have I not the bonniest lass in allNottinghamshire? And lastly, am I not to be married to her on Thursdaynext in sweet Locksley Town?"

"Ha," said Robin, "comest thou from Locksley Town? Well do I know thatfair place for miles about, and well do I know each hedgerow and gentlepebbly stream, and even all the bright little fishes therein, forthere I was born and bred. Now, where goest thou with thy meat, my fairfriend?"

"I go to the market at Nottingham Town to sell my beef and my mutton,"answered the Butcher. "But who art thou that comest from Locksley Town?"

"A yeoman am I, and men do call me Robin Hood."

"Now, by Our Lady's grace," cried the Butcher, "well do I know thy name,and many a time have I heard thy deeds both sung and spoken of. ButHeaven forbid that thou shouldst take aught of me! An honest man am I,and have wronged neither man nor maid; so trouble me not, good master,as I have never troubled thee."

"Nay, Heaven forbid, indeed," quoth Robin, "that I should take from suchas thee, jolly fellow! Not so much as one farthing would I takefrom thee, for I love a fair Saxon face like thine right well—moreespecially when it cometh from Locksley Town, and most especially whenthe man that owneth it is to marry a bonny lass on Thursday next. Butcome, tell me for what price thou wilt sell me all of thy meat and thyhorse and cart."

"At four marks do I value meat, cart, and mare," quoth the Butcher, "butif I do not sell all my meat I will not have four marks in value."

Then Robin Hood plucked the purse from his girdle, and quoth he, "Herein this purse are six marks. Now, I would fain be a butcher for the dayand sell my meat in Nottingham Town. Wilt thou close a bargain with meand take six marks for thine outfit?"

"Now may the blessings of all the saints fall on thine honest head!"cried the Butcher right joyfully, as he leaped down from his cart andtook the purse that Robin held out to him.

"Nay," quoth Robin, laughing loudly, "many do like me and wish me well,but few call me honest. Now get thee gone back to thy lass, and give hera sweet kiss from me." So saying, he donned the Butcher's apron, and,climbing into the cart, he took the reins in his hand and drove offthrough the forest to Nottingham Town.

When he came to Nottingham, he entered that part of the market wherebutchers stood, and took up his inn(2) in the best place he could find.Next, he opened his stall and spread his meat upon the bench, then,taking his cleaver and steel and clattering them together, he trolledaloud in merry tones:

(2) Stand for selling.     "Now come, ye lasses, and eke ye dames,     And buy your meat from me;     For three pennyworths of meat I sell     For the charge of one penny.     "Lamb have I that hath fed upon nought     But the dainty dames pied,     And the violet sweet, and the daffodil     That grow fair streams beside.     "And beef have I from the heathery words,     And mutton from dales all green,     And veal as white as a maiden's brow,     With its mother's milk, I ween.     "Then come, ye lasses, and eke ye dames,     Come, buy your meat from me,     For three pennyworths of meat I sell     For the charge of one penny."

Thus he sang blithely, while all who stood near listened amazedly. Then,when he had finished, he clattered the steel and cleaver still moreloudly, shouting lustily, "Now, who'll buy? Who'll buy? Four fixedprices have I. Three pennyworths of meat I sell to a fat friar or priestfor sixpence, for I want not their custom; stout aldermen I chargethreepence, for it doth not matter to me whether they buy or not; tobuxom dames I sell three pennyworths of meat for one penny for I liketheir custom well; but to the bonny lass that hath a liking for a goodtight butcher I charge nought but one fair kiss, for I like her customthe best of all."

Then all began to stare and wonder and crowd around, laughing, for neverwas such selling heard of in all Nottingham Town; but when they came tobuy they found it as he had said, for he gave goodwife or dame as muchmeat for one penny as they could buy elsewhere for three, and when awidow or a poor woman came to him, he gave her flesh for nothing; butwhen a merry lass came and gave him a kiss, he charged not one penny forhis meat; and many such came to his stall, for his eyes were as blue asthe skies of June, and he laughed merrily, giving to each full measure.Thus he sold his meat so fast that no butcher that stood near him couldsell anything.

Then they began to talk among themselves, and some said, "This must besome thief who has stolen cart, horse, and meat;" but others said, "Nay,when did ye ever see a thief who parted with his goods so freely andmerrily? This must be some prodigal who hath sold his father's land, andwould fain live merrily while the money lasts." And these latter beingthe greater number, the others came round, one by one to their way ofthinking.

Then some of the butchers came to him to make his acquaintance. "Come,brother," quoth one who was the head of them all, "we be all of onetrade, so wilt thou go dine with us? For this day the Sheriff hath askedall the Butcher Guild to feast with him at the Guild Hall. There willbe stout fare and much to drink, and that thou likest, or I much mistakethee."

"Now, beshrew his heart," quoth jolly Robin, "that would deny a butcher.And, moreover, I will go dine with you all, my sweet lads, and that asfast as I can hie." Whereupon, having sold all his meat, he closed hisstall and went with them to the great Guild Hall.

There the Sheriff had already come in state, and with him many butchers.When Robin and those that were with him came in, all laughing at somemerry jest he had been telling them, those that were near the Sheriffwhispered to him, "Yon is a right mad blade, for he hath sold more meatfor one penny this day than we could sell for three, and to whatsoevermerry lass gave him a kiss he gave meat for nought." And others said,"He is some prodigal that hath sold his land for silver and gold, andmeaneth to spend all right merrily."

Then the Sheriff called Robin to him, not knowing him in his butcher'sdress, and made him sit close to him on his right hand; for he loved arich young prodigal—especially when he thought that he might lightenthat prodigal's pockets into his own most worshipful purse. So he mademuch of Robin, and laughed and talked with him more than with any of theothers.

At last the dinner was ready to be served and the Sheriff bade Robin saygrace, so Robin stood up and said, "Now Heaven bless us all and eke goodmeat and good sack within this house, and may all butchers be and remainas honest men as I am."

At this all laughed, the Sheriff loudest of all, for he said to himself,"Surely this is indeed some prodigal, and perchance I may empty hispurse of some of the money that the fool throweth about so freely." Thenhe spake aloud to Robin, saying, "Thou art a jolly young blade, and Ilove thee mightily;" and he smote Robin upon the shoulder.

Then Robin laughed loudly too. "Yea," quoth he, "I know thou dost lovea jolly blade, for didst thou not have jolly Robin Hood at thy shootingmatch and didst thou not gladly give him a bright golden arrow for hisown?"

At this the Sheriff looked grave and all the guild of butchers too, sothat none laughed but Robin, only some winked slyly at each other.

"Come, fill us some sack!" cried Robin. "Let us e'er be merry while wemay, for man is but dust, and he hath but a span to live here till theworm getteth him, as our good gossip Swanthold sayeth; so let life bemerry while it lasts, say I. Nay, never look down i' the mouth, SirSheriff. Who knowest but that thou mayest catch Robin Hood yet, if thoudrinkest less good sack and Malmsey, and bringest down the fat about thypaunch and the dust from out thy brain. Be merry, man."

Then the Sheriff laughed again, but not as though he liked the jest,while the butchers said, one to another, "Before Heaven, never havewe seen such a mad rollicking blade. Mayhap, though, he will make theSheriff mad."

"How now, brothers," cried Robin, "be merry! nay, never count over yourfarthings, for by this and by that I will pay this shot myself, e'enthough it cost two hundred pounds. So let no man draw up his lip, northrust his forefinger into his purse, for I swear that neither butchernor Sheriff shall pay one penny for this feast."

"Now thou art a right merry soul," quoth the Sheriff, "and I wot thoumust have many a head of horned beasts and many an acre of land, thatthou dost spend thy money so freely."

"Ay, that have I," quoth Robin, laughing loudly again, "five hundred andmore horned beasts have I and my brothers, and none of them have we beenable to sell, else I might not have turned butcher. As for my land, Ihave never asked my steward how many acres I have."

At this the Sheriff's eyes twinkled, and he chuckled to himself. "Nay,good youth," quoth he, "if thou canst not sell thy cattle, it may be Iwill find a man that will lift them from thy hands; perhaps that man maybe myself, for I love a merry youth and would help such a one along thepath of life. Now how much dost thou want for thy horned cattle?"

"Well," quoth Robin, "they are worth at least five hundred pounds."

"Nay," answered the Sheriff slowly, and as if he were thinking withinhimself, "well do I love thee, and fain would I help thee along, butfive hundred pounds in money is a good round sum; besides I have it notby me. Yet I will give thee three hundred pounds for them all, and thatin good hard silver and gold."

"Now thou old miser!" quoth Robin, "well thou knowest that so manyhorned cattle are worth seven hundred pounds and more, and even that isbut small for them, and yet thou, with thy gray hairs and one foot inthe grave, wouldst trade upon the folly of a wild youth."

At this the Sheriff looked grimly at Robin. "Nay," quoth Robin, "looknot on me as though thou hadst sour beer in thy mouth, man. I will takethine offer, for I and my brothers do need the money. We lead a merrylife, and no one leads a merry life for a farthing, so I will closethe bargain with thee. But mind that thou bringest a good three hundredpounds with thee, for I trust not one that driveth so shrewd a bargain."

"I will bring the money," said the Sheriff. "But what is thy name, goodyouth?"

"Men call me Robert o' Locksley," quoth bold Robin.

"Then, good Robert o' Locksley," quoth the Sheriff, "I will come thisday to see thy horned beasts. But first my clerk shall draw up a paperin which thou shalt be bound to the sale, for thou gettest not my moneywithout I get thy beasts in return."

Then Robin Hood laughed again. "So be it," he said, smiting his palmupon the Sheriff's hand. "Truly my brothers will be thankful to thee forthy money."

Thus the bargain was closed, but many of the butchers talked amongthemselves of the Sheriff, saying that it was but a scurvy trick tobeguile a poor spendthrift youth in this way.

The afternoon had come when the Sheriff mounted his horse and joinedRobin Hood, who stood outside the gateway of the paved court waiting forhim, for he had sold his horse and cart to a trader for two marks. Thenthey set forth upon their way, the Sheriff riding upon his horse andRobin running beside him. Thus they left Nottingham Town and traveledforward along the dusty highway, laughing and jesting together as thoughthey had been old friends. But all the time the Sheriff said withinhimself, "Thy jest to me of Robin Hood shall cost thee dear, goodfellow, even four hundred pounds, thou fool." For he thought he wouldmake at least that much by his bargain.

So they journeyed onward till they came within the verge of SherwoodForest, when presently the Sheriff looked up and down and to the rightand to the left of him, and then grew quiet and ceased his laughter."Now," quoth he, "may Heaven and its saints preserve us this day from arogue men call Robin Hood."

Then Robin laughed aloud. "Nay," said he, "thou mayst set thy mind atrest, for well do I know Robin Hood and well do I know that thou art inno more danger from him this day than thou art from me."

At this the Sheriff looked askance at Robin, saying to himself, "I likenot that thou seemest so well acquainted with this bold outlaw, and Iwish that I were well out of Sherwood Forest."

But still they traveled deeper into the forest shades, and the deeperthey went, the more quiet grew the Sheriff. At last they came to wherethe road took a sudden bend, and before them a herd of dun deer wenttripping across the path. Then Robin Hood came close to the Sheriff andpointing his finger, he said, "These are my horned beasts, good MasterSheriff. How dost thou like them? Are they not fat and fair to see?"

At this the Sheriff drew rein quickly. "Now fellow," quoth he, "I wouldI were well out of this forest, for I like not thy company. Go thouthine own path, good friend, and let me but go mine."

But Robin only laughed and caught the Sheriff's bridle rein. "Nay,"cried he, "stay awhile, for I would thou shouldst see my brothers, whoown these fair horned beasts with me." So saying, he clapped his bugleto his mouth and winded three merry notes, and presently up the pathcame leaping fivescore good stout yeomen with Little John at their head.

"What wouldst thou have, good master?" quoth Little John.

"Why," answered Robin, "dost thou not see that I have brought goodlycompany to feast with us today? Fye, for shame! Do you not see our goodand worshipful master, the Sheriff of Nottingham? Take thou his bridle,Little John, for he has honored us today by coming to feast with us."

Then all doffed their hats humbly, without smiling or seeming to be injest, while Little John took the bridle rein and led the palfrey stilldeeper into the forest, all marching in order, with Robin Hood walkingbeside the Sheriff, hat in hand.

All this time the Sheriff said never a word but only looked about himlike one suddenly awakened from sleep; but when he found himself goingwithin the very depths of Sherwood his heart sank within him, for hethought, "Surely my three hundred pounds will be taken from me, evenif they take not my life itself, for I have plotted against their livesmore than once." But all seemed humble and meek and not a word was saidof danger, either to life or money.

So at last they came to that part of Sherwood Forest where a noble oakspread its branches wide, and beneath it was a seat all made of moss, onwhich Robin sat down, placing the Sheriff at his right hand. "Now buskye, my merry men all," quoth he, "and bring forth the best we have,both of meat and wine, for his worship the Sheriff hath feasted me inNottingham Guild Hall today, and I would not have him go back empty."

All this time nothing had been said of the Sheriff's money, so presentlyhe began to pluck up heart. "For," said he to himself, "maybe Robin Hoodhath forgotten all about it."

Then, while beyond in the forest bright fires crackled and savory smellsof sweetly roasting venison and fat capons filled the glade, and brownpasties warmed beside the blaze, did Robin Hood entertain the Sheriffright royally. First, several couples stood forth at quarterstaff, andso shrewd were they at the game, and so quickly did they give strokeand parry, that the Sheriff, who loved to watch all lusty sports ofthe kind, clapped his hands, forgetting where he was, and crying aloud,"Well struck! Well struck, thou fellow with the black beard!" littleknowing that the man he called upon was the Tinker that tried to servehis warrant upon Robin Hood.

Then several yeomen came forward and spread cloths upon the green grass,and placed a royal feast; while others still broached barrels of sackand Malmsey and good stout ale, and set them in jars upon the cloth,with drinking horns about them. Then all sat down and feasted and drankmerrily together until the sun was low and the half-moon glimmered witha pale light betwixt the leaves of the trees overhead.

Then the Sheriff arose and said, "I thank you all, good yeomen, for themerry entertainment ye have given me this day. Right courteously have yeused me, showing therein that ye have much respect for our glorious Kingand his deputy in brave Nottinghamshire. But the shadows grow long,and I must away before darkness comes, lest I lose myself within theforest."

Then Robin Hood and all his merry men arose also, and Robin said to theSheriff, "If thou must go, worshipful sir, go thou must; but thou hastforgotten one thing."

"Nay, I forgot nought," said the Sheriff; yet all the same his heartsank within him.

"But I say thou hast forgot something," quoth Robin. "We keep a merryinn here in the greenwood, but whoever becometh our guest must pay hisreckoning."

Then the Sheriff laughed, but the laugh was hollow. "Well, jolly boys,"quoth he, "we have had a merry time together today, and even if ye hadnot asked me, I would have given you a score of pounds for the sweetentertainment I have had."

"Nay," quoth Robin seriously, "it would ill beseem us to treat YourWorship so meanly. By my faith, Sir Sheriff, I would be ashamed to showmy face if I did not reckon the King's deputy at three hundred pounds.Is it not so, my merry men all?"

Then "Ay!" cried all, in a loud voice.

"Three hundred devils!" roared the Sheriff. "Think ye that your beggarlyfeast was worth three pounds, let alone three hundred?"

"Nay," quoth Robin gravely. "Speak not so roundly, Your Worship. Ido love thee for the sweet feast thou hast given me this day in merryNottingham Town; but there be those here who love thee not so much. Ifthou wilt look down the cloth thou wilt see Will Stutely, in whose eyesthou hast no great favor; then two other stout fellows are there herethat thou knowest not, that were wounded in a brawl nigh NottinghamTown, some time ago—thou wottest when; one of them was sore hurt in onearm, yet he hath got the use of it again. Good Sheriff, be advised byme; pay thy score without more ado, or maybe it may fare ill with thee."

As he spoke the Sheriff's ruddy cheeks grew pale, and he said nothingmore but looked upon the ground and gnawed his nether lip. Then slowlyhe drew forth his fat purse and threw it upon the cloth in front of him.

"Now take the purse, Little John," quoth Robin Hood, "and see that thereckoning be right. We would not doubt our Sheriff, but he might notlike it if he should find he had not paid his full score."

Then Little John counted the money and found that the bag held threehundred pounds in silver and gold. But to the Sheriff it seemed as ifevery clink of the bright money was a drop of blood from his veins. Andwhen he saw it all counted out in a heap of silver and gold, filling awooden platter, he turned away and silently mounted his horse.

"Never have we had so worshipful a guest before!" quoth Robin, "and, asthe day waxeth late, I will send one of my young men to guide thee outof the forest depths."

"Nay, Heaven forbid!" cried the Sheriff hastily. "I can find mine ownway, good man, without aid."

"Then I will put thee on the right track mine own self," quoth Robin,and, taking the Sheriff's horse by the bridle rein, he led him into themain forest path. Then, before he let him go, he said, "Now, fare theewell, good Sheriff, and when next thou thinkest to despoil some poorprodigal, remember thy feast in Sherwood Forest. 'Ne'er buy a horse,good friend, without first looking into its mouth,' as our good gafferSwanthold says. And so, once more, fare thee well." Then he clappedhis hand to the horse's back, and off went nag and Sheriff through theforest glades.

Then bitterly the Sheriff rued the day that first he meddled with RobinHood, for all men laughed at him and many ballads were sung by folkthroughout the country, of how the Sheriff went to shear and came homeshorn to the very quick. For thus men sometimes overreach themselvesthrough greed and guile.

Little John Goes to Nottingham Fair

SPRING HAD GONE since the Sheriff's feast in Sherwood, and summer also,and the mellow month of October had come. All the air was cool andfresh; the harvests were gathered home, the young birds were fullfledged, the hops were plucked, and apples were ripe. But though timehad so smoothed things over that men no longer talked of the hornedbeasts that the Sheriff wished to buy, he was still sore about thematter and could not bear to hear Robin Hood's name spoken in hispresence.

With October had come the time for holding the great Fair which wascelebrated every five years at Nottingham Town, to which folk came fromfar and near throughout the country. At such times archery was alwaysthe main sport of the day, for the Nottinghamshire yeomen were the besthand at the longbow in all merry England, but this year the Sheriffhesitated a long time before he issued proclamation of the Fair, fearinglest Robin Hood and his band might come to it. At first he had a greatpart of a mind not to proclaim the Fair, but second thought told himthat men would laugh at him and say among themselves that he was afraidof Robin Hood, so he put that thought by. At last he fixed in his mindthat he would offer such a prize as they would not care to shoot for.At such times it had been the custom to offer a half score of marks ora tun of ale, so this year he proclaimed that a prize of two fat steersshould be given to the best bowman.

When Robin Hood heard what had been proclaimed he was vexed, and said,"Now beshrew this Sheriff that he should offer such a prize that nonebut shepherd hinds will care to shoot for it! I would have loved nothingbetter than to have had another bout at merry Nottingham Town, but if Ishould win this prize nought would it pleasure or profit me."

Then up spoke Little John: "Nay, but hearken, good master," said he,"only today Will Stutely, young David of Doncaster, and I were at theSign of the Blue Boar, and there we heard all the news of this merryFair, and also that the Sheriff hath offered this prize, that we ofSherwood might not care to come to the Fair; so, good master, if thouwilt, I would fain go and strive to win even this poor thing among thestout yeomen who will shoot at Nottingham Town."

"Nay, Little John," quoth Robin, "thou art a sound stout fellow, yetthou lackest the cunning that good Stutely hath, and I would not haveharm befall thee for all Nottinghamshire. Nevertheless, if thou wilt go,take some disguise lest there be those there who may know thee."

"So be it, good master," quoth Little John, "yet all the disguise that Iwish is a good suit of scarlet instead of this of Lincoln green. I willdraw the cowl of my jacket about my head so that it will hide my brownhair and beard, and then, I trust, no one will know me."

"It is much against my will," said Robin Hood, "ne'ertheless, if thoudost wish it, get thee gone, but bear thyself seemingly, Little John,for thou art mine own right-hand man and I could ill bear to have harmbefall thee."

So Little John clad himself all in scarlet and started off to the Fairat Nottingham Town.

Right merry were these Fair days at Nottingham, when the green beforethe great town gate was dotted with booths standing in rows, withtents of many-colored canvas, hung about with streamers and garlandsof flowers, and the folk came from all the countryside, both gentleand common. In some booths there was dancing to merry music, in othersflowed ale and beer, and in others yet again sweet cakes and barleysugar were sold; and sport was going outside the booths also, where someminstrel sang ballads of the olden time, playing a second upon the harp,or where the wrestlers struggled with one another within the sawdustring, but the people gathered most of all around a raised platform wherestout fellows played at quarterstaff.

So Little John came to the Fair. All scarlet were his hose and jerkin,and scarlet was his cowled cap, with a scarlet feather stuck in the sideof it. Over his shoulders was slung a stout bow of yew, and across hisback hung a quiver of good round arrows. Many turned to look after sucha stout, tall fellow, for his shoulders were broader by a palm's-breadththan any that were there, and he stood a head taller than all the othermen. The lasses, also, looked at him askance, thinking they had neverseen a lustier youth.

First of all he went to the booth where stout ale was sold and, standingaloft on a bench, he called to all that were near to come and drinkwith him. "Hey, sweet lads!" cried he "who will drink ale with a stoutyeoman? Come, all! Come, all! Let us be merry, for the day is sweet andthe ale is tingling. Come hither, good yeoman, and thou, and thou;for not a farthing shall one of you pay. Nay, turn hither, thou lustybeggar, and thou jolly tinker, for all shall be merry with me."

Thus he shouted, and all crowded around, laughing, while the brown aleflowed; and they called Little John a brave fellow, each swearing thathe loved him as his own brother; for when one has entertainment withnothing to pay, one loves the man that gives it to one.

Then he strolled to the platform where they were at cudgel play, for heloved a bout at quarterstaff as he loved meat and drink; and here befellan adventure that was sung in ballads throughout the mid-country formany a day.

One fellow there was that cracked crowns of everyone who threw cap intothe ring. This was Eric o' Lincoln, of great renown, whose name had beensung in ballads throughout the countryside. When Little John reached thestand he found none fighting, but only bold Eric walking up and down theplatform, swinging his staff and shouting lustily, "Now, who willcome and strike a stroke for the lass he loves the best, with a goodLincolnshire yeoman? How now, lads? Step up! Step up! Or else thelasses' eyes are not bright hereabouts, or the blood of Nottingham youthis sluggish and cold. Lincoln against Nottingham, say I! For no one hathput foot upon the boards this day such as we of Lincoln call a cudgelplayer."

At this, one would nudge another with his elbow, saying, "Go thou,Ned!" or "Go thou, Thomas!" but no lad cared to gain a cracked crown fornothing.

Presently Eric saw where Little John stood among the others, a head andshoulders above them all, and he called to him loudly, "Halloa, thoulong-legged fellow in scarlet! Broad are thy shoulders and thick thyhead; is not thy lass fair enough for thee to take cudgel in hand forher sake? In truth, I believe that Nottingham men do turn to bone andsinew, for neither heart nor courage have they! Now, thou great lout,wilt thou not twirl staff for Nottingham?"

"Ay," quoth Little John, "had I but mine own good staff here, it wouldpleasure me hugely to crack thy knave's pate, thou saucy braggart! I wotit would be well for thee an thy cock's comb were cut!" Thus he spoke,slowly at first, for he was slow to move; but his wrath gathered headwaylike a great stone rolling down a hill, so that at the end he was fullof anger.

Then Eric o' Lincoln laughed aloud. "Well spoken for one who fears tomeet me fairly, man to man," said he. "Saucy art thou thine own self,and if thou puttest foot upon these boards, I will make thy saucy tonguerattle within thy teeth!"

"Now," quoth Little John, "is there never a man here that will lend mea good stout staff till I try the mettle of yon fellow?" At this, half ascore reached him their staves, and he took the stoutest and heaviest ofthem all. Then, looking up and down the cudgel, he said, "Now, I have inmy hand but a splint of wood—a barley straw, as it were—yet I trow itwill have to serve me, so here goeth." Thereupon he cast the cudgelupon the stand and, leaping lightly after it, snatched it up in his handagain.

Then each man stood in his place and measured the other with fell looksuntil he that directed the sport cried, "Play!" At this they steppedforth, each grasping his staff tightly in the middle. Then those thatstood around saw the stoutest game of quarterstaff that e'er NottinghamTown beheld. At first Eric o' Lincoln thought that he would gain an easyadvantage, so he came forth as if he would say, "Watch, good people, howthat I carve you this cockerel right speedily;" but he presently foundit to be no such speedy matter. Right deftly he struck, and with greatskill of fence, but he had found his match in Little John. Once, twice,thrice, he struck, and three times Little John turned the blows to theleft hand and to the right. Then quickly and with a dainty backhandedblow, he rapped Eric beneath his guard so shrewdly that it made his headring again. Then Eric stepped back to gather his wits, while a greatshout went up and all were glad that Nottingham had cracked Lincoln'scrown; and thus ended the first bout of the game.

Then presently the director of the sport cried, "Play!" and they cametogether again; but now Eric played warily, for he found his man was ofright good mettle, and also he had no sweet memory of the blow that hehad got; so this bout neither Little John nor the Lincoln man caughta stroke within his guard. Then, after a while, they parted again, andthis made the second bout.

Then for the third time they came together, and at first Eric strove tobe wary, as he had been before; but, growing mad at finding himself sofoiled, he lost his wits and began to rain blows so fiercely and so fastthat they rattled like hail on penthouse roof; but, in spite of all, hedid not reach within Little John's guard. Then at last Little John sawhis chance and seized it right cleverly. Once more, with a quick blow,he rapped Eric beside the head, and ere he could regain himself, LittleJohn slipped his right hand down to his left and, with a swinging blow,smote the other so sorely upon the crown that down he fell as though hewould never move again.

Then the people shouted so loud that folk came running from all about tosee what was the ado; while Little John leaped down from the stand andgave the staff back to him that had lent it to him. And thus ended thefamous bout between Little John and Eric o' Lincoln of great renown.

But now the time had come when those who were to shoot with the longbowwere to take their places, so the people began flocking to the buttswhere the shooting was to be. Near the target, in a good place, sat theSheriff upon a raised dais, with many gentlefolk around him. When thearchers had taken their places, the herald came forward and proclaimedthe rules of the game, and how each should shoot three shots, and to himthat should shoot the best the prize of two fat steers was to belong.A score of brave shots were gathered there, and among them some of thekeenest hands at the longbow in Lincoln and Nottinghamshire; and amongthem Little John stood taller than all the rest. "Who is yon strangerclad all in scarlet?" said some, and others answered, "It is he thathath but now so soundly cracked the crown of Eric o' Lincoln." Thusthe people talked among themselves, until at last it reached even theSheriff's ears.

And now each man stepped forward and shot in turn; but though each shotwell, Little John was the best of all, for three times he struck theclout, and once only the length of a barleycorn from the center. "Heyfor the tall archer!" shouted the crowd, and some among them shouted,"Hey for Reynold Greenleaf!" for this was the name that Little John hadcalled himself that day.

Then the Sheriff stepped down from the raised seat and came to wherethe archers stood, while all doffed their caps that saw him coming. Helooked keenly at Little John but did not know him, though he said, aftera while, "How now, good fellow, methinks there is that about thy facethat I have seen erewhile."

"Mayhap it may be so," quoth Little John, "for often have I seen YourWorship." And, as he spoke, he looked steadily into the Sheriff's eyesso that the latter did not suspect who he was.

"A brave blade art thou, good friend," said the Sheriff, "and I hearthat thou hast well upheld the skill of Nottinghamshire against that ofLincoln this day. What may be thy name, good fellow?"

"Men do call me Reynold Greenleaf, Your Worship," said Little John; andthe old ballad that tells of this, adds, "So, in truth, was he a greenleaf, but of what manner of tree the Sheriff wotted not."

"Now, Reynold Greenleaf," quoth the Sheriff, "thou art the fairest handat the longbow that mine eyes ever beheld, next to that false knave,Robin Hood, from whose wiles Heaven forfend me! Wilt thou join myservice, good fellow? Thou shalt be paid right well, for three suits ofclothes shalt thou have a year, with good food and as much ale asthou canst drink; and, besides this, I will pay thee forty marks eachMichaelmastide."

"Then here stand I a free man, and right gladly will I enter thyhousehold," said Little John, for he thought he might find some merryjest, should he enter the Sheriff's service.

"Fairly hast thou won the fat steers," said the Sheriff, "and hereuntoI will add a butt of good March beer, for joy of having gotten such aman; for, I wot, thou shootest as fair a shaft as Robin Hood himself."

"Then," said Little John, "for joy of having gotten myself into thyservice, I will give fat steers and brown ale to all these good folk, tomake them merry withal." At this arose a great shout, many casting theircaps aloft, for joy of the gift.

Then some built great fires and roasted the steers, and others broachedthe butt of ale, with which all made themselves merry. Then, when theyhad eaten and drunk as much as they could, and when the day faded andthe great moon arose, all red and round, over the spires and towers ofNottingham Town, they joined hands and danced around the fires, to themusic of bagpipes and harps. But long before this merrymaking had begun,the Sheriff and his new servant Reynold Greenleaf were in the Castle ofNottingham.

How Little John Lived at the Sheriff's

THUS LITTLE JOHN entered into the Sheriff's service and found the lifehe led there easy enough, for the Sheriff made him his right-hand manand held him in great favor. He sat nigh the Sheriff at meat, and he ranbeside his horse when he went a-hunting; so that, what with hunting andhawking a little, and eating rich dishes and drinking good sack, andsleeping until late hours in the morning, he grew as fat as a stall-fedox. Thus things floated easily along with the tide, until one day whenthe Sheriff went a-hunting, there happened that which broke the smoothsurface of things.

This morning the Sheriff and many of his men set forth to meet certainlords, to go a-hunting. He looked all about him for his good man,Reynold Greenleaf, but, not finding him, was vexed, for he wished toshow Little John's skill to his noble friends. As for Little John, helay abed, snoring lustily, till the sun was high in the heavens. Atlast he opened his eyes and looked about him but did not move to arise.Brightly shone the sun in at the window, and all the air was sweet withthe scent of woodbine that hung in sprays about the wall without, forthe cold winter was past and spring was come again, and Little John laystill, thinking how sweet was everything on this fair morn. Just then heheard, faint and far away, a distant bugle note sounding thin and clear.The sound was small, but, like a little pebble dropped into a glassyfountain, it broke all the smooth surface of his thoughts, until hiswhole soul was filled with disturbance. His spirit seemed to awakenfrom its sluggishness, and his memory brought back to him all the merrygreenwood life—how the birds were singing blithely there this brightmorning, and how his loved companions and friends were feasting andmaking merry, or perhaps talking of him with sober speech; for whenhe first entered the Sheriff's service he did so in jest; but thehearthstone was warm during the winter, and the fare was full, and sohe had abided, putting off from day to day his going back to Sherwood,until six long months had passed. But now he thought of his good masterand of Will Stutely, whom he loved better than anyone in all the world,and of young David of Doncaster, whom he had trained so well in allmanly sports, till there came over his heart a great and bitter longingfor them all, so that his eyes filled with tears. Then he said aloud,"Here I grow fat like a stall-fed ox and all my manliness departeth fromme while I become a sluggard and dolt. But I will arouse me and go backto mine own dear friends once more, and never will I leave them againtill life doth leave my lips." So saying, he leaped from bed, for hehated his sluggishness now.

When he came downstairs he saw the Steward standing near the pantrydoor—a great, fat man, with a huge bundle of keys hanging to hisgirdle. Then Little John said, "Ho, Master Steward, a hungry man am I,for nought have I had for all this blessed morn. Therefore, give me toeat."

Then the Steward looked grimly at him and rattled the keys in hisgirdle, for he hated Little John because he had found favor with theSheriff. "So, Master Reynold Greenleaf, thou art anhungered, art thou?"quoth he. "But, fair youth, if thou livest long enough, thou wilt findthat he who getteth overmuch sleep for an idle head goeth with an emptystomach. For what sayeth the old saw, Master Greenleaf? Is it not 'Thelate fowl findeth but ill faring'?"

"Now, thou great purse of fat!" cried Little John, "I ask thee not forfool's wisdom, but for bread and meat. Who art thou, that thou shouldstdeny me to eat? By Saint Dunstan, thou hadst best tell me where mybreakfast is, if thou wouldst save broken bones!"

"Thy breakfast, Master Fireblaze, is in the pantry," answered theSteward.

"Then fetch it hither!" cried Little John, who waxed angry by this time.

"Go thou and fetch it thine own self," quoth the Steward. "Am I thyslave, to fetch and carry for thee?"

"I say, go thou, bring it me!"

"I say, go thou, fetch it for thyself!"

"Ay, marry, that will I, right quickly!" quoth Little John in a rage.And, so saying, he strode to the pantry and tried to open the door butfound it locked, whereat the Steward laughed and rattled his keys. Thenthe wrath of Little John boiled over, and, lifting his clenched fist, hesmote the pantry door, bursting out three panels and making so large anopening that he could easily stoop and walk through it.

When the Steward saw what was done, he waxed mad with rage; and, asLittle John stooped to look within the pantry, he seized him from behindby the nape of the neck, pinching him sorely and smiting him over thehead with his keys till the yeoman's ears rang again. At this LittleJohn turned upon the Steward and smote him such a buffet that the fatman fell to the floor and lay there as though he would never move again."There," quoth Little John, "think well of that stroke and never keep agood breakfast from a hungry man again."

So saying, he crept into the pantry and looked about him to see if hecould find something to appease his hunger. He saw a great venison pastyand two roasted capons, beside which was a platter of plover's eggs;moreover, there was a flask of sack and one of canary—a sweet sightto a hungry man. These he took down from the shelves and placed upon asideboard, and prepared to make himself merry.

Now the Cook, in the kitchen across the courtyard, heard the loudtalking between Little John and the Steward, and also the blow thatLittle John struck the other, so he came running across the court and upthe stairway to where the Steward's pantry was, bearing in his hands thespit with the roast still upon it. Meanwhile the Steward had gatheredhis wits about him and risen to his feet, so that when the Cook cameto the Steward's pantry he saw him glowering through the broken door atLittle John, who was making ready for a good repast, as one dog glowersat another that has a bone. When the Steward saw the Cook, he came tohim, and, putting one arm over his shoulder, "Alas, sweet friend!" quothhe—for the Cook was a tall, stout man—"seest thou what that vile knaveReynold Greenleaf hath done? He hath broken in upon our master's goods,and hath smitten me a buffet upon the ear, so that I thought I was dead.Good Cook, I love thee well, and thou shalt have a good pottle of ourmaster's best wine every day, for thou art an old and faithful servant.Also, good Cook, I have ten shillings that I mean to give as a giftto thee. But hatest thou not to see a vile upstart like this ReynoldGreenleaf taking it upon him so bravely?"

"Ay, marry, that do I," quoth the Cook boldly, for he liked the Stewardbecause of his talk of the wine and of the ten shillings. "Get thee gonestraightway to thy room, and I will bring out this knave by his ears."So saying, he laid aside his spit and drew the sword that hung by hisside; whereupon the Steward left as quickly as he could, for he hatedthe sight of naked steel.

Then the Cook walked straightway to the broken pantry door, throughwhich he saw Little John tucking a napkin beneath his chin and preparingto make himself merry.

"Why, how now, Reynold Greenleaf?" said the Cook, "thou art no betterthan a thief, I wot. Come thou straight forth, man, or I will carve theeas I would carve a sucking pig."

"Nay, good Cook, bear thou thyself more seemingly, or else I will comeforth to thy dole. At most times I am as a yearling lamb, but when onecometh between me and my meat, I am a raging lion, as it were."

"Lion or no lion," quoth the valorous Cook, "come thou straight forth,else thou art a coward heart as well as a knavish thief."

"Ha!" cried Little John, "coward's name have I never had; so, look tothyself, good Cook, for I come forth straight, the roaring lion I didspeak of but now."

Then he, too, drew his sword and came out of the pantry; then, puttingthemselves into position, they came slowly together, with grim and angrylooks; but suddenly Little John lowered his point. "Hold, good Cook!"said he. "Now, I bethink me it were ill of us to fight with goodvictuals standing so nigh, and such a feast as would befit two stoutfellows such as we are. Marry, good friend, I think we should enjoy thisfair feast ere we fight. What sayest thou, jolly Cook?"

At this speech the Cook looked up and down, scratching his head indoubt, for he loved good feasting. At last he drew a long breath andsaid to Little John, "Well, good friend, I like thy plan right well; so,pretty boy, say I, let us feast, with all my heart, for one of us maysup in Paradise before nightfall."

So each thrust his sword back into the scabbard and entered the pantry.Then, after they had seated themselves, Little John drew his dagger andthrust it into the pie. "A hungry man must be fed," quoth he, "so,sweet chuck, I help myself without leave." But the Cook did not lag farbehind, for straightway his hands also were deeply thrust within thegoodly pasty. After this, neither of them spoke further, but used theirteeth to better purpose. But though neither spoke, they looked at oneanother, each thinking within himself that he had never seen a morelusty fellow than the one across the board.

At last, after a long time had passed, the Cook drew a full, deepbreath, as though of much regret, and wiped his hands upon the napkin,for he could eat no more. Little John, also, had enough, for he pushedthe pasty aside, as though he would say, "I want thee by me no more,good friend." Then he took the pottle of sack, and said he, "Now,good fellow, I swear by all that is bright, that thou art the stoutestcompanion at eating that ever I had. Lo! I drink thy health." So saying,he clapped the flask to his lips and cast his eyes aloft, while the goodwine flooded his throat. Then he passed the pottle to the Cook, who alsosaid, "Lo, I drink thy health, sweet fellow!" Nor was he behind LittleJohn in drinking any more than in eating.

"Now," quoth Little John, "thy voice is right round and sweet, jollylad. I doubt not thou canst sing a ballad most blithely; canst thounot?"

"Truly, I have trolled one now and then," quoth the Cook, "yet I wouldnot sing alone."

"Nay, truly," said Little John, "that were but ill courtesy. Strike upthy ditty, and I will afterward sing one to match it, if I can.

"So be it, pretty boy," quoth the Cook. "And hast thou e'er heard thesong of the Deserted Shepherdess?"

"Truly, I know not," answered Little John, "but sing thou and let mehear."

Then the Cook took another draught from the pottle, and, clearing histhroat, sang right sweetly:

"In Lententime, when leaves wax green,     And pretty birds begin to mate,     When lark cloth sing, and thrush, I ween,     And stockdove cooeth soon and late,     Fair Phillis sat beside a stone,     And thus I heard her make her moan:     'O willow, willow, willow, willow!     I'll take me of thy branches fair     And twine a wreath to deck my hair.     "'The thrush hath taken him a she,     The robin, too, and eke the dove;     My Robin hath deserted me,     And left me for another love.     So here, by brookside, all alone,     I sit me down and make my moan.     O willow, willow, willow, willow!     I'll take me of thy branches fair     And twine a wreath to deck my hair.'     "But ne'er came herring from the sea,     But good as he were in the tide;     Young Corydon came o'er the lea,     And sat him Phillis down beside.     So, presently, she changed her tone,     And 'gan to cease her from her moan,     'O willow, willow, willow, willow!     Thou mayst e'en keep thy garlands fair,     I want them not to deck my hair.'"

"Now, by my faith," cried Little John, "that same is a right good song,and hath truth in it, also."

"Glad am I thou likest it, sweet lad," said the Cook. "Now sing thou onealso, for ne'er should a man be merry alone, or sing and list not."

"Then I will sing thee a song of a right good knight of Arthur's court,and how he cured his heart's wound without running upon the dart again,as did thy Phillis; for I wot she did but cure one smart by givingherself another. So, list thou while I sing:"

"When Arthur, King, did rule this land,     A goodly king was he,     And had he of stout knights a band     Of merry company.     "Among them all, both great and small,     A good stout knight was there,     A lusty childe, and eke a tall,     That loved a lady fair.     "But nought would she to do with he,     But turned her face away;     So gat he gone to far countrye,     And left that lady gay.     "There all alone he made his moan,     And eke did sob and sigh,     And weep till it would move a stone,     And he was like to die.     "But still his heart did feel the smart,     And eke the dire distress,     And rather grew his pain more sharp     As grew his body less.     "Then gat he back where was good sack     And merry com panye,     And soon did cease to cry 'Alack!'     When blithe and gay was he.     "From which I hold, and feel full bold     To say, and eke believe,     That gin the belly go not cold     The heart will cease to grieve."

"Now, by my faith," cried the Cook, as he rattled the pottle againstthe sideboard, "I like that same song hugely, and eke the motive of it,which lieth like a sweet kernel in a hazelnut."

"Now thou art a man of shrewd opinions," quoth Little John, "and I lovethee truly as thou wert my brother."

"And I love thee, too. But the day draweth on, and I have my cooking todo ere our master cometh home; so let us e'en go and settle this bravefight we have in hand."

"Ay, marry," quoth Little John, "and that right speedily. Never have Ibeen more laggard in fighting than in eating and drinking. So come thoustraight forth into the passageway, where there is good room to swing asword, and I will try to serve thee."

Then they both stepped forth into the broad passage that led to theSteward's pantry, where each man drew his sword again and without moreado fell upon the other as though he would hew his fellow limb fromlimb. Then their swords clashed upon one another with great din, andsparks flew from each blow in showers. So they fought up and down thehall for an hour and more, neither striking the other a blow, thoughthey strove their best to do so; for both were skillful at the fence;so nothing came of all their labor. Ever and anon they rested, panting;then, after getting their wind, at it they would go again more fiercelythan ever. At last Little John cried aloud, "Hold, good Cook!" whereuponeach rested upon his sword, panting.

"Now will I make my vow," quoth Little John, "thou art the very bestswordsman that ever mine eyes beheld. Truly, I had thought to carve theeere now."

"And I had thought to do the same by thee," quoth the Cook, "but I havemissed the mark somehow."

"Now I have been thinking within myself," quoth Little John, "what weare fighting for; but albeit I do not rightly know."

"Why, no more do I," said the Cook. "I bear no love for that pursySteward, but I thought that we had engaged to fight with one another andthat it must be done."

"Now," quoth Little John, "it doth seem to me that instead of strivingto cut one another's throats, it were better for us to be booncompanions. What sayst thou, jolly Cook, wilt thou go with me toSherwood Forest and join with Robin Hood's band? Thou shalt live a merrylife within the woodlands, and sevenscore good companions shalt thouhave, one of whom is mine own self. Thou shalt have three suits ofLincoln green each year, and forty marks in pay."

"Now, thou art a man after mine own heart!" cried the Cook rightheartily, "and, as thou speakest of it, that is the very service forme. I will go with thee, and that right gladly. Give me thy palm, sweetfellow, and I will be thine own companion from henceforth. What may bethy name, lad?"

"Men do call me Little John, good fellow."

"How? And art thou indeed Little John, and Robin Hood's own right-handman? Many a time and oft I heard of thee, but never did I hope to seteyes upon thee. And thou art indeed the famous Little John!" And theCook seemed lost in amazement, and looked upon his companion with openeyes.

"I am Little John, indeed, and I will bring to Robin Hood this day aright stout fellow to join his merry band. But ere we go, good friend,it seemeth to me to be a vast pity that, as we have had so much of theSheriff's food, we should not also carry off some of his silver plate toRobin Hood, as a present from his worship."

"Ay, marry is it," said the Cook. And so they began hunting about, andtook as much silver as they could lay hands upon, clapping it intoa bag, and when they had filled the sack they set forth to SherwoodForest.

Plunging into the woods, they came at last to the greenwood tree, wherethey found Robin Hood and threescore of his merry men lying upon thefresh green grass. When Robin and his men saw who it was that came, theyleaped to their feet. "Now welcome!" cried Robin Hood. "Now welcome,Little John! For long hath it been since we have heard from thee, thoughwe all knew that thou hadst joined the Sheriff's service. And how hastthou fared all these long days?"

"Right merrily have I lived at the Lord Sheriff's," answered LittleJohn, "and I have come straight thence. See, good master! I have broughtthee his cook, and even his silver plate." Thereupon he told Robin Hoodand his merry men that were there, all that had befallen him since hehad left them to go to the Fair at Nottingham Town. Then all shoutedwith laughter, except Robin Hood; but he looked grave.

"Nay, Little John," said he, "thou art a brave blade and a trustyfellow. I am glad thou hast brought thyself back to us, and with such agood companion as the Cook, whom we all welcome to Sherwood. But I likenot so well that thou hast stolen the Sheriff's plate like some paltrythief. The Sheriff hath been punished by us, and hath lost three hundredpounds, even as he sought to despoil another; but he hath done noughtthat we should steal his household plate from him."

Though Little John was vexed with this, he strove to pass it off with ajest. "Nay, good master," quoth he, "if thou thinkest the Sheriff gaveus not the plate, I will fetch him, that he may tell us with his ownlips he giveth it all to us." So saying he leaped to his feet, and wasgone before Robin could call him back.

Little John ran for full five miles till he came to where the Sheriff ofNottingham and a gay company were hunting near the forest. When LittleJohn came to the Sheriff he doffed his cap and bent his knee. "God savethee, good master," quoth he.

"Why, Reynold Greenleaf!" cried the Sheriff, "whence comest thou andwhere hast thou been?"

"I have been in the forest," answered Little John, speaking amazedly,"and there I saw a sight such as ne'er before man's eyes beheld! YonderI saw a young hart all in green from top to toe, and about him was aherd of threescore deer, and they, too, were all of green from head tofoot. Yet I dared not shoot, good master, for fear lest they should slayme."

"Why, how now, Reynold Greenleaf," cried the Sheriff, "art thou dreamingor art thou mad, that thou dost bring me such, a tale?"

"Nay, I am not dreaming nor am I mad," said Little John, "and if thouwilt come with me, I will show thee this fair sight, for I have seenit with mine own eyes. But thou must come alone, good master, lest theothers frighten them and they get away."

So the party all rode forward, and Little John led them downward intothe forest.

"Now, good master," quoth he at last, "we are nigh where I saw thisherd."

Then the Sheriff descended from his horse and bade them wait for himuntil he should return; and Little John led him forward through a closecopse until suddenly they came to a great open glade, at the end ofwhich Robin Hood sat beneath the shade of the great oak tree, with hismerry men all about him. "See, good Master Sheriff," quoth Little John,"yonder is the hart of which I spake to thee."

At this the Sheriff turned to Little John and said bitterly, "Long agoI thought I remembered thy face, but now I know thee. Woe betide thee,Little John, for thou hast betrayed me this day."

In the meantime Robin Hood had come to them. "Now welcome, MasterSheriff," said he. "Hast thou come today to take another feast with me?"

"Nay, Heaven forbid!" said the Sheriff in tones of deep earnest. "I carefor no feast and have no hunger today."

"Nevertheless," quoth Robin, "if thou hast no hunger, maybe thou hastthirst, and well I know thou wilt take a cup of sack with me. But I amgrieved that thou wilt not feast with me, for thou couldst have victualsto thy liking, for there stands thy Cook."

Then he led the Sheriff, willy-nilly, to the seat he knew so wellbeneath the greenwood tree.

"Ho, lads!" cried Robin, "fill our good friend the Sheriff a rightbrimming cup of sack and fetch it hither, for he is faint and weary."

Then one of the band brought the Sheriff a cup of sack, bowing low as hehanded it to him; but the Sheriff could not touch the wine, for he sawit served in one of his own silver flagons, on one of his own silverplates.

"How now," quoth Robin, "dost thou not like our new silver service? Wehave gotten a bag of it this day." So saying, he held up the sack ofsilver that Little John and the Cook had brought with them.

Then the Sheriff's heart was bitter within him; but, not daring to sayanything, he only gazed upon the ground. Robin looked keenly at him fora time before he spoke again. Then said he, "Now, Master Sheriff, thelast time thou camest to Sherwood Forest thou didst come seeking todespoil a poor spendthrift, and thou wert despoiled thine own self;but now thou comest seeking to do no harm, nor do I know that thou hastdespoiled any man. I take my tithes from fat priests and lordly squires,to help those that they despoil and to raise up those that they bowdown; but I know not that thou hast tenants of thine own whom thou hastwronged in any way. Therefore, take thou thine own again, nor will Idispossess thee today of so much as one farthing. Come with me, and Iwill lead thee from the forest back to thine own party again."

Then, slinging the bag upon his shoulder, he turned away, the Sherifffollowing him, all too perplexed in mind to speak. So they went forwarduntil they came to within a furlong of the spot where the Sheriff'scompanions were waiting for him. Then Robin Hood gave the sack of silverback to the Sheriff. "Take thou thine own again," he said, "and hearkento me, good Sheriff, take thou a piece of advice with it. Try thyservants well ere thou dost engage them again so readily." Then,turning, he left the other standing bewildered, with the sack in hishands.

The company that waited for the Sheriff were all amazed to see him comeout of the forest bearing a heavy sack upon his shoulders; but thoughthey questioned him, he answered never a word, acting like one who walksin a dream. Without a word, he placed the bag across his nag's back andthen, mounting, rode away, all following him; but all the time therewas a great turmoil of thoughts within his head, tumbling one over theother. And thus ends the merry tale of Little John and how he enteredthe Sheriff's service.

Little John and the Tanner of Blyth

ONE FINE DAY, not long after Little John had left abiding with theSheriff and had come back, with his worship's cook, to the merrygreenwood, as has just been told, Robin Hood and a few chosen fellows ofhis band lay upon the soft sward beneath the greenwood tree where theydwelled. The day was warm and sultry, so that while most of the bandwere scattered through the forest upon this mission and upon that, thesefew stout fellows lay lazily beneath the shade of the tree, in the softafternoon, passing jests among themselves and telling merry stories,with laughter and mirth.

All the air was laden with the bitter fragrance of the May, and allthe bosky shades of the woodlands beyond rang with the sweet song ofbirds—the throstle cock, the cuckoo, and the wood pigeon—and with thesong of birds mingled the cool sound of the gurgling brook that leapedout of the forest shades, and ran fretting amid its rough, gray stonesacross the sunlit open glade before the trysting tree. And a fair sightwas that halfscore of tall, stout yeomen, all clad in Lincoln green,lying beneath the broad-spreading branches of the great oak tree, amidthe quivering leaves of which the sunlight shivered and fell in dancingpatches upon the grass.

Suddenly Robin Hood smote his knee.

"By Saint Dunstan," quoth he, "I had nigh forgot that quarter-day comethon apace, and yet no cloth of Lincoln green in all our store. It must belooked to, and that in quick season. Come, busk thee, Little John! Stirthose lazy bones of thine, for thou must get thee straightway to ourgood gossip, the draper Hugh Longshanks of Ancaster. Bid him send usstraightway twenty-score yards of fair cloth of Lincoln green; and mayhapthe journey may take some of the fat from off thy bones, that thou hastgotten from lazy living at our dear Sheriff's."

"Nay," muttered Little John (for he had heard so much upon this scorethat he was sore upon the point), "nay, truly, mayhap I have more fleshupon my joints than I once had, yet, flesh or no flesh, I doubt not thatI could still hold my place and footing upon a narrow bridge againste'er a yeoman in Sherwood, or Nottinghamshire, for the matter of that,even though he had no more fat about his bones than thou hast, goodmaster."

At this reply a great shout of laughter went up, and all looked at RobinHood, for each man knew that Little John spake of a certain fight thathappened between their master and himself, through which they firstbecame acquainted.

"Nay," quoth Robin Hood, laughing louder than all. "Heaven forbid thatI should doubt thee, for I care for no taste of thy staff myself, LittleJohn. I must needs own that there are those of my band can handle aseven-foot staff more deftly than I; yet no man in all Nottinghamshirecan draw gray goose shaft with my fingers. Nevertheless, a journey toAncaster may not be ill for thee; so go thou, as I bid, and thou hadstbest go this very evening, for since thou hast abided at the Sheriff'smany know thy face, and if thou goest in broad daylight, thou mayst getthyself into a coil with some of his worship's men-at-arms. Bide thouhere till I bring thee money to pay our good Hugh. I warrant he hath nobetter customers in all Nottinghamshire than we." So saying, Robin leftthem and entered the forest.

Not far from the trysting tree was a great rock in which a chamberhad been hewn, the entrance being barred by a massive oaken door twopalms'-breadth in thickness, studded about with spikes, and fastenedwith a great padlock. This was the treasure house of the band, andthither Robin Hood went and, unlocking the door, entered the chamber,from which he brought forth a bag of gold which he gave to Little John,to pay Hugh Longshanks withal, for the cloth of Lincoln green.

Then up got Little John, and, taking the bag of gold, which he thrustinto his bosom, he strapped a girdle about his loins, took a stoutpikestaff full seven feet long in his hand, and set forth upon hisjourney.

So he strode whistling along the leafy forest path that led to FosseWay, turning neither to the right hand nor the left, until at last hecame to where the path branched, leading on the one hand onward to FosseWay, and on the other, as well Little John knew, to the merry BlueBoar Inn. Here Little John suddenly ceased whistling and stopped inthe middle of the path. First he looked up and then he looked down, andthen, tilting his cap over one eye, he slowly scratched the back part ofhis head. For thus it was: at the sight of these two roads, two voicesbegan to alarum within him, the one crying, "There lies the road tothe Blue Boar Inn, a can of brown October, and a merry night with sweetcompanions such as thou mayst find there;" the other, "There lies theway to Ancaster and the duty thou art sent upon." Now the first of thesetwo voices was far the louder, for Little John had grown passing fondof good living through abiding at the Sheriff's house; so, presently,looking up into the blue sky, across which bright clouds were sailinglike silver boats, and swallows skimming in circling flight, quoth he,"I fear me it will rain this evening, so I'll e'en stop at the Blue Boartill it passes by, for I know my good master would not have me wet tothe skin." So, without more ado, off he strode down the path that laythe way of his likings. Now there was no sign of any foul weather, butwhen one wishes to do a thing, as Little John did, one finds no lack ofreasons for the doing.

Four merry wags were at the Blue Boar Inn; a butcher, a beggar, and twobarefoot friars. Little John heard them singing from afar, as he walkedthrough the hush of the mellow twilight that was now falling over hilland dale. Right glad were they to welcome such a merry blade as LittleJohn. Fresh cans of ale were brought, and with jest and song and merrytales the hours slipped away on fleeting wings. None thought of time ortide till the night was so far gone that Little John put by the thoughtof setting forth upon his journey again that night, and so bided at theBlue Boar Inn until the morrow.

Now it was an ill piece of luck for Little John that he left his dutyfor his pleasure, and he paid a great score for it, as we are all apt todo in the same case, as you shall see.

Up he rose at the dawn of the next day, and, taking his stout pikestaffin his hand, he set forth upon his journey once more, as though he wouldmake up for lost time.

In the good town of Blyth there lived a stout tanner, celebrated farand near for feats of strength and many tough bouts at wrestling and thequarterstaff. For five years he had held the mid-country champion beltfor wrestling, till the great Adam o' Lincoln cast him in the ring andbroke one of his ribs; but at quarterstaff he had never yet met hismatch in all the country about. Besides all this, he dearly loved thelongbow, and a sly jaunt in the forest when the moon was full and thedun deer in season; so that the King's rangers kept a shrewd eye uponhim and his doings, for Arthur a Bland's house was apt to have aplentyof meat in it that was more like venison than the law allowed.

Now Arthur had been to Nottingham Town the day before Little John setforth on his errand, there to sell a halfscore of tanned cowhides. Atthe dawn of the same day that Little John left the inn, he started fromNottingham, homeward for Blyth. His way led, all in the dewy morn, pastthe verge of Sherwood Forest, where the birds were welcoming the lovelyday with a great and merry jubilee. Across the Tanner's shoulders wasslung his stout quarterstaff, ever near enough to him to be grippedquickly, and on his head was a cap of doubled cowhide, so tough that itcould hardly be cloven even by a broadsword.

"Now," quoth Arthur a Bland to himself, when he had come to that part ofthe road that cut through a corner of the forest, "no doubt at this timeof year the dun deer are coming from the forest depths nigher to theopen meadow lands. Mayhap I may chance to catch a sight of the daintybrown darlings thus early in the morn." For there was nothing he lovedbetter than to look upon a tripping herd of deer, even when he couldnot tickle their ribs with a clothyard shaft. Accordingly, quitting thepath, he went peeping this way and that through the underbrush, spyingnow here and now there, with all the wiles of a master of woodcraft, andof one who had more than once donned a doublet of Lincoln green.

Now as Little John stepped blithely along, thinking of nothing but ofsuch things as the sweetness of the hawthorn buds that bedecked thehedgerows, or gazing upward at the lark, that, springing from the dewygrass, hung aloft on quivering wings in the yellow sunlight, pouringforth its song that fell like a falling star from the sky, his luck ledhim away from the highway, not far from the spot where Arthur a Blandwas peeping this way and that through the leaves of the thickets.Hearing a rustling of the branches, Little John stopped and presentlycaught sight of the brown cowhide cap of the Tanner moving among thebushes.

"I do much wonder," quoth Little John to himself, "what yon knave isafter, that he should go thus peeping and peering about I verily believethat yon scurvy varlet is no better than a thief, and cometh here afterour own and the good King's dun deer." For by much roving in the forest,Little John had come to look upon all the deer in Sherwood as belongingto Robin Hood and his band as much as to good King Harry. "Nay," quothhe again, after a time, "this matter must e'en be looked into." So,quitting the highroad, he also entered the thickets, and began spyingaround after stout Arthur a Bland.

So for a long time they both of them went hunting about, Little Johnafter the Tanner, and the Tanner after the deer. At last Little Johntrod upon a stick, which snapped under his foot, whereupon, hearing thenoise, the Tanner turned quickly and caught sight of the yeoman. Seeingthat the Tanner had spied him out, Little John put a bold face upon thematter.

"Hilloa," quoth he, "what art thou doing here, thou naughty fellow? Whoart thou that comest ranging Sherwood's paths? In very sooth thou hastan evil cast of countenance, and I do think, truly, that thou art nobetter than a thief, and comest after our good King's deer."

"Nay," quoth the Tanner boldly—for, though taken by surprise, he wasnot a man to be frightened by big words—"thou liest in thy teeth. I amno thief, but an honest craftsman. As for my countenance, it is whatit is; and, for the matter of that, thine own is none too pretty, thousaucy fellow."

"Ha!" quoth Little John in a great loud voice, "wouldst thou give mebacktalk? Now I have a great part of a mind to crack thy pate for thee.I would have thee know, fellow, that I am, as it were, one of the King'sforesters. Leastwise," muttered he to himself, "I and my friends do takegood care of our good sovereign's deer."

"I care not who thou art," answered the bold Tanner, "and unless thouhast many more of thy kind by thee, thou canst never make Arthur a Blandcry 'A mercy.'"

"Is it so?" cried Little John in a rage. "Now, by my faith, thou saucyrogue, thy tongue hath led thee into a pit thou wilt have a sorry timegetting out of; for I will give thee such a drubbing as ne'er hast thouhad in all thy life before. Take thy staff in thy hand, fellow, for Iwill not smite an unarmed man.

"Marry come up with a murrain!" cried the Tanner, for he, too, hadtalked himself into a fume. "Big words ne'er killed so much as a mouse.Who art thou that talkest so freely of cracking the head of Arthur aBland? If I do not tan thy hide this day as ne'er I tanned a calf's hidein all my life before, split my staff into skewers for lamb's flesh andcall me no more brave man! Now look to thyself, fellow!"

"Stay!" said Little John. "Let us first measure our cudgels. I do reckonmy staff longer than thine, and I would not take vantage of thee by evenso much as an inch."

"Nay, I pass not for length," answered the Tanner. "My staff is longenough to knock down a calf; so look to thyself, fellow, I say again."

So, without more ado, each gripped his staff in the middle, and, withfell and angry looks, they came slowly together.

Now news had been brought to Robin Hood how that Little John, instead ofdoing his bidding, had passed by duty for pleasure, and so had stoppedovernight with merry company at the Blue Boar Inn, instead of goingstraight to Ancaster. So, being vexed to his heart by this, he set forthat dawn of day to seek Little John at the Blue Boar, or at least tomeet the yeoman on the way, and ease his heart of what he thought of thematter. As thus he strode along in anger, putting together the words hewould use to chide Little John, he heard, of a sudden, loud and angryvoices, as of men in a rage, passing fell words back and forth from oneto the other. At this, Robin Hood stopped and listened. "Surely," quothhe to himself, "that is Little John's voice, and he is talking in angeralso. Methinks the other is strange to my ears. Now Heaven forfend thatmy good trusty Little John should have fallen into the hands of theKing's rangers. I must see to this matter, and that quickly."

Thus spoke Robin Hood to himself, all his anger passing away like abreath from the windowpane, at the thought that perhaps his trustyright-hand man was in some danger of his life. So cautiously he made hisway through the thickets whence the voices came, and, pushing aside theleaves, peeped into the little open space where the two men, staff inhand, were coming slowly together.

"Ha!" quoth Robin to himself, "here is merry sport afoot. Now I wouldgive three golden angels from my own pocket if yon stout fellow wouldgive Little John a right sound drubbing! It would please me to see himwell thumped for having failed in my bidding. I fear me, though, thereis but poor chance of my seeing such a pleasant sight." So saying, hestretched himself at length upon the ground, that he might not only seethe sport the better, but that he might enjoy the merry sight at hisease.

As you may have seen two dogs that think to fight, walking slowly roundand round each other, neither cur wishing to begin the combat, so thosetwo stout yeomen moved slowly around, each watching for a chance to takethe other unaware, and so get in the first blow. At last Little Johnstruck like a flash, and—"rap!"—the Tanner met the blow and turned itaside, and then smote back at Little John, who also turned the blow; andso this mighty battle began. Then up and down and back and forth theytrod, the blows falling so thick and fast that, at a distance, one wouldhave thought that half a score of men were fighting. Thus they foughtfor nigh a half an hour, until the ground was all plowed up with thedigging of their heels, and their breathing grew labored like the ox inthe furrow. But Little John suffered the most, for he had become unusedto such stiff labor, and his joints were not as supple as they had beenbefore he went to dwell with the Sheriff.

All this time Robin Hood lay beneath the bush, rejoicing at such acomely bout of quarterstaff. "By my faith!" quoth he to himself, "neverhad I thought to see Little John so evenly matched in all my life.Belike, though, he would have overcome yon fellow before this had hebeen in his former trim."

At last Little John saw his chance, and, throwing all the strengthhe felt going from him into one blow that might have felled an ox,he struck at the Tanner with might and main. And now did the Tanner'scowhide cap stand him in good stead, and but for it he might never haveheld staff in hand again. As it was, the blow he caught beside the headwas so shrewd that it sent him staggering across the little glade, sothat, if Little John had had the strength to follow up his vantage, itwould have been ill for stout Arthur. But he regained himself quicklyand, at arm's length, struck back a blow at Little John, and this timethe stroke reached its mark, and down went Little John at full length,his cudgel flying from his hand as he fell. Then, raising his staff,stout Arthur dealt him another blow upon the ribs.

"Hold!" roared Little John. "Wouldst thou strike a man when he is down?"

"Ay, marry would I," quoth the Tanner, giving him another thwack withhis staff.

"Stop!" roared Little John. "Help! Hold, I say! I yield me! I yield me,I say, good fellow!"

"Hast thou had enough?" asked the Tanner grimly, holding his staffaloft.

"Ay, marry, and more than enough."

"And thou dost own that I am the better man of the two?"

"Yea, truly, and a murrain seize thee!" said Little John, the firstaloud and the last to his beard.

"Then thou mayst go thy ways; and thank thy patron saint that I am amerciful man," said the Tanner.

"A plague o' such mercy as thine!" said Little John, sitting up andfeeling his ribs where the Tanner had cudgeled him. "I make my vow, myribs feel as though every one of them were broken in twain. I tell thee,good fellow, I did think there was never a man in all Nottinghamshirecould do to me what thou hast done this day."

"And so thought I, also," cried Robin Hood, bursting out of the thicketand shouting with laughter till the tears ran down his cheeks. "O man,man!" said he, as well as he could for his mirth, "'a didst go overlike a bottle knocked from a wall. I did see the whole merry bout, andnever did I think to see thee yield thyself so, hand and foot, to anyman in all merry England. I was seeking thee, to chide thee for leavingmy bidding undone; but thou hast been paid all I owed thee, fullmeasure, pressed down and overflowing, by this good fellow. Marry, 'adid reach out his arm full length while thou stood gaping at him, and,with a pretty rap, tumbled thee over as never have I seen one tumbledbefore." So spoke bold Robin, and all the time Little John sat upon theground, looking as though he had sour curds in his mouth. "What may bethy name, good fellow?" said Robin, next, turning to the Tanner.

"Men do call me Arthur a Bland," spoke up the Tanner boldly, "and nowwhat may be thy name?"

"Ha, Arthur a Bland!" quoth Robin, "I have heard thy name before, goodfellow. Thou didst break the crown of a friend of mine at the fair atEly last October. The folk there call him Jock o' Nottingham; we callhim Will Scathelock. This poor fellow whom thou hast so belabored iscounted the best hand at the quarterstaff in all merry England. His nameis Little John, and mine Robin Hood."

"How!" cried the Tanner, "art thou indeed the great Robin Hood, and isthis the famous Little John? Marry, had I known who thou art, I wouldnever have been so bold as to lift my hand against thee. Let me helpthee to thy feet, good Master Little John, and let me brush the dustfrom off thy coat."

"Nay," quoth Little John testily, at the same time rising carefully,as though his bones had been made of glass, "I can help myself, goodfellow, without thy aid; and let me tell thee, had it not been for thatvile cowskin cap of thine, it would have been ill for thee this day."

At this Robin laughed again, and, turning to the Tanner, he said, "Wiltthou join my band, good Arthur? For I make my vow thou art one of thestoutest men that ever mine eyes beheld."

"Will I join thy band?" cried the Tanner joyfully. "Ay, marry, will I!Hey for a merry life!" cried he, leaping aloft and snapping his fingers,"and hey for the life I love! Away with tanbark and filthy vats and foulcowhides! I will follow thee to the ends of the earth, good master, andnot a herd of dun deer in all the forest but shall know the sound of thetwang of my bowstring."

"As for thee, Little John," said Robin, turning to him and laughing,"thou wilt start once more for Ancaster, and we will go part way withthee, for I will not have thee turn again to either the right hand orthe left till thou hast fairly gotten away from Sherwood. There areother inns that thou knowest yet, hereabouts." Thereupon, leaving thethickets, they took once more to the highway and departed upon theirbusiness.

Robin Hood and Will Scarlet

THUS THEY traveled along the sunny road, three stout fellows such as youcould hardly match anywhere else in all merry England. Many stopped togaze after them as they strode along, so broad were their shoulders andso sturdy their gait.

Quoth Robin Hood to Little John, "Why didst thou not go straight toAncaster, yesterday, as I told thee? Thou hadst not gotten thyself intosuch a coil hadst thou done as I ordered."

"I feared the rain that threatened," said Little John in a sullen tone,for he was vexed at being so chaffed by Robin with what had happened tohim.

"The rain!" cried Robin, stopping of a sudden in the middle of the road,and looking at Little John in wonder. "Why, thou great oaf! not a dropof rain has fallen these three days, neither has any threatened, norhath there been a sign of foul weather in earth or sky or water."

"Nevertheless," growled Little John, "the holy Saint Swithin holdeth thewaters of the heavens in his pewter pot, and he could have poured themout, had he chosen, even from a clear sky; and wouldst thou have had mewet to the skin?"

At this Robin Hood burst into a roar of laughter. "O Little John!" saidhe, "what butter wits hast thou in that head of thine! Who could holdanger against such a one as thou art?"

So saying, they all stepped out once more, with the right foot foremost,as the saying is.

After they had traveled some distance, the day being warm and the roaddusty, Robin Hood waxed thirsty; so, there being a fountain of water ascold as ice, just behind the hedgerow, they crossed the stile and cameto where the water bubbled up from beneath a mossy stone. Here, kneelingand making cups of the palms of their hands, they drank their fill,and then, the spot being cool and shady, they stretched their limbs andrested them for a space.

In front of them, over beyond the hedge, the dusty road stretched awayacross the plain; behind them the meadow lands and bright green fieldsof tender young corn lay broadly in the sun, and overhead spread theshade of the cool, rustling leaves of the beechen tree. Pleasantly totheir nostrils came the tender fragrance of the purple violets andwild thyme that grew within the dewy moisture of the edge of the littlefountain, and pleasantly came the soft gurgle of the water. All was sopleasant and so full of the gentle joy of the bright Maytime, that for along time no one of the three cared to speak, but each lay on his back,gazing up through the trembling leaves of the trees to the brightsky overhead. At last, Robin, whose thoughts were not quite so busywool-gathering as those of the others, and who had been gazing aroundhim now and then, broke the silence.

"Heyday!" quoth he, "yon is a gaily feathered bird, I take my vow."

The others looked and saw a young man walking slowly down the highway.Gay was he, indeed, as Robin had said, and a fine figure he cut, forhis doublet was of scarlet silk and his stockings also; a handsome swordhung by his side, the embossed leathern scabbard being picked out withfine threads of gold; his cap was of scarlet velvet, and a broad featherhung down behind and back of one ear. His hair was long and yellow andcurled upon his shoulders, and in his hand he bore an early rose, whichhe smelled at daintily now and then.

"By my life!" quoth Robin Hood, laughing, "saw ye e'er such a pretty,mincing fellow?"

"Truly, his clothes have overmuch prettiness for my taste," quoth Arthura Bland, "but, ne'ertheless, his shoulders are broad and his loins arenarrow, and seest thou, good master, how that his arms hang from hisbody? They dangle not down like spindles, but hang stiff and bend atthe elbow. I take my vow, there be no bread and milk limbs in those fineclothes, but stiff joints and tough thews."

"Methinks thou art right, friend Arthur," said Little John. "I do verilythink that yon is no such roseleaf and whipped-cream gallant as he wouldhave one take him to be."

"Pah!" quoth Robin Hood, "the sight of such a fellow doth put a nastytaste into my mouth! Look how he doth hold that fair flower betwixt histhumb and finger, as he would say, 'Good rose, I like thee not so illbut I can bear thy odor for a little while.' I take it ye are bothwrong, and verily believe that were a furious mouse to run across hispath, he would cry, 'La!' or 'Alack-a-day!' and fall straightway into aswoon. I wonder who he may be."

"Some great baron's son, I doubt not," answered Little John, "with goodand true men's money lining his purse."

"Ay, marry, that is true, I make no doubt," quoth Robin. "What a pitythat such men as he, that have no thought but to go abroad in gayclothes, should have good fellows, whose shoes they are not fit to tie,dancing at their bidding. By Saint Dunstan, Saint Alfred, Saint Withold,and all the good men in the Saxon calendar, it doth make me mad to seesuch gay lordlings from over the sea go stepping on the necks of goodSaxons who owned this land before ever their great-grandsires chewedrind of brawn! By the bright bow of Heaven, I will have their ill-gottengains from them, even though I hang for it as high as e'er a forest treein Sherwood!"

"Why, how now, master," quoth Little John, "what heat is this? Thoudost set thy pot a-boiling, and mayhap no bacon to cook! Methinks yonfellow's hair is overlight for Norman locks. He may be a good man andtrue for aught thou knowest."

"Nay," said Robin, "my head against a leaden farthing, he is what I say.So, lie ye both here, I say, till I show you how I drub this fellow."So saying, Robin Hood stepped forth from the shade of the beech tree,crossed the stile, and stood in the middle of the road, with his handson his hips, in the stranger's path.

Meantime the stranger, who had been walking so slowly that all thistalk was held before he came opposite the place where they were, neitherquickened his pace nor seemed to see that such a man as Robin Hood wasin the world. So Robin stood in the middle of the road, waiting whilethe other walked slowly forward, smelling his rose, and looking this wayand that, and everywhere except at Robin.

"Hold!" cried Robin, when at last the other had come close to him."Hold! Stand where thou art!"

"Wherefore should I hold, good fellow?" said the stranger in soft andgentle voice. "And wherefore should I stand where I am? Ne'ertheless, asthou dost desire that I should stay, I will abide for a short time, thatI may hear what thou mayst have to say to me."

"Then," quoth Robin, "as thou dost so fairly do as I tell thee, and dostgive me such soft speech, I will also treat thee with all due courtesy.I would have thee know, fair friend, that I am, as it were, a votary atthe shrine of Saint Wilfred who, thou mayst know, took, willy-nilly,all their gold from the heathen, and melted it up into candlesticks.Wherefore, upon such as come hereabouts, I levy a certain toll, whichI use for a better purpose, I hope, than to make candlesticks withal.Therefore, sweet chuck, I would have thee deliver to me thy purse, thatI may look into it, and judge, to the best of my poor powers, whetherthou hast more wealth about thee than our law allows. For, as our goodGaffer Swanthold sayeth, 'He who is fat from overliving must needs loseblood.'"

All this time the youth had been sniffing at the rose that he heldbetwixt his thumb and finger. "Nay," said he with a gentle smile, whenRobin Hood had done, "I do love to hear thee talk, thou pretty fellow,and if, haply, thou art not yet done, finish, I beseech thee. I have yetsome little time to stay."

"I have said all," quoth Robin, "and now, if thou wilt give me thypurse, I will let thee go thy way without let or hindrance so soon as Ishall see what it may hold. I will take none from thee if thou hast butlittle."

"Alas! It doth grieve me much," said the other, "that I cannot doas thou dost wish. I have nothing to give thee. Let me go my way, Iprythee. I have done thee no harm."

"Nay, thou goest not," quoth Robin, "till thou hast shown me thy purse."

"Good friend," said the other gently, "I have business elsewhere. Ihave given thee much time and have heard thee patiently. Prythee, let medepart in peace."

"I have spoken to thee, friend," said Robin sternly, "and I now tellthee again, that thou goest not one step forward till thou hast done asI bid thee." So saying, he raised his quarterstaff above his head in athreatening way.

"Alas!" said the stranger sadly, "it doth grieve me that this thing mustbe. I fear much that I must slay thee, thou poor fellow!" So saying, hedrew his sword.

"Put by thy weapon," quoth Robin. "I would take no vantage of thee. Thysword cannot stand against an oaken staff such as mine. I could snapit like a barley straw. Yonder is a good oaken thicket by the roadside;take thee a cudgel thence and defend thyself fairly, if thou hast ataste for a sound drubbing."

First the stranger measured Robin with his eye, and then he measured theoaken staff. "Thou art right, good fellow," said he presently, "truly,my sword is no match for that cudgel of thine. Bide thee awhile tillI get me a staff." So saying, he threw aside the rose that he had beenholding all this time, thrust his sword back into the scabbard, and,with a more hasty step than he had yet used, stepped to the roadsidewhere grew the little clump of ground oaks Robin had spoken of. Choosingamong them, he presently found a sapling to his liking. He did not cutit, but, rolling up his sleeves a little way, he laid hold of it, placedhis heel against the ground, and, with one mighty pull, plucked theyoung tree up by the roots from out the very earth. Then he came back,trimming away the roots and tender stems with his sword as quietly as ifhe had done nought to speak of.

Little John and the Tanner had been watching all that passed, but whenthey saw the stranger drag the sapling up from the earth, and heard therending and snapping of its roots, the Tanner pursed his lips together,drawing his breath between them in a long inward whistle.

"By the breath of my body!" said Little John, as soon as he could gatherhis wits from their wonder, "sawest thou that, Arthur? Marry, I thinkour poor master will stand but an ill chance with yon fellow. By OurLady, he plucked up yon green tree as it were a barley straw."

Whatever Robin Hood thought, he stood his ground, and now he and thestranger in scarlet stood face to face.

Well did Robin Hood hold his own that day as a mid-country yeoman. Thisway and that they fought, and back and forth, Robin's skill against thestranger's strength. The dust of the highway rose up around them likea cloud, so that at times Little John and the Tanner could see nothing,but only hear the rattle of the staves against one another. Thrice RobinHood struck the stranger; once upon the arm and twice upon the ribs, andyet had he warded all the other's blows, only one of which, had it metits mark, would have laid stout Robin lower in the dust than he had evergone before. At last the stranger struck Robin's cudgel so fairly in themiddle that he could hardly hold his staff in his hand; again he struck,and Robin bent beneath the blow; a third time he struck, and now notonly fairly beat down Robin's guard, but gave him such a rap, also, thatdown he tumbled into the dusty road.

"Hold!" cried Robin Hood, when he saw the stranger raising his staffonce more. "I yield me!"

"Hold!" cried Little John, bursting from his cover, with the Tanner athis heels. "Hold! give over, I say!"

"Nay," answered the stranger quietly, "if there be two more of you,and each as stout as this good fellow, I am like to have my hands full.Nevertheless, come on, and I will strive my best to serve you all."

"Stop!" cried Robin Hood, "we will fight no more. I take my vow, thisis an ill day for thee and me, Little John. I do verily believe thatmy wrist, and eke my arm, are palsied by the jar of the blow that thisstranger struck me."

Then Little John turned to Robin Hood. "Why, how now, good master," saidhe. "Alas! Thou art in an ill plight. Marry, thy jerkin is all befouledwith the dust of the road. Let me help thee to arise."

"A plague on thy aid!" cried Robin angrily. "I can get to my feetwithout thy help, good fellow."

"Nay, but let me at least dust thy coat for thee. I fear thy poor bonesare mightily sore," quoth Little John soberly, but with a sly twinkle inhis eyes.

"Give over, I say!" quoth Robin in a fume. "My coat hath been dustedenough already, without aid of thine." Then, turning to the stranger, hesaid, "What may be thy name, good fellow?"

"My name is Gamwell," answered the other.

"Ha!" cried Robin, "is it even so? I have near kin of that name. Whencecamest thou, fair friend?"

"From Maxfield Town I come," answered the stranger. "There was I bornand bred, and thence I come to seek my mother's young brother, whom mencall Robin Hood. So, if perchance thou mayst direct me—"

"Ha! Will Gamwell!" cried Robin, placing both hands upon the other'sshoulders and holding him off at arm's length. "Surely, it can be noneother! I might have known thee by that pretty maiden air of thine—thatdainty, finicking manner of gait. Dost thou not know me, lad? Look uponme well."

"Now, by the breath of my body!" cried the other, "I do believe from myheart that thou art mine own Uncle Robin. Nay, certain it is so!" Andeach flung his arms around the other, kissing him upon the cheek.

Then once more Robin held his kinsman off at arm's length and scannedhim keenly from top to toe. "Why, how now," quoth he, "what change ishere? Verily, some eight or ten years ago I left thee a stripling lad,with great joints and ill-hung limbs, and lo! here thou art, as tight afellow as e'er I set mine eyes upon. Dost thou not remember, lad, how Ishowed thee the proper way to nip the goose feather betwixt thy fingersand throw out thy bow arm steadily? Thou gayest great promise of being akeen archer. And dost thou not mind how I taught thee to fend and parrywith the cudgel?"

"Yea," said young Gamwell, "and I did so look up to thee, and thoughtthee so above all other men that, I make my vow, had I known who thouwert, I would never have dared to lift hand against thee this day. Itrust I did thee no great harm."

"No, no," quoth Robin hastily, and looking sideways at Little John,"thou didst not harm me. But say no more of that, I prythee. Yet I willsay, lad, that I hope I may never feel again such a blow as thou didstgive me. By'r Lady, my arm doth tingle yet from fingernail to elbow.Truly, I thought that I was palsied for life. I tell thee, coz, thatthou art the strongest man that ever I laid mine eyes upon. I take myvow, I felt my stomach quake when I beheld thee pluck up yon green treeas thou didst. But tell me, how camest thou to leave Sir Edward and thymother?"

"Alas!" answered young Gamwell, "it is an ill story, uncle, that Ihave to tell thee. My father's steward, who came to us after old GilesCrookleg died, was ever a saucy varlet, and I know not why my fatherkept him, saving that he did oversee with great judgment. It used togall me to hear him speak up so boldly to my father, who, thou knowest,was ever a patient man to those about him, and slow to anger and harshwords. Well, one day—and an ill day it was for that saucy fellow—hesought to berate my father, I standing by. I could stand it nolonger, good uncle, so, stepping forth, I gave him a box o' the ear,and—wouldst thou believe it?—the fellow straightway died o't. I thinkthey said I broke his neck, or something o' the like. So off they packedme to seek thee and escape the law. I was on my way when thou sawest me,and here I am."

"Well, by the faith of my heart," quoth Robin Hood, "for anyone escapingthe law, thou wast taking it the most easily that ever I beheld in allmy life. Whenever did anyone in all the world see one who had slain aman, and was escaping because of it, tripping along the highway like adainty court damsel, sniffing at a rose the while?"

"Nay, uncle," answered Will Gamwell, "overhaste never churned goodbutter, as the old saying hath it. Moreover, I do verily believe thatthis overstrength of my body hath taken the nimbleness out of my heels.Why, thou didst but just now rap me thrice, and I thee never a once,save by overbearing thee by my strength."

"Nay," quoth Robin, "let us say no more on that score. I am right gladto see thee, Will, and thou wilt add great honor and credit to my bandof merry fellows. But thou must change thy name, for warrants will beout presently against thee; so, because of thy gay clothes, thou shalthenceforth and for aye be called Will Scarlet."

"Will Scarlet," quoth Little John, stepping forward and reaching out hisgreat palm, which the other took, "Will Scarlet, the name fitteth theewell. Right glad am I to welcome thee among us. I am called Little John;and this is a new member who has just joined us, a stout tanner namedArthur a Bland. Thou art like to achieve fame, Will, let me tell thee,for there will be many a merry ballad sung about the country, and manya merry story told in Sherwood of how Robin Hood taught Little John andArthur a Bland the proper way to use the quarterstaff; likewise, asit were, how our good master bit off so large a piece of cake that hechoked on it."

"Nay, good Little John," quoth Robin gently, for he liked ill to havesuch a jest told of him. "Why should we speak of this little matter?Prythee, let us keep this day's doings among ourselves."

"With all my heart," quoth Little John. "But, good master, I thoughtthat thou didst love a merry story, because thou hast so often made ajest about a certain increase of fatness on my joints, of flesh gatheredby my abiding with the Sheriff of—"

"Nay, good Little John," said Robin hastily, "I do bethink me I havesaid full enough on that score."

"It is well," quoth Little John, "for in truth I myself have tired ofit somewhat. But now I bethink me, thou didst also seem minded to make ajest of the rain that threatened last night; so—"

"Nay, then," said Robin Hood testily, "I was mistaken. I remember me nowit did seem to threaten rain."

"Truly, I did think so myself," quoth Little John, "therefore, no doubt,thou dost think it was wise of me to abide all night at the Blue BoarInn, instead of venturing forth in such stormy weather; dost thou not?"

"A plague of thee and thy doings!" cried Robin Hood. "If thou wilt haveit so, thou wert right to abide wherever thou didst choose."

"Once more, it is well," quoth Little John. "As for myself, I have beenblind this day. I did not see thee drubbed; I did not see thee tumbledheels over head in the dust; and if any man says that thou wert, I canwith a clear conscience rattle his lying tongue betwixt his teeth."

"Come," cried Robin, biting his nether lip, while the others couldnot forbear laughing. "We will go no farther today, but will return toSherwood, and thou shalt go to Ancaster another time, Little John."

So said Robin, for now that his bones were sore, he felt as though along journey would be an ill thing for him. So, turning their backs,they retraced their steps whence they came.

The Adventure with Midge the Miller's Son

WHEN THE four yeomen had traveled for a long time toward Sherwood again,high noontide being past, they began to wax hungry. Quoth Robin Hood, "Iwould that I had somewhat to eat. Methinks a good loaf of white bread,with a piece of snow-white cheese, washed down with a draught of hummingale, were a feast for a king."

"Since thou speakest of it," said Will Scarlet, "methinks it would notbe amiss myself. There is that within me crieth out, 'Victuals, goodfriend, victuals!'"

"I know a house near by," said Arthur a Bland, "and, had I but themoney, I would bring ye that ye speak of; to wit, a sweet loaf of bread,a fair cheese, and a skin of brown ale."

"For the matter of that, thou knowest I have money by me, good master,"quoth Little John.

"Why, so thou hast, Little John," said Robin. "How much money will ittake, good Arthur, to buy us meat and drink?"

"I think that six broad pennies will buy food enow for a dozen men,"said the Tanner.

"Then give him six pennies, Little John," quoth Robin, "for methinksfood for three men will about fit my need. Now get thee gone, Arthur,with the money, and bring the food here, for there is a sweet shade inthat thicket yonder, beside the road, and there will we eat our meal."

So Little John gave Arthur the money, and the others stepped to thethicket, there to await the return of the Tanner.

After a time he came back, bearing with him a great brown loaf of bread,and a fair, round cheese, and a goatskin full of stout March beer, slungover his shoulders. Then Will Scarlet took his sword and dividedthe loaf and the cheese into four fair portions, and each man helpedhimself. Then Robin Hood took a deep pull at the beer. "Aha!" said he,drawing in his breath, "never have I tasted sweeter drink than this."

After this no man spake more, but each munched away at his bread andcheese lustily, with ever and anon a pull at the beer.

At last Will Scarlet looked at a small piece of bread he still held inhis hand, and quoth he, "Methinks I will give this to the sparrows." So,throwing it from him, he brushed the crumbs from his jerkin.

"I, too," quoth Robin, "have had enough, I think." As for Little Johnand the Tanner, they had by this time eaten every crumb of their breadand cheese.

"Now," quoth Robin, "I do feel myself another man, and would fain enjoysomething pleasant before going farther upon our journey. I do bethinkme, Will, that thou didst use to have a pretty voice, and one that tunedsweetly upon a song. Prythee, give us one ere we journey farther."

"Truly, I do not mind turning a tune," answered Will Scarlet, "but Iwould not sing alone."

"Nay, others will follow. Strike up, lad," quoth Robin.

"In that case, 'tis well," said Will Scarlet. "I do call to mind a songthat a certain minstrel used to sing in my father's hall, upon occasion.I know no name for it and so can give you none; but thus it is." Then,clearing his throat, he sang:

"In the merry blossom time,     When love longings food the breast,     When the flower is on the lime,     When the small fowl builds her nest,     Sweetly sings the nightingale     And the throstle cock so bold;     Cuckoo in the dewy dale     And the turtle in the word.     But the robin I love dear,     For he singeth through the year.     Robin! Robin!     Merry Robin!     So I'd have my true love be:     Not to fly     At the nigh     Sign of cold adversity.     "When the spring brings sweet delights,     When aloft the lark doth rise,     Lovers woo o' mellow nights,     And youths peep in maidens' eyes,     That time blooms the eglantine,     Daisies pied upon the hill,     Cowslips fair and columbine,     Dusky violets by the rill.     But the ivy green cloth grow     When the north wind bringeth snow.     Ivy! Ivy!     Stanch and true!     Thus I'd have her love to be:     Not to die     At the nigh     Breath of cold adversity."

"'Tis well sung," quoth Robin, "but, cousin, I tell thee plain, I wouldrather hear a stout fellow like thee sing some lusty ballad than afinicking song of flowers and birds, and what not. Yet, thou didst singit fair, and 'tis none so bad a snatch of a song, for the matter ofthat. Now, Tanner, it is thy turn."

"I know not," quoth Arthur, smiling, with his head on one side, like abudding lass that is asked to dance, "I know not that I can match oursweet friend's song; moreover, I do verily think that I have caught acold and have a certain tickling and huskiness in the windpipe."

"Nay, sing up, friend," quoth Little John, who sat next to him, pattinghim upon the shoulder. "Thou hast a fair, round, mellow voice; let ushave a touch of it."

"Nay, an ye will ha' a poor thing," said Arthur, "I will do my best.Have ye ever heard of the wooing of Sir Keith, the stout young Cornishknight, in good King Arthur's time?"

"Methinks I have heard somewhat of it," said Robin; "but ne'erthelessstrike up thy ditty and let us hear it, for, as I do remember me, it isa gallant song; so out with it, good fellow."

Thereupon, clearing his throat, the Tanner, without more ado, began tosing:

"King Arthur sat in his royal hall,     And about on either hand     Was many a noble lordling tall,     The greatest in the land.     "Sat  Lancelot with raven locks,     Gawaine with golden hair,     Sir Tristram, Kay who kept the locks,     And many another there.     "And through the stained windows bright,     From o'er the red-tiled eaves,     The sunlight blazed with colored light     On golden helms and greaves.     "But suddenly a silence came     About the Table Round,     For up the hall there walked a dame     Bent nigh unto the ground.     "Her nose was hooked, her eyes were bleared,     Her locks were lank and white;     Upon her chin there grew a beard;     She was a gruesome sight.     "And so with crawling step she came     And kneeled at Arthur's feet;     Quoth Kay, 'She is the foulest dame     That e'er my sight did greet.'     "'O mighty King! of thee I crave     A boon on bended knee';     'Twas thus she spoke. 'What wouldst thou have.'     Quoth Arthur, King, 'of me?'     "Quoth she, 'I have a foul disease     Doth gnaw my very heart,     And but one thing can bring me ease     Or cure my bitter smart.     "'There is no rest, no ease for me     North, east, or west, or south,     Till Christian knight will willingly     Thrice kiss me on the mouth.     "'Nor wedded may this childe have been     That giveth ease to me;     Nor may he be constrained, I ween,     But kiss me willingly.     "'So is there here one Christian knight     Of such a noble strain     That he will give a tortured wight     Sweet ease of mortal pain?'     "'A wedded man,' quoth Arthur, King,     'A wedded man I be     Else would I deem it noble thing     To kiss thee willingly.     "'Now, Lancelot, in all men's sight     Thou art the head and chief     Of chivalry. Come, noble knight,     And give her quick relief.'     "But Lancelot he turned aside     And looked upon the ground,     For it did sting his haughty pride     To hear them laugh around.     "'Come thou, Sir Tristram,' quoth the King.     Quoth he, 'It cannot be,     For ne'er can I my stomach bring     To do it willingly.'     "'Wilt thou, Sir Kay, thou scornful wight?'     Quoth Kay, 'Nay, by my troth!     What noble dame would kiss a knight     That kissed so foul a mouth?'     "'Wilt thou, Gawaine?' 'I cannot, King.'     'Sir Geraint?' 'Nay, not I;     My kisses no relief could bring,     For sooner would I die.'     "Then up and spake the youngest man     Of all about the board,     'Now such relief as Christian can     I'll give to her, my lord.'     "It was Sir Keith, a youthful knight,     Yet strong of limb and bold,     With beard upon his chin as light     As finest threads of gold.     "Quoth Kay, 'He hath no mistress yet     That he may call his own,     But here is one that's quick to get,     As she herself has shown.'     "He kissed her once, he kissed her twice,     He kissed her three times o'er,     A wondrous change came in a trice,     And she was foul no more.     "Her cheeks grew red as any rose,     Her brow as white as lawn,     Her bosom like the winter snows,     Her eyes like those of fawn.     "Her breath grew sweet as summer breeze     That blows the meadows o'er;     Her voice grew soft as rustling trees,     And cracked and harsh no more.     "Her hair grew glittering, like the gold,     Her hands as white as milk;     Her filthy rags, so foul and old,     Were changed to robes of silk.     "In great amaze the knights did stare.     Quoth Kay, 'I make my vow     If it will please thee, lady fair,     I'll gladly kiss thee now.'     "But young Sir Keith kneeled on one knee     And kissed her robes so fair.     'O let me be thy slave,' said he,     'For none to thee compare.'     "She bent her down, she kissed his brow,     She kissed his lips and eyes.     Quoth she, 'Thou art my master now,     My lord, my love, arise!     "'And all the wealth that is mine own,     My lands, I give to thee,     For never knight hath lady shown     Such noble courtesy.     "'Bewitched was I, in bitter pain,     But thou hast set me free,     So now I am myself again,     I give myself to thee.'"

"Yea, truly," quoth Robin Hood, when the Tanner had made an end ofsinging, "it is as I remember it, a fair ditty, and a ballad with apleasing tune of a song."

"It hath oftentimes seemed to me," said Will Scarlet, "that it hath acertain motive in it, e'en such as this: That a duty which seemeth to ussometimes ugly and harsh, when we do kiss it fairly upon the mouth, soto speak, is no such foul thing after all."

"Methinks thou art right," quoth Robin, "and, contrariwise, that when wekiss a pleasure that appeareth gay it turneth foul to us; is it not so,Little John? Truly such a thing hath brought thee sore thumps this day.Nay, man, never look down in the mouth. Clear thy pipes and sing us aditty."

"Nay," said Little John, "I have none as fair as that merry Arthur hastrolled. They are all poor things that I know. Moreover, my voice isnot in tune today, and I would not spoil even a tolerable song by illsinging."

Upon this all pressed Little John to sing, so that when he had deniedthem a proper length of time, such as is seemly in one that is askedto sing, he presently yielded. Quoth he, 'Well, an ye will ha' it so,I will give you what I can. Like to fair Will, I have no title to myditty, but thus it runs:

"O Lady mine, the spring is here,     With a hey nonny nonny;     The sweet love season of the year,     With a ninny ninny nonny;     Now lad and lass     Lie in the grass     That groweth green     With flowers between.     The buck doth rest     The leaves do start,     The cock doth crow,     The breeze doth blow,     And all things laugh in—"

"Who may yon fellow be coming along the road?" said Robin, breaking intothe song.

"I know not," quoth Little John in a surly voice. "But this I do know,that it is an ill thing to do to check the flow of a good song."

"Nay, Little John," said Robin, "be not vexed, I prythee; but I havebeen watching him coming along, bent beneath that great bag over hisshoulder, ever since thou didst begin thy song. Look, Little John, Ipray, and see if thou knowest him."

Little John looked whither Robin Hood pointed. "Truly," quoth he, aftera time, "I think yon fellow is a certain young miller I have seen nowand then around the edge of Sherwood; a poor wight, methinks, to spoil agood song about."

"Now thou speakest of him," quoth Robin Hood, "methinks I myself haveseen him now and then. Hath he not a mill over beyond Nottingham Town,nigh to the Salisbury road?"

"Thou art right; that is the man," said Little John.

"A good stout fellow," quoth Robin. "I saw him crack Ned o' Bradford'scrown about a fortnight since, and never saw I hair lifted more neatlyin all my life before."

By this time the young miller had come so near that they could seehim clearly. His clothes were dusted with flour, and over his back hecarried a great sack of meal, bending so as to bring the whole weightupon his shoulders, and across the sack was a thick quarterstaff. Hislimbs were stout and strong, and he strode along the dusty road rightsturdily with the heavy sack across his shoulders. His cheeks were ruddyas a winter hip, his hair was flaxen in color, and on his chin was adowny growth of flaxen beard.

"A good honest fellow," quoth Robin Hood, "and such an one as is acredit to English yeomanrie. Now let us have a merry jest with him. Wewill forth as though we were common thieves and pretend to rob him ofhis honest gains. Then will we take him into the forest and give hima feast such as his stomach never held in all his life before. We willflood his throat with good canary and send him home with crowns in hispurse for every penny he hath. What say ye, lads?"

"Truly, it is a merry thought," said Will Scarlet.

"It is well planned," quoth Little John, "but all the saints preserve usfrom any more drubbings this day! Marry, my poor bones ache so that I—"

"Prythee peace, Little John," quoth Robin. "Thy foolish tongue will getus both well laughed at yet."

"My foolish tongue, forsooth," growled Little John to Arthur a Bland."I would it could keep our master from getting us into another coil thisday."

But now the Miller, plodding along the road, had come opposite towhere the yeomen lay hidden, whereupon all four of them ran at him andsurrounded him.

"Hold, friend!" cried Robin to the Miller; whereupon he turned slowly,with the weight of the bag upon his shoulder, and looked at each in turnall bewildered, for though a good stout man his wits did not skip likeroasting chestnuts.

"Who bids me stay?" said the Miller in a voice deep and gruff, like thegrowl of a great dog.

"Marry, that do I," quoth Robin; "and let me tell thee, friend, thouhadst best mind my bidding."

"And who art thou, good friend?" said the Miller, throwing the greatsack of meal from his shoulder to the ground, "and who are those withthee?"

"We be four good Christian men," quoth Robin, "and would fain help theeby carrying part of thy heavy load."

"I give you all thanks," said the Miller, "but my bag is none that heavythat I cannot carry it e'en by myself."

"Nay, thou dost mistake," quoth Robin, "I meant that thou mightestperhaps have some heavy farthings or pence about thee, not to speakof silver and gold. Our good Gaffer Swanthold sayeth that gold is anoverheavy burden for a two-legged ass to carry; so we would e'en liftsome of this load from thee."

"Alas!" cried the Miller, "what would ye do to me? I have not about meso much as a clipped groat. Do me no harm, I pray you, but let medepart in peace. Moreover, let me tell you that ye are upon Robin Hood'sground, and should he find you seeking to rob an honest craftsman, hewill clip your ears to your heads and scourge you even to the walls ofNottingham.

"In truth I fear Robin Hood no more than I do myself," quoth jollyRobin. "Thou must this day give up to me every penny thou hast aboutthee. Nay, if thou dost budge an inch I will rattle this staff aboutthine ears."

"Nay, smite me not!" cried the Miller, throwing up his elbow as thoughhe feared the blow. "Thou mayst search me if thou wilt, but thou wiltfind nothing upon me, pouch, pocket, or skin."

"Is it so?" quoth Robin Hood, looking keenly upon him. "Now I believethat what thou tellest is no true tale. If I am not much mistook thouhast somewhat in the bottom of that fat sack of meal. Good Arthur, emptythe bag upon the ground; I warrant thou wilt find a shilling or two inthe flour."

"Alas!" cried the Miller, falling upon his knees, "spoil not all my goodmeal! It can better you not, and will ruin me. Spare it, and I will giveup the money in the bag."

"Ha!" quoth Robin, nudging Will Scarlet. "Is it so? And have I foundwhere thy money lies? Marry, I have a wondrous nose for the blessedimage of good King Harry. I thought that I smelled gold and silverbeneath the barley meal. Bring it straight forth, Miller."

Then slowly the Miller arose to his feet, and slowly and unwillingly heuntied the mouth of the bag, and slowly thrust his hands into the mealand began fumbling about with his arms buried to the elbows in thebarley flour. The others gathered round him, their heads together,looking and wondering what he would bring forth.

So they stood, all with their heads close together gazing down into thesack. But while he pretended to be searching for the money, the Millergathered two great handfuls of meal. "Ha," quoth he, "here they are, thebeauties." Then, as the others leaned still more forward to see what hehad, he suddenly cast the meal into their faces, filling their eyes andnoses and mouths with the flour, blinding and half choking them. Arthura Bland was worse off than any, for his mouth was open, agape withwonder of what was to come, so that a great cloud of flour flew down histhroat, setting him a-coughing till he could scarcely stand.

Then, while all four stumbled about, roaring with the smart of the mealin their eyeballs, and while they rubbed their eyes till the tearsmade great channels on their faces through the meal, the Miller seizedanother handful of flour and another and another, throwing it in theirfaces, so that even had they had a glimmering of light before they werenow as blind as ever a beggar in Nottinghamshire, while their hair andbeards and clothes were as white as snow.

Then catching up his great crabstaff, the Miller began laying about himas though he were clean gone mad. This way and that skipped the four,like peas on a drumhead, but they could see neither to defend themselvesnor to run away. Thwack! thwack! went the Miller's cudgel across theirbacks, and at every blow great white clouds of flour rose in the airfrom their jackets and went drifting down the breeze.

"Stop!" roared Robin at last. "Give over, good friend, I am Robin Hood!"

"Thou liest, thou knave," cried the Miller, giving him a rap on the ribsthat sent up a great cloud of flour like a puff of smoke. "Stout Robinnever robbed an honest tradesman. Ha! thou wouldst have my money,wouldst thou?" And he gave him another blow. "Nay, thou art not gettingthy share, thou long-legged knave. Share and share alike." And he smoteLittle John across the shoulders so that he sent him skipping halfacross the road. "Nay, fear not, it is thy turn now, black beard." Andhe gave the Tanner a crack that made him roar for all his coughing. "Hownow, red coat, let me brush the dust from thee!" cried he, smiting WillScarlet. And so he gave them merry words and blows until they couldscarcely stand, and whenever he saw one like to clear his eyes he threwmore flour in his face. At last Robin Hood found his horn and clappingit to his lips, blew three loud blasts upon it.

Now it chanced that Will Stutely and a party of Robin's men were in theglade not far from where this merry sport was going forward. Hearing thehubbub of voices, and blows that sounded like the noise of a flail inthe barn in wintertime, they stopped, listening and wondering what wastoward. Quoth Will Stutely, "Now if I mistake not there is some stoutbattle with cudgels going forward not far hence. I would fain see thispretty sight." So saying, he and the whole party turned their stepswhence the noise came. When they had come near where all the tumultsounded they heard the three blasts of Robin's bugle horn.

"Quick!" cried young David of Doncaster. "Our master is in sore need!"So, without stopping a moment, they dashed forward with might and mainand burst forth from the covert into the highroad.

But what a sight was that which they saw! The road was all white withmeal, and five men stood there also white with meal from top to toe, formuch of the barley flour had fallen back upon the Miller.

"What is thy need, master?" cried Will Stutely. "And what doth all thismean?"

"Why," quoth Robin in a mighty passion, "yon traitor felt low hath comeas nigh slaying me as e'er a man in all the world. Hadst thou not comequickly, good Stutely, thy master had been dead."

Hereupon, while he and the three others rubbed the meal from their eyes,and Will Stutely and his men brushed their clothes clean, he told themall; how that he had meant to pass a jest upon the Miller, which samehad turned so grievously upon them.

"Quick, men, seize the vile Miller!" cried Stutely, who was nigh chokingwith laughter as were the rest; whereupon several ran upon the stoutfellow and seizing him, bound his arms behind his back with bowstrings.

"Ha!" cried Robin, when they brought the trembling Miller to him. "Thouwouldst murder me, wouldst thou? By my faith,"—Here he stopped and stoodglaring upon the Miller grimly. But Robin's anger could not hold, sofirst his eyes twinkled, and then in spite of all he broke into a laugh.

Now when they saw their master laugh, the yeomen who stood around couldcontain themselves no longer, and a mighty shout of laughter went upfrom all. Many could not stand, but rolled upon the ground from puremerriment.

"What is thy name, good fellow?" said Robin at last to the Miller, whostood gaping and as though he were in amaze.

"Alas, sir, I am Midge, the Miller's son," said he in a frightenedvoice.

"I make my vow," quoth merry Robin, smiting him upon the shoulder, "thouart the mightiest Midge that e'er mine eyes beheld. Now wilt thou leavethy dusty mill and come and join my band? By my faith, thou art toostout a man to spend thy days betwixt the hopper and the till."

"Then truly, if thou dost forgive me for the blows I struck, not knowingwho thou wast, I will join with thee right merrily," said the Miller.

"Then have I gained this day," quoth Robin, "the three stoutest yeomenin all Nottinghamshire. We will get us away to the greenwood tree, andthere hold a merry feast in honor of our new friends, and mayhap a cupor two of good sack and canary may mellow the soreness of my poor jointsand bones, though I warrant it will be many a day before I am again theman I was." So saying, he turned and led the way, the rest following,and so they entered the forest once more and were lost to sight.

So that night all was ablaze with crackling fires in the woodlands,for though Robin and those others spoken of, only excepting Midge, theMiller's son, had many a sore bump and bruise here and there on theirbodies, they were still not so sore in the joints that they could notenjoy a jolly feast given all in welcome to the new members of the band.Thus with songs and jesting and laughter that echoed through the deeperand more silent nooks of the forest, the night passed quickly along, assuch merry times are wont to do, until at last each man sought his couchand silence fell on all things and all things seemed to sleep.

But Little John's tongue was ever one that was not easy of guidance,so that, inch by inch, the whole story of his fight with the Tanner andRobin's fight with Will Scarlet leaked out. And so I have told it thatyou may laugh at the merry tale along with me.

Robin Hood and Allan a Dale

IT HAS just been told how three unlucky adventures fell upon Robin Hoodand Little John all in one day bringing them sore ribs and aching bones.So next we will tell how they made up for those ill happenings by a goodaction that came about not without some small pain to Robin.

Two days had passed by, and somewhat of the soreness had passed awayfrom Robin Hood's joints, yet still, when he moved of a sudden andwithout thinking, pain here and there would, as it were, jog him,crying, "Thou hast had a drubbing, good fellow."

The day was bright and jocund, and the morning dew still lay upon thegrass. Under the greenwood tree sat Robin Hood; on one side was WillScarlet, lying at full length upon his back, gazing up into the clearsky, with hands clasped behind his head; upon the other side sat LittleJohn, fashioning a cudgel out of a stout crab-tree limb; elsewhere uponthe grass sat or lay many others of the band.

"By the faith of my heart," quoth merry Robin, "I do bethink me that wehave had no one to dine with us for this long time. Our money growethlow in the purse, for no one hath come to pay a reckoning for many aday. Now busk thee, good Stutely, and choose thee six men, and get theegone to Fosse Way or thereabouts, and see that thou bringest someone toeat with us this evening. Meantime we will prepare a grand feast to dowhosoever may come the greater honor. And stay, good Stutely. I wouldhave thee take Will Scarlet with thee, for it is meet that he shouldbecome acquaint with the ways of the forest."

"Now do I thank thee, good master," quoth Stutely, springing to hisfeet, "that thou hast chosen me for this adventure. Truly, my limbsdo grow slack through abiding idly here. As for two of my six, I willchoose Midge the Miller and Arthur a Bland, for, as well thou knowest,good master, they are stout fists at the quarterstaff. Is it not so,Little John?"

At this all laughed but Little John and Robin, who twisted up his face."I can speak for Midge," said he, "and likewise for my cousin Scarlet.This very blessed morn I looked at my ribs and found them as many colorsas a beggar's cloak."

So, having chosen four more stout fellows, Will Stutely and his band setforth to Fosse Way, to find whether they might not come across some richguest to feast that day in Sherwood with Robin and his band.

For all the livelong day they abided near this highway. Each man hadbrought with him a good store of cold meat and a bottle of stout Marchbeer to stay his stomach till the homecoming. So when high noontidehad come they sat them down upon the soft grass, beneath a green andwide-spreading hawthorn bush, and held a hearty and jovial feast. Afterthis, one kept watch while the others napped, for it was a still andsultry day.

Thus they passed the time pleasantly enow, but no guest such as theydesired showed his face in all the time that they lay hidden there. Manypassed along the dusty road in the glare of the sun: now it was a bevyof chattering damsels merrily tripping along; now it was a ploddingtinker; now a merry shepherd lad; now a sturdy farmer; all gazing aheadalong the road, unconscious of the seven stout fellows that lay hiddenso near them. Such were the travelers along the way; but fat abbot, richesquire, or money-laden usurer came there none.

At last the sun began to sink low in the heavens; the light grew redand the shadows long. The air grew full of silence, the birds twitteredsleepily, and from afar came, faint and clear, the musical song of themilkmaid calling the kine home to the milking.

Then Stutely arose from where he was lying. "A plague of such ill luck!"quoth he. "Here have we abided all day, and no bird worth the shooting,so to speak, hath come within reach of our bolt. Had I gone forth onan innocent errand, I had met a dozen stout priests or a score of pursymoney-lenders. But it is ever thus: the dun deer are never so scarceas when one has a gray goose feather nipped betwixt the fingers. Come,lads, let us pack up and home again, say I."

Accordingly, the others arose, and, coming forth from out the thicket,they all turned their toes back again to Sherwood. After they had gonesome distance, Will Stutely, who headed the party, suddenly stopped."Hist!" quoth he, for his ears were as sharp as those of a five-year-oldfox. "Hark, lads! Methinks I hear a sound." At this all stopped andlistened with bated breath, albeit for a time they could hear nothing,their ears being duller than Stutely's. At length they heard a faint andmelancholy sound, like someone in lamentation.

"Ha!" quoth Will Scarlet, "this must be looked into. There is someone indistress nigh to us here."

"I know not," quoth Will Stutely, shaking his head doubtfully, "ourmaster is ever rash about thrusting his finger into a boiling pot; but,for my part, I see no use in getting ourselves into mischievous coils.Yon is a man's voice, if I mistake not, and a man should be always readyto get himself out from his own pothers."

Then out spake Will Scarlet boldly. "Now out upon thee, to talk in thatmanner, Stutely! Stay, if thou dost list. I go to see what may be thetrouble of this poor creature."

"Nay," quoth Stutely, "thou dost leap so quickly, thou'lt tumble intothe ditch. Who said I would not go? Come along, say I." Thus saying,he led the way, the others following, till, after they had gone a shortdistance, they came to a little opening in the woodland, whence a brook,after gurgling out from under the tangle of overhanging bushes, spreadout into a broad and glassy-pebbled pool. By the side of this pool, andbeneath the branches of a willow, lay a youth upon his face, weepingaloud, the sound of which had first caught the quick ears of Stutely.His golden locks were tangled, his clothes were all awry, and everythingabout him betokened sorrow and woe. Over his head, from the branches ofthe osier, hung a beautiful harp of polished wood inlaid with gold andsilver in fantastic devices. Beside him lay a stout ashen bow and half ascore of fair, smooth arrows.

"Halloa!" shouted Will Stutely, when they had come out from the forestinto the little open spot. "Who art thou, fellow, that liest therekilling all the green grass with salt water?"

Hearing the voice, the stranger sprang to his feet and; snatching uphis bow and fitting a shaft, held himself in readiness for whatever illmight befall him.

"Truly," said one of the yeomen, when they had seen the young stranger'sface, "I do know that lad right well. He is a certain minstrel that Ihave seen hereabouts more than once. It was only a week ago I saw himskipping across the hill like a yearling doe. A fine sight he was then,with a flower at his ear and a cock's plume stuck in his cap; but now,methinks, our cockerel is shorn of his gay feathers."

"Pah!" cried Will Stutely, coming up to the stranger, "wipe thine eyes,man! I do hate to see a tall, stout fellow so sniveling like a girlof fourteen over a dead tomtit. Put down thy bow, man! We mean thee noharm."

But Will Scarlet, seeing how the stranger, who had a young and boyishlook, was stung by the words that Stutely had spoken, came to him andput his hand upon the youth's shoulder. "Nay, thou art in trouble, poorboy!" said he kindly. "Mind not what these fellows have said. They arerough, but they mean thee well. Mayhap they do not understand a lad likethee. Thou shalt come with us, and perchance we may find a certain onethat can aid thee in thy perplexities, whatsoever they may be."

"Yea, truly, come along," said Will Stutely gruffly. "I meant thee noharm, and may mean thee some good. Take down thy singing tool from offthis fair tree, and away with us."

The youth did as he was bidden and, with bowed head and sorrowful step,accompanied the others, walking beside Will Scarlet. So they wendedtheir way through the forest. The bright light faded from the sky anda glimmering gray fell over all things. From the deeper recesses of theforest the strange whispering sounds of night-time came to the ear; allelse was silent, saving only for the rattling of their footsteps amidthe crisp, dry leaves of the last winter. At last a ruddy glow shonebefore them here and there through the trees; a little farther and theycame to the open glade, now bathed in the pale moonlight. In the centerof the open crackled a great fire, throwing a red glow on all around. Atthe fire were roasting juicy steaks of venison, pheasants, capons, andfresh fish from the river. All the air was filled with the sweet smellof good things cooking.

The little band made its way across the glade, many yeomen turning withcurious looks and gazing after them, but none speaking or questioningthem. So, with Will Scarlet upon one side and Will Stutely upon theother, the stranger came to where Robin Hood sat on a seat of moss underthe greenwood tree, with Little John standing beside him.

"Good even, fair friend," said Robin Hood, rising as the other drewnear. "And hast thou come to feast with me this day?"

"Alas! I know not," said the lad, looking around him with dazed eyes,for he was bewildered with all that he saw. "Truly, I know not whether Ibe in a dream," said he to himself in a low voice.

"Nay, marry," quoth Robin, laughing, "thou art awake, as thou wiltpresently find, for a fine feast is a-cooking for thee. Thou art ourhonored guest this day."

Still the young stranger looked about him, as though in a dream.Presently he turned to Robin. "Methinks," said he, "I know now where Iam and what hath befallen me. Art not thou the great Robin Hood?"

"Thou hast hit the bull's eye," quoth Robin, clapping him upon theshoulder. "Men hereabouts do call me by that name. Sin' thou knowest me,thou knowest also that he who feasteth with me must pay his reckoning. Itrust thou hast a full purse with thee, fair stranger."

"Alas!" said the stranger, "I have no purse nor no money either, savingonly the half of a sixpence, the other half of which mine own dearlove doth carry in her bosom, hung about her neck by a strand of silkenthread."

At this speech a great shout of laughter went up from those around,whereat the poor boy looked as he would die of shame; but Robin Hoodturned sharply to Will Stutely. "Why, how now," quoth he, "is this theguest that thou hast brought us to fill our purse? Methinks thou hastbrought but a lean cock to the market."

"Nay, good master," answered Will Stutely, grinning, "he is no guest ofmine; it was Will Scarlet that brought him thither."

Then up spoke Will Scarlet, and told how they had found the lad insorrow, and how he had brought him to Robin, thinking that he mightperchance aid him in his trouble. Then Robin Hood turned to the youth,and, placing his hand upon the other's shoulder, held him off at arm'slength, scanning his face closely.

"A young face," quoth he in a low voice, half to himself, "a kind face,a good face. 'Tis like a maiden's for purity, and, withal, the fairestthat e'er mine eyes did see; but, if I may judge fairly by thy looks,grief cometh to young as well as to old." At these words, spoken sokindly, the poor lad's eyes brimmed up with tears. "Nay, nay," saidRobin hastily, "cheer up, lad; I warrant thy case is not so bad that itcannot be mended. What may be thy name?"

"Allen a Dale is my name, good master."

"Allen a Dale," repeated Robin, musing. "Allen a Dale. It doth seem tome that the name is not altogether strange to mine ears. Yea, surelythou art the minstrel of whom we have been hearing lately, whose voiceso charmeth all men. Dost thou not come from the Dale of Rotherstream,over beyond Stavely?"

"Yea, truly," answered Allan, "I do come thence."

"How old art thou, Allan?" said Robin.

"I am but twenty years of age."

"Methinks thou art overyoung to be perplexed with trouble," quoth Robinkindly; then, turning to the others, he cried, "Come, lads, busk ye andget our feast ready; only thou, Will Scarlet, and thou, Little John,stay here with me."

Then, when the others had gone, each man about his business, Robinturned once more to the youth. "Now, lad," said he, "tell us thytroubles, and speak freely. A flow of words doth ever ease the heartof sorrows; it is like opening the waste weir when the mill dam isoverfull. Come, sit thou here beside me, and speak at thine ease."

Then straightway the youth told the three yeomen all that was in hisheart; at first in broken words and phrases, then freely and withgreater ease when he saw that all listened closely to what he said.So he told them how he had come from York to the sweet vale of Rother,traveling the country through as a minstrel, stopping now at castle, nowat hall, and now at farmhouse; how he had spent one sweet evening in acertain broad, low farmhouse, where he sang before a stout franklin anda maiden as pure and lovely as the first snowdrop of spring; how he hadplayed and sung to her, and how sweet Ellen o' the Dale had listened tohim and had loved him. Then, in a low, sweet voice, scarcely louder thana whisper, he told how he had watched for her and met her now and thenwhen she went abroad, but was all too afraid in her sweet presence tospeak to her, until at last, beside the banks of Rother, he had spokenof his love, and she had whispered that which had made his heartstringsquiver for joy. Then they broke a sixpence between them, and vowed to betrue to one another forever.

Next he told how her father had discovered what was a-doing, and hadtaken her away from him so that he never saw her again, and his heartwas sometimes like to break; how this morn, only one short month and ahalf from the time that he had seen her last, he had heard and knewit to be so, that she was to marry old Sir Stephen of Trent, two dayshence, for Ellen's father thought it would be a grand thing to have hisdaughter marry so high, albeit she wished it not; nor was it wonderthat a knight should wish to marry his own sweet love, who was the mostbeautiful maiden in all the world.

To all this the yeomen listened in silence, the clatter of many voices,jesting and laughing, sounding around them, and the red light of thefire shining on their faces and in their eyes. So simple were thepoor boy's words, and so deep his sorrow, that even Little John felt acertain knotty lump rise in his throat.

"I wonder not," said Robin, after a moment's silence, "that thy truelove loved thee, for thou hast surely a silver cross beneath thy tongue,even like good Saint Francis, that could charm the birds of the air byhis speech."

"By the breath of my body," burst forth Little John, seeking to coverhis feelings with angry words, "I have a great part of a mind to gostraightway and cudgel the nasty life out of the body of that same vileSir Stephen. Marry, come up, say I—what a plague—does an old weazenthink that tender lasses are to be bought like pullets o' a market day?Out upon him!—I—but no matter, only let him look to himself."

Then up spoke Will Scarlet. "Methinks it seemeth but ill done ofthe lass that she should so quickly change at others' bidding, moreespecially when it cometh to the marrying of a man as old as this sameSir Stephen. I like it not in her, Allan."

"Nay," said Allan hotly, "thou dost wrong her. She is as soft and gentleas a stockdove. I know her better than anyone in all the world. She maydo her father's bidding, but if she marries Sir Stephen, her heart willbreak and she will die. My own sweet dear, I—" He stopped and shook hishead, for he could say nothing further.

While the others were speaking, Robin Hood had been sunk in thought."Methinks I have a plan might fit thy case, Allan," said he. "But tellme first, thinkest thou, lad, that thy true love hath spirit enoughto marry thee were ye together in church, the banns published, and thepriest found, even were her father to say her nay?"

"Ay, marry would she," cried Allan eagerly.

"Then, if her father be the man that I take him to be, I will undertakethat he shall give you both his blessing as wedded man and wife, in theplace of old Sir Stephen, and upon his wedding morn. But stay, now Ibethink me, there is one thing reckoned not upon—the priest. Truly,those of the cloth do not love me overmuch, and when it comes todoing as I desire in such a matter, they are as like as not to provestiff-necked. As to the lesser clergy, they fear to do me a favorbecause of abbot or bishop.

"Nay," quoth Will Scarlet, laughing, "so far as that goeth, I know of acertain friar that, couldst thou but get on the soft side of him, woulddo thy business even though Pope Joan herself stood forth to ban him. Heis known as the Curtal Friar of Fountain Abbey, and dwelleth in FountainDale."

"But," quoth Robin, "Fountain Abbey is a good hundred miles from here.An we would help this lad, we have no time to go thither and back beforehis true love will be married. Nought is to be gained there, coz."

"Yea," quoth Will Scarlet, laughing again, "but this Fountain Abbey isnot so far away as the one of which thou speakest, uncle. The FountainAbbey of which I speak is no such rich and proud place as the other,but a simple little cell; yet, withal, as cosy a spot as ever stoutanchorite dwelled within. I know the place well, and can guide theethither, for, though it is a goodly distance, yet methinks a stout pairof legs could carry a man there and back in one day."

"Then give me thy hand, Allan," cried Robin, "and let me tell thee, Iswear by the bright hair of Saint AElfrida that this time two days henceEllen a Dale shall be thy wife. I will seek this same Friar of FountainAbbey tomorrow day, and I warrant I will get upon the soft side of him,even if I have to drub one soft."

At this Will Scarlet laughed again. "Be not too sure of that, gooduncle," quoth he, "nevertheless, from what I know of him, I think thisCurtal Friar will gladly join two such fair lovers, more especially ifthere be good eating and drinking afoot thereafter."

But now one of the band came to say that the feast was spread uponthe grass; so, Robin leading the way, the others followed to wherethe goodly feast was spread. Merry was the meal. Jest and story passedfreely, and all laughed till the forest rang again. Allan laughed withthe rest, for his cheeks were flushed with the hope that Robin Hood hadgiven him.

At last the feast was done, and Robin Hood turned to Allan, who satbeside him. "Now, Allan," quoth he, "so much has been said of thysinging that we would fain have a taste of thy skill ourselves. Canstthou not give us something?"

"Surely," answered Allan readily; for he was no third-rate songsterthat must be asked again and again, but said "yes" or "no" at the firstbidding; so, taking up his harp, he ran his fingers lightly over thesweetly sounding strings, and all was hushed about the cloth. Then,backing his voice with sweet music on his harp, he sang:

(Giving an account of how she was beloved by a fairy prince, who tookher to his own home.)

"May Ellen sat beneath a thorn     And in a shower around     The blossoms fell at every breeze     Like snow upon the ground,     And in a lime tree near was heard     The sweet song of a strange, wild bird.     "O sweet, sweet, sweet, O piercing sweet,     O lingering sweet the strain!     May Ellen's heart within her breast     Stood still with blissful pain:     And so, with listening, upturned face,     She sat as dead in that fair place.     "'Come down from out the blossoms, bird!     Come down from out the tree,     And on my heart I'll let thee lie,     And love thee tenderly!'     Thus cried May Ellen, soft and low,     From where the hawthorn shed its snow.     "Down dropped the bird on quivering wing,     From out the blossoming tree,     And nestled in her snowy breast.     'My love! my love!' cried she;     Then straightway home, 'mid sun and flower,     She bare him to her own sweet bower.     "The day hath passed to mellow night,     The moon floats o'er the lea,     And in its solemn, pallid light     A youth stands silently:     A youth of beauty strange and rare,     Within May Ellen's bower there.     "He stood where o'er the pavement cold     The glimmering moonbeams lay.     May Ellen gazed with wide, scared eyes,     Nor could she turn away,     For, as in mystic dreams we see     A spirit, stood he silently.     "All in a low and breathless voice,     'Whence comest thou?' said she;     'Art thou the creature of a dream,     Or a vision that I see?'     Then soft spake he, as night winds shiver     Through straining reeds beside the river.     "'I came, a bird on feathered wing,     From distant Faeryland     Where murmuring waters softly sing     Upon the golden strand,     Where sweet trees are forever green;     And there my mother is the queen.'     "No more May Ellen leaves her bower     To grace the blossoms fair;     But in the hushed and midnight hour     They hear her talking there,     Or, when the moon is shining white,     They hear her singing through the night.     "'Oh, don thy silks and jewels fine,'     May Ellen's mother said,     'For hither comes the Lord of Lyne     And thou this lord must wed.'     May Ellen said, 'It may not be.     He ne'er shall find his wife in me.'     "Up spoke her brother, dark and grim:     'Now by the bright blue sky,     E'er yet a day hath gone for him     Thy wicked bird shall die!     For he hath wrought thee bitter harm,     By some strange art or cunning charm.'     "Then, with a sad and mournful song,     Away the bird did fly,     And o'er the castle eaves, and through     The gray and windy sky.     'Come forth!' then cried the brother grim,     'Why dost thou gaze so after him?'     "It is May Ellen's wedding day,     The sky is blue and fair,     And many a lord and lady gay     In church are gathered there.     The bridegroom was Sir Hugh the Bold,     All clad in silk and cloth of gold.     "In came the bride in samite white     With a white wreath on her head;     Her eyes were fixed with a glassy look,     Her face was as the dead,     And when she stood among the throng,     She sang a wild and wondrous song.     "Then came a strange and rushing sound     Like the coming wind doth bring,     And in the open windows shot     Nine swans on whistling wing,     And high above the heads they flew,     In gleaming fight the darkness through.     "Around May Ellen's head they flew     In wide and windy fight,     And three times round the circle drew.     The guests shrank in affright,     And the priest beside the altar there,     Did cross himself with muttered prayer.     "But the third time they flew around,     Fair Ellen straight was gone,     And in her place, upon the ground,     There stood a snow-white swan.     Then, with a wild and lovely song,     It joined the swift and winged throng.     "There's ancient men at weddings been,     For sixty years and more,     But such a wondrous wedding day,     They never saw before.     But none could check and none could stay,     The swans that bore the bride away."

Not a sound broke the stillness when Allan a Dale had done, but all satgazing at the handsome singer, for so sweet was his voice and the musicthat each man sat with bated breath, lest one drop more should come andhe should lose it.

"By my faith and my troth," quoth Robin at last, drawing a deep breath,"lad, thou art—Thou must not leave our company, Allan! Wilt thou notstay with us here in the sweet green forest? Truly, I do feel my heartgo out toward thee with great love."

Then Allan took Robin's hand and kissed it. "I will stay with theealways, dear master," said he, "for never have I known such kindness asthou hast shown me this day."

Then Will Scarlet stretched forth his hand and shook Allan's in tokenof fellowship, as did Little John likewise. And thus the famous Allan aDale became one of Robin Hood's band.

Robin Hood Seeks the Curtal Friar

THE STOUT YEOMEN of Sherwood Forest were ever early risers of a morn,more especially when the summertime had come, for then in the freshnessof the dawn the dew was always the brightest, and the song of the smallbirds the sweetest.

Quoth Robin, "Now will I go to seek this same Friar of Fountain Abbey ofwhom we spake yesternight, and I will take with me four of my good men,and these four shall be Little John, Will Scarlet, David of Doncaster,and Arthur a Bland. Bide the rest of you here, and Will Stutely shall beyour chief while I am gone." Then straightway Robin Hood donned a finesteel coat of chain mail, over which he put on a light jacket of Lincolngreen. Upon his head he clapped a steel cap, and this he covered by oneof soft white leather, in which stood a nodding cock's plume. By hisside he hung a good broadsword of tempered steel, the bluish blademarked all over with strange figures of dragons, winged women, and whatnot. A gallant sight was Robin so arrayed, I wot, the glint of steelshowing here and there as the sunlight caught brightly the links ofpolished mail that showed beneath his green coat.

So, having arrayed himself, he and the four yeomen set forth upon theirway, Will Scarlet taking the lead, for he knew better than the otherswhither to go. Thus, mile after mile, they strode along, now across abrawling stream, now along a sunlit road, now adown some sweet forestpath, over which the trees met in green and rustling canopy, and at theend of which a herd of startled deer dashed away, with rattle of leavesand crackle of branches. Onward they walked with song and jest andlaughter till noontide was passed, when at last they came to the banksof a wide, glassy, and lily-padded stream. Here a broad, beaten pathstretched along beside the banks, on which path labored the horses thattugged at the slow-moving barges, laden with barley meal or what not,from the countryside to the many-towered town. But now, in the hotsilence of the midday, no horse was seen nor any man besides themselves.Behind them and before them stretched the river, its placid bosomruffled here and there by the purple dusk of a small breeze.

"Now, good uncle," quoth Will Scarlet at last, when they had walked fora long time beside this sweet, bright river, "just beyond yon bend aheadof us is a shallow ford which in no place is deeper than thy mid-thigh,and upon the other side of the stream is a certain little hermitagehidden amidst the bosky tangle of the thickets wherein dwelleth theFriar of Fountain Dale. Thither will I lead thee, for I know the way;albeit it is not overhard to find."

"Nay," quoth jolly Robin, stopping suddenly, "had I thought that Ishould have had to wade water, even were it so crystal a stream as this,I had donned other clothes than I have upon me. But no matter now, forafter all a wetting will not wash the skin away, and what must be, must.But bide ye here, lads, for I would enjoy this merry adventure alone.Nevertheless, listen well, and if ye hear me sound upon my bugle horn,come quickly." So saying, he turned and left them, striding onwardalone.

Robin had walked no farther than where the bend of the road hid hisgood men from his view, when he stopped suddenly, for he thought thathe heard voices. He stood still and listened, and presently heard wordspassed back and forth betwixt what seemed to be two men, and yet the twovoices were wondrously alike. The sound came from over behind the bank,that here was steep and high, dropping from the edge of the road a halfa score of feet to the sedgy verge of the river.

"'Tis strange," muttered Robin to himself after a space, when the voiceshad ceased their talking, "surely there be two people that spoke the oneto the other, and yet methinks their voices are mightily alike. I makemy vow that never have I heard the like in all my life before. Truly, ifthis twain are to be judged by their voices, no two peas were ever morealike. I will look into this matter." So saying, he came softly to theriver bank and laying him down upon the grass, peered over the edge anddown below.

All was cool and shady beneath the bank. A stout osier grew, notstraight upward, but leaning across the water, shadowing the spot withits soft foliage. All around grew a mass of feathery ferns such as hideand nestle in cool places, and up to Robin's nostrils came the tenderodor of the wild thyme, that loves the moist verges of running streams.Here, with his broad back against the rugged trunk of the willow tree,and half hidden by the soft ferns around him, sat a stout, brawnyfellow, but no other man was there. His head was as round as a ball, andcovered with a mat of close-clipped, curly black hair that grew low downon his forehead. But his crown was shorn as smooth as the palm of one'shand, which, together with his loose robe, cowl, and string of beads,showed that which his looks never would have done, that he was a friar.His cheeks were as red and shining as a winter crab, albeit they werenearly covered over with a close curly black beard, as were his chinand upper lip likewise. His neck was thick like that of a north countrybull, and his round head closely set upon shoulders e'en a match forthose of Little John himself. Beneath his bushy black brows danced apair of little gray eyes that could not stand still for very drolleryof humor. No man could look into his face and not feel his heartstringstickled by the merriment of their look. By his side lay a steel cap,which he had laid off for the sake of the coolness to his crown. Hislegs were stretched wide apart, and betwixt his knees he held a greatpasty compounded of juicy meats of divers kinds made savory with tenderyoung onions, both meat and onions being mingled with a good rich gravy.In his right fist he held a great piece of brown crust at which hemunched sturdily, and every now and then he thrust his left hand intothe pie and drew it forth full of meat; anon he would take a mighty pullat a great bottle of Malmsey that lay beside him.

"By my faith," quoth Robin to himself, "I do verily believe that thisis the merriest feast, the merriest wight, the merriest place, and themerriest sight in all merry England. Methought there was another here,but it must have been this holy man talking to himself."

So Robin lay watching the Friar, and the Friar, all unknowing that hewas so overlooked, ate his meal placidly. At last he was done, and,having first wiped his greasy hands upon the ferns and wild thyme (andsweeter napkin ne'er had king in all the world), he took up hisflask and began talking to himself as though he were another man, andanswering himself as though he were somebody else.

"Dear lad, thou art the sweetest fellow in all the world, I do love theeas a lover loveth his lass. La, thou dost make me shamed to speak so tome in this solitary place, no one being by, and yet if thou wilt have mesay so, I do love thee as thou lovest me. Nay then, wilt thou not take adrink of good Malmsey? After thee, lad, after thee. Nay, I beseech thee,sweeten the draught with thy lips (here he passed the flask from hisright hand to his left). An thou wilt force it on me so, I must needsdo thy bidding, yet with the more pleasure do I so as I drink thy verygreat health (here he took a long, deep draught). And now, sweet lad,'tis thy turn next (here he passed the bottle from his left hand backagain to his right). I take it, sweet chuck, and here's wishing thee asmuch good as thou wishest me." Saying this, he took another draught, andtruly he drank enough for two.

All this time merry Robin lay upon the bank and listened, while hisstomach so quaked with laughter that he was forced to press his palmacross his mouth to keep it from bursting forth; for, truly, he wouldnot have spoiled such a goodly jest for the half of Nottinghamshire.

Having gotten his breath from his last draught, the Friar began talkingagain in this wise: "Now, sweet lad, canst thou not sing me a song? La,I know not, I am but in an ill voice this day; prythee ask me not; dostthou not hear how I croak like a frog? Nay, nay, thy voice is as sweetas any bullfinch; come, sing, I prythee, I would rather hear thee singthan eat a fair feast. Alas, I would fain not sing before one thatcan pipe so well and hath heard so many goodly songs and ballads,ne'ertheless, an thou wilt have it so, I will do my best. But nowmethinks that thou and I might sing some fair song together; dost thounot know a certain dainty little catch called 'The Loving Youth and theScornful Maid'? Why, truly, methinks I have heard it ere now. Then dostthou not think that thou couldst take the lass's part if I take thelad's? I know not but I will try; begin thou with the lad and I willfollow with the lass."

Then, singing first with a voice deep and gruff, and anon in one highand squeaking, he blithely trolled the merry catch of

"Ah, it's wilt thou come with me, my love?     And it's wilt thou, love, be mine?     For I will give unto thee, my love,     Gay knots and ribbons so fine.     I'll woo thee, love, on my bended knee,     And I'll pipe sweet songs to none but thee.     Then it's hark! hark! hark!     To the winged lark     And it's hark to the cooing dove!     And the bright daffodil     Groweth down by the rill,     So come thou and be my love.     SHE     "Now get thee away, young man so fine;     Now get thee away, I say;     For my true love shall never be thine,     And so thou hadst better not stay.     Thou art not a fine enough lad for me,     So I'll wait till a better young man I see.     For it's hark! hark! hark!     To the winged lark,     And it's hark to the cooing dove!     And the bright daffodil     Groweth down by the rill,     Yet never I'll be thy love.     HE     "Then straight will I seek for another fair she,     For many a maid can be found,     And as thou wilt never have aught of me,     By thee will I never be bound.     For never is a blossom in the field so rare,     But others are found that are just as fair.     So it's hark! hark! hark!     To the joyous lark     And it's hark to the cooing dove!     And the bright daffodil     Groweth down by the rill,     And I'll seek me another dear love.     SHE     "Young man, turn not so very quick away     Another fair lass to find.     Methinks I have spoken in haste today,     Nor have I made up my mind,     And if thou only wilt stay with me,     I'll love no other, sweet lad, but thee."

Here Robin could contain himself no longer but burst forth into a mightyroar of laughter; then, the holy Friar keeping on with the song, hejoined in the chorus, and together they sang, or, as one might say,bellowed:

"So it's hark! hark! hark!     To the joyous lark     And it's hark to the cooing dove!     For the bright daffodil     Groweth down by the rill     And I'll be thine own true love."

So they sang together, for the stout Friar did not seem to have heardRobin's laughter, neither did he seem to know that the yeoman had joinedin with the song, but, with eyes half closed, looking straight beforehim and wagging his round head from side to side in time to the music,he kept on bravely to the end, he and Robin finishing up with a mightyroar that might have been heard a mile. But no sooner had the last wordbeen sung than the holy man seized his steel cap, clapped it on hishead, and springing to his feet, cried in a great voice, "What spy havewe here? Come forth, thou limb of evil, and I will carve thee intoas fine pudding meat as e'er a wife in Yorkshire cooked of a Sunday."Hereupon he drew from beneath his robes a great broadsword full as stoutas was Robin's.

"Nay, put up thy pinking iron, friend," quoth Robin, standing up withthe tears of laughter still on his cheeks. "Folk who have sung sosweetly together should not fight thereafter." Hereupon he leaped downthe bank to where the other stood. "I tell thee, friend," said he, "mythroat is as parched with that song as e'er a barley stubble in October.Hast thou haply any Malmsey left in that stout pottle?"

"Truly," said the Friar in a glum voice, "thou dost ask thyself freelywhere thou art not bidden. Yet I trust I am too good a Christian torefuse any man drink that is athirst. Such as there is o't thou artwelcome to a drink of the same." And he held the pottle out to Robin.

Robin took it without more ado and putting it to his lips, tilted hishead back, while that which was within said "glug!" "lug! glug!" for morethan three winks, I wot. The stout Friar watched Robin anxiously thewhile, and when he was done took the pottle quickly. He shook it, heldit betwixt his eyes and the light, looked reproachfully at the yeoman,and straightway placed it at his own lips. When it came away again therewas nought within it.

"Doss thou know the country hereabouts, thou good and holy man?" askedRobin, laughing.

"Yea, somewhat," answered the other dryly.

"And dost thou know of a certain spot called Fountain Abbey?"

"Yea, somewhat."

"Then perchance thou knowest also of a certain one who goeth by the nameof the Curtal Friar of Fountain Abbey."

"Yea, somewhat."

"Well then, good fellow, holy father, or whatever thou art," quothRobin, "I would know whether this same Friar is to be found upon thisside of the river or the other."

"That," quoth the Friar, "is a practical question upon which the cunningrules appertaining to logic touch not. I do advise thee to find that outby the aid of thine own five senses; sight, feeling, and what not."

"I do wish much," quoth Robin, looking thoughtfully at the stout priest,"to cross yon ford and strive to find this same good Friar."

"Truly," said the other piously, "it is a goodly wish on the part of oneso young. Far be it from me to check thee in so holy a quest. Friend,the river is free to all."

"Yea, good father," said Robin, "but thou seest that my clothes are ofthe finest and I fain would not get them wet. Methinks thy shouldersare stout and broad; couldst thou not find it in thy heart to carry meacross?"

"Now, by the white hand of the holy Lady of the Fountain!" burst forththe Friar in a mighty rage, "dost thou, thou poor puny stripling, thoukiss-my-lady-la poppenjay; thou—thou What shall I call thee? Dost thouask me, the holy Tuck, to carry thee? Now I swear—" Here he pausedsuddenly, then slowly the anger passed from his face, and his littleeyes twinkled once more. "But why should I not?" quoth he piously.

"Did not the holy Saint Christopher ever carry the stranger across theriver? And should I, poor sinner that I am, be ashamed to do likewise?Come with me, stranger, and I will do thy bidding in an humble frame ofmind." So saying, he clambered up the bank, closely followed by Robin,and led the way to the shallow pebbly ford, chuckling to himself thewhile as though he were enjoying some goodly jest within himself.

Having come to the ford, he girded up his robes about his loins, tuckedhis good broadsword beneath his arm, and stooped his back to take Robinupon it. Suddenly he straightened up. "Methinks," quoth he, "thou'lt getthy weapon wet. Let me tuck it beneath mine arm along with mine own."

"Nay, good father," said Robin, "I would not burden thee with aught ofmine but myself."

"Dost thou think," said the Friar mildly, "that the good SaintChristopher would ha' sought his own ease so? Nay, give me thy tool as Ibid thee, for I would carry it as a penance to my pride."

Upon this, without more ado, Robin Hood unbuckled his sword from hisside and handed it to the other, who thrust it with his own beneath hisarm. Then once more the Friar bent his back, and, Robin having mountedupon it, he stepped sturdily into the water and so strode onward,splashing in the shoal, and breaking all the smooth surface intoever-widening rings. At last he reached the other side and Robin leapedlightly from his back.

"Many thanks, good father," quoth he. "Thou art indeed a good and holyman. Prythee give me my sword and let me away, for I am in haste."

At this the stout Friar looked upon Robin for a long time, his headon one side, and with a most waggish twist to his face; then he slowlywinked his right eye. "Nay, good youth," said he gently, "I doubt notthat thou art in haste with thine affairs, yet thou dost think nothingof mine. Thine are of a carnal nature; mine are of a spiritual nature,a holy work, so to speak; moreover, mine affairs do lie upon the otherside of this stream. I see by thy quest of this same holy recluse thatthou art a good young man and most reverent to the cloth. I did get wetcoming hither, and am sadly afraid that should I wade the water againI might get certain cricks and pains i' the joints that would mar mydevotions for many a day to come. I know that since I have so humblydone thy bidding thou wilt carry me back again. Thou seest how SaintGodrick, that holy hermit whose natal day this is, hath placed in myhands two swords and in thine never a one. Therefore be persuaded, goodyouth, and carry me back again."

Robin Hood looked up and he looked down, biting his nether lip. Quothhe, "Thou cunning Friar, thou hast me fair and fast enow. Let me tellthee that not one of thy cloth hath so hoodwinked me in all my lifebefore. I might have known from thy looks that thou wert no such holyman as thou didst pretend to be."

"Nay," interrupted the Friar, "I bid thee speak not so scurrilouslyneither, lest thou mayst perchance feel the prick of an inch or so ofblue steel."

"Tut, tut," said Robin, "speak not so, Friar; the loser hath ever theright to use his tongue as he doth list. Give me my sword; I do promiseto carry thee back straightway. Nay, I will not lift the weapon againstthee."

"Marry, come up," quoth the Friar, "I fear thee not, fellow. Here is thyskewer; and get thyself presently ready, for I would hasten back."

So Robin took his sword again and buckled it at his side; then he benthis stout back and took the Friar upon it.

Now I wot Robin Hood had a heavier load to carry in the Friar thanthe Friar had in him. Moreover he did not know the ford, so he wentstumbling among the stones, now stepping into a deep hole, and nownearly tripping over a boulder, while the sweat ran down his face inbeads from the hardness of his journey and the heaviness of his load.Meantime, the Friar kept digging his heels into Robin's sides andbidding him hasten, calling him many ill names the while. To all thisRobin answered never a word, but, having softly felt around till hefound the buckle of the belt that held the Friar's sword, he workedslyly at the fastenings, seeking to loosen them. Thus it came aboutthat, by the time he had reached the other bank with his load, theFriar's sword belt was loose albeit he knew it not; so when Robin stoodon dry land and the Friar leaped from his back, the yeoman gripped holdof the sword so that blade, sheath, and strap came away from the holyman, leaving him without a weapon.

"Now then," quoth merry Robin, panting as he spake and wiping the sweatfrom his brow, "I have thee, fellow. This time that same saint of whomthou didst speak but now hath delivered two swords into my hand and hathstripped thine away from thee. Now if thou dost not carry me back, andthat speedily, I swear I will prick thy skin till it is as full of holesas a slashed doublet."

The good Friar said not a word for a while, but he looked at Robin witha grim look. "Now," said he at last, "I did think that thy wits were ofthe heavy sort and knew not that thou wert so cunning. Truly, thou hastme upon the hip. Give me my sword, and I promise not to draw it againstthee save in self-defense; also, I promise to do thy bidding and takethee upon my back and carry thee."

So jolly Robin gave him his sword again, which the Friar buckled tohis side, and this time looked to it that it was more secure in itsfastenings; then tucking up his robes once more, he took Robin Hood uponhis back and without a word stepped into the water, and so waded on insilence while Robin sat laughing upon his back. At last he reached themiddle of the ford where the water was deepest. Here he stopped fora moment, and then, with a sudden lift of his hand and heave of hisshoulders, fairly shot Robin over his head as though he were a sack ofgrain.

Down went Robin into the water with a mighty splash. "There," quoth theholy man, calmly turning back again to the shore, "let that cool thy hotspirit, if it may."

Meantime, after much splashing, Robin had gotten to his feet and stoodgazing about him all bewildered, the water running from him in prettylittle rills. At last he shot the water out of his ears and spat someout of his mouth, and, gathering his scattered wits together, saw thestout Friar standing on the bank and laughing. Then, I wot, was RobinHood a mad man. "Stay, thou villain!" roared he, "I am after theestraight, and if I do not carve thy brawn for thee this day, may I neverlift finger again!" So saying, he dashed, splashing, to the bank.

"Thou needst not hasten thyself unduly," quoth the stout Friar. "Fearnot; I will abide here, and if thou dost not cry 'Alack-a-day' ere longtime is gone, may I never more peep through the brake at a fallow deer."

And now Robin, having reached the bank, began, without more ado, to rollup his sleeves above his wrists. The Friar, also, tucked his robes moreabout him, showing a great, stout arm on which the muscles stood outlike humps of an aged tree. Then Robin saw, what he had not wotted ofbefore, that the Friar had also a coat of chain mail beneath his gown.

"Look to thyself," cried Robin, drawing his good sword.

"Ay, marry," quoth the Friar, who held his already in his hand. So,without more ado, they came together, and thereupon began a fierce andmighty battle. Right and left, and up and down and back and forth theyfought. The swords flashed in the sun and then met with a clash thatsounded far and near. I wot this was no playful bout at quarterstaff,but a grim and serious fight of real earnest. Thus they strove for anhour or more, pausing every now and then to rest, at which times eachlooked at the other with wonder, and thought that never had he seen sostout a fellow; then once again they would go at it more fiercely thanever. Yet in all this time neither had harmed the other nor caused hisblood to flow. At last merry Robin cried, "Hold thy hand, good friend!"whereupon both lowered their swords.

"Now I crave a boon ere we begin again," quoth Robin, wiping the sweatfrom his brow; for they had striven so long that he began to think thatit would be an ill-done thing either to be smitten himself or to smiteso stout and brave a fellow.

"What wouldst thou have of me?" asked the Friar.

"Only this," quoth Robin; "that thou wilt let me blow thrice upon mybugle horn."

The Friar bent his brows and looked shrewdly at Robin Hood. "Now Ido verily think that thou hast some cunning trick in this," quothhe. "Ne'ertheless, I fear thee not, and will let thee have thy wish,providing thou wilt also let me blow thrice upon this little whistle."

"With all my heart," quoth Robin, "so, here goes for one." So saying,he raised his silver horn to his lips and blew thrice upon it, clear andhigh.

Meantime, the Friar stood watching keenly for what might come to pass,holding in his fingers the while a pretty silver whistle, such asknights use for calling their hawks back to their wrists, which whistlealways hung at his girdle along with his rosary.

Scarcely had the echo of the last note of Robin's bugle come windingback from across the river, when four tall men in Lincoln green camerunning around the bend of the road, each with a bow in his hand and anarrow ready nocked upon the string.

"Ha! Is it thus, thou traitor knave!" cried the Friar. "Then, marry,look to thyself!" So saying, he straightway clapped the hawk's whistleto his lips and blew a blast that was both loud and shrill. And nowthere came a crackling of the bushes that lined the other side of theroad, and presently forth from the covert burst four great, shaggyhounds. "At 'em, Sweet Lips! At 'em, Bell Throat! At 'em, Beauty! At'em, Fangs!" cried the Friar, pointing at Robin.

And now it was well for that yeoman that a tree stood nigh him besidethe road, else had he had an ill chance of it. Ere one could say "GafferDownthedale" the hounds were upon him, and he had only time to drop hissword and leap lightly into the tree, around which the hounds gathered,looking up at him as though he were a cat on the eaves. But the Friarquickly called off his dogs. "At 'em!" cried he, pointing down the roadto where the yeomen were standing stock still with wonder of what theysaw. As the hawk darts down upon its quarry, so sped the four dogs atthe yeomen; but when the four men saw the hounds so coming, all with oneaccord, saving only Will Scarlet, drew each man his goose feather to hisear and let fly his shaft.

And now the old ballad telleth of a wondrous thing that happened, forthus it says, that each dog so shot at leaped lightly aside, and as thearrow passed him whistling, caught it in his mouth and bit it in twain.Now it would have been an ill day for these four good fellows had notWill Scarlet stepped before the others and met the hounds as they camerushing. "Why, how now, Fangs!" cried he sternly. "Down, Beauty! Down,sirrah! What means this?"

At the sound of his voice each dog shrank back quickly and thenstraightway came to him and licked his hands and fawned upon him, asis the wont of dogs that meet one they know. Then the four yeomen cameforward, the hounds leaping around Will Scarlet joyously. "Why, hownow!" cried the stout Friar, "what means this? Art thou wizard to turnthose wolves into lambs? Ha!" cried he, when they had come still nearer,"can I trust mine eyes? What means it that I see young Master WilliamGamwell in such company?"

"Nay, Tuck," said the young man, as the four came forward to where Robinwas now clambering down from the tree in which he had been roosting, hehaving seen that all danger was over for the time; "nay, Tuck, my nameis no longer Will Gamwell, but Will Scarlet; and this is my good uncle,Robin Hood, with whom I am abiding just now."

"Truly, good master," said the Friar, looking somewhat abashed andreaching out his great palm to Robin, "I ha' oft heard thy name bothsung and spoken of, but I never thought to meet thee in battle. I cravethy forgiveness, and do wonder not that I found so stout a man againstme."

"Truly, most holy father," said Little John, "I am more thankful thane'er I was in all my life before that our good friend Scarlet knew theeand thy dogs. I tell thee seriously that I felt my heart crumble awayfrom me when I saw my shaft so miss its aim, and those great beasts ofthine coming straight at me."

"Thou mayst indeed be thankful, friend," said the Friar gravely. "But,Master Will, how cometh it that thou dost now abide in Sherwood?"

"Why, Tuck, dost thou not know of my ill happening with my father'ssteward?" answered Scarlet.

"Yea, truly, yet I knew not that thou wert in hiding because of it.Marry, the times are all awry when a gentleman must lie hidden for sosmall a thing."

"But we are losing time," quoth Robin, "and I have yet to find that sameCurtal Friar."

"Why, uncle, thou hast not far to go," said Will Scarlet, pointing tothe Friar, "for there he stands beside thee."

"How?" quoth Robin, "art thou the man that I have been at such pains toseek all day, and have got such a ducking for?"

"Why, truly," said the Friar demurely, "some do call me the Curtal Friarof Fountain Dale; others again call me in jest the Abbot of FountainAbbey; others still again call me simple Friar Tuck."

"I like the last name best," quoth Robin, "for it doth slip more gliblyoff the tongue. But why didst thou not tell me thou wert he I sought,instead of sending me searching for black moonbeams?"

"Why, truly, thou didst not ask me, good master," quoth stout Tuck; "butwhat didst thou desire of me?"

"Nay," quoth Robin, "the day groweth late, and we cannot stand longertalking here. Come back with us to Sherwood, and I will unfold all tothee as we travel along."

So, without tarrying longer, they all departed, with the stout dogs attheir heels, and wended their way back to Sherwood again; but it waslong past nightfall ere they reached the greenwood tree.

Now listen, for next I will tell how Robin Hood compassed the happinessof two young lovers, aided by the merry Friar Tuck of Fountain Dale.

Robin Hood Compasses a Marriage

AND NOW had come the morning when fair Ellen was to be married, and onwhich merry Robin had sworn that Allan a Dale should, as it were, eatout of the platter that had been filled for Sir Stephen of Trent. Uprose Robin Hood, blithe and gay, up rose his merry men one and all, andup rose last of all stout Friar Tuck, winking the smart of sleep fromout his eyes. Then, while the air seemed to brim over with the song ofmany birds, all blended together and all joying in the misty morn, eachman raved face and hands in the leaping brook, and so the day began.

"Now," quoth Robin, when they had broken their fast, and each man hadeaten his fill, "it is time for us to set forth upon the undertakingthat we have in hand for today. I will choose me one score of my goodmen to go with me, for I may need aid; and thou, Will Scarlet, wiltabide here and be the chief while I am gone." Then searching throughall the band, each man of whom crowded forward eager to be chosen, Robincalled such as he wished by name, until he had a score of stout fellows,the very flower of his yeomanrie. Besides Little John and Will Stutelywere nigh all those famous lads of whom I have already told you. Then,while those so chosen ran leaping, full of joy, to arm themselves withbow and shaft and broadsword, Robin Hood stepped aside into the covert,and there donned a gay, beribboned coat such as might have been wornby some strolling minstrel, and slung a harp across his shoulder, thebetter to carry out that part.

All the band stared and many laughed, for never had they seen theirmaster in such a fantastic guise before.

"Truly," quoth Robin, holding up his arms and looking down at himself,"I do think it be somewhat of a gay, gaudy, grasshopper dress; but itis a pretty thing for all that, and doth not ill befit the turn of mylooks, albeit I wear it but for the nonce. But stay, Little John, hereare two bags that I would have thee carry in thy pouch for the sake ofsafekeeping. I can ill care for them myself beneath this motley."

"Why, master," quoth Little John, taking the bags and weighing them inhis hand, "here is the chink of gold."

"Well, what an there be," said Robin, "it is mine own coin and the bandis none the worse for what is there. Come, busk ye, lads," and he turnedquickly away. "Get ye ready straightway." Then gathering the scoretogether in a close rank, in the midst of which were Allan a Dale andFriar Tuck, he led them forth upon their way from the forest shades.

So they walked on for a long time till they had come out of Sherwood andto the vale of Rotherstream. Here were different sights from what onesaw in the forest; hedgerows, broad fields of barley corn, pasture landsrolling upward till they met the sky and all dotted over with flocks ofwhite sheep, hayfields whence came the odor of new-mown hay that lay insmooth swathes over which skimmed the swifts in rapid flight; such theysaw, and different was it, I wot, from the tangled depths of the sweetwoodlands, but full as fair. Thus Robin led his band, walking blithelywith chest thrown out and head thrown back, snuffing the odors of thegentle breeze that came drifting from over the hayfields.

"Truly," quoth he, "the dear world is as fair here as in the woodlandshades. Who calls it a vale of tears? Methinks it is but the darkness inour minds that bringeth gloom to the world. For what sayeth that merrysong thou singest, Little John? Is it not thus?

"For when my love's eyes do thine, do thine,     And when her lips smile so rare,     The day it is jocund and fine, so fine,     Though let it be wet or be fair     And when the stout ale is all flowing so fast,     Our sorrows and troubles are things of the past."

"Nay," said Friar Tuck piously, "ye do think of profane things and ofnought else; yet, truly, there be better safeguards against care and woethan ale drinking and bright eyes, to wit, fasting and meditation. Lookupon me, have I the likeness of a sorrowful man?"

At this a great shout of laughter went up from all around, for the nightbefore the stout Friar had emptied twice as many canakins of ale as anyone of all the merry men.

"Truly," quoth Robin, when he could speak for laughter, "I should saythat thy sorrows were about equal to thy goodliness."

So they stepped along, talking, singing, jesting, and laughing, untilthey had come to a certain little church that belonged to the greatestates owned by the rich Priory of Emmet. Here it was that fair Ellenwas to be married on that morn, and here was the spot toward which theyeomen had pointed their toes. On the other side of the road from wherethe church stood with waving fields of barley around, ran a stone wallalong the roadside. Over the wall from the highway was a fringe of youngtrees and bushes, and here and there the wall itself was covered by amass of blossoming woodbine that filled all the warm air far and nearwith its sweet summer odor. Then straightway the yeomen leaped over thewall, alighting on the tall soft grass upon the other side, frighteninga flock of sheep that lay there in the shade so that they scampered awayin all directions. Here was a sweet cool shadow both from the wall andfrom the fair young trees and bushes, and here sat the yeomen down, andglad enough they were to rest after their long tramp of the morning.

"Now," quoth Robin, "I would have one of you watch and tell me when hesees anyone coming to the church, and the one I choose shall be youngDavid of Doncaster. So get thee upon the wall, David, and hide beneaththe woodbine so as to keep watch."

Accordingly young David did as he was bidden, the others stretchingthemselves at length upon the grass, some talking together and otherssleeping. Then all was quiet save only for the low voices of those thattalked together, and for Allan's restless footsteps pacing up and down,for his soul was so full of disturbance that he could not stand still,and saving, also, for the mellow snoring of Friar Tuck, who enjoyed hissleep with a noise as of one sawing soft wood very slowly. Robin layupon his back and gazed aloft into the leaves of the trees, his thoughtleagues away, and so a long time passed.

Then up spoke Robin, "Now tell us, young David of Doncaster, what dostthou see?"

Then David answered, "I see the white clouds floating and I feel thewind a-blowing and three black crows are flying over the wold; butnought else do I see, good master."

So silence fell again and another time passed, broken only as I havesaid, till Robin, growing impatient, spake again. "Now tell me, youngDavid, what dost thou see by this?"

And David answered, "I see the windmills swinging and three tall poplartrees swaying against the sky, and a flock of fieldfares are flying overthe hill; but nought else do I see, good master."

So another time passed, till at last Robin asked young David once morewhat he saw; and David said, "I hear the cuckoo singing, and I see howthe wind makes waves in the barley field; and now over the hill to thechurch cometh an old friar, and in his hands he carries a great bunch ofkeys; and lo! Now he cometh to the church door."

Then up rose Robin Hood and shook Friar Tuck by the shoulder. "Come,rouse thee, holy man!" cried he; whereupon, with much grunting, thestout Tuck got to his feet. "Marry, bestir thyself," quoth Robin, "foryonder, in the church door, is one of thy cloth. Go thou and talk tohim, and so get thyself into the church, that thou mayst be there whenthou art wanted; meantime, Little John, Will Stutely, and I will followthee anon."

So Friar Tuck clambered over the wall, crossed the road, and came to thechurch, where the old friar was still laboring with the great key, thelock being somewhat rusty and he somewhat old and feeble.

"Hilloa, brother," quoth Tuck, "let me aid thee." So saying, he took thekey from the other's hand and quickly opened the door with a turn of it.

"Who art thou, good brother?" asked the old friar, in a high, wheezingvoice. "Whence comest thou, and whither art thou going?" And he winkedand blinked at stout Friar Tuck like an owl at the sun.

"Thus do I answer thy questions, brother," said the other. "My name isTuck, and I go no farther than this spot, if thou wilt haply but let mestay while this same wedding is going forward. I come from Fountain Daleand, in truth, am a certain poor hermit, as one may say, for I live in acell beside the fountain blessed by that holy Saint Ethelrada. But, ifI understand aught, there is to be a gay wedding here today; so, if thoumindest not, I would fain rest me in the cool shade within, for I wouldlike to see this fine sight."

"Truly, thou art welcome, brother," said the old man, leading the waywithin. Meantime, Robin Hood, in his guise of harper, together withLittle John and Will Stutely, had come to the church. Robin sat him downon a bench beside the door, but Little John, carrying the two bags ofgold, went within, as did Will Stutely.

So Robin sat by the door, looking up the road and down the road to seewho might come, till, after a time, he saw six horsemen come ridingsedately and slowly, as became them, for they were churchmen in highorders. Then, when they had come nearer, Robin saw who they were, andknew them. The first was the Bishop of Hereford, and a fine figure hecut, I wot. His vestments were of the richest silk, and around his neckwas a fair chain of beaten gold. The cap that hid his tonsure wasof black velvet, and around the edges of it were rows of jewels thatflashed in the sunlight, each stone being set in gold. His hose wereof flame-colored silk, and his shoes of black velvet, the long, pointedtoes being turned up and fastened to his knees, and on either instep wasembroidered a cross in gold thread. Beside the Bishop rode the Prior ofEmmet upon a mincing palfrey. Rich were his clothes also, but not so gayas the stout Bishop's. Behind these were two of the higher brethren ofEmmet, and behind these again two retainers belonging to the Bishop; forthe Lord Bishop of Hereford strove to be as like the great barons as wasin the power of one in holy orders.

When Robin saw this train drawing near, with flash of jewels and silkand jingle of silver bells on the trappings of the nags, he lookedsourly upon them. Quoth he to himself, "Yon Bishop is overgaudy fora holy man. I do wonder whether his patron, who, methinks, was SaintThomas, was given to wearing golden chains about his neck, silk clothingupon his body, and pointed shoes upon his feet; the money for all ofwhich, God wot, hath been wrung from the sweat of poor tenants. Bishop,Bishop, thy pride may have a fall ere thou wottest of it."

So the holy men came to the church; the Bishop and the Prior jesting andlaughing between themselves about certain fair dames, their words morebefitting the lips of laymen, methinks, than holy clerks. Then theydismounted, and the Bishop, looking around, presently caught sight ofRobin standing in the doorway. "Hilloa, good fellow," quoth he in ajovial voice, "who art thou that struttest in such gay feathers?"

"A harper am I from the north country," quoth Robin, "and I can touchthe strings, I wot, as never another man in all merry England can do.Truly, good Lord Bishop, many a knight and burgher, clerk and layman,have danced to my music, willy-nilly, and most times greatly againsttheir will; such is the magic of my harping. Now this day, my LordBishop, if I may play at this wedding, I do promise that I will causethe fair bride to love the man she marries with a love that shall lastas long as that twain shall live together."

"Ha! is it so?" cried the Bishop. "Meanest thou this in sooth?" And helooked keenly at Robin, who gazed boldly back again into his eyes. "Now,if thou wilt cause this maiden (who hath verily bewitched my poor cousinStephen) thus to love the man she is to marry, as thou sayst thou canst,I will give thee whatsoever thou wilt ask me in due measure. Let me havea taste of thy skill, fellow."

"Nay," quoth Robin, "my music cometh not without I choose, even at alord bishop's bidding. In sooth, I will not play until the bride andbridegroom come."

"Now, thou art a saucy varlet to speak so to my crest," quoth theBishop, frowning on Robin. "Yet, I must needs bear with thee. Look,Prior, hither cometh our cousin Sir Stephen, and his ladylove."

And now, around the bend of the highroad, came others, riding uponhorses. The first of all was a tall, thin man, of knightly bearing,dressed all in black silk, with a black velvet cap upon his head,turned up with scarlet. Robin looked, and had no doubt that this was SirStephen, both because of his knightly carriage and of his gray hairs.Beside him rode a stout Saxon franklin, Ellen's father, Edward ofDeirwold; behind those two came a litter borne by two horses, andtherein was a maiden whom Robin knew must be Ellen. Behind this litterrode six men-at-arms, the sunlight flashing on their steel caps as theycame jingling up the dusty road.

So these also came to the church, and there Sir Stephen leaped from hishorse and, coming to the litter, handed fair Ellen out therefrom. ThenRobin Hood looked at her, and could wonder no longer how it came aboutthat so proud a knight as Sir Stephen of Trent wished to marry a commonfranklin's daughter; nor did he wonder that no ado was made about thematter, for she was the fairest maiden that ever he had beheld. Now,however, she was all pale and drooping, like a fair white lily snappedat the stem; and so, with bent head and sorrowful look, she went withinthe church, Sir Stephen leading her by the hand.

"Why dost thou not play, fellow?" quoth the Bishop, looking sternly atRobin.

"Marry," said Robin calmly, "I will play in greater wise than YourLordship thinks, but not till the right time hath come."

Said the Bishop to himself, while he looked grimly at Robin, "When thiswedding is gone by I will have this fellow well whipped for his saucytongue and bold speech."

And now fair Ellen and Sir Stephen stood before the altar, and theBishop himself came in his robes and opened his book, whereat fair Ellenlooked up and about her in bitter despair, like the fawn that finds thehounds on her haunch. Then, in all his fluttering tags and ribbons ofred and yellow, Robin Hood strode forward. Three steps he took from thepillar whereby he leaned, and stood between the bride and bridegroom.

"Let me look upon this lass," he said in a loud voice. "Why, how now!What have we here? Here be lilies in the cheeks, and not roses such asbefit a bonny bride. This is no fit wedding. Thou, Sir Knight, so old,and she so young, and thou thinkest to make her thy wife? I tell thee itmay not be, for thou art not her own true love."

At this all stood amazed, and knew not where to look nor what to thinkor say, for they were all bewildered with the happening; so, whileeveryone looked at Robin as though they had been changed to stone, heclapped his bugle horn to his lips and blew three blasts so loud andclear, they echoed from floor to rafter as though they were sounded bythe trump of doom. Then straightway Little John and Will Stutely cameleaping and stood upon either side of Robin Hood, and quickly drew theirbroadswords, the while a mighty voice rolled over the heads of all,"Here be I, good master, when thou wantest me;" for it was Friar Tuckthat so called from the organ loft.

And now all was hubbub and noise. Stout Edward strode forward raging,and would have seized his daughter to drag her away, but Little Johnstepped between and thrust him back. "Stand back, old man," said he,"thou art a hobbled horse this day."

"Down with the villains!" cried Sir Stephen, and felt for his sword, butit hung not beside him on his wedding day.

Then the men-at-arms drew their swords, and it seemed like that bloodwould wet the stones; but suddenly came a bustle at the door and loudvoices, steel flashed in the light, and the crash of blows sounded.The men-at-arms fell back, and up the aisle came leaping eighteen stoutyeomen all clad in Lincoln green, with Allan a Dale at their head. Inhis hand he bore Robin Hood's good stout trusty bow of yew, and this hegave to him, kneeling the while upon one knee.

Then up spake Edward of Deirwold in a deep voice of anger, "Is it thou,Allan a Dale, that hath bred all this coil in a church?"

"Nay," quoth merry Robin, "that have I done, and I care not who knowethit, for my name is Robin Hood."

At this name a sudden silence fell. The Prior of Emmet and those thatbelonged to him gathered together like a flock of frightened sheep whenthe scent of the wolf is nigh, while the Bishop of Hereford, layingaside his book, crossed himself devoutly. "Now Heaven keep us this day,"said he, "from that evil man!"

"Nay," quoth Robin, "I mean you no harm; but here is fair Ellen'sbetrothed husband, and she shall marry him or pain will be bred to someof you."

Then up spake stout Edward in a loud and angry voice, "Now I say nay! Iam her father, and she shall marry Sir Stephen and none other."

Now all this time, while everything was in turmoil about him, SirStephen had been standing in proud and scornful silence. "Nay, fellow,"said he coldly, "thou mayst take thy daughter back again; I wouldnot marry her after this day's doings could I gain all merry Englandthereby. I tell thee plainly, I loved thy daughter, old as I am, andwould have taken her up like a jewel from the sty, yet, truly, I knewnot that she did love this fellow, and was beloved by him. Maiden, ifthou dost rather choose a beggarly minstrel than a high-born knight,take thy choice. I do feel it shame that I should thus stand talkingamid this herd, and so I will leave you." Thus saying, he turned and,gathering his men about him, walked proudly down the aisle. Then all theyeomen were silenced by the scorn of his words. Only Friar Tuck leanedover the edge of the choir loft and called out to him ere he had gone,"Good den, Sir Knight. Thou wottest old bones must alway make room foryoung blood." Sir Stephen neither answered nor looked up, but passed outfrom the church as though he had heard nought, his men following him.

Then the Bishop of Hereford spoke hastily, "I, too, have no businesshere, and so will depart." And he made as though he would go. But RobinHood laid hold of his clothes and held him. "Stay, my Lord Bishop," saidhe, "I have yet somewhat to say to thee." The Bishop's face fell, but hestayed as Robin bade him, for he saw he could not go.

Then Robin Hood turned to stout Edward of Deirwold, and said he, "Givethy blessing on thy daughter's marriage to this yeoman, and all will bewell. Little John, give me the bags of gold. Look, farmer. Here are twohundred bright golden angels; give thy blessing, as I say, and I willcount them out to thee as thy daughter's dower. Give not thy blessing,and she shall be married all the same, but not so much as a crackedfarthing shall cross thy palm. Choose."

Then Edward looked upon the ground with bent brows, turning the matterover and over in his mind; but he was a shrewd man and one, withal, thatmade the best use of a cracked pipkin; so at last he looked up and said,but in no joyous tone, "If the wench will go her own gait, let her go. Ihad thought to make a lady of her; yet if she chooses to be what she islike to be, I have nought to do with her henceforth. Ne'ertheless I willgive her my blessing when she is duly wedded."

"It may not be," spake up one of those of Emmet. "The banns have notbeen duly published, neither is there any priest here to marry them."

"How sayst thou?" roared Tuck from the choir loft. "No priest? Marry,here stands as holy a man as thou art, any day of the week, a clerk inorders, I would have thee know. As for the question of banns, stumblenot over that straw, brother, for I will publish them." So saying, hecalled the banns; and, says the old ballad, lest three times should notbe enough, he published them nine times o'er. Then straightway he camedown from the loft and forthwith performed the marriage service; and soAllan and Ellen were duly wedded.

And now Robin counted out two hundred golden angels to Edward ofDeirwold, and he, upon his part, gave his blessing, yet not, I wot,as though he meant it with overmuch good will. Then the stout yeomencrowded around and grasped Allan's palm, and he, holding Ellen's handwithin his own, looked about him all dizzy with his happiness.

Then at last jolly Robin turned to the Bishop of Hereford, who had beenlooking on at all that passed with a grim look. "My Lord Bishop," quothhe, "thou mayst bring to thy mind that thou didst promise me that did Iplay in such wise as to cause this fair lass to love her husband, thouwouldst give me whatsoever I asked in reason. I have played my play, andshe loveth her husband, which she would not have done but for me; sonow fulfill thy promise. Thou hast upon thee that which, methinks, thouwouldst be the better without; therefore, I prythee, give me that goldenchain that hangeth about thy neck as a wedding present for this fairbride."

Then the Bishop's cheeks grew red with rage and his eyes flashed. Helooked at Robin with a fell look, but saw that in the yeoman's facewhich bade him pause. Then slowly he took the chain from about his neckand handed it to Robin, who flung it over Ellen's head so that it hungglittering about her shoulders. Then said merry Robin, "I thank thee, onthe bride's part, for thy handsome gift, and truly thou thyself art moreseemly without it. Now, shouldst thou ever come nigh to Sherwood I muchhope that I shall give thee there such a feast as thou hast ne'er had inall thy life before."

"May Heaven forfend!" cried the Bishop earnestly; for he knew right wellwhat manner of feast it was that Robin Hood gave his guests in SherwoodForest.

But now Robin Hood gathered his men together, and, with Allan and hisyoung bride in their midst, they all turned their footsteps toward thewoodlands. On the way thither Friar Tuck came close to Robin and pluckedhim by the sleeve. "Thou dost lead a merry life, good master," quoth he,"but dost thou not think that it would be for the welfare of all yoursouls to have a good stout chaplain, such as I, to oversee holy matters?Truly, I do love this life mightily." At this merry Robin Hood laughedamain, and bade him stay and become one of their band if he wished.

That night there was such a feast held in the greenwood asNottinghamshire never saw before. To that feast you and I were notbidden, and pity it is that we were not; so, lest we should both feelthe matter the more keenly, I will say no more about it.

Robin Hood Aids a Sorrowful Knight

SO PASSED the gentle springtime away in budding beauty; its silvershowers and sunshine, its green meadows and its flowers. So, likewise,passed the summer with its yellow sunlight, its quivering heat and deep,bosky foliage, its long twilights and its mellow nights, through whichthe frogs croaked and fairy folk were said to be out on the hillsides.All this had passed and the time of fall had come, bringing with it itsown pleasures and joyousness; for now, when the harvest was gatheredhome, merry bands of gleaners roamed the country about, singing alongthe roads in the daytime, and sleeping beneath the hedgerows and thehay-ricks at night. Now the hips burned red in the tangled thickets andthe hews waxed black in the hedgerows, the stubble lay all crisp andnaked to the sky, and the green leaves were fast turning russet andbrown. Also, at this merry season, good things of the year are gatheredin in great store. Brown ale lies ripening in the cellar, hams andbacon hang in the smoke-shed, and crabs are stowed away in the straw forroasting in the wintertime, when the north wind piles the snow in driftsaround the gables and the fire crackles warm upon the hearth.

So passed the seasons then, so they pass now, and so they will pass intime to come, while we come and go like leaves of the tree that fall andare soon forgotten.

Quoth Robin Hood, snuffing the air, "Here is a fair day, Little John,and one that we can ill waste in idleness. Choose such men as thou dostneed, and go thou east while I will wend to the west, and see thateach of us bringeth back some goodly guest to dine this day beneath thegreenwood tree."

"Marry," cried Little John, clapping his palms together for joy, "thybidding fitteth my liking like heft to blade. I'll bring thee back aguest this day, or come not back mine own self."

Then they each chose such of the band as they wished, and so went forthby different paths from the forest.

Now, you and I cannot go two ways at the same time while we join inthese merry doings; so we will e'en let Little John follow his own pathwhile we tuck up our skirts and trudge after Robin Hood. And hereis good company, too; Robin Hood, Will Scarlet, Allan a Dale, WillScathelock, Midge, the Miller's son, and others. A score or more ofstout fellows had abided in the forest, with Friar Tuck, to make readyfor the homecoming, but all the rest were gone either with Robin Hood orLittle John.

They traveled onward, Robin following his fancy and the others followingRobin. Now they wended their way through an open dale with cottage andfarm lying therein, and now again they entered woodlands once more.Passing by fair Mansfield Town, with its towers and battlements andspires all smiling in the sun, they came at last out of the forestlands. Onward they journeyed, through highway and byway, throughvillages where goodwives and merry lasses peeped through the casementsat the fine show of young men, until at last they came over beyondAlverton in Derbyshire. By this time high noontide had come, yet theyhad met no guest such as was worth their while to take back to Sherwood;so, coming at last to a certain spot where a shrine stood at thecrossing of two roads, Robin called upon them to stop, for here oneither side was shelter of high hedgerows, behind which was good hiding,whence they could watch the roads at their ease, while they ate theirmidday meal. Quoth merry Robin, "Here, methinks, is good lodging, wherepeaceful folk, such as we be, can eat in quietness; therefore we willrest here, and see what may, perchance, fall into our luck-pot." So theycrossed a stile and came behind a hedgerow where the mellow sunlight wasbright and warm, and where the grass was soft, and there sat them down.Then each man drew from the pouch that hung beside him that which hehad brought to eat, for a merry walk such as this had been sharpensthe appetite till it is as keen as a March wind. So no more words werespoken, but each man saved his teeth for better use—munching at browncrust and cold meat right lustily.

In front of them, one of the highroads crawled up the steep hill andthen dipped suddenly over its crest, sharp-cut with hedgerow and shaggygrass against the sky. Over the top of the windy hill peeped the eavesof a few houses of the village that fell back into the valley behind;there, also, showed the top of a windmill, the sails slowly rising anddipping from behind the hill against the clear blue sky, as the lightwind moved them with creaking and labored swing.

So the yeomen lay behind the hedge and finished their midday meal; butstill the time slipped along and no one came. At last, a man came slowlyriding over the hill and down the stony road toward the spot where Robinand his band lay hidden. He was a good stout knight, but sorrowful offace and downcast of mien. His clothes were plain and rich, but no chainof gold, such as folk of his stand in life wore at most times, hungaround his neck, and no jewel was about him; yet no one could mistakehim for aught but one of proud and noble blood. His head was bowed uponhis breast and his hands drooped limp on either side; and so he cameslowly riding, as though sunk in sad thoughts, while even his goodhorse, the reins loose upon his neck, walked with hanging head, asthough he shared his master's grief.

Quoth Robin Hood, "Yon is verily a sorry-looking gallant, and doth seemto have donned ill-content with his jerkin this morning; nevertheless,I will out and talk with him, for there may be some pickings here fora hungry daw. Methinks his dress is rich, though he himself is sodowncast. Bide ye here till I look into this matter." So saying, hearose and left them, crossed the road to the shrine, and there stood,waiting for the sorrowful knight to come near him. So, presently, whenthe knight came riding slowly along, jolly Robin stepped forward andlaid his hand upon the bridle rein. "Hold, Sir Knight," quoth he. "Iprythee tarry for a short time, for I have a few words to say to thee."

"What art thou, friend, who dost stop a traveler in this manner upon hismost gracious Majesty's highway?" said the Knight.

"Marry," quoth Robin, "that is a question hard to answer. One mancalleth me kind, another calleth me cruel; this one calleth me goodhonest fellow, and that one, vile thief. Truly, the world hath as manyeyes to look upon a man withal as there are spots on a toad; so, withwhat pair of eyes thou regardest me lieth entirely with thine own self.My name is Robin Hood."

"Truly, good Robin," said the Knight, a smile twitching at the cornersof his mouth, "thou hast a quaint conceit. As for the pair of eyes withwhich I regard thee, I would say that they are as favorable as may be,for I hear much good of thee and little ill. What is thy will of me?"

"Now, I make my vow, Sir Knight," quoth Robin, "thou hast surely learnedthy wisdom of good Gaffer Swanthold, for he sayeth, 'Fair words are aseasy spoke as foul, and bring good will in the stead of blows.' Now Iwill show thee the truth of this saying; for, if thou wilt go with methis day to Sherwood Forest, I will give thee as merry a feast as everthou hadst in all thy life."

"Thou art indeed kind," said the Knight, "but methinks thou wilt find mebut an ill-seeming and sorrowful guest. Thou hadst best let me pass onmy way in peace."

"Nay," quoth Robin, "thou mightst go thine own way but for one thing,and that I will tell thee. We keep an inn, as it were, in the verydepths of Sherwood, but so far from highroads and beaten paths thatguests do not often come nigh us; so I and my friends set off merrilyand seek them when we grow dull of ourselves. Thus the matter stands,Sir Knight; yet I will furthermore tell thee that we count upon ourguests paying a reckoning."

"I take thy meaning, friend," said the Knight gravely, "but I am not thyman, for I have no money by me."

"Is it sooth?" said Robin, looking at the Knight keenly. "I can scarcechoose but believe thee; yet, Sir Knight, there be those of thy orderwhose word is not to be trusted as much as they would have othersbelieve. Thou wilt think no ill if I look for myself in this matter."Then, still holding the horse by the bridle rein, he put his fingersto his lips and blew a shrill whistle, whereupon fourscore yeomen cameleaping over the stile and ran to where the Knight and Robin stood."These," said Robin, looking upon them proudly, "are some of my merrymen. They share and share alike with me all joys and troubles, gains andlosses. Sir Knight, I prythee tell me what money thou hast about thee."

For a time the Knight said not a word, but a slow red arose into hischeeks; at last he looked Robin in the face and said, "I know not why Ishould be ashamed, for it should be no shame to me; but, friend, I tellthee the truth, when I say that in my purse are ten shillings, and thatthat is every groat that Sir Richard of the Lea hath in all the wideworld."

When Sir Richard ended a silence fell, until at last Robin said, "Anddost thou pledge me thy knightly word that this is all thou hast withthee?"

"Yea," answered Sir Richard, "I do pledge thee my most solemn word, as atrue knight, that it is all the money I have in the world. Nay, here ismy purse, ye may find for yourselves the truth of what I say." And heheld his purse out to Robin.

"Put up thy purse, Sir Richard," quoth Robin. "Far be it from me todoubt the word of so gentle a knight. The proud I strive to bring low,but those that walk in sorrow I would aid if I could. Come, Sir Richard,cheer up thy heart and go with us into the greenwood. Even I mayperchance aid thee, for thou surely knowest how the good Athelstane wassaved by the little blind mole that digged a trench over which he thatsought the king's life stumbled."

"Truly, friend," said Sir Richard, "methinks thou meanest kindness inthine own way; nevertheless my troubles are such that it is not likelythat thou canst cure them. But I will go with thee this day intoSherwood." Hereupon he turned his horse's head, and they all wendedtheir way to the woodlands, Robin walking on one side of the Knight andWill Scarlet on the other, while the rest of the band trudged behind.

After they had traveled thus for a time Robin Hood spake. "Sir Knight,"said he, "I would not trouble thee with idle questions; but dost thoufind it in thy heart to tell me thy sorrows?"

"Truly, Robin," quoth the Knight, "I see no reason why I should not doso. Thus it is: My castle and my lands are in pawn for a debt that Iowe. Three days hence the money must be paid or else all mine estate islost forever, for then it falls into the hands of the Priory of Emmet,and what they swallow they never give forth again."

Quoth Robin, "I understand not why those of thy kind live in such amanner that all their wealth passeth from them like snow beneath thespringtide sun."

"Thou wrongest me, Robin," said the Knight, "for listen: I have a sonbut twenty winters old, nevertheless he has won his spurs as knight.Last year, on a certain evil day, the jousts were held at Chester, andthither my son went, as did I and my lady wife. I wot it was a proudtime for us, for he unhorsed each knight that he tilted against. At lasthe ran a course with a certain great knight, Sir Walter of Lancaster,yet, though my son was so youthful, he kept his seat, albeit both spearswere shivered to the heft; but it happened that a splinter of my boy'slance ran through the visor of Sir Walter's helmet and pierced throughhis eye into his brain, so that he died ere his esquire could unlace hishelm. Now, Robin, Sir Walter had great friends at court, thereforehis kinsmen stirred up things against my son so that, to save him fromprison, I had to pay a ransom of six hundred pounds in gold. All mighthave gone well even yet, only that, by ins and outs and crookedness oflaws, I was shorn like a sheep that is clipped to the quick. So it camethat I had to pawn my lands to the Priory of Emmet for more money, anda hard bargain they drove with me in my hour of need. Yet I would havethee understand I grieve so for my lands only because of my dear ladywife."

"But where is thy son now?" asked Robin, who had listened closely to allthe Knight had said.

"In Palestine," said Sir Richard, "battling like a brave Christiansoldier for the cross and the holy sepulcher. Truly, England was anill place for him because of Sir Walter's death and the hate of theLancastrian's kinsmen."

"Truly," said Robin, much moved, "thine is a hard lot. But tell me, whatis owing to Emmet for thine estates?"

"Only four hundred pounds," said Sir Richard.

At this, Robin smote his thigh in anger. "O the bloodsuckers!" criedhe. "A noble estate to be forfeit for four hundred pounds! But what willbefall thee if thou dost lose thy lands, Sir Richard?"

"It is not mine own lot that doth trouble me in that case," said theKnight, "but my dear lady's; for should I lose my land she will haveto betake herself to some kinsman and there abide in charity, which,methinks, would break her proud heart. As for me, I will over thesalt sea, and so to Palestine to join my son in fight for the holysepulcher."

Then up spake Will Scarlet. "But hast thou no friend that will help theein thy dire need?"

"Never a man," said Sir Richard. "While I was rich enow at home, and hadfriends, they blew great boasts of how they loved me. But when the oakfalls in the forest the swine run from beneath it lest they should besmitten down also. So my friends have left me; for not only am I poorbut I have great enemies."

Then Robin said, "Thou sayst thou hast no friends, Sir Richard. I makeno boast, but many have found Robin Hood a friend in their troubles.Cheer up, Sir Knight, I may help thee yet."

The Knight shook his head with a faint smile, but for all that, Robin'swords made him more blithe of heart, for in truth hope, be it neverso faint, bringeth a gleam into darkness, like a little rushlight thatcosteth but a groat.

The day was well-nigh gone when they came near to the greenwood tree.Even at a distance they saw by the number of men that Little John hadcome back with some guest, but when they came near enough, whom shouldthey find but the Lord Bishop of Hereford! The good Bishop was in a finestew, I wot. Up and down he walked beneath the tree like a fox caught ina hencoop. Behind him were three Black Friars standing close together ina frightened group, like three black sheep in a tempest. Hitched to thebranches of the trees close at hand were six horses, one of them abarb with gay trappings upon which the Bishop was wont to ride, and theothers laden with packs of divers shapes and kinds, one of which madeRobin's eyes glisten, for it was a box not overlarge, but heavily boundwith bands and ribs of iron.

When the Bishop saw Robin and those with him come into the open hemade as though he would have run toward the yeoman, but the fellowthat guarded the Bishop and the three friars thrust his quarterstaff infront, so that his lordship was fain to stand back, though with frowningbrow and angry speech.

"Stay, my Lord Bishop," cried jolly Robin in a loud voice, when he sawwhat had passed, "I will come to thee with all speed, for I would rathersee thee than any man in merry England." So saying, he quickened hissteps and soon came to where the Bishop stood fuming.

"How now," quoth the Bishop in a loud and angry voice, when Robin had socome to him, "is this the way that thou and thy band treat one so highin the church as I am? I and these brethren were passing peacefullyalong the highroad with our pack horses, and a half score of men toguard them, when up comes a great strapping fellow full seven feet high,with fourscore or more men back of him, and calls upon me tostop—me, the Lord Bishop of Hereford, mark thou! Whereupon my armedguards—beshrew them for cowards!—straight ran away. But look ye; notonly did this fellow stop me, but he threatened me, saying that RobinHood would strip me as bare as a winter hedge. Then, besides all this,he called me such vile names as 'fat priest,' 'man-eating bishop,''money-gorging usurer,' and what not, as though I were no more than astrolling beggar or tinker."

At this, the Bishop glared like an angry cat, while even Sir Richardlaughed; only Robin kept a grave face. "Alas! my lord," said he, "thatthou hast been so ill-treated by my band! I tell thee truly that wegreatly reverence thy cloth. Little John, stand forth straightway."

At these words Little John came forward, twisting his face into awhimsical look, as though he would say, "Ha' mercy upon me, goodmaster." Then Robin turned to the Bishop of Hereford and said, "Was thisthe man who spake so boldly to Your Lordship?"

"Ay, truly it was the same," said the Bishop, "a naughty fellow, I wot.

"And didst thou, Little John," said Robin in a sad voice, "call hislordship a fat priest?"

"Ay," said Little John sorrowfully.

"And a man-eating bishop?"

"Ay," said Little John, more sorrowfully than before.

"And a money-gorging usurer?"

"Ay," said Little John in so sorrowful a voice that it might have drawntears from the Dragon of Wentley.

"Alas, that these things should be!" said jolly Robin, turning to theBishop, "for I have ever found Little John a truthful man."

At this, a roar of laughter went up, whereat the blood rushed into theBishop's face till it was cherry red from crown to chin; but he saidnothing and only swallowed his words, though they well-nigh choked him.

"Nay, my Lord Bishop," said Robin, "we are rough fellows, but I trustnot such ill men as thou thinkest, after all. There is not a man herethat would harm a hair of thy reverence's head. I know thou art galledby our jesting, but we are all equal here in the greenwood, for thereare no bishops nor barons nor earls among us, but only men, so thou mustshare our life with us while thou dost abide here. Come, busk ye, mymerry men, and get the feast ready. Meantime, we will show our guestsour woodland sports."

So, while some went to kindle the fires for roasting meats, others ranleaping to get their cudgels and longbows. Then Robin brought forwardSir Richard of the Lea. "My Lord Bishop," said he, "here is anotherguest that we have with us this day. I wish that thou mightest knowhim better, for I and all my men will strive to honor you both at thismerrymaking."

"Sir Richard," said the Bishop in a reproachful tone, "methinks thou andI are companions and fellow sufferers in this den of—" He was about tosay "thieves," but he stopped suddenly and looked askance at Robin Hood.

"Speak out, Bishop," quoth Robin, laughing. "We of Sherwood check not aneasy flow of words. 'Den of thieves' thou west about to say."

Quoth the Bishop, "Mayhap that was what I meant to say, Sir Richard; butthis I will say, that I saw thee just now laugh at the scurrilous jestsof these fellows. It would have been more becoming of thee, methinks, tohave checked them with frowns instead of spurring them on by laughter."

"I meant no harm to thee," said Sir Richard, "but a merry jest is amerry jest, and I may truly say I would have laughed at it had it beenagainst mine own self."

But now Robin Hood called upon certain ones of his band who spread softmoss upon the ground and laid deerskins thereon. Then Robin bade hisguests be seated, and so they all three sat down, some of the chief men,such as Little John, Will Scarlet, Allan a Dale, and others, stretchingthemselves upon the ground near by. Then a garland was set up at thefar end of the glade, and thereat the bowmen shot, and such shooting wasdone that day as it would have made one's heart leap to see. And all thewhile Robin talked so quaintly to the Bishop and the Knight that,the one forgetting his vexation and the other his troubles, they bothlaughed aloud again and again.

Then Allan a Dale came forth and tuned his harp, and all was hushedaround, and he sang in his wondrous voice songs of love, of war, ofglory, and of sadness, and all listened without a movement or a sound.So Allan sang till the great round silver moon gleamed with its clearwhite light amid the upper tangle of the mazy branches of the trees. Atlast two fellows came to say that the feast was ready spread, so Robin,leading his guests with either hand, brought them to where great smokingdishes that sent savory smells far and near stood along the white linencloth spread on the grass. All around was a glare of torches that liteverything up with a red light. Then, straightway sitting down, all fellto with noise and hubbub, the rattling of platters blending with thesound of loud talking and laughter. A long time the feast lasted, but atlast all was over, and the bright wine and humming ale passed briskly.Then Robin Hood called aloud for silence, and all was hushed till hespoke.

"I have a story to tell you all, so listen to what I have to say," quothhe; whereupon, without more ado, he told them all about Sir Richard, andhow his lands were in pawn. But, as he went on, the Bishop's face, thathad erst been smiling and ruddy with merriment, waxed serious, and heput aside the horn of wine he held in his hand, for he knew the story ofSir Richard, and his heart sank within him with grim forebodings. Then,when Robin Hood had done, he turned to the Bishop of Hereford. "Now, myLord Bishop," said he, "dost thou not think this is ill done of anyone,much more of a churchman, who should live in humbleness and charity?"

To this the Bishop answered not a word but looked upon the ground withmoody eyes.

Quoth Robin, "Now, thou art the richest bishop in all England; canstthou not help this needy brother?" But still the Bishop answered not aword.

Then Robin turned to Little John, and quoth he, "Go thou and WillStutely and bring forth those five pack horses yonder." Whereupon thetwo yeomen did as they were bidden, those about the cloth making roomon the green, where the light was brightest, for the five horses whichLittle John and Will Stutely presently led forward.

"Who hath the score of the goods?" asked Robin Hood, looking at theBlack Friars.

Then up spake the smallest of all, in a trembling voice—an old man hewas, with a gentle, wrinkled face. "That have I; but, I pray thee, harmme not."

"Nay," quoth Robin, "I have never harmed harmless man yet; but give itto me, good father." So the old man did as he was bidden, and handedRobin the tablet on which was marked down the account of the variouspackages upon the horses. This Robin handed to Will Scarlet, biddinghim to read the same. So Will Scarlet, lifting his voice that all mighthear, began:

"Three bales of silk to Quentin, the mercer at Ancaster."

"That we touch not," quoth Robin, "for this Quentin is an honest fellow,who hath risen by his own thrift." So the bales of silk were laid asideunopened.

"One bale of silk velvet for the Abbey of Beaumont."

"What do these priests want of silk velvet?" quoth Robin. "Nevertheless,though they need it not, I will not take all from them. Measure it offinto three lots, one to be sold for charity, one for us, and one for theabbey." So this, too, was done as Robin Hood bade.

"Twoscore of great wax candles for the Chapel of Saint Thomas."

"That belongeth fairly to the chapel," quoth Robin, "so lay it to oneside. Far be it from us to take from the blessed Saint Thomas that whichbelongeth to him." So this, also, was done according to Robin's bidding,and the candles were laid to one side, along with honest Quentin'sunopened bales of silk. So the list was gone through with, and the goodsadjudged according to what Robin thought most fit. Some things werelaid aside untouched, and many were opened and divided into three equalparts, for charity, for themselves, and for the owners. And now all theground in the torchlight was covered over with silks and velvets andcloths of gold and cases of rich wines, and so they came to the lastline upon the tablet—"A box belonging to the Lord Bishop of Hereford."

At these words the Bishop shook as with a chill, and the box was setupon the ground.

"My Lord Bishop, hast thou the key of this box?" asked Robin.

The Bishop shook his head.

"Go, Will Scarlet," said Robin, "thou art the strongest man here—bringa sword straightway, and cut this box open, if thou canst." Then up roseWill Scarlet and left them, coming back in a short time, bearing a greattwo-handed sword. Thrice he smote that strong, ironbound box, and at thethird blow it burst open and a great heap of gold came rolling forth,gleaming red in the light of the torches. At this sight a murmur wentall around among the band, like the sound of the wind in distant trees;but no man came forward nor touched the money.

Quoth Robin, "Thou, Will Scarlet, thou, Allan a Dale, and thou, LittleJohn, count it over."

A long time it took to count all the money, and when it had been dulyscored up, Will Scarlet called out that there were fifteen hundredgolden pounds in all. But in among the gold they found a paper, and thisWill Scarlet read in a loud voice, and all heard that this money wasthe rental and fines and forfeits from certain estates belonging to theBishopric of Hereford.

"My Lord Bishop," said Robin Hood, "I will not strip thee, as LittleJohn said, like a winter hedge, for thou shalt take back one thirdof thy money. One third of it thou canst well spare to us for thyentertainment and that of thy train, for thou art very rich; one thirdof it thou canst better spare for charity, for, Bishop, I hear that thouart a hard master to those beneath thee and a close hoarder of gainsthat thou couldst better and with more credit to thyself give to charitythan spend upon thy own likings."

At this the Bishop looked up, but he could say never a word; yet he wasthankful to keep some of his wealth.

Then Robin turned to Sir Richard of the Lea, and quoth he, "Now, SirRichard, the church seemed like to despoil thee, therefore some of theoverplus of church gains may well be used in aiding thee. Thou shalttake that five hundred pounds laid aside for people more in need thanthe Bishop is, and shalt pay thy debts to Emmet therewith."

Sir Richard looked at Robin until something arose in his eyes that madeall the lights and the faces blur together. At last he said, "I thankthee, friend, from my heart, for what thou doest for me; yet, think notill if I cannot take thy gift freely. But this I will do: I will takethe money and pay my debts, and in a year and a day hence will return itsafe either to thee or to the Lord Bishop of Hereford. For this I pledgemy most solemn knightly word. I feel free to borrow, for I know no manthat should be more bound to aid me than one so high in that church thathath driven such a hard bargain." "Truly, Sir Knight," quoth Robin, "Ido not understand those fine scruples that weigh with those of thy kind;but, nevertheless, it shall all be as thou dost wish. But thou hadstbest bring the money to me at the end of the year, for mayhap I may makebetter use of it than the Bishop." Thereupon, turning to those near him,he gave his orders, and five hundred pounds were counted out and tied upin a leathern bag for Sir Richard. The rest of the treasure was divided,and part taken to the treasurehouse of the band, and part put by withthe other things for the Bishop.

Then Sir Richard arose. "I cannot stay later, good friends," said he,"for my lady will wax anxious if I come not home; so I crave leave todepart."

Then Robin Hood and all his merry men arose, and Robin said, "We cannotlet thee go hence unattended, Sir Richard."

Then up spake Little John, "Good master, let me choose a score of stoutfellows from the band, and let us arm ourselves in a seemly mannerand so serve as retainers to Sir Richard till he can get others in ourstead."

"Thou hast spoken well, Little John, and it shall be done," said Robin.

Then up spake Will Scarlet, "Let us give him a golden chain to hangabout his neck, such as befits one of his blood, and also golden spursto wear at his heels."

Then Robin Hood said, "Thou hast spoken well, Will Scarlet, and it shallbe done."

Then up spake Will Stutely, "Let us give him yon bale of rich velvetand yon roll of cloth of gold to take home to his noble lady wife as apresent from Robin Hood and his merry men all."

At this all clapped their hands for joy, and Robin said: "Thou hast wellspoken, Will Stutely, and it shall be done."

Then Sir Richard of the Lea looked all around and strove to speak, butcould scarcely do so for the feelings that choked him; at last he saidin a husky, trembling voice, "Ye shall all see, good friends, that SirRichard o' the Lea will ever remember your kindness this day. And if yebe at any time in dire need or trouble, come to me and my lady, and thewalls of Castle Lea shall be battered down ere harm shall befall you.I—" He could say nothing further, but turned hastily away.

But now Little John and nineteen stout fellows whom he had chosen forhis band, came forth all ready for the journey. Each man wore upon hisbreast a coat of linked mail, and on his head a cap of steel, and at hisside a good stout sword. A gallant show they made as they stood all in arow. Then Robin came and threw a chain of gold about Sir Richard's neck,and Will Scarlet knelt and buckled the golden spurs upon his heel; andnow Little John led forward Sir Richard's horse, and the Knight mounted.He looked down at Robin for a little time, then of a sudden stooped andkissed his cheek. All the forest glades rang with the shout that went upas the Knight and the yeomen marched off through the woodland with glareof torches and gleam of steel, and so were gone.

Then up spake the Bishop of Hereford in a mournful voice, "I, too, mustbe jogging, good fellow, for the night waxes late."

But Robin laid his hand upon the Bishop's arm and stayed him. "Be not sohasty, Lord Bishop," said he. "Three days hence Sir Richard must pay hisdebts to Emmet; until that time thou must be content to abide with melest thou breed trouble for the Knight. I promise thee that thou shalthave great sport, for I know that thou art fond of hunting the dun deer.Lay by thy mantle of melancholy, and strive to lead a joyous yeoman lifefor three stout days. I promise thee thou shalt be sorry to go when thetime has come."

So the Bishop and his train abided with Robin for three days, and muchsport his lordship had in that time, so that, as Robin had said, whenthe time had come for him to go he was sorry to leave the greenwood. Atthe end of three days Robin set him free, and sent him forth from theforest with a guard of yeomen to keep freebooters from taking what wasleft of the packs and bundles.

But, as the Bishop rode away, he vowed within himself that he wouldsometime make Robin rue the day that he stopped him in Sherwood.

But now we shall follow Sir Richard; so listen, and you shall hear whatbefell him, and how he paid his debts at Emmet Priory, and likewise indue season to Robin Hood.

How Sir Richard of the Lea Paid His Debts

THE LONG HIGHWAY stretched straight on, gray and dusty in the sun. Oneither side were dikes full of water bordered by osiers, and far awayin the distance stood the towers of Emmet Priory with tall poplar treesaround.

Along the causeway rode a knight with a score of stout men-at-armsbehind him. The Knight was clad in a plain, long robe of gray serge,gathered in at the waist with a broad leathern belt, from which hunga long dagger and a stout sword. But though he was so plainly dressedhimself, the horse he rode was a noble barb, and its trappings were richwith silk and silver bells.

So thus the band journeyed along the causeway between the dikes, tillat last they reached the great gate of Emmet Priory. There the Knightcalled to one of his men and bade him knock at the porter's lodge withthe heft of his sword.

The porter was drowsing on his bench within the lodge, but at the knockhe roused himself and, opening the wicket, came hobbling forth andgreeted the Knight, while a tame starling that hung in a wicker cagewithin piped out, "In coelo quies! In coelo quies!" such being thewords that the poor old lame porter had taught him to speak.

"Where is thy prior?" asked the Knight of the old porter.

"He is at meat, good knight, and he looketh for thy coming," quoth theporter, "for, if I mistake not, thou art Sir Richard of the Lea."

"I am Sir Richard of the Lea; then I will go seek him forthwith," saidthe Knight.

"But shall I not send thy horse to stable?" said the porter. "By OurLady, it is the noblest nag, and the best harnessed, that e'er I saw inall my life before." And he stroked the horse's flank with his palm.

"Nay," quoth Sir Richard, "the stables of this place are not for me, somake way, I prythee." So saying, he pushed forward, and, the gates beingopened, he entered the stony courtyard of the Priory, his men behindhim. In they came with rattle of steel and clashing of swords, andring of horses' feet on cobblestones, whereat a flock of pigeons thatstrutted in the sun flew with flapping wings to the high eaves of theround towers.

While the Knight was riding along the causeway to Emmet, a merry feastwas toward in the refectory there. The afternoon sun streamed in throughthe great arched windows and lay in broad squares of light upon thestone floor and across the board covered with a snowy linen cloth,whereon was spread a princely feast. At the head of the table sat PriorVincent of Emmet all clad in soft robes of fine cloth and silk; on hishead was a black velvet cap picked out with gold, and around his neckhung a heavy chain of gold, with a great locket pendant therefrom.Beside him, on the arm of his great chair, roosted his favorite falcon,for the Prior was fond of the gentle craft of hawking. On his right handsat the Sheriff of Nottingham in rich robes of purple all trimmed aboutwith fur, and on his left a famous doctor of law in dark and sober garb.Below these sat the high cellarer of Emmet, and others chief among thebrethren.

Jest and laughter passed around, and all was as merry as merry could be.The wizened face of the man of law was twisted into a wrinkled smile,for in his pouch were fourscore golden angels that the Prior had paidhim in fee for the case betwixt him and Sir Richard of the Lea. Thelearned doctor had been paid beforehand, for he had not overmuch trustin the holy Vincent of Emmet.

Quoth the Sheriff of Nottingham, "But art thou sure, Sir Prior, thatthou hast the lands so safe?"

"Ay, marry," said Prior Vincent, smacking his lips after a deep draughtof wine, "I have kept a close watch upon him, albeit he was unawares ofthe same, and I know right well that he hath no money to pay me withal."

"Ay, true," said the man of law in a dry, husky voice, "his land issurely forfeit if he cometh not to pay; but, Sir Prior, thou must get arelease beneath his sign manual, or else thou canst not hope to hold theland without trouble from him."

"Yea," said the Prior, "so thou hast told me ere now, but I know thatthis knight is so poor that he will gladly sign away his lands for twohundred pounds of hard money."

Then up spake the high cellarer, "Methinks it is a shame to so drivea misfortunate knight to the ditch. I think it sorrow that the noblestestate in Derbyshire should so pass away from him for a paltry fivehundred pounds. Truly, I—"

"How now," broke in the Prior in a quivering voice, his eyes glisteningand his cheeks red with anger, "dost thou prate to my very beard,sirrah? By Saint Hubert, thou hadst best save thy breath to cool thypottage, else it may scald thy mouth."

"Nay," said the man of law smoothly, "I dare swear this same knightwill never come to settlement this day, but will prove recreant.Nevertheless, we will seek some means to gain his lands from him, sonever fear."

But even as the doctor spoke, there came a sudden clatter of horses'hoofs and a jingle of iron mail in the courtyard below. Then up spakethe Prior and called upon one of the brethren that sat below the salt,and bade him look out of the window and see who was below, albeit heknew right well it could be none but Sir Richard.

So the brother arose and went and looked, and he said, "I see below ascore of stout men-at-arms and a knight just dismounting from hishorse. He is dressed in long robes of gray which, methinks, are of poorseeming; but the horse he rideth upon hath the richest coursing thatever I saw. The Knight dismounts and they come this way, and are evennow below in the great hall."

"Lo, see ye there now," quoth Prior Vincent. "Here ye have a knight withso lean a purse as scarce to buy him a crust of bread to munch, yet hekeeps a band of retainers and puts rich trappings upon his horse's hide,while his own back goeth bare. Is it not well that such men should bebrought low?"

"But art thou sure," said the little doctor tremulously, "that thisknight will do us no harm? Such as he are fierce when crossed, and hehath a band of naughty men at his heels. Mayhap thou hadst better givean extension of his debt." Thus he spake, for he was afraid Sir Richardmight do him a harm.

"Thou needst not fear," said the Prior, looking down at the little manbeside him. "This knight is gentle and would as soon think of harming anold woman as thee."

As the Prior finished, a door at the lower end of the refectory swungopen, and in came Sir Richard, with folded hands and head bowed upon hisbreast. Thus humbly he walked slowly up the hall, while his men-at-armsstood about the door. When he had come to where the Prior sat, he kneltupon one knee. "Save and keep thee, Sir Prior," said he, "I am come tokeep my day."

Then the first word that the Prior said to him was "Hast thou brought mymoney?"

"Alas! I have not so much as one penny upon my body," said the Knight;whereat the Prior's eyes sparkled.

"Now, thou art a shrewd debtor, I wot," said he. Then, "Sir Sheriff, Idrink to thee."

But still the Knight kneeled upon the hard stones, so the Prior turnedto him again. "What wouldst thou have?" quoth he sharply.

At these words, a slow red mounted into the Knight's cheeks; but stillhe knelt. "I would crave thy mercy," said he. "As thou hopest forHeaven's mercy, show mercy to me. Strip me not of my lands and so reducea true knight to poverty."

"Thy day is broken and thy lands forfeit," said the man of law, pluckingup his spirits at the Knight's humble speech.

Quoth Sir Richard, "Thou man of law, wilt thou not befriend me in minehour of need?"

"Nay," said the other, "I hold with this holy Prior, who hath paid me myfees in hard gold, so that I am bounder to him."

"Wilt thou not be my friend, Sir Sheriff?" said Sir Richard.

"Nay, 'fore Heaven," quoth the Sheriff of Nottingham, "this is nobusiness of mine, yet I will do what I may," and he nudged the Priorbeneath the cloth with his knee. "Wilt thou not ease him of some of hisdebts, Sir Prior?"

At this the Prior smiled grimly. "Pay me three hundred pounds, SirRichard," said he, "and I will give thee quittance of thy debt."

"Thou knowest, Sir Prior, that it is as easy for me to pay four hundredpounds as three hundred," said Sir Richard. "But wilt thou not give meanother twelvemonth to pay my debt?"

"Not another day," said the Prior sternly.

"And is this all thou wilt do for me?" asked the Knight.

"Now, out upon thee, false knight!" cried the Prior, bursting forth inanger. "Either pay thy debt as I have said, or release thy land and getthee gone from out my hall."

Then Sir Richard arose to his feet. "Thou false, lying priest!" saidhe in so stern a voice that the man of law shrunk affrighted, "I am nofalse knight, as thou knowest full well, but have even held my placein the press and the tourney. Hast thou so little courtesy that thouwouldst see a true knight kneel for all this time, or see him come intothy hall and never offer him meat or drink?"

Then quoth the man of law in a trembling voice, "This is surely anill way to talk of matters appertaining to business; let us be mild inspeech. What wilt thou pay this knight, Sir Prior, to give thee releaseof his land?"

"I would have given him two hundred pounds," quoth the Prior, "but sincehe hath spoken so vilely to my teeth, not one groat over one hundredpounds will he get."

"Hadst thou offered me a thousand pounds, false prior," said the Knight,"thou wouldst not have got an inch of my land." Then turning to wherehis men-at-arms stood near the door, he called, "Come hither," andbeckoned with his finger; whereupon the tallest of them all came forwardand handed him a long leathern bag. Sir Richard took the bag and shotfrom it upon the table a glittering stream of golden money. "Bear inmind, Sir Prior," said he, "that thou hast promised me quittance forthree hundred pounds. Not one farthing above that shalt thou get." Sosaying, he counted out three hundred pounds and pushed it toward thePrior.

But now the Prior's hands dropped at his sides and the Prior's head hungupon his shoulder, for not only had he lost all hopes of the land,but he had forgiven the Knight one hundred pounds of his debt and hadneedlessly paid the man of law fourscore angels. To him he turned, andquoth he, "Give me back my money that thou hast."

"Nay," cried the other shrilly, "it is but my fee that thou didst payme, and thou gettest it not back again." And he hugged his gown abouthim.

"Now, Sir Prior," quoth Sir Richard, "I have held my day and paid allthe dues demanded of me; so, as there is no more betwixt us, I leavethis vile place straightway." So saying, he turned upon his heel andstrode away.

All this time the Sheriff had been staring with wide-open eyes and mouthagape at the tall man-at-arms, who stood as though carved out of stone.At last he gasped out, "Reynold Greenleaf!"

At this, the tall man-at-arms, who was no other than Little John,turned, grinning, to the Sheriff. "I give thee good den, fair gossip,"quoth he. "I would say, sweet Sheriff, that I have heard all thy prettytalk this day, and it shall be duly told unto Robin Hood. So, farewellfor the nonce, till we meet again in Sherwood Forest." Then he, also,turned and followed Sir Richard down the hall, leaving the Sheriff, allpale and amazed, shrunk together upon his chair.

A merry feast it was to which Sir Richard came, but a sorry lot he leftbehind him, and little hunger had they for the princely food spreadbefore them. Only the learned doctor was happy, for he had his fee.

Now a twelvemonth and a day passed since Prior Vincent of Emmet sat atfeast, and once more the mellow fall of another year had come. But theyear had brought great change, I wot, to the lands of Sir Richard of theLea; for, where before shaggy wild grasses grew upon the meadow lands,now all stretch away in golden stubble, betokening that a rich andplentiful crop had been gathered therefrom. A year had made a greatchange in the castle, also, for, where were empty moats and thecrumbling of neglect, all was now orderly and well kept.

Bright shone the sun on battlement and tower, and in the blue airoverhead a Hock of clattering jackdaws flew around the gilded weathervane and spire. Then, in the brightness of the morning, the drawbridgefell across the moat with a rattle and clank of chains, the gate of thecastle swung slowly open, and a goodly array of steel-clad men-at-arms,with a knight all clothed in chain mail, as white as frost on brier andthorn of a winter morning, came flashing out from the castle courtyard.In his hand the Knight held a great spear, from the point of whichfluttered a blood-red pennant as broad as the palm of one's hand. Sothis troop came forth from the castle, and in the midst of them walkedthree pack horses laden with parcels of divers shapes and kinds.

Thus rode forth good Sir Richard of the Lea to pay his debt to RobinHood this bright and merry morn. Along the highway they wended theirway, with measured tramp of feet and rattle and jingle of sword andharness. Onward they marched till they came nigh to Denby, where, fromthe top of a hill, they saw, over beyond the town, many gay flags andstreamers floating in the bright air. Then Sir Richard turned to theman-at-arms nearest to him. "What is toward yonder at Denby today?"quoth he.

"Please Your Worship," answered the man-at-arms, "a merry fair is heldthere today, and a great wrestling match, to which many folk have come,for a prize hath been offered of a pipe of red wine, a fair golden ring,and a pair of gloves, all of which go to the best wrestler."

"Now, by my faith," quoth Sir Richard, who loved good manly sports rightwell, "this will be a goodly thing to see. Methinks we have to stay alittle while on our journey, and see this merry sport." So he turned hishorse's head aside toward Denby and the fair, and thither he and his menmade their way.

There they found a great hubbub of merriment. Flags and streamers werefloating, tumblers were tumbling on the green, bagpipes were playing,and lads and lasses were dancing to the music. But the crowd weregathered most of all around a ring where the wrestling was goingforward, and thither Sir Richard and his men turned their steps.

Now when the judges of the wrestling saw Sir Richard coming and knewwho he was, the chief of them came down from the bench where he and theothers sat, and went to the Knight and took him by the hand, beseechinghim to come and sit with them and judge the sport. So Sir Richard gotdown from his horse and went with the others to the bench raised besidethe ring.

Now there had been great doings that morning, for a certain yeoman namedEgbert, who came from Stoke over in Staffordshire, had thrown with easeall those that came against him; but a man of Denby, well known throughall the countryside as William of the Scar, had been biding his timewith the Stoke man; so, when Egbert had thrown everyone else, stoutWilliam leaped into the ring. Then a tough bout followed, and at last hethrew Egbert heavily, whereat there was a great shouting and shaking ofhands, for all the Denby men were proud of their wrestler.

When Sir Richard came, he found stout William, puffed up by the shoutsof his friends, walking up and down the ring, daring anyone to come andtry a throw with him. "Come one, come all!" quoth he. "Here stand I,William of the Scar, against any man. If there is none in Derbyshire tocome against me, come all who will, from Nottingham, Stafford, or York,and if I do not make them one and all root the ground with their noseslike swine in the forests, call me no more brave William the wrestler."

At this all laughed; but above all the laughter a loud voice washeard to cry out, "Sin' thou talkest so big, here cometh one fromNottinghamshire to try a fall with thee, fellow;" and straightway a tallyouth with a tough quarterstaff in his hand came pushing his way throughthe crowd and at last leaped lightly over the rope into the ring. Hewas not as heavy as stout William, but he was taller and broader in theshoulders, and all his joints were well knit. Sir Richard looked uponhim keenly, then, turning to one of the judges, he said, "Knowest thouwho this youth is? Methinks I have seen him before."

"Nay," said the judge, "he is a stranger to me."

Meantime, without a word, the young man, laying aside his quarterstaff,began to take off his jerkin and body clothing until he presently stoodwith naked arms and body; and a comely sight he was when so bared tothe view, for his muscles were cut round and smooth and sharp likeswift-running water.

And now each man spat upon his hands and, clapping them upon his knees,squatted down, watching the other keenly, so as to take the vantage ofhim in the grip. Then like a flash they leaped together, and a greatshout went up, for William had gotten the better hold of the two. Fora short time they strained and struggled and writhed, and then stoutWilliam gave his most cunning trip and throw, but the stranger met itwith greater skill than his, and so the trip came to nought. Then, of asudden, with a twist and a wrench, the stranger loosed himself, and heof the scar found himself locked in a pair of arms that fairly madehis ribs crack. So, with heavy, hot breathing, they stood for a whilestraining, their bodies all glistening with sweat, and great drops ofsweat trickling down their faces. But the stranger's hug was so closethat at last stout William's muscles softened under his grip, and hegave a sob. Then the youth put forth all his strength and gave a suddentrip with his heel and a cast over his right hip, and down stout Williamwent, with a sickening thud, and lay as though he would never move handnor foot again.

But now no shout went up for the stranger, but an angry murmur was heardamong the crowd, so easily had he won the match. Then one of the judges,a kinsman to William of the Scar, rose with trembling lip and balefullook. Quoth he, "If thou hath slain that man it will go ill with thee,let me tell thee, fellow." But the stranger answered boldly, "He tookhis chance with me as I took mine with him. No law can touch me to harmme, even if I slew him, so that it was fairly done in the wrestlingring."

"That we shall see," said the judge, scowling upon the youth, while oncemore an angry murmur ran around the crowd; for, as I have said, the menof Denby were proud of stout William of the Scar.

Then up spoke Sir Richard gently. "Nay," said he, "the youth is right;if the other dieth, he dieth in the wrestling ring, where he took hischance, and was cast fairly enow."

But in the meantime three men had come forward and lifted stout Williamfrom the ground and found that he was not dead, though badly shakenby his heavy fall. Then the chief judge rose and said, "Young man, theprize is duly thine. Here is the red-gold ring, and here the gloves, andyonder stands the pipe of wine to do with whatsoever thou dost list."

At this, the youth, who had donned his clothes and taken up his staffagain, bowed without a word, then, taking the gloves and the ring, andthrusting the one into his girdle and slipping the other upon histhumb, he turned and, leaping lightly over the ropes again, made his waythrough the crowd, and was gone.

"Now, I wonder who yon youth may be," said the judge, turning to SirRichard, "he seemeth like a stout Saxon from his red cheeks and fairhair. This William of ours is a stout man, too, and never have I seenhim cast in the ring before, albeit he hath not yet striven with suchgreat wrestlers as Thomas of Cornwall, Diccon of York, and young Davidof Doncaster. Hath he not a firm foot in the ring, thinkest thou, SirRichard?"

"Ay, truly, and yet this youth threw him fairly, and with wondrous ease.I much wonder who he can be." Thus said Sir Richard in a thoughtfulvoice.

For a time the Knight stood talking to those about him, but at lasthe arose and made ready to depart, so he called his men about him and,tightening the girths of his saddle, he mounted his horse once more.

Meanwhile the young stranger had made his way through the crowd, but, ashe passed, he heard all around him such words muttered as "Look at thecockerel!" "Behold how he plumeth himself!" "I dare swear he cast goodWilliam unfairly!" "Yea, truly, saw ye not birdlime upon his hands?" "Itwould be well to cut his cock's comb!" To all this the stranger paid noheed, but strode proudly about as though he heard it not. So he walkedslowly across the green to where the booth stood wherein was dancing,and standing at the door he looked in on the sport. As he stood thus, astone struck his arm of a sudden with a sharp jar, and, turning, he sawthat an angry crowd of men had followed him from the wrestling ring.Then, when they saw him turn so, a great hooting and yelling arose fromall, so that the folk came running out from the dancing booth to seewhat was to do. At last a tall, broad-shouldered, burly blacksmithstrode forward from the crowd swinging a mighty blackthorn club in hishand.

"Wouldst thou come here to our fair town of Denby, thou Jack in the Box,to overcome a good honest lad with vile, juggling tricks?" growled he ina deep voice like the bellow of an angry bull. "Take that, then!" And ofa sudden he struck a blow at the youth that might have felled an ox.But the other turned the blow deftly aside, and gave back another soterrible that the Denby man went down with a groan, as though he hadbeen smitten by lightning. When they saw their leader fall, the crowdgave another angry shout; but the stranger placed his back against thetent near which he stood, swinging his terrible staff, and so fell hadbeen the blow that he struck the stout smith that none dared to comewithin the measure of his cudgel, so the press crowded back, like a packof dogs from a bear at bay. But now some coward hand from behind threwa sharp jagged stone that smote the stranger on the crown, so that hestaggered back, and the red blood gushed from the cut and ran down hisface and over his jerkin. Then, seeing him dazed with this vile blow,the crowd rushed upon him, so that they overbore him and he fell beneaththeir feet.

Now it might have gone ill with the youth, even to the losing of hisyoung life, had not Sir Richard come to this fair; for of a sudden,shouts were heard, and steel flashed in the air, and blows were givenwith the flat of swords, while through the midst of the crowd SirRichard of the Lea came spurring on his white horse. Then the crowd,seeing the steel-clad knight and the armed men, melted away like snowon the warm hearth, leaving the young man all bloody and dusty upon theground.

Finding himself free, the youth arose and, wiping the blood from hisface, looked up. Quoth he, "Sir Richard of the Lea, mayhap thou hastsaved my life this day."

"Who art thou that knowest Sir Richard of the Lea so well?" quoth theKnight. "Methinks I have seen thy face before, young man."

"Yea, thou hast," said the youth, "for men call me David of Doncaster."

"Ha!" said Sir Richard, "I wonder that I knew thee not, David; but thybeard hath grown longer, and thou thyself art more set in manhood sincethis day twelvemonth. Come hither into the tent, David, and wash theblood from thy face. And thou, Ralph, bring him straightway a cleanjerkin. Now I am sorry for thee, yet I am right glad that I have hada chance to pay a part of my debt of kindness to thy good master RobinHood, for it might have gone ill with thee had I not come, young man."

So saying, the Knight led David into the tent, and there the youthwashed the blood from his face and put on the clean jerkin.

In the meantime a whisper had gone around from those that stood nearestthat this was none other than the great David of Doncaster, the bestwrestler in all the mid-country, who only last spring had cast stoutAdam o' Lincoln in the ring at Selby, in Yorkshire, and now held themid-country champion belt, Thus it happened that when young David cameforth from the tent along with Sir Richard, the blood all washed fromhis face, and his soiled jerkin changed for a clean one, no sounds ofanger were heard, but all pressed forward to see the young man, feelingproud that one of the great wrestlers of England should have entered thering at Denby fair. For thus fickle is a mass of men.

Then Sir Richard called aloud, "Friends, this is David of Doncaster; sothink it no shame that your Denby man was cast by such a wrestler. Hebeareth you no ill will for what hath passed, but let it be a warningto you how ye treat strangers henceforth. Had ye slain him it would havebeen an ill day for you, for Robin Hood would have harried your town asthe kestrel harries the dovecote. I have bought the pipe of wine fromhim, and now I give it freely to you to drink as ye list. But neverhereafterward fall upon a man for being a stout yeoman."

At this all shouted amain; but in truth they thought more of the winethan of the Knight's words. Then Sir Richard, with David beside him andhis men-at-arms around, turned about and left the fair.

But in after days, when the men that saw that wrestling bout were bentwith age, they would shake their heads when they heard of any stalwartgame, and say, "Ay, ay; but thou shouldst have seen the great David ofDoncaster cast stout William of the Scar at Denby fair."

Robin Hood stood in the merry greenwood with Little John and most of hisstout yeomen around him, awaiting Sir Richard's coming. At last a glintof steel was seen through the brown forest leaves, and forth from thecovert into the open rode Sir Richard at the head of his men. He camestraight forward to Robin Hood and leaping from off his horse, claspedthe yeoman in his arms.

"Why, how now," said Robin, after a time, holding Sir Richard off andlooking at him from top to toe, "methinks thou art a gayer bird thanwhen I saw thee last."

"Yes, thanks to thee, Robin," said the Knight, laying his hand upon theyeoman's shoulder. "But for thee I would have been wandering in miseryin a far country by this time. But I have kept my word, Robin, and havebrought back the money that thou didst lend me, and which I have doubledfour times over again, and so become rich once more. Along with thismoney I have brought a little gift to thee and thy brave men from mydear lady and myself." Then, turning to his men, he called aloud, "Bringforth the pack horses."

But Robin stopped him. "Nay, Sir Richard," said he, "think it not boldof me to cross thy bidding, but we of Sherwood do no business till afterwe have eaten and drunk." Whereupon, taking Sir Richard by the hand,he led him to the seat beneath the greenwood tree, while others of thechief men of the band came and seated themselves around. Then quothRobin, "How cometh it that I saw young David of Doncaster with thee andthy men, Sir Knight?"

Then straightway the Knight told all about his stay at Denby and of thehappening at the fair, and how it was like to go hard with young David;so he told his tale, and quoth he, "It was this, good Robin, that keptme so late on the way, otherwise I would have been here an hour agone."

Then, when he had done speaking, Robin stretched out his hand andgrasped the Knight's palm. Quoth he in a trembling voice, "I owe theea debt I can never hope to repay, Sir Richard, for let me tell thee, Iwould rather lose my right hand than have such ill befall young David ofDoncaster as seemed like to come upon him at Denby."

So they talked until after a while one came forward to say that thefeast was spread; whereupon all arose and went thereto. When at lastit was done, the Knight called upon his men to bring the pack horsesforward, which they did according to his bidding. Then one of the menbrought the Knight a strongbox, which he opened and took from it a bagand counted out five hundred pounds, the sum he had gotten from Robin.

"Sir Richard," quoth Robin, "thou wilt pleasure us all if thou wilt keepthat money as a gift from us of Sherwood. Is it not so, my lads?"

Then all shouted "Ay" with a mighty voice.

"I thank you all deeply," said the Knight earnestly, "but think it notill of me if I cannot take it. Gladly have I borrowed it from you, butit may not be that I can take it as a gift."

Then Robin Hood said no more but gave the money to Little John to putaway in the treasury, for he had shrewdness enough to know that noughtbreeds ill will and heart bitterness like gifts forced upon one thatcannot choose but take them.

Then Sir Richard had the packs laid upon the ground and opened,whereupon a great shout went up that made the forest ring again, for lo,there were tenscore bows of finest Spanish yew, all burnished till theyshone again, and each bow inlaid with fanciful figures in silver, yetnot inlaid so as to mar their strength. Beside these were tenscorequivers of leather embroidered with golden thread, and in each quiverwere a score of shafts with burnished heads that shone like silver; eachshaft was feathered with peacock's plumes, innocked with silver.

Sir Richard gave to each yeoman a bow and a quiver of arrows, but toRobin he gave a stout bow inlaid with the cunningest workmanship ingold, while each arrow in his quiver was innocked with gold.

Then all shouted again for joy of the fair gift, and all swore amongthemselves that they would die if need be for Sir Richard and his lady.

At last the time came when Sir Richard must go, whereupon Robin Hoodcalled his band around him, and each man of the yeomen took a torch inhis hand to light the way through the woodlands. So they came to theedge of Sherwood, and there the Knight kissed Robin upon the cheeks andleft him and was gone.

Thus Robin Hood helped a noble knight out of his dire misfortunes, thatelse would have smothered the happiness from his life.

Little John Turns Barefoot Friar

COLD WINTER had passed and spring had come. No leafy thickness had yetclad the woodlands, but the budding leaves hung like a tender mist aboutthe trees. In the open country the meadow lands lay a sheeny green, thecornfields a dark velvety color, for they were thick and soft withthe growing blades. The plowboy shouted in the sun, and in the purplenew-turned furrows flocks of birds hunted for fat worms. All the broadmoist earth smiled in the warm light, and each little green hill clappedits hand for joy.

On a deer's hide, stretched on the ground in the open in front of thegreenwood tree, sat Robin Hood basking in the sun like an old dog fox.Leaning back with his hands clasped about his knees, he lazily watchedLittle John rolling a stout bowstring from long strands of hempenthread, wetting the palms of his hands ever and anon, and rolling thecord upon his thigh. Near by sat Allan a Dale fitting a new string tohis harp.

Quoth Robin at last, "Methinks I would rather roam this forest in thegentle springtime than be King of all merry England. What palace in thebroad world is as fair as this sweet woodland just now, and what king inall the world hath such appetite for plover's eggs and lampreys as I forjuicy venison and sparkling ale? Gaffer Swanthold speaks truly when hesaith, 'Better a crust with content than honey with a sour heart.'"

"Yea," quoth Little John, as he rubbed his new-made bowstring withyellow beeswax, "the life we lead is the life for me. Thou speakest ofthe springtime, but methinks even the winter hath its own joys. Thou andI, good master, have had more than one merry day, this winter past, atthe Blue Boar. Dost thou not remember that night thou and Will Stutelyand Friar Tuck and I passed at that same hostelry with the two beggarsand the strolling friar?"

"Yea," quoth merry Robin, laughing, "that was the night that WillStutely must needs snatch a kiss from the stout hostess, and got acanakin of ale emptied over his head for his pains."

"Truly, it was the same," said Little John, laughing also. "Methinksthat was a goodly song that the strolling friar sang. Friar Tuck, thouhast a quick ear for a tune, dost thou not remember it?"

"I did have the catch of it one time," said Tuck. "Let me see," and hetouched his forefinger to his forehead in thought, humming to himself,and stopping ever and anon to fit what he had got to what he searchedfor in his mind. At last he found it all and clearing his throat, sangmerrily:

"In the blossoming hedge the robin cock sings,     For the sun it is merry and bright,     And he joyfully hops and he flutters his wings,     For his heart is all full of delight.     For the May bloometh fair,     And there's little of care,     And plenty to eat in the Maytime rare.     When the flowers all die,     Then off he will fly,     To keep himself warm     In some jolly old barn     Where the snow and the wind neither chill him nor harm.     "And such is the life of the strolling friar,     With aplenty to eat and to drink;     For the goodwife will keep him a seat by the fire,     And the pretty girls smile at his wink.     Then he lustily trolls     As he onward strolls,     A rollicking song for the saving of souls.     When the wind doth blow,     With the coming of snow,     There's a place by the fire     For the fatherly friar,     And a crab in the bowl for his heart's desire."

Thus Friar Tuck sang in a rich and mellow voice, rolling his head fromside to side in time with the music, and when he had done, all clappedtheir hands and shouted with laughter, for the song fitted him well.

"In very sooth," quoth Little John, "it is a goodly song, and, were Inot a yeoman of Sherwood Forest, I had rather be a strolling friar thanaught else in the world."

"Yea, it is a goodly song," said Robin Hood, "but methought those twoburly beggars told the merrier tales and led the merrier life. Dost thounot remember what that great black-bearded fellow told of his begging atthe fair in York?"

"Yea," said Little John, "but what told the friar of the harvest home inKentshire? I hold that he led a merrier life than the other two."

"Truly, for the honor of the cloth," quoth Friar Tuck, "I hold with mygood gossip, Little John."

"Now," quoth Robin, "I hold to mine own mind. But what sayst thou,Little John, to a merry adventure this fair day? Take thou a friar'sgown from our chest of strange garments, and don the same, and I willstop the first beggar I meet and change clothes with him. Then let uswander the country about, this sweet day, and see what befalls each ofus."

"That fitteth my mind," quoth Little John, "so let us forth, say I."

Thereupon Little John and Friar Tuck went to the storehouse of the band,and there chose for the yeoman the robe of a Gray Friar. Then they cameforth again, and a mighty roar of laughter went up, for not only had theband never seen Little John in such guise before, but the robe was tooshort for him by a good palm's-breadth. But Little John's hands werefolded in his loose sleeves, and Little John's eyes were cast upon theground, and at his girdle hung a great, long string of beads.

And now Little John took up his stout staff, at the end of which hunga chubby little leathern pottle, such as palmers carry at the tips oftheir staves; but in it was something, I wot, more like good Malmseythan cold spring water, such as godly pilgrims carry. Then up rose Robinand took his stout staff in his hand, likewise, and slipped ten goldenangels into his pouch; for no beggar's garb was among the stores of theband, so he was fain to run his chance of meeting a beggar and buyinghis clothes of him.

So, all being made ready, the two yeomen set forth on their way,striding lustily along all in the misty morning. Thus they walked downthe forest path until they came to the highway, and then along thehighway till it split in twain, leading on one hand to Blyth and on theother to Gainsborough. Here the yeomen stopped.

Quoth jolly Robin, "Take thou the road to Gainsborough, and I will takethat to Blyth. So, fare thee well, holy father, and mayst thou not ha'cause to count thy beads in earnest ere we meet again."

"Good den, good beggar that is to be," quoth Little John, "and maystthou have no cause to beg for mercy ere I see thee next."

So each stepped sturdily upon his way until a green hill rose betweenthem, and the one was hid from the sight of the other.

Little John walked along, whistling, for no one was nigh upon all theroad. In the budding hedges the little birds twittered merrily, and oneither hand the green hills swept up to the sky, the great white cloudsof springtime sailing slowly over their crowns in lazy flight. Up hilland down dale walked Little John, the fresh wind blowing in his face andhis robes fluttering behind him, and so at last he came to a crossroadthat led to Tuxford. Here he met three pretty lasses, each bearing abasket of eggs to market. Quoth he, "Whither away, fair maids?" And hestood in their path, holding his staff in front of them, to stop them.

Then they huddled together and nudged one another, and one presentlyspake up and said, "We are going to the Tuxford market, holy friar, tosell our eggs."

"Now out upon it!" quoth Little John, looking upon them with his head onone side. "Surely, it is a pity that such fair lasses should be forcedto carry eggs to market. Let me tell you, an I had the shaping of thingsin this world, ye should all three have been clothed in the finestsilks, and ride upon milk-white horses, with pages at your side, andfeed upon nothing but whipped cream and strawberries; for such a lifewould surely befit your looks."

At this speech all three of the pretty maids looked down, blushing andsimpering. One said, "La!" another, "Marry, a' maketh sport of us!" andthe third, "Listen, now, to the holy man!" But at the same time theylooked at Little John from out the corners of their eyes.

"Now, look you," said Little John, "I cannot see such dainty damselsas ye are carrying baskets along a highroad. Let me take them mine ownself, and one of you, if ye will, may carry my staff for me."

"Nay," said one of the lasses, "but thou canst not carry three basketsall at one time."

"Yea, but I can," said Little John, "and that I will show you presently.I thank the good Saint Wilfred that he hath given me a pretty wit. Lookye, now. Here I take this great basket, so; here I tie my rosary aroundthe handle, thus; and here I slip the rosary over my head and sling thebasket upon my back, in this wise." And Little John did according to hiswords, the basket hanging down behind him like a peddler's pack; then,giving his staff to one of the maids, and taking a basket upon eitherarm, he turned his face toward Tuxford Town and stepped forth merrily, alaughing maid on either side, and one walking ahead, carrying the staff.In this wise they journeyed along, and everyone they met stopped andlooked after them, laughing, for never had anybody seen such a merrysight as this tall, strapping Gray Friar, with robes all too short forhim, laden with eggs, and tramping the road with three pretty lasses.For this Little John cared not a whit, but when such folks gave jestingwords to him he answered back as merrily, speech for speech.

So they stepped along toward Tuxford, chatting and laughing, untilthey came nigh to the town. Here Little John stopped and set downthe baskets, for he did not care to go into the town lest he should,perchance, meet some of the Sheriff's men. "Alas! sweet chucks," quothhe, "here I must leave you. I had not thought to come this way, but I amglad that I did so. Now, ere we part, we must drink sweet friendship."So saying, he unslung the leathern pottle from the end of his staff,and, drawing the stopper therefrom, he handed it to the lass who hadcarried his staff, first wiping the mouth of the pottle upon his sleeve.Then each lass took a fair drink of what was within, and when it hadpassed all around, Little John finished what was left, so that notanother drop could be squeezed from it. Then, kissing each lass sweetly,he wished them all good den, and left them. But the maids stood lookingafter him as he walked away whistling. "What a pity," quoth one, "thatsuch a stout, lusty lad should be in holy orders."

"Marry," quoth Little John to himself, as he strode along, "yon was nosuch ill happening; Saint Dunstan send me more of the like."

After he had trudged along for a time he began to wax thirsty again inthe warmth of the day. He shook his leathern pottle beside his ear, butnot a sound came therefrom. Then he placed it to his lips and tilted ithigh aloft, but not a drop was there. "Little John! Little John!" saidhe sadly to himself, shaking his head the while, "woman will be thy ruinyet, if thou dost not take better care of thyself."

But at last he reached the crest of a certain hill, and saw below asweet little thatched inn lying snugly in the dale beneath him, towardwhich the road dipped sharply. At the sight of this, a voice within himcried aloud, "I give thee joy, good friend, for yonder is thy heart'sdelight, to wit, a sweet rest and a cup of brown beer." So he quickenedhis pace down the hill and so came to the little inn, from which hung asign with a stag's head painted upon it. In front of the door a cluckinghen was scratching in the dust with a brood of chickens about her heels,the sparrows were chattering of household affairs under the eaves, andall was so sweet and peaceful that Little John's heart laughed withinhim. Beside the door stood two stout cobs with broad soft-paddedsaddles, well fitted for easy traveling, and speaking of rich guestsin the parlor. In front of the door three merry fellows, a tinker, apeddler, and a beggar, were seated on a bench in the sun quaffing stoutale.

"I give you good den, sweet friends," quoth Little John, striding up towhere they sat.

"Give thee good den, holy father," quoth the merry Beggar with a grin."But look thee, thy gown is too short. Thou hadst best cut a piece offthe top and tack it to the bottom, so that it may be long enough. Butcome, sit beside us here and take a taste of ale, if thy vows forbidthee not."

"Nay," quoth Little John, also grinning, "the blessed Saint Dunstan hathgiven me a free dispensation for all indulgence in that line." And hethrust his hand into his pouch for money to pay his score.

"Truly," quoth the Tinker, "without thy looks belie thee, holy friar,the good Saint Dunstan was wise, for without such dispensation hisvotary is like to ha' many a penance to make. Nay, take thy hand fromout thy pouch, brother, for thou shalt not pay this shot. Ho, landlord,a pot of ale!"

So the ale was brought and given to Little John. Then, blowing the frotha little way to make room for his lips, he tilted the bottom of the pothigher and higher, till it pointed to the sky, and he had to shut hiseyes to keep the dazzle of the sunshine out of them. Then he took thepot away, for there was nothing in it, and heaved a full deep sigh,looking at the others with moist eyes and shaking his head solemnly.

"Ho, landlord!" cried the Peddler, "bring this good fellow another potof ale, for truly it is a credit to us all to have one among us who canempty a canakin so lustily."

So they talked among themselves merrily, until after a while quothLittle John, "Who rideth those two nags yonder?"

"Two holy men like thee, brother," quoth the Beggar. "They are nowhaving a goodly feast within, for I smelled the steam of a boiledpullet just now. The landlady sayeth they come from Fountain Abbey, inYorkshire, and go to Lincoln on matters of business."

"They are a merry couple," said the Tinker, "for one is as lean as anold wife's spindle, and the other as fat as a suet pudding."

"Talking of fatness," said the Peddler, "thou thyself lookest none tooill-fed, holy friar."

"Nay, truly," said Little John, "thou seest in me what the holy SaintDunstan can do for them that serve him upon a handful of parched peasand a trickle of cold water."

At this a great shout of laughter went up. "Truly, it is a wondrousthing," quoth the Beggar, "I would have made my vow, to see the masterlymanner in which thou didst tuck away yon pot of ale, that thou hadst nottasted clear water for a brace of months. Has not this same holy SaintDunstan taught thee a goodly song or two?"

"Why, as for that," quoth Little John, grinning, "mayhap he hath lent meaid to learn a ditty or so."

"Then, prythee, let us hear how he hath taught thee," quoth the Tinker.

At this Little John cleared his throat and, after a word or two about acertain hoarseness that troubled him, sang thus:

"Ah, pretty, pretty maid, whither dost thou go?     I prythee, prythee, wait for thy lover also,     And we'll gather the rose     As it sweetly blows,     For the merry, merry winds are blo-o-o-wing."

Now it seemed as though Little John's songs were never to get sung, forhe had got no farther than this when the door of the inn opened and outcame the two brothers of Fountain Abbey, the landlord following them,and, as the saying is, washing his hands with humble soap. But when thebrothers of Fountain Abbey saw who it was that sang, and how he wasclad in the robes of a Gray Friar, they stopped suddenly, the fat littleBrother drawing his heavy eyebrows together in a mighty frown, and thethin Brother twisting up his face as though he had sour beer in hismouth. Then, as Little John gathered his breath for a new verse, "How,now," roared forth the fat Brother, his voice coming from him like loudthunder from a little cloud, "thou naughty fellow, is this a fit placefor one in thy garb to tipple and sing profane songs?"

"Nay," quoth Little John, "sin' I cannot tipple and sing, like YourWorship's reverence, in such a goodly place as Fountain Abbey, I muste'en tipple and sing where I can."

"Now, out upon thee," cried the tall lean Brother in a harsh voice,"now, out upon thee, that thou shouldst so disgrace thy cloth by thistalk and bearing."

"Marry, come up!" quoth Little John. "Disgrace, sayest thou? Methinks itis more disgrace for one of our garb to wring hard-earned farthings outof the gripe of poor lean peasants. It is not so, brother?"

At this the Tinker and the Peddler and the Beggar nudged one another,and all grinned, and the friars scowled blackly at Little John; but theycould think of nothing further to say, so they turned to their horses.Then Little John arose of a sudden from the bench where he sat, and ranto where the brothers of Fountain Abbey were mounting. Quoth he, "Letme hold your horses' bridles for you. Truly, your words have smitten mysinful heart, so that I will abide no longer in this den of evil, butwill go forward with you. No vile temptation, I wot, will fall upon mein such holy company."

"Nay, fellow," said the lean Brother harshly, for he saw that LittleJohn made sport of them, "we want none of thy company, so get theegone."

"Alas," quoth Little John, "I am truly sorry that ye like me not normy company, but as for leaving you, it may not be, for my heart is somoved, that, willy-nilly, I must go with you for the sake of your holycompany."

Now, at this talk all the good fellows on the bench grinned till theirteeth glistened, and even the landlord could not forbear to smile. Asfor the friars, they looked at one another with a puzzled look, and knewnot what to do in the matter. They were so proud that it made them feelsick with shame to think of riding along the highroad with a strollingfriar, in robes all too short for him, running beside them, but yet theycould not make Little John stay against his will, for they knew he couldcrack the bones of both of them in a twinkling were he so minded. Thenup spake the fat Brother more mildly than he had done before. "Nay, goodbrother," said he, "we will ride fast, and thou wilt tire to death atthe pace."

"Truly, I am grateful to thee for the thought of me," quoth Little John,"but have no fear, brother; my limbs are stout, and I could run like ahare from here to Gainsborough."

At these words a sound of laughing came from the bench, whereat the leanBrother's wrath boiled over, like water into the fire, with great fussand noise. "Now, out upon thee, thou naughty fellow!" he cried. "Artthou not ashamed to bring disgrace so upon our cloth? Bide thee here,thou sot, with these porkers. Thou art no fit company for us."

"La, ye there now!" quoth Little John. "Thou hearest, landlord; thou artnot fit company for these holy men; go back to thine alehouse. Nay, ifthese most holy brothers of mine do but give me the word, I'll beat thyhead with this stout staff till it is as soft as whipped eggs."

At these words a great shout of laughter went up from those on thebench, and the landlord's face grew red as a cherry from smothering hislaugh in his stomach; but he kept his merriment down, for he wishednot to bring the ill-will of the brothers of Fountain Abbey upon himby unseemly mirth. So the two brethren, as they could do nought else,having mounted their nags, turned their noses toward Lincoln and rodeaway.

"I cannot stay longer, sweet friends," quoth Little John, as he pushedin betwixt the two cobs, "therefore I wish you good den. Off we go,we three." So saying, he swung his stout staff over his shoulder andtrudged off, measuring his pace with that of the two nags.

The two brothers glowered at Little John when he so pushed himselfbetwixt them, then they drew as far away from him as they could, sothat the yeoman walked in the middle of the road, while they rode on thefootpath on either side of the way. As they so went away, the Tinker,the Peddler, and the Beggar ran skipping out into the middle of thehighway, each with a pot in his hand, and looked after them laughing.

While they were in sight of those at the inn, the brothers walked theirhorses soberly, not caring to make ill matters worse by seeming to runaway from Little John, for they could not but think how it would soundin folks' ears when they heard how the brethren of Fountain Abbeyscampered away from a strolling friar, like the Ugly One, when theblessed Saint Dunstan loosed his nose from the red-hot tongs where hehad held it fast; but when they had crossed the crest of the hill andthe inn was lost to sight, quoth the fat Brother to the thin Brother,"Brother Ambrose, had we not better mend our pace?"

"Why truly, gossip," spoke up Little John, "methinks it would be well toboil our pot a little faster, for the day is passing on. So it will notjolt thy fat too much, onward, say I."

At this the two friars said nothing, but they glared again on LittleJohn with baleful looks; then, without another word, they clucked totheir horses, and both broke into a canter. So they galloped for a mileand more, and Little John ran betwixt them as lightly as a stag andnever turned a hair with the running. At last the fat Brother drew hishorse's rein with a groan, for he could stand the shaking no longer."Alas," said Little John, with not so much as a catch in his breath, "Idid sadly fear that the roughness of this pace would shake thy poor oldfat paunch."

To this the fat Friar said never a word, but he stared straight beforehim, and he gnawed his nether lip. And now they traveled forward morequietly, Little John in the middle of the road whistling merrily tohimself, and the two friars in the footpath on either side saying nevera word.

Then presently they met three merry minstrels, all clad in red, whostared amain to see a Gray Friar with such short robes walking in themiddle of the road, and two brothers with heads bowed with shame,riding upon richly caparisoned cobs on the footpaths. When they hadcome near to the minstrels, Little John waved his staff like an usherclearing the way. "Make way!" he cried in a loud voice. "Make way! makeway! For here we go, we three!" Then how the minstrels stared, and howthey laughed! But the fat Friar shook as with an ague, and the leanFriar bowed his head over his horse's neck.

Then next they met two noble knights in rich array, with hawk on wrist,and likewise two fair ladies clad in silks and velvets, all a-riding onnoble steeds. These all made room, staring, as Little John and the twofriars came along the road. To them Little John bowed humbly. "Give yougreetings, lords and ladies," said he. "But here we go, we three."

Then all laughed, and one of the fair ladies cried out, "What threemeanest thou, merry friend?"

Little John looked over his shoulder, for they had now passed eachother, and he called back, "Big Jack, lean Jack and fat Jack-pudding."

At this the fat Friar gave a groan and seemed as if he were like to fallfrom his saddle for shame; the other brother said nothing, but he lookedbefore him with a grim and stony look.

Just ahead of them the road took a sudden turn around a high hedge, andsome twoscore paces beyond the bend another road crossed the one theywere riding upon. When they had come to the crossroad and were well awayfrom those they had left, the lean Friar drew rein suddenly. "Look ye,fellow," quoth he in a voice quivering with rage, "we have had enoughof thy vile company, and care no longer to be made sport of. Go thy way,and let us go ours in peace."

"La there, now!" quoth Little John. "Methought we were such a merrycompany, and here thou dost blaze up like fat in the pan. But truly, Iha' had enow of you today, though I can ill spare your company. I knowye will miss me, but gin ye want me again, whisper to Goodman Wind, andhe will bring news thereof to me. But ye see I am a poor man and ye arerich. I pray you give me a penny or two to buy me bread and cheese atthe next inn."

"We have no money, fellow," said the lean Friar harshly. "Come, BrotherThomas, let us forward."

But Little John caught the horses by the bridle reins, one in eitherhand. "Ha' ye in truth no money about you whatsoever?" said he. "Now, Ipray you, brothers, for charity's sake, give me somewhat to buy a crustof bread, e'en though it be only a penny."

"I tell thee, fellow, we have no money," thundered the fat little Friarwith the great voice.

"Ha' ye, in holy truth, no money?" asked Little John.

"Not a farthing," said the lean Friar sourly.

"Not a groat," said the fat Friar loudly.

"Nay," quoth Little John, "this must not be. Far be it from me to seesuch holy men as ye are depart from me with no money. Get both of youdown straightway from off your horses, and we will kneel here in themiddle of the crossroads and pray the blessed Saint Dunstan to send ussome money to carry us on our journey."

"What sayest thou, thou limb of evil!" cried the lean Friar, fairlygnashing his teeth with rage. "Doss thou bid me, the high cellarer ofFountain Abbey, to get down from my horse and kneel in the dirty road topray to some beggarly Saxon saint?"

"Now," quoth Little John, "I ha' a great part of a mind to crack thyhead for thee for speaking thus of the good Saint Dunstan! But get downstraightway, for my patience will not last much longer, and I may forgetthat ye are both in holy orders." So saying, he twirled his stout stafftill it whistled again.

At this speech both friars grew as pale as dough. Down slipped thefat Brother from off his horse on one side, and down slipped the leanBrother on the other.

"Now, brothers, down on your knees and pray," said Little John;thereupon, putting his heavy hands upon the shoulder of each, he forcedthem to their knees, he kneeling also. Then Little John began to beseechSaint Dunstan for money, which he did in a great loud voice. After hehad so besought the Saint for a time, he bade the friars feel in theirpouches and see if the Saint had sent them anything; so each put hishand slowly in the pouch that hung beside him, but brought nothingthence.

"Ha!" quoth Little John, "have your prayers so little virtue? Then letus at it again." Then straightway he began calling on Saint Dunstanagain, somewhat in this wise: "O gracious Saint Dunstan! Send some moneystraightway to these poor folk, lest the fat one waste away and grow aslean as the lean one, and the lean one waste away to nothing at all, erethey get to Lincoln Town; but send them only ten shillings apiece, lestthey grow puffed up with pride, Any more than that that thou sendest,send to me.

"Now," quoth he, rising, "let us see what each man hath." Then he thrusthis hand into his pouch and drew thence four golden angels. "What haveye, brothers?" said he.

Then once again each friar slowly thrust his hand into his pouch, andonce again brought it out with nothing in it.

"Have ye nothing?" quoth Little John. "Nay, I warrant there is somewhatthat hath crept into the seams of your pouches, and so ye ha' missed it.Let me look."

So he went first to the lean Friar, and, thrusting his hand into thepouch, he drew forth a leathern bag and counted therefrom one hundredand ten pounds of golden money. "I thought," quoth Little John, "thatthou hadst missed, in some odd corner of thy pouch, the money that theblessed Saint had sent thee. And now let me see whether thou hast notsome, also, brother." Thereupon he thrust his hand into the pouch of thefat Friar and drew thence a bag like the other and counted out from itthreescore and ten pounds. "Look ye now," quoth he, "I knew the goodSaint had sent thee some pittance that thou, also, hadst missed."

Then, giving them one pound between them, he slipped the rest of themoney into his own pouch, saying, "Ye pledged me your holy word that yehad no money. Being holy men, I trust that ye would not belie your wordso pledged, therefore I know the good Saint Dunstan hath sent this inanswer to my prayers. But as I only prayed for ten shillings to be sentto each of you, all over and above that belongeth by rights to me, andso I take it. I give you good den, brothers, and may ye have a pleasantjourney henceforth." So saying, he turned and left them, striding away.The friars looked at one another with a woeful look, and slowly andsadly they mounted their horses again and rode away with never a word.

But Little John turned his footsteps back again to Sherwood Forest, andmerrily he whistled as he strode along.

And now we will see what befell Robin Hood in his venture as beggar.

Robin Hood Turns Beggar

AFTER JOLLY ROBIN had left Little John at the forking of the roads, hewalked merrily onward in the mellow sunshine that shone about him.Ever and anon he would skip and leap or sing a snatch of song, for purejoyousness of the day; for, because of the sweetness of the springtide,his heart was as lusty within him as that of a colt newly turned outto grass. Sometimes he would walk a long distance, gazing aloft at thegreat white swelling clouds that moved slowly across the deep blue sky;anon he would stop and drink in the fullness of life of all things, forthe hedgerows were budding tenderly and the grass of the meadows waswaxing long and green; again he would stand still and listen to thepretty song of the little birds in the thickets or hearken to the clearcrow of the cock daring the sky to rain, whereat he would laugh, for ittook but little to tickle Robin's heart into merriment. So he trudgedmanfully along, ever willing to stop for this reason or for that, andever ready to chat with such merry lasses as he met now and then. Sothe morning slipped along, but yet he met no beggar with whom he couldchange clothes. Quoth he, "If I do not change my luck in haste, I amlike to have an empty day of it, for it is well nigh half gone already,and, although I have had a merry walk through the countryside, I knownought of a beggar's life."

Then, after a while, he began to grow hungry, whereupon his mind turnedfrom thoughts of springtime and flowers and birds and dwelledupon boiled capons, Malmsey, white bread, and the like, with greattenderness. Quoth he to himself, "I would I had Willie Wynkin's wishingcoat; I know right well what I should wish for, and this it should be."Here he marked upon the fingers of his left hand with the forefinger ofhis right hand those things which he wished for. "Firstly, I would havea sweet brown pie of tender larks; mark ye, not dry cooked, but witha good sop of gravy to moisten it withal. Next, I would have a prettypullet, fairly boiled, with tender pigeons' eggs, cunningly sliced,garnishing the platter around. With these I would have a long, slim loafof wheaten bread that hath been baked upon the hearth; it should be warmfrom the fire, with glossy brown crust, the color of the hair of mineown Maid Marian, and this same crust should be as crisp and brittle asthe thin white ice that lies across the furrows in the early winter'smorning. These will do for the more solid things; but with these I musthave three potties, fat and round, one full of Malmsey, one of Canary,and one brimming full of mine own dear lusty sack." Thus spoke Robin tohimself, his mouth growing moist at the corners with the thoughts of thegood things he had raised in his own mind.

So, talking to himself, he came to where the dusty road turned sharplyaround the hedge, all tender with the green of the coming leaf, andthere he saw before him a stout fellow sitting upon a stile, swinginghis legs in idleness. All about this lusty rogue dangled divers pouchesand bags of different sizes and kinds, a dozen or more, with great,wide, gaping mouths, like a brood of hungry daws. His coat was gatheredin at his waist, and was patched with as many colors as there arestripes upon a Maypole in the springtide. On his head he wore a greattall leathern cap, and across his knees rested a stout quarterstaff ofblackthorn, full as long and heavy as Robin's. As jolly a beggar was heas ever trod the lanes and byways of Nottinghamshire, for his eyes wereas gray as slate, and snapped and twinkled and danced with merriment,and his black hair curled close all over his head in little rings ofkinkiness.

"Halloa, good fellow," quoth Robin, when he had come nigh to the other,"what art thou doing here this merry day, when the flowers are peepingand the buds are swelling?"

Then the other winked one eye and straightway trolled forth in a merryvoice:

"I sit upon the stile,     And I sing a little while     As I wait for my own true dear, O,     For the sun is shining bright,     And the leaves are dancing light,     And the little fowl sings she is near, O.

"And so it is with me, bully boy, saving that my doxy cometh not."

"Now that is a right sweet song," quoth Robin, "and, were I in the rightmind to listen to thee, I could bear well to hear more; but I have twothings of seriousness to ask of thee; so listen, I prythee."

At this the jolly Beggar cocked his head on one side, like a rogue ofa magpie. Quoth he, "I am an ill jug to pour heavy things into, goodfriend, and, if I mistake not, thou hast few serious words to spare atany time."

"Nay," quoth jolly Robin, "what I would say first is the most seriousof all thoughts to me, to wit, 'Where shall I get somewhat to eat anddrink?'"

"Sayst thou so?" quoth the Beggar. "Marry, I make no such seriousthoughts upon the matter. I eat when I can get it, and munch my crustwhen I can get no crumb; likewise, when there is no ale to be had I washthe dust from out my throat with a trickle of cold water. I was sittinghere, as thou camest upon me, bethinking myself whether I should breakmy fast or no. I do love to let my hunger grow mightily keen ere I eat,for then a dry crust is as good to me as a venison pasty with suet andraisins is to stout King Harry. I have a sharp hunger upon me now, butmethinks in a short while it will ripen to a right mellow appetite."

"Now, in good sooth," quoth merry Robin, laughing, "thou hast a quainttongue betwixt thy teeth. But hast thou truly nought but a dry crustabout thee? Methinks thy bags and pouches are fat and lusty for suchthin fare."

"Why, mayhap there is some other cold fare therein," said the Beggarslyly.

"And hast thou nought to drink but cold water?" said Robin.

"Never so much as a drop," quoth the Beggar. "Over beyond yon clump oftrees is as sweet a little inn as ever thou hast lifted eyelid upon; butI go not thither, for they have a nasty way with me. Once, when the goodPrior of Emmet was dining there, the landlady set a dear little tart ofstewed crabs and barley sugar upon the window sill to cool, and, seeingit there, and fearing it might be lost, I took it with me till that Icould find the owner thereof. Ever since then they have acted very illtoward me; yet truth bids me say that they have the best ale there thatever rolled over my tongue."

At this Robin laughed aloud. "Marry," quoth he, "they did ill towardthee for thy kindness. But tell me truly, what hast thou in thypouches?"

"Why," quoth the Beggar, peeping into the mouths of his bags, "I findhere a goodly piece of pigeon pie, wrapped in a cabbage leaf to hold thegravy. Here I behold a dainty streaked piece of brawn, and here a fairlump of white bread. Here I find four oaten cakes and a cold knuckle ofham. Ha! In sooth, 'tis strange; but here I behold six eggs that musthave come by accident from some poultry yard hereabouts. They are raw,but roasted upon the coals and spread with a piece of butter that Isee—"

"Peace, good friend!" cried Robin, holding up his hand. "Thou makest mypoor stomach quake with joy for what thou tellest me so sweetly. If thouwilt give me to eat, I will straightway hie me to that little inn thoudidst tell of but now, and will bring a skin of ale for thy drinking andmine."

"Friend, thou hast said enough," said the Beggar, getting down fromthe stile. "I will feast thee with the best that I have and bless SaintCedric for thy company. But, sweet chuck, I prythee bring three quartsof ale at least, one for thy drinking and two for mine, for my thirst issuch that methinks I can drink ale as the sands of the River Dee drinksalt water."

So Robin straightway left the Beggar, who, upon his part, went to abudding lime bush back of the hedge, and there spread his feast uponthe grass and roasted his eggs upon a little fagot fire, with a deftnessgained by long labor in that line. After a while back came Robin bearinga goodly skin of ale upon his shoulder, which he laid upon the grass.Then, looking upon the feast spread upon the ground—and a fair sight itwas to look upon—he slowly rubbed his hand over his stomach, for to hishungry eyes it seemed the fairest sight that he had beheld in all hislife.

"Friend," said the Beggar, "let me feel the weight of that skin.

"Yea, truly," quoth Robin, "help thyself, sweet chuck, and meantime letme see whether thy pigeon pie is fresh or no."

So the one seized upon the ale and the other upon the pigeon pie, andnothing was heard for a while but the munching of food and the gurgle ofale as it left the skin.

At last, after a long time had passed thus, Robin pushed the food fromhim and heaved a great sigh of deep content, for he felt as though hehad been made all over anew.

"And now, good friend," quoth he, leaning upon one elbow, "I would haveat thee about that other matter of seriousness of which I spoke not longsince."

"How!" said the Beggar reproachfully, "thou wouldst surely not talk ofthings appertaining to serious affairs upon such ale as this!"

"Nay," quoth Robin, laughing. "I would not check thy thirst, sweetfriend; drink while I talk to thee. Thus it is: I would have thee knowthat I have taken a liking to thy craft and would fain have a taste of abeggar's life mine own self."

Said the Beggar, "I marvel not that thou hast taken a liking to mymanner of life, good fellow, but 'to like' and 'to do' are twomatters of different sorts. I tell thee, friend, one must serve along apprenticeship ere one can learn to be even so much as aclapper-dudgeon, much less a crank or an Abraham-man.(3) I tell thee,lad, thou art too old to enter upon that which it may take thee years tocatch the hang of."

(3) Classes of traveling mendicants that infested England as     late as the middle of the seventeenth century. VIDE Dakkar's     ENGLISH VILLAINIES, etc.

"Mayhap that may be so," quoth Robin, "for I bring to mind that GafferSwanthold sayeth Jack Shoemaker maketh ill bread; Tom Baker maketh illshoon. Nevertheless, I have a mind to taste a beggar's life, and needbut the clothing to be as good as any."

"I tell thee, fellow," said the Beggar, "if thou wert clad as sweetlyas good Saint Wynten, the patron of our craft, thou wouldst never makea beggar. Marry, the first jolly traveler that thou wouldst meetwould beat thee to a pudding for thrusting thy nose into a craft thatbelongeth not to thee."

"Nevertheless," quoth Robin, "I would have a try at it; and methinks Ishall change clothes with thee, for thy garb seemeth to be pretty, notto say gay. So not only will I change clothes, but I will give thee twogolden angels to boot. I have brought my stout staff with me, thinkingthat I might have to rap some one of the brethren of thy cloth over thehead by way of argument in this matter, but I love thee so much for thefeast thou hast given me that I would not lift even my little fingeragainst thee, so thou needst not have a crumb of fear."

To this the Beggar listened with his knuckles resting against his hips,and when Robin had ended he cocked his head on one side and thrust histongue into his cheek.

"Marry, come up," quoth he at last. "Lift thy finger against me,forsooth! Art thou out of thy wits, man? My name is Riccon Hazel, and Icome from Holywell, in Flintshire, over by the River Dee. I tell thee,knave, I have cracked the head of many a better man than thou art, andeven now I would scald thy crown for thee but for the ale thou hastgiven me. Now thou shalt not have so much as one tag-rag of my coat,even could it save thee from hanging."

"Now, fellow," said Robin, "it would ill suit me to spoil thy prettyhead for thee, but I tell thee plainly, that but for this feast I woulddo that to thee would stop thy traveling the country for many a day tocome. Keep thy lips shut, lad, or thy luck will tumble out of thy mouthwith thy speech!"

"Now out, and alas for thee, man, for thou hast bred thyself ill thisday!" cried the Beggar, rising and taking up his staff. "Take up thyclub and defend thyself, fellow, for I will not only beat thee but Iwill take from thee thy money and leave thee not so much as a clippedgroat to buy thyself a lump of goose grease to rub thy cracked crownwithal. So defend thyself, I say."

Then up leaped merry Robin and snatched up his staff also. "Take mymoney, if thou canst," quoth he. "I promise freely to give thee everyfarthing if thou dost touch me." And he twirled his staff in his fingerstill it whistled again.

Then the Beggar swung his staff also, and struck a mighty blow at Robin,which the yeoman turned. Three blows the Beggar struck, yet never onetouched so much as a hair of Robin's head. Then stout Robin saw hischance, and, ere you could count three, Riccon's staff was over thehedge, and Riccon himself lay upon the green grass with no more motionthan you could find in an empty pudding bag.

"How now!" quoth merry Robin, laughing. "Wilt thou have my hide or mymoney, sweet chuck?" But to this the other answered never a word. ThenRobin, seeing his plight, and that he was stunned with the blow, ran,still laughing, and brought the skin of ale and poured some of it on theBeggar's head and some down his throat, so that presently he opened hiseyes and looked around as though wondering why he lay upon his back.

Then Robin, seeing that he had somewhat gathered the wits that had justbeen rapped out of his head, said, "Now, good fellow, wilt thou changeclothes with me, or shall I have to tap thee again? Here are two goldenangels if thou wilt give me freely all thy rags and bags and thy capand things. If thou givest them not freely, I much fear me I shall haveto—" and he looked up and down his staff.

Then Riccon sat up and rubbed the bump on his crown. "Now, out upon it!"quoth he. "I did think to drub thee sweetly, fellow. I know not how itis, but I seem, as it were, to have bought more beer than I can drink.If I must give up my clothes, I must, but first promise me, by thy wordas a true yeoman, that thou wilt take nought from me but my clothes."

"I promise on the word of a true yeoman," quoth Robin, thinking that thefellow had a few pennies that he would save.

Thereupon the Beggar drew a little knife that hung at his side and,ripping up the lining of his coat, drew thence ten bright golden pounds,which he laid upon the ground beside him with a cunning wink at Robin."Now thou mayst have my clothes and welcome," said he, "and thoumightest have had them in exchange for thine without the cost of asingle farthing, far less two golden angels."

"Marry," quoth Robin, laughing, "thou art a sly fellow, and I tell theetruly, had I known thou hadst so much money by thee maybe thou mightstnot have carried it away, for I warrant thou didst not come honestly byit."

Then each stripped off his clothes and put on those of the other, and aslusty a beggar was Robin Hood as e'er you could find of a summer's day.But stout Riccon of Holywell skipped and leaped and danced for joy ofthe fair suit of Lincoln green that he had so gotten. Quoth he, "I am agay-feathered bird now. Truly, my dear Moll Peascod would never know mein this dress. Thou mayst keep the cold pieces of the feast, friend, forI mean to live well and lustily while my money lasts and my clothes aregay."

So he turned and left Robin and, crossing the stile, was gone, but Robinheard him singing from beyond the hedge as he strode away:

"For Polly is smiling and Molly is glad     When the beggar comes in at the door,     And Jack and Dick call him a fine lusty lad,     And the hostess runs up a great score.     "Then hey, Willy Waddykin,     Stay, Billy Waddykin,     And let the brown ale flow free, flow free,     The beggar's the man for me."

Robin listened till the song ended in the distance, then he also crossedthe stile into the road, but turned his toes away from where the Beggarhad gone. The road led up a gentle hill and up the hill Robin walked, ahalf score or more of bags dangling about his legs. Onward he strolledfor a long time, but other adventure he found not. The road was bareof all else but himself, as he went kicking up little clouds of dust ateach footstep; for it was noontide, the most peaceful time of all theday, next to twilight. All the earth was silent in the restfulness ofeating time; the plowhorses stood in the furrow munching, with greatbags over their noses holding sweet food, the plowman sat under thehedge and the plowboy also, and they, too, were munching, each oneholding a great piece of bread in one fist and a great piece of cheesein the other.

So Robin, with all the empty road to himself, strode along whistlingmerrily, his bags and pouches bobbing and dangling at his thighs. Atlast he came to where a little grass-grown path left the road and,passing through a stile and down a hill, led into a little dell and onacross a rill in the valley and up the hill on the other side, till itreached a windmill that stood on the cap of the rise where the wind bentthe trees in swaying motion. Robin looked at the spot and liked it, and,for no reason but that his fancy led him, he took the little path andwalked down the grassy sunny slope of the open meadow, and so came tothe little dingle and, ere he knew it, upon four lusty fellows that satwith legs outstretched around a goodly feast spread upon the ground.

Four merry beggars were they, and each had slung about his neck a littleboard that rested upon his breast. One board had written upon it, "Iam blind," another, "I am deaf," another, "I am dumb," and the fourth,"Pity the lame one." But although all these troubles written upon theboards seemed so grievous, the four stout fellows sat around feastingas merrily as though Cain's wife had never opened the pottle that heldmisfortunes and let them forth like a cloud of flies to pester us.

The deaf man was the first to hear Robin, for he said, "Hark, brothers,I hear someone coming." And the blind man was the first to see him,for he said, "He is an honest man, brothers, and one of like craft toourselves." Then the dumb man called to him in a great voice and said,"Welcome, brother; come and sit while there is still some of the feastleft and a little Malmsey in the pottle." At this, the lame man, whohad taken off his wooden leg and unstrapped his own leg, and was sittingwith it stretched out upon the grass so as to rest it, made room forRobin among them. "We are glad to see thee, brother," said he, holdingout the flask of Malmsey.

"Marry," quoth Robin, laughing, and weighing the flask in his hands erehe drank, "methinks it is no more than seemly of you all to be gladto see me, seeing that I bring sight to the blind, speech to the dumb,hearing to the deaf, and such a lusty leg to a lame man. I drink to yourhappiness, brothers, as I may not drink to your health, seeing ye arealready hale, wind and limb."

At this all grinned, and the Blind beggar, who was the chief man amongthem, and was the broadest shouldered and most lusty rascal of all,smote Robin upon the shoulder, swearing he was a right merry wag.

"Whence comest thou, lad?" asked the Dumb man.

"Why," quoth Robin, "I came this morning from sleeping overnight inSherwood."

"Is it even so?" said the Deaf man. "I would not for all the money wefour are carrying to Lincoln Town sleep one night in Sherwood. If RobinHood caught one of our trade in his woodlands he would, methinks, cliphis ears."

"Methinks he would, too," quoth Robin, laughing. "But what money is thisthat ye speak of?"

Then up spake the Lame man. "Our king, Peter of York," said he, "hathsent us to Lincoln with those moneys that—"

"Stay, brother Hodge," quoth the Blind man, breaking into the talk, "Iwould not doubt our brother here, but bear in mind we know him not. Whatart thou, brother? Upright-man, Jurkman, Clapper-dudgeon, Dommerer, orAbraham-man?"

At these words Robin looked from one man to the other with mouth agape."Truly," quoth he, "I trust I am an upright man, at least, I strive tobe; but I know not what thou meanest by such jargon, brother. It weremuch more seemly, methinks, if yon Dumb man, who hath a sweet voice,would give us a song."

At these words a silence fell on all, and after a while the Blind manspoke again. Quoth he, "Thou dost surely jest when thou sayest that thoudost not understand such words. Answer me this: Hast thou ever fibbed achouse quarrons in the Rome pad for the loure in his bung?"(4)

(4) I.E., in old beggar's cant, "beaten a man or gallant     upon the highway for the money in his purse."  Dakkar's     ENGLISH VILLAINIES.

"Now out upon it," quoth Robin Hood testily, "an ye make sport of me bypattering such gibberish, it will be ill for you all, I tell you. I havethe best part of a mind to crack the heads of all four of you, and woulddo so, too, but for the sweet Malmsey ye have given me. Brother, passthe pottle lest it grow cold."

But all the four beggars leaped to their feet when Robin had donespeaking, and the Blind man snatched up a heavy knotted cudgel that laybeside him on the grass, as did the others likewise. Then Robin, seeingthat things were like to go ill with him, albeit he knew not what allthe coil was about, leaped to his feet also and, catching up his trustystaff, clapped his back against the tree and stood upon his guardagainst them. "How, now!" cried he, twirling his staff betwixt hisfingers, "would you four stout fellows set upon one man? Stand back, yerascals, or I will score your pates till they have as many marks uponthem as a pothouse door! Are ye mad? I have done you no harm."

"Thou liest!" quoth the one who pretended to be blind and who, being thelustiest villain, was the leader of the others, "thou liest! For thouhast come among us as a vile spy. But thine ears have heard too much forthy body's good, and thou goest not forth from this place unless thougoest feet foremost, for this day thou shalt die! Come, brothers, alltogether! Down with him!" Then, whirling up his cudgel, he rushed uponRobin as an angry bull rushes upon a red rag. But Robin was ready forany happening. "Crick! Crack!" he struck two blows as quick as a wink,and down went the Blind man, rolling over and over upon the grass.

At this the others bore back and stood at a little distance scowlingupon Robin. "Come on, ye scum!" cried he merrily. "Here be cakes and alefor all. Now, who will be next served?"

To this speech the beggars answered never a word, but they looked atRobin as great Blunderbore looked upon stout Jack the slayer of giants,as though they would fain eat him, body and bones; nevertheless, theydid not care to come nigher to him and his terrible staff. Then, seeingthem so hesitate, Robin of a sudden leaped upon them, striking even ashe leaped. Down went the Dumb man, and away flew his cudgel from hishand as he fell. At this the others ducked to avoid another blow, then,taking to their heels, scampered, the one one way and the other theother, as though they had the west wind's boots upon their feet. Robinlooked after them, laughing, and thought that never had he seen so fleeta runner as the Lame man; but neither of the beggars stopped nor turnedaround, for each felt in his mind the wind of Robin's cudgel about hisears.

Then Robin turned to the two stout knaves lying upon the ground. Quothhe, "These fellows spake somewhat about certain moneys they were takingto Lincoln; methinks I may find it upon this stout blind fellow,who hath as keen sight as e'er a trained woodsman in Nottingham orYorkshire. It were a pity to let sound money stay in the pockets ofsuch thieving knaves." So saying, he stooped over the burly rascal andsearched among his rags and tatters, till presently his fingers felt aleathern pouch slung around his body beneath his patched and tatteredcoat. This he stripped away and, weighing it in his hands, bethoughthimself that it was mighty heavy. "It were a sweet thing," said he tohimself, "if this were filled with gold instead of copper pence." Then,sitting down upon the grass, he opened the pocket and looked into it.There he found four round rolls wrapped up in dressed sheepskin; one ofthese rolls he opened; then his mouth gaped and his eyes stared, I wot,as though they would never close again, for what did he see but fiftypounds of bright golden money? He opened the other pockets and found ineach one the same, fifty bright new-stamped golden pounds. Quoth Robin,"I have oft heard that the Beggars' Guild was over-rich, but never didI think that they sent such sums as this to their treasury. I shall takeit with me, for it will be better used for charity and the good of mymerry band than in the enriching of such knaves as these." So saying, herolled up the money in the sheepskin again, and putting it back in thepurse, he thrust the pouch into his own bosom. Then taking up the flaskof Malmsey, he held it toward the two fellows lying on the grass, andquoth he, "Sweet friends, I drink your health and thank you dearly forwhat ye have so kindly given me this day, and so I wish you good den."Then, taking up his staff, he left the spot and went merrily on his way.

But when the two stout beggars that had been rapped upon the head rousedthemselves and sat up, and when the others had gotten over their frightand come back, they were as sad and woebegone as four frogs in dryweather, for two of them had cracked crowns, their Malmsey was all gone,and they had not so much as a farthing to cross their palms withal.

But after Robin left the little dell he strode along merrily, singing ashe went; and so blithe was he and such a stout beggar, and, withal, sofresh and clean, that every merry lass he met had a sweet word for himand felt no fear, while the very dogs, that most times hate the sightof a beggar, snuffed at his legs in friendly wise and wagged their tailspleasantly; for dogs know an honest man by his smell, and an honest manRobin was—in his own way.

Thus he went along till at last he had come to the wayside cross nighOllerton, and, being somewhat tired, he sat him down to rest upon thegrassy bank in front of it. "It groweth nigh time," quoth he to himself,"that I were getting back again to Sherwood; yet it would please me wellto have one more merry adventure ere I go back again to my jolly band."

So he looked up the road and down the road to see who might come, untilat last he saw someone drawing near, riding upon a horse. When thetraveler came nigh enough for him to see him well, Robin laughed, for astrange enough figure he cut. He was a thin, wizened man, and, to lookupon him, you could not tell whether he was thirty years old or sixty,so dried up was he even to skin and bone. As for the nag, it was as thinas the rider, and both looked as though they had been baked in MotherHuddle's Oven, where folk are dried up so that they live forever.

But although Robin laughed at the droll sight, he knew the wayfarerto be a certain rich corn engrosser of Worksop, who more than once hadbought all the grain in the countryside and held it till it reached evenfamine prices, thus making much money from the needs of poor people, andfor this he was hated far and near by everyone that knew aught of him.

So, after a while, the Corn Engrosser came riding up to where Robin sat;whereupon merry Robin stepped straightway forth, in all his rags andtatters, his bags and pouches dangling about him, and laid his hand uponthe horse's bridle rein, calling upon the other to stop.

"Who art thou, fellow, that doth dare to stop me thus upon the King'shighway?" said the lean man, in a dry, sour voice.

"Pity a poor beggar," quoth Robin. "Give me but a farthing to buy me apiece of bread."

"Now, out upon thee!" snarled the other. "Such sturdy rogues as thou artare better safe in the prisons or dancing upon nothing, with a hempencollar about the neck, than strolling the highways so freely."

"Tut," quoth Robin, "how thou talkest! Thou and I are brothers, man. Dowe not both take from the poor people that which they can ill spare? Dowe not make our livings by doing nought of any good? Do we not both livewithout touching palm to honest work? Have we either of us ever rubbedthumbs over honestly gained farthings? Go to! We are brothers, I say;only thou art rich and I am poor; wherefore, I prythee once more, giveme a penny."

"Doss thou prate so to me, sirrah?" cried the Corn Engrosser in a rage."Now I will have thee soundly whipped if ever I catch thee in any townwhere the law can lay hold of thee! As for giving thee a penny, I swearto thee that I have not so much as a single groat in my purse. WereRobin Hood himself to take me, he might search me from crown to heelwithout finding the smallest piece of money upon me. I trust I am toosly to travel so nigh to Sherwood with money in my pouch, and that thiefat large in the woods."

Then merry Robin looked up and down, as if to see that there was no onenigh, and then, coming close to the Corn Engrosser, he stood on tiptoeand spake in his ear, "Thinkest thou in sooth that I am a beggar, as Iseem to be? Look upon me. There is not a grain of dirt upon my hands ormy face or my body. Didst thou ever see a beggar so? I tell thee I am ashonest a man as thou art. Look, friend." Here he took the purse of moneyfrom his breast and showed to the dazzled eyes of the Corn Engrosser thebright golden pieces. "Friend, these rags serve but to hide an honestrich man from the eyes of Robin Hood."

"Put up thy money, lad," cried the other quickly. "Art thou a fool,to trust to beggar's rags to shield thee from Robin Hood? If he caughtthee, he would strip thee to the skin, for he hates a lusty beggar as hedoth a fat priest or those of my kind."

"Is it indeed so?" quoth Robin. "Had I known this, mayhap I had not comehereabouts in this garb. But I must go forward now, as much depends uponmy journeying. Where goest thou, friend?"

"I go to Grantham," said the Corn Engrosser, "but I shall lodge tonightat Newark, if I can get so far upon my way."

"Why, I myself am on the way to Newark," quoth merry Robin, "so that,as two honest men are better than one in roads beset by such a fellow asthis Robin Hood, I will jog along with thee, if thou hast no dislike tomy company."

"Why, as thou art an honest fellow and a rich fellow," said the CornEngrosser, "I mind not thy company; but, in sooth, I have no greatfondness for beggars."

"Then forward," quoth Robin, "for the day wanes and it will be dark erewe reach Newark." So off they went, the lean horse hobbling along asbefore, and Robin running beside, albeit he was so quaking with laughterwithin him that he could hardly stand; yet he dared not laugh aloud,lest the Corn Engrosser should suspect something. So they traveled alongtill they reached a hill just on the outskirts of Sherwood. Here thelean man checked his lean horse into a walk, for the road was steep, andhe wished to save his nag's strength, having far to go ere he reachedNewark. Then he turned in his saddle and spake to Robin again, for thefirst time since they had left the cross. "Here is thy greatest danger,friend," said he, "for here we are nighest to that vile thief RobinHood, and the place where he dwells. Beyond this we come again to theopen honest country, and so are more safe in our journeying."

"Alas!" quoth Robin, "I would that I had as little money by me as thouhast, for this day I fear that Robin Hood will get every groat of mywealth."

Then the other looked at Robin and winked cunningly. Quoth he, "I tellthee, friend, that I have nigh as much by me as thou hast, but it ishidden so that never a knave in Sherwood could find it."

"Thou dost surely jest," quoth Robin. "How could one hide so much as twohundred pounds upon his person?"

"Now, as thou art so honest a fellow, and, withal, so much younger thanI am, I will tell thee that which I have told to no man in all the worldbefore, and thus thou mayst learn never again to do such a foolish thingas to trust to beggar's garb to guard thee against Robin Hood. Seestthou these clogs upon my feet?"

"Yea," quoth Robin, laughing, "truly, they are large enough for any manto see, even were his sight as foggy as that of Peter Patter, who nevercould see when it was time to go to work."

"Peace, friend," said the Corn Engrosser, "for this is no matter forjesting. The soles of these clogs are not what they seem to be, for eachone is a sweet little box; and by twisting the second nail from the toe,the upper of the shoe and part of the sole lifts up like a lid, and inthe spaces within are fourscore and ten bright golden pounds in eachshoe, all wrapped in hair, to keep them from clinking and so tellingtales of themselves."

When the Corn Engrosser had told this, Robin broke into a roar oflaughter and, laying his hands upon the bridle rein, stopped thesad-looking nag. "Stay, good friend," quoth he, between bursts ofmerriment, "thou art the slyest old fox that e'er I saw in allmy life!—In the soles of his shoon, quotha!—If ever I trust apoor-seeming man again, shave my head and paint it blue! A corn factor,a horse jockey, an estate agent, and a jackdaw for cunningness, say I!"And he laughed again till he shook in his shoes with mirth.

All this time the Corn Engrosser had been staring at Robin, his mouthagape with wonder. "Art thou mad," quoth he, "to talk in this way, soloud and in such a place? Let us forward, and save thy mirth till we aresafe and sound at Newark."

"Nay," quoth Robin, the tears of merriment wet on his cheeks, "on secondthoughts I go no farther than here, for I have good friends hereabouts.Thou mayst go forward if thou dost list, thou sweet pretty fellow, butthou must go forward barefoot, for I am afraid that thy shoon must beleft behind. Off with them, friend, for I tell thee I have taken a greatfancy to them."

At these words the corn factor grew pale as a linen napkin. "Who artthou that talkest so?" said he.

Then merry Robin laughed again, and quoth he, "Men hereabouts call meRobin Hood; so, sweet friend, thou hadst best do my bidding and giveme thy shoes, wherefore hasten, I prythee, or else thou wilt not get tofair Newark Town till after dark."

At the sound of the name of Robin Hood, the corn factor quaked withfear, so that he had to seize his horse by the mane to save himselffrom falling off its back. Then straightway, and without more words,he stripped off his clogs and let them fall upon the road. Robin, stillholding the bridle rein, stooped and picked them up. Then he said,"Sweet friend, I am used to ask those that I have dealings with tocome and feast at Sherwood with me. I will not ask thee, because of ourpleasant journey together; for I tell thee there be those in Sherwoodthat would not be so gentle with thee as I have been. The name of CornEngrosser leaves a nasty taste upon the tongue of all honest men. Take afool's advice of me and come no more so nigh to Sherwood, or mayhap someday thou mayst of a sudden find a clothyard shaft betwixt thy ribs. So,with this, I give thee good den." Hereupon he clapped his hand to thehorse's flank and off went nag and rider. But the man's face was allbedewed with the sweat of fright, and never again, I wot, was he foundso close to Sherwood Forest as he had been this day.

Robin stood and looked after him, and, when he was fairly gone, turned,laughing, and entered the forest carrying the shoes in his hand.

That night in sweet Sherwood the red fires glowed brightly in waveringlight on tree and bush, and all around sat or lay the stout fellows ofthe band to hear Robin Hood and Little John tell their adventures. Alllistened closely, and again and again the woods rang with shouts oflaughter.

When all was told, Friar Tuck spoke up. "Good master," said he, "thouhast had a pretty time, but still I hold to my saying, that the life ofthe barefoot friar is the merrier of the two."

"Nay," quoth Will Stutely, "I hold with our master, that he hath hadthe pleasanter doings of the two, for he hath had two stout bouts atquarterstaff this day."

So some of the band held with Robin Hood and some with Little John. Asfor me, I think—But I leave it with you to say for yourselves which youhold with.

Robin Hood Shoots Before Queen Eleanor

THE HIGHROAD stretched white and dusty in the hot summer afternoon sun,and the trees stood motionless along the roadside. All across the meadowlands the hot air danced and quivered, and in the limpid waters ofthe lowland brook, spanned by a little stone bridge, the fish hungmotionless above the yellow gravel, and the dragonfly sat quite still,perched upon the sharp tip of a spike of the rushes, with its wingsglistening in the sun.

Along the road a youth came riding upon a fair milk-white barb, and thefolk that he passed stopped and turned and looked after him, for neverhad so lovely a lad or one so gaily clad been seen in Nottingham before.He could not have been more than sixteen years of age, and was as fairas any maiden. His long yellow hair flowed behind him as he rode along,all clad in silk and velvet, with jewels flashing and dagger jinglingagainst the pommel of the saddle. Thus came the Queen's Page, youngRichard Partington, from famous London Town down into Nottinghamshire,upon Her Majesty's bidding, to seek Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest.

The road was hot and dusty and his journey had been long, for that dayhe had come all the way from Leicester Town, a good twenty miles andmore; wherefore young Partington was right glad when he saw before him asweet little inn, all shady and cool beneath the trees, in front of thedoor of which a sign hung pendant, bearing the picture of a blue boar.Here he drew rein and called loudly for a pottle of Rhenish wine to bebrought him, for stout country ale was too coarse a drink for this younggentleman. Five lusty fellows sat upon the bench beneath the pleasantshade of the wide-spreading oak in front of the inn door, drinking aleand beer, and all stared amain at this fair and gallant lad. Two of thestoutest of them were clothed in Lincoln green, and a great heavy oakenstaff leaned against the gnarled oak tree trunk beside each fellow.

The landlord came and brought a pottle of wine and a long narrow glassupon a salver, which he held up to the Page as he sat upon his horse.Young Partington poured forth the bright yellow wine and holding theglass aloft, cried, "Here is to the health and long happiness of myroyal mistress, the noble Queen Eleanor; and may my journey and herdesirings soon have end, and I find a certain stout yeoman men callRobin Hood."

At these words all stared, but presently the two stout yeomen in Lincolngreen began whispering together. Then one of the two, whom Partingtonthought to be the tallest and stoutest fellow he had ever beheld, spokeup and said, "What seekest thou of Robin Hood, Sir Page? And what doesour good Queen Eleanor wish of him? I ask this of thee, not foolishly,but with reason, for I know somewhat of this stout yeoman."

"An thou knowest aught of him, good fellow," said young Partington,"thou wilt do great service to him and great pleasure to our royal Queenby aiding me to find him."

Then up spake the other yeoman, who was a handsome fellow with sunburnedface and nut-brown, curling hair, "Thou hast an honest look, Sir Page,and our Queen is kind and true to all stout yeomen. Methinks I and myfriend here might safely guide thee to Robin Hood, for we know wherehe may be found. Yet I tell thee plainly, we would not for all merryEngland have aught of harm befall him."

"Set thy mind at ease; I bring nought of ill with me," quoth RichardPartington. "I bring a kind message to him from our Queen, therefore anye know where he is to be found, I pray you to guide me thither."

Then the two yeomen looked at one another again, and the tall man said,"Surely it were safe to do this thing, Will;" whereat the other nodded.Thereupon both arose, and the tall yeoman said, "We think thou art true,Sir Page, and meanest no harm, therefore we will guide thee to RobinHood as thou dost wish."

Then Partington paid his score, and the yeomen coming forward, they allstraightway departed upon their way.

Under the greenwood tree, in the cool shade that spread all around uponthe sward, with flickering lights here and there, Robin Hood and manyof his band lay upon the soft green grass, while Allan a Dale sang andplayed upon his sweetly sounding harp. All listened in silence, foryoung Allan's singing was one of the greatest joys in all the worldto them; but as they so listened there came of a sudden the sound of ahorse's feet, and presently Little John and Will Stutely came forth fromthe forest path into the open glade, young Richard Partington ridingbetween them upon his milk-white horse. The three came toward whereRobin Hood sat, all the band staring with might and main, for never hadthey seen so gay a sight as this young Page, nor one so richly cladin silks and velvets and gold and jewels. Then Robin arose and steppedforth to meet him, and Partington leaped from his horse and doffinghis cap of crimson velvet, met Robin as he came. "Now, welcome!" criedRobin. "Now, welcome, fair youth, and tell me, I prythee, what bringethone of so fair a presence and clad in such noble garb to our poor forestof Sherwood?"

Then young Partington said, "If I err not, thou art the famous RobinHood, and these thy stout band of outlawed yeomen. To thee I bringgreetings from our noble Queen Eleanor. Oft hath she heard thee spokenof and thy merry doings hereabouts, and fain would she behold thy face;therefore she bids me tell thee that if thou wilt presently come toLondon Town, she will do all in her power to guard thee against harm,and will send thee back safe to Sherwood Forest again. Four days hence,in Finsbury Fields, our good King Henry, of great renown, holdeth agrand shooting match, and all the most famous archers of merry Englandwill be thereat. Our Queen would fain see thee strive with these,knowing that if thou wilt come thou wilt, with little doubt, carryoff the prize. Therefore she hath sent me with this greeting, andfurthermore sends thee, as a sign of great good will, this golden ringfrom off her own fair thumb, which I give herewith into thy hands."

Then Robin Hood bowed his head and taking the ring, kissed it rightloyally, and then slipped it upon his little finger. Quoth he, "Soonerwould I lose my life than this ring; and ere it departs from me, my handshall be cold in death or stricken off at the wrist. Fair Sir Page, Iwill do our Queen's bidding, and will presently hie with thee to London;but, ere we go, I will feast thee here in the woodlands with the verybest we have."

"It may not be," said the Page; "we have no time to tarry, thereforeget thyself ready straightway; and if there be any of thy band that thouwouldst take with thee, our Queen bids me say that she will make themright welcome likewise."

"Truly, thou art right," quoth Robin, "and we have but short time tostay; therefore I will get me ready presently. I will choose three of mymen, only, to go with me, and these three shall be Little John, mineown true right-hand man, Will Scarlet, my cousin, and Allan a Dale, myminstrel. Go, lads, and get ye ready straightway, and we will presentlyoff with all speed that we may. Thou, Will Stutely, shall be the chiefof the band while I am gone."

Then Little John and Will Scarlet and Allan a Dale ran leaping, full ofjoy, to make themselves ready, while Robin also prepared himself for thejourney. After a while they all four came forth, and a right fair sightthey made, for Robin was clad in blue from head to foot, and Little Johnand Will Scarlet in good Lincoln green, and as for Allan a Dale, he wasdressed in scarlet from the crown of his head to the toes of his pointedshoes. Each man wore beneath his cap a little head covering of burnishedsteel set with rivets of gold, and underneath his jerkin a coat oflinked mail, as fine as carded wool, yet so tough that no arrow couldpierce it. Then, seeing all were ready, young Partington mounted hishorse again, and the yeomen having shaken hands all around, the fivedeparted upon their way.

That night they took up their inn in Melton Mowbray, in Leicestershire,and the next night they lodged at Kettering, in Northamptonshire; andthe next at Bedford Town; and the next at St. Albans, in Hertfordshire.This place they left not long after the middle of the night, andtraveling fast through the tender dawning of the summer day, when thedews lay shining on the meadows and faint mists hung in the dales,when the birds sang their sweetest and the cobwebs beneath the hedgesglimmered like fairy cloth of silver, they came at last to the towersand walls of famous London Town, while the morn was still young and allgolden toward the east.

Queen Eleanor sat in her royal bower, through the open casements ofwhich poured the sweet yellow sunshine in great floods of golden light.All about her stood her ladies-in-waiting chatting in low voices, whileshe herself sat dreamily where the mild air came softly drifting intothe room laden with the fresh perfumes of the sweet red roses thatbloomed in the great garden beneath the wall. To her came one who saidthat her page, Richard Partington, and four stout yeomen waited herpleasure in the court below. Then Queen Eleanor arose joyously and badethem be straightway shown into her presence.

Thus Robin Hood and Little John and Will Scarlet and Allan a Dale camebefore the Queen into her own royal bower. Then Robin kneeled before theQueen with his hands folded upon his breast, saying in simple phrase,"Here am I, Robin Hood. Thou didst bid me come, and lo, I do thybidding. I give myself to thee as thy true servant, and will do thycommanding, even if it be to the shedding of the last drop of my life'sblood."

But good Queen Eleanor smiled pleasantly upon him, bidding him to arise.Then she made them all be seated to rest themselves after their longjourney. Rich food was brought them and noble wines, and she had herown pages to wait upon the wants of the yeomen. At last, after theyhad eaten all they could, she began questioning them of their merryadventures. Then they told her all of the lusty doings herein spoken of,and among others that concerning the Bishop of Hereford and Sir Richardof the Lea, and how the Bishop had abided three days in Sherwood Forest.At this, the Queen and the ladies about her laughed again and again, forthey pictured to themselves the stout Bishop abiding in the forest andranging the woods in lusty sport with Robin and his band. Then, whenthey had told all that they could bring to mind, the Queen asked Allanto sing to her, for his fame as a minstrel had reached even to the courtat London Town. So straightway Allan took up his harp in his hand, and,without more asking, touched the strings lightly till they all rangsweetly, then he sang thus:

"Gentle river, gentle river,     Bright thy crystal waters flow,     Sliding where the aspens shiver,     Gliding where the lilies blow,     "Singing over pebbled shallows,     Kissing blossoms bending low,     Breaking 'neath the dipping swallows,     Purpling where the breezes blow.     "Floating on thy breast forever     Down thy current I could glide;     Grief and pain should reach me never     On thy bright and gentle tide.     "So my aching heart seeks thine, love,     There to find its rest and peace,     For, through loving, bliss is mine, love,     And my many troubles cease."

Thus Allan sang, and as he sang all eyes dwelled upon him and not asound broke the stillness, and even after he had done the silence hungfor a short space. So the time passed till the hour drew nigh for theholding of the great archery match in Finsbury Fields.

A gay sight were famous Finsbury Fields on that bright and sunny morningof lusty summertime. Along the end of the meadow stood the booths forthe different bands of archers, for the King's yeomen were divided intocompanies of fourscore men, and each company had a captain over it; soon the bright greensward stood ten booths of striped canvas, a booth foreach band of the royal archers, and at the peak of each fluttered aflag in the mellow air, and the flag was the color that belonged tothe captain of each band. From the center booth hung the yellow flag ofTepus, the famous bow bearer of the King; next to it, on one hand,was the blue flag of Gilbert of the White Hand, and on the other theblood-red pennant of stout young Clifton of Buckinghamshire. The sevenother archer captains were also men of great renown; among them wereEgbert of Kent and William of Southampton; but those first named weremost famous of all. The noise of many voices in talk and laughter camefrom within the booths, and in and out ran the attendants likeants about an ant-hill. Some bore ale and beer, and some bundles ofbowstrings or sheaves of arrows. On each side of the archery range wererows upon rows of seats reaching high aloft, and in the center of thenorth side was a raised dais for the King and Queen, shaded by canvasof gay colors, and hung about with streaming silken pennants of red andblue and green and white. As yet the King and Queen had not come, butall the other benches were full of people, rising head above head highaloft till it made the eye dizzy to look upon them. Eightscore yardsdistant from the mark from which the archers were to shoot stood tenfair targets, each target marked by a flag of the color belonging to theband that was to shoot thereat. So all was ready for the coming of theKing and Queen.

At last a great blast of bugles sounded, and into the meadow came ridingsix trumpeters with silver trumpets, from which hung velvet bannersheavy with rich workings of silver and gold thread. Behind these camestout King Henry upon a dapple-gray stallion, with his Queen beside himupon a milk-white palfrey. On either side of them walked the yeomen ofthe guard, the bright sunlight flashing from the polished blades ofthe steel halberds they carried. Behind these came the Court in a greatcrowd, so that presently all the lawn was alive with bright colors, withsilk and velvet, with waving plumes and gleaming gold, with flashingjewels and sword hilts; a gallant sight on that bright summer day.

Then all the people arose and shouted, so that their voices sounded likethe storm upon the Cornish coast, when the dark waves run upon the shoreand leap and break, surging amid the rocks; so, amid the roaring and thesurging of the people, and the waving of scarfs and kerchiefs, the Kingand Queen came to their place, and, getting down from their horses,mounted the broad stairs that led to the raised platform, and theretook their seats on two thrones bedecked with purple silks and cloths ofsilver and of gold.

When all was quiet a bugle sounded, and straightway the archers camemarching in order from their tents. Fortyscore they were in all, asstalwart a band of yeomen as could be found in all the wide world. Sothey came in orderly fashion and stood in front of the dais where KingHenry and his Queen sat. King Henry looked up and down their ranks rightproudly, for his heart warmed within him at the sight of such a gallantband of yeomen. Then he bade his herald Sir Hugh de Mowbray stand forthand proclaim the rules governing the game. So Sir Hugh stepped to theedge of the platform and spoke in a loud clear voice, and thus he said:

That each man should shoot seven arrows at the target that belonged tohis band, and, of the fourscore yeomen of each band, the three that shotthe best should be chosen. These three should shoot three arrows apiece,and the one that shot the best should again be chosen. Then each ofthese should again shoot three arrows apiece, and the one that shot thebest should have the first prize, the one that shot the next best shouldhave the second, and the one that shot the next best should have thethird prize. Each of the others should have fourscore silver pennies forhis shooting. The first prize was to be twoscore and ten golden pounds,a silver bugle horn inlaid with gold, and a quiver with ten white arrowstipped with gold and feathered with the white swan's-wing therein. Thesecond prize was to be fivescore of the fattest bucks that run on DallenLea, to be shot when the yeoman that won them chose. The third prize wasto be two tuns of good Rhenish wine.

So Sir Hugh spoke, and when he had done all the archers waved their bowsaloft and shouted. Then each band turned and marched in order back toits place.

And now the shooting began, the captains first taking stand and speedingtheir shafts and then making room for the men who shot, each in turn,after them. Two hundred and eighty score shafts were shot in all, and sodeftly were they sped that when the shooting was done each target lookedlike the back of a hedgehog when the farm dog snuffs at it. A longtime was taken in this shooting, and when it was over the judges cameforward, looked carefully at the targets, and proclaimed in a loud voicewhich three had shot the best from the separate bands. Then a greathubbub of voices arose, each man among the crowd that looked on callingfor his favorite archer. Then ten fresh targets were brought forward,and every sound was hushed as the archers took their places once more.

This time the shooting was more speedily done, for only nine shaftswere shot by each band. Not an arrow missed the targets, but in that ofGilbert of the White Hand five arrows were in the small white spot thatmarked the center; of these five three were sped by Gilbert. Then thejudges came forward again, and looking at the targets, called aloud thenames of the archer chosen as the best bowman of each band. Of theseGilbert of the White Hand led, for six of the ten arrows he had shot hadlodged in the center; but stout Tepus and young Clifton trod close uponhis heels; yet the others stood a fair chance for the second or thirdplace.

And now, amid the roaring of the crowd, those ten stout fellows thatwere left went back to their tents to rest for a while and change theirbowstrings, for nought must fail at this next round, and no hand musttremble or eye grow dim because of weariness.

Then while the deep buzz and hum of talking sounded all around like thenoise of the wind in the leafy forest, Queen Eleanor turned to the King,and quoth she, "Thinkest thou that these yeomen so chosen are the verybest archers in all merry England?"

"Yea, truly," said the King, smiling, for he was well pleased with thesport that he had seen; "and I tell thee, that not only are they thebest archers in all merry England, but in all the wide world beside."

"But what wouldst thou say," quoth Queen Eleanor, "if I were to findthree archers to match the best three yeomen of all thy guard?"

"I would say thou hast done what I could not do," said the King,laughing, "for I tell thee there lives not in all the world threearchers to match Tepus and Gilbert and Clifton of Buckinghamshire."

"Now," said the Queen, "I know of three yeomen, and in truth I have seenthem not long since, that I would not fear to match against any threethat thou canst choose from among all thy fortyscore archers; and,moreover, I will match them here this very day. But I will only matchthem with thy archers providing that thou wilt grant a free pardon toall that may come in my behalf."

At this, the King laughed loud and long. "Truly," said he, "thou arttaking up with strange matters for a queen. If thou wilt bring thosethree fellows that thou speakest of, I will promise faithfully to givethem free pardon for forty days, to come or to go wheresoever theyplease, nor will I harm a hair of their heads in all that time.Moreover, if these that thou bringest shoot better than my yeomen, manfor man, they shall have the prizes for themselves according to theirshooting. But as thou hast so taken up of a sudden with sports of thiskind, hast thou a mind for a wager?"

"Why, in sooth," said Queen Eleanor, laughing, "I know nought of suchmatters, but if thou hast a mind to do somewhat in that way, I willstrive to pleasure thee. What wilt thou wager upon thy men?"

Then the merry King laughed again, for he dearly loved goodly jest; sohe said, amidst his laughter, "I will wager thee ten tuns of Rhenishwine, ten tuns of the stoutest ale, and tenscore bows of temperedSpanish yew, with quivers and arrows to match."

All that stood around smiled at this, for it seemed a merry wager fora king to give to a queen; but Queen Eleanor bowed her head quietly. "Iwill take thy wager," said she, "for I know right well where to placethose things that thou hast spoken of. Now, who will be on my side inthis matter?" And she looked around upon them that stood about; but noone spake or cared to wager upon the Queen's side against such archersas Tepus and Gilbert and Clifton. Then the Queen spoke again, "Now, whowill back me in this wager? Wilt thou, my Lord Bishop of Hereford?"

"Nay," quoth the Bishop hastily, "it ill befits one of my cloth to dealin such matters. Moreover, there are no such archers as His Majesty's inall the world; therefore I would but lose my money.

"Methinks the thought of thy gold weigheth more heavily with thee thanthe wrong to thy cloth," said the Queen, smiling, and at this a rippleof laughter went around, for everyone knew how fond the Bishop was ofhis money. Then the Queen turned to a knight who stood near, whose namewas Sir Robert Lee. "Wilt thou back me in this manner?" said she. "Thouart surely rich enough to risk so much for the sake of a lady."

"To pleasure my Queen I will do it," said Sir Robert Lee, "but for thesake of no other in all the world would I wager a groat, for no man canstand against Tepus and Gilbert and Clifton."

Then turning to the King, Queen Eleanor said, "I want no such aid as SirRobert giveth me; but against thy wine and beer and stout bows of yew Iwager this girdle all set with jewels from around my waist; and surelythat is worth more than thine."

"Now, I take thy wager," quoth the King. "Send for thy archersstraightway. But here come forth the others; let them shoot, and then Iwill match those that win against all the world."

"So be it," said the Queen. Thereupon, beckoning to young RichardPartington, she whispered something in his ear, and straightway the Pagebowed and left the place, crossing the meadow to the other side of therange, where he was presently lost in the crowd. At this, all that stoodaround whispered to one another, wondering what it all meant, and whatthree men the Queen was about to set against those famous archers of theKing's guard.

And now the ten archers of the King's guard took their stand again, andall the great crowd was hushed to the stillness of death. Slowly andcarefully each man shot his shafts, and so deep was the silence thatyou could hear every arrow rap against the target as it struck it. Then,when the last shaft had sped, a great roar went up; and the shooting, Iwot, was well worthy of the sound. Once again Gilbert had lodged threearrows in the white; Tepus came second with two in the white and one inthe black ring next to it; but stout Clifton had gone down and Hubert ofSuffolk had taken the third place, for, while both those two good yeomenhad lodged two in the white, Clifton had lost one shot upon the fourthring, and Hubert came in with one in the third.

All the archers around Gilbert's booth shouted for joy till theirthroats were hoarse, tossing their caps aloft, and shaking hands withone another.

In the midst of all the noise and hubbub five men came walking acrossthe lawn toward the King's pavilion. The first was Richard Partington,and was known to most folk there, but the others were strange toeverybody. Beside young Partington walked a yeoman clad in blue, andbehind came three others, two in Lincoln green and one in scarlet. Thislast yeoman carried three stout bows of yew tree, two fancifully inlaidwith silver and one with gold. While these five men came walking acrossthe meadow, a messenger came running from the King's booth and summonedGilbert and Tepus and Hubert to go with him. And now the shoutingquickly ceased, for all saw that something unwonted was toward, so thefolk stood up in their places and leaned forward to see what was theado.

When Partington and the others came before the spot where the King andQueen sat, the four yeomen bent their knees and doffed their caps untoher. King Henry leaned far forward and stared at them closely, but theBishop of Hereford, when he saw their faces, started as though stung bya wasp. He opened his mouth as though about to speak, but, looking up,he saw the Queen gazing at him with a smile upon her lips, so he saidnothing, but bit his nether lip, while his face was as red as a cherry.

Then the Queen leaned forward and spake in a clear voice. "Locksley,"said she, "I have made a wager with the King that thou and two of thymen can outshoot any three that he can send against you. Wilt thou dothy best for my sake?"

"Yea," quoth Robin Hood, to whom she spake, "I will do my best for thysake, and, if I fail, I make my vow never to finger bowstring more."

Now, although Little John had been somewhat abashed in the Queen'sbower, he felt himself the sturdy fellow he was when the soles of hisfeet pressed green grass again; so he said boldly, "Now, blessings onthy sweet face, say I. An there lived a man that would not do his bestfor thee—I will say nought, only I would like to have the cracking ofhis knave's pate!

"Peace, Little John!" said Robin Hood hastily, in a low voice; but goodQueen Eleanor laughed aloud, and a ripple of merriment sounded all overthe booth.

The Bishop of Hereford did not laugh, neither did the King, but heturned to the Queen, and quoth he, "Who are these men that thou hastbrought before us?"

Then up spoke the Bishop hastily, for he could hold his peace no longer:"Your Majesty," quoth he, "yon fellow in blue is a certain outlawedthief of the mid-country, named Robin Hood; yon tall, strapping villaingoeth by the name of Little John; the other fellow in green is a certainbacksliding gentleman, known as Will Scarlet; the man in red is a rogueof a northern minstrel, named Allan a Dale."

At this speech the King's brows drew together blackly, and he turned tothe Queen. "Is this true?" said he sternly.

"Yea," said the Queen, smiling, "the Bishop hath told the truth; andtruly he should know them well, for he and two of his friars spent threedays in merry sport with Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest. I did littlethink that the good Bishop would so betray his friends. But bear in mindthat thou hast pledged thy promise for the safety of these good yeomenfor forty days."

"I will keep my promise," said the King, in a deep voice that showed theanger in his heart, "but when these forty days are gone let this outlawlook to himself, for mayhap things will not go so smoothly with himas he would like." Then he turned to his archers, who stood near theSherwood yeomen, listening and wondering at all that passed. Quoth he,"Gilbert, and thou, Tepus, and thou, Hubert, I have pledged myself thatye shall shoot against these three fellows. If ye outshoot the knaves Iwill fill your caps with silver pennies; if ye fail ye shall loseyour prizes that ye have won so fairly, and they go to them that shootagainst you, man to man. Do your best, lads, and if ye win this bout yeshall be glad of it to the last days of your life. Go, now, and get yougone to the butts."

Then the three archers of the King turned and went back to their booths,and Robin and his men went to their places at the mark from which theywere to shoot. Then they strung their bows and made themselves ready,looking over their quivers of arrows, and picking out the roundest andthe best feathered.

But when the King's archers went to their tents, they told their friendsall that had passed, and how that these four men were the famous RobinHood and three of his band, to wit, Little John, Will Scarlet, and Allana Dale. The news of this buzzed around among the archers in thebooths, for there was not a man there that had not heard of these greatmid-country yeomen. From the archers the news was taken up by the crowdthat looked on at the shooting, so that at last everybody stood up,craning their necks to catch sight of the famous outlaws.

Six fresh targets were now set up, one for each man that was to shoot;whereupon Gilbert and Tepus and Hubert came straightway forth from thebooths. Then Robin Hood and Gilbert of the White Hand tossed a farthingaloft to see who should lead in the shooting, and the lot fell toGilbert's side; thereupon he called upon Hubert of Suffolk to lead.

Hubert took his place, planted his foot firmly, and fitted a fair,smooth arrow; then, breathing upon his fingertips, he drew the stringslowly and carefully. The arrow sped true, and lodged in the white;again he shot, and again he hit the clout; a third shaft he sped, butthis time failed of the center, and but struck the black, yet not morethan a finger's-breadth from the white. At this a shout went up, for itwas the best shooting that Hubert had yet done that day.

Merry Robin laughed, and quoth he, "Thou wilt have an ill time betteringthat round, Will, for it is thy turn next. Brace thy thews, lad, andbring not shame upon Sherwood."

Then Will Scarlet took his place; but, because of overcaution, hespoiled his target with the very first arrow that he sped, for he hitthe next ring to the black, the second from the center. At this Robinbit his lips. "Lad, lad," quoth he, "hold not the string so long! HaveI not often told thee what Gaffer Swanthold sayeth, that 'overcautionspilleth the milk'?" To this Will Scarlet took heed, so the next arrowhe shot lodged fairly in the center ring; again he shot, and again hesmote the center; but, for all that, stout Hubert had outshot him, andshowed the better target. Then all those that looked on clapped theirhands for joy because that Hubert had overcome the stranger.

Quoth the King grimly, to the Queen, "If thy archers shoot no betterthan that, thou art like to lose thy wager, lady." But Queen Eleanorsmiled, for she looked for better things from Robin Hood and LittleJohn.

And now Tepus took his place to shoot. He, also, took overheed to whathe was about, and so he fell into Will Scarlet's error. The first arrowhe struck into the center ring, but the second missed its mark, andsmote the black; the last arrow was tipped with luck, for it smote thevery center of the clout, upon the black spot that marked it. QuothRobin Hood, "That is the sweetest shot that hath been sped this day;but, nevertheless, friend Tepus, thy cake is burned, methinks. LittleJohn, it is thy turn next."

So Little John took his place as bidden, and shot his three arrowsquickly. He never lowered his bow arm in all the shooting, but fittedeach shaft with his longbow raised; yet all three of his arrows smotethe center within easy distance of the black. At this no sound ofshouting was heard, for, although it was the best shooting that had beendone that day, the folk of London Town did not like to see the stoutTepus overcome by a fellow from the countryside, even were he as famousas Little John.

And now stout Gilbert of the White Hand took his place and shot with thegreatest care; and again, for the third time in one day, he struck allthree shafts into the clout.

"Well done, Gilbert!" quoth Robin Hood, smiting him upon the shoulder."I make my vow, thou art one of the best archers that ever mine eyesbeheld. Thou shouldst be a free and merry ranger like us, lad, for thouart better fitted for the greenwood than for the cobblestones and graywalls of London Town." So saying, he took his place, and drew a fair,round arrow from his quiver, which he turned over and over ere he fittedit to his bowstring.

Then the King muttered in his beard, "Now, blessed Saint Hubert, if thouwilt but jog that rogue's elbow so as to make him smite even the secondring, I will give eightscore waxen candles three fingers'-breadth inthickness to thy chapel nigh Matching." But it may be Saint Hubert'sears were stuffed with tow, for he seemed not to hear the King's prayerthis day.

Having gotten three shafts to his liking, merry Robin looked carefullyto his bowstring ere he shot. "Yea," quoth he to Gilbert, who stoodnigh him to watch his shooting, "thou shouldst pay us a visit at merrySherwood." Here he drew the bowstring to his ear. "In London"—herehe loosed his shaft—"thou canst find nought to shoot at but rooks anddaws; there one can tickle the ribs of the noblest stags in England." Sohe shot even while he talked, yet the shaft lodged not more than half aninch from the very center.

"By my soul!" cried Gilbert. "Art thou the devil in blue, to shoot inthat wise?"

"Nay," quoth Robin, laughing, "not quite so ill as that, I trust." Andhe took up another shaft and fitted it to the string. Again he shot, andagain he smote his arrow close beside the center; a third time he loosedhis bowstring and dropped his arrow just betwixt the other two andinto the very center, so that the feathers of all three were ruffledtogether, seeming from a distance to be one thick shaft.

And now a low murmur ran all among that great crowd, for never beforehad London seen such shooting as this; and never again would it see itafter Robin Hood's day had gone. All saw that the King's archers werefairly beaten, and stout Gilbert clapped his palm to Robin's, owningthat he could never hope to draw such a bowstring as Robin Hood orLittle John. But the King, full of wrath, would not have it so, thoughhe knew in his mind that his men could not stand against those fellows."Nay!" cried he, clenching his hands upon the arms of his seat, "Gilbertis not yet beaten! Did he not strike the clout thrice? Although I havelost my wager, he hath not yet lost the first prize. They shall shootagain, and still again, till either he or that knave Robin Hood comethoff the best. Go thou, Sir Hugh, and bid them shoot another round, andanother, until one or the other is overcome." Then Sir Hugh, seeing howwroth the King was, said never a word, but went straightway to do hisbidding; so he came to where Robin Hood and the other stood, and toldthem what the King had said.

"With all my heart," quoth merry Robin, "I will shoot from this timetill tomorrow day if it can pleasure my most gracious lord and King.Take thy place, Gilbert lad, and shoot."

So Gilbert took his place once more, but this time he failed, for, asudden little wind arising, his shaft missed the center ring, but by notmore than the breadth of a barley straw.

"Thy eggs are cracked, Gilbert," quoth Robin, laughing; and straightwayhe loosed a shaft, and once more smote the white circle of the center.

Then the King arose from his place, and not a word said he, but helooked around with a baleful look, and it would have been an ill day foranyone that he saw with a joyous or a merry look upon his face. Then heand his Queen and all the court left the place, but the King's heart wasbrimming full of wrath.

After the King had gone, all the yeomen of the archer guard camecrowding around Robin, and Little John, and Will, and Allan, to snatcha look at these famous fellows from the mid-country; and with them camemany that had been onlookers at the sport, for the same purpose. Thus ithappened presently that the yeomen, to whom Gilbert stood talking, wereall surrounded by a crowd of people that formed a ring about them.

After a while the three judges that had the giving away of the prizescame forward, and the chief of them all spake to Robin and said,"According to agreement, the first prize belongeth rightly to thee; sohere I give thee the silver bugle, here the quiver of ten golden arrows,and here a purse of twoscore and ten golden pounds." And as he spake hehanded those things to Robin, and then turned to Little John. "To thee,"he said, "belongeth the second prize, to wit, fivescore of the finestharts that run on Dallen Lea. Thou mayest shoot them whensoever thoudost list." Last of all he turned to stout Hubert. "Thou," said he,"hast held thine own against the yeomen with whom thou didst shoot, andso thou hast kept the prize duly thine, to wit, two tuns of good Rhenishwine. These shall be delivered to thee whensoever thou dost list." Thenhe called upon the other seven of the King's archers who had last shot,and gave each fourscore silver pennies.

Then up spake Robin, and quoth he, "This silver bugle I keep in honor ofthis shooting match; but thou, Gilbert, art the best archer of all theKing's guard, and to thee I freely give this purse of gold. Take it,man, and would it were ten times as much, for thou art a right yeoman,good and true. Furthermore, to each of the ten that last shot I give oneof these golden shafts apiece. Keep them always by you, so that ye maytell your grandchildren, an ye are ever blessed with them, that ye arethe very stoutest yeomen in all the wide world."

At this all shouted aloud, for it pleased them to hear Robin speak so ofthem.

Then up spake Little John. "Good friend Tepus," said he, "I want notthose harts of Dallen Lea that yon stout judge spoke of but now, for intruth we have enow and more than enow in our own country. Twoscore andten I give to thee for thine own shooting, and five I give to each bandfor their pleasure."

At this another great shout went up, and many tossed their caps aloft,and swore among themselves that no better fellows ever walked the sodthan Robin Hood and his stout yeomen.

While they so shouted with loud voices, a tall burly yeoman of theKing's guard came forward and plucked Robin by the sleeve. "Goodmaster," quoth he, "I have somewhat to tell thee in thine ear; a sillything, God wot, for one stout yeoman to tell another; but a youngpeacock of a page, one Richard Partington, was seeking thee withoutavail in the crowd, and, not being able to find thee, told me that hebore a message to thee from a certain lady that thou wottest of. Thismessage he bade me tell thee privily, word for word, and thus it was.Let me see—I trust I have forgot it not—yea, thus it was: 'The liongrowls. Beware thy head.'"

"Is it so?" quoth Robin, starting; for he knew right well that it wasthe Queen sent the message, and that she spake of the King's wrath."Now, I thank thee, good fellow, for thou hast done me greater servicethan thou knowest of this day." Then he called his three yeomen togetherand told them privately that they had best be jogging, as it was like tobe ill for them so nigh merry London Town. So, without tarrying longer,they made their way through the crowd until they had come out from thepress. Then, without stopping, they left London Town and started awaynorthward.

The Chase of Robin Hood

SO ROBIN HOOD and the others left the archery range at Finsbury Fields,and, tarrying not, set forth straightway upon their homeward journey.It was well for them that they did so, for they had not gone more thanthree or four miles upon their way when six of the yeomen of the King'sguard came bustling among the crowd that still lingered, seeking forRobin and his men, to seize upon them and make them prisoners. Truly, itwas an ill-done thing in the King to break his promise, but it all cameabout through the Bishop of Hereford's doing, for thus it happened:

After the King left the archery ground, he went straightway to hiscabinet, and with him went the Bishop of Hereford and Sir Robert Lee;but the King said never a word to these two, but sat gnawing his netherlip, for his heart was galled within him by what had happened. At lastthe Bishop of Hereford spoke, in a low, sorrowful voice: "It is a sadthing, Your Majesty, that this knavish outlaw should be let to escape inthis wise; for, let him but get back to Sherwood Forest safe and sound,and he may snap his fingers at king and king's men."

At these words the King raised his eyes and looked grimly upon theBishop. "Sayst thou so?" quoth he. "Now, I will show thee, in good time,how much thou dost err, for, when the forty days are past and gone,I will seize upon this thieving outlaw, if I have to tear down all ofSherwood to find him. Thinkest thou that the laws of the King of Englandare to be so evaded by one poor knave without friends or money?"

Then the Bishop spoke again, in his soft, smooth voice:

"Forgive my boldness, Your Majesty, and believe that I have nought butthe good of England and Your Majesty's desirings at heart; but whatwould it boot though my gracious lord did root up every tree ofSherwood? Are there not other places for Robin Hood's hiding? CannockChase is not far from Sherwood, and the great Forest of Arden is not farfrom Cannock Chase. Beside these are many other woodlands in Nottinghamand Derby, Lincoln and York, amid any of which Your Majesty might aswell think to seize upon Robin Hood as to lay finger upon a rat amongthe dust and broken things of a garret. Nay, my gracious lord, if hedoth once plant foot in the woodland, he is lost to the law forever."

At these words the King tapped his fingertips upon the table beside himwith vexation. "What wouldst thou have me do, Bishop?" quoth he. "Didstthou not hear me pledge my word to the Queen? Thy talk is as barren asthe wind from the bellows upon dead coals."

"Far be it from me," said the cunning Bishop, "to point the way to oneso clear-sighted as Your Majesty; but, were I the King of England, Ishould look upon the matter in this wise: I have promised my Queen, letus say, that for forty days the cunningest rogue in all England shallhave freedom to come and go; but, lo! I find this outlaw in my grasp;shall I, then, foolishly cling to a promise so hastily given? Supposethat I had promised to do Her Majesty's bidding, whereupon she bade meto slay myself; should I, then, shut mine eyes and run blindly uponmy sword? Thus would I argue within myself. Moreover, I would say untomyself, a woman knoweth nought of the great things appertaining to stategovernment; and, likewise, I know a woman is ever prone to take up afancy, even as she would pluck a daisy from the roadside, and then throwit away when the savor is gone; therefore, though she hath taken a fancyto this outlaw, it will soon wane away and be forgotten. As for me, Ihave the greatest villain in all England in my grasp; shall I, then,open my hand and let him slip betwixt my fingers? Thus, Your Majesty,would I say to myself, were I the King of England." So the Bishoptalked, and the King lent his ear to his evil counsel, until, after awhile, he turned to Sir Robert Lee and bade him send six of the yeomenof the guard to take Robin Hood and his three men prisoners.

Now Sir Robert Lee was a gentle and noble knight, and he felt grievedto the heart to see the King so break his promise; nevertheless, he saidnothing, for he saw how bitterly the King was set against Robin Hood;but he did not send the yeomen of the guard at once, but went first tothe Queen, and told her all that had passed, and bade her send word toRobin of his danger. This he did not for the well-being of Robin Hood,but because he would save his lord's honor if he could. Thus it cameabout that when, after a while, the yeomen of the guard went to thearchery field, they found not Robin and the others, and so got no cakesat that fair.

The afternoon was already well-nigh gone when Robin Hood, Little John,Will, and Allan set forth upon their homeward way, trudging alongmerrily through the yellow slanting light, which speedily changed torosy red as the sun sank low in the heavens. The shadows grew long,and finally merged into the grayness of the mellow twilight. The dustyhighway lay all white betwixt the dark hedgerows, and along it walkedfour fellows like four shadows, the pat of their feet sounding loud, andtheir voices, as they talked, ringing clear upon the silence of the air.The great round moon was floating breathlessly up in the eastern skywhen they saw before them the twinkling lights of Barnet Town, some tenor twelve miles from London. Down they walked through the stony streetsand past the cosy houses with overhanging gables, before the doors ofwhich sat the burghers and craftsmen in the mellow moonlight, withtheir families about them, and so came at last, on the other side ofthe hamlet, to a little inn, all shaded with roses and woodbines. Beforethis inn Robin Hood stopped, for the spot pleased him well. Quoth he,"Here will we take up our inn and rest for the night, for we are wellaway from London Town and our King's wrath. Moreover, if I mistake not,we will find sweet faring within. What say ye, lads?"

"In sooth, good master," quoth Little John, "thy bidding and my doingever fit together like cakes and ale. Let us in, I say also."

Then up spake Will Scarlet: "I am ever ready to do what thou sayest,uncle, yet I could wish that we were farther upon our way ere we restfor the night. Nevertheless, if thou thinkest best, let us in for thenight, say I also."

So in they went and called for the best that the place afforded. Then aright good feast was set before them, with two stout bottles of old sackto wash it down withal. These things were served by as plump and buxom alass as you could find in all the land, so that Little John, who alwayshad an eye for a fair lass, even when meat and drink were by, stuck hisarms akimbo and fixed his eyes upon her, winking sweetly whenever he sawher looking toward him. Then you should have seen how the lass twitteredwith laughter, and how she looked at Little John out of the corners ofher eyes, a dimple coming in either cheek; for the fellow had always ataking way with the womenfolk.

So the feast passed merrily, and never had that inn seen such lustyfeeders as these four stout fellows; but at last they were done theireating, though it seemed as though they never would have ended, andsat loitering over the sack. As they so sat, the landlord came in ofa sudden, and said that there was one at the door, a certain youngesquire, Richard Partington, of the Queen's household, who wished tosee the lad in blue, and speak with him, without loss of time. So Robinarose quickly, and, bidding the landlord not to follow him, left theothers gazing at one another, and wondering what was about to happen.

When Robin came out of the inn, he found young Richard Partingtonsitting upon his horse in the white moonlight, awaiting his coming.

"What news bearest thou, Sir Page?" said Robin. "I trust that it is notof an ill nature."

"Why," said young Partington, "for the matter of that, it is ill enow.The King hath been bitterly stirred up against thee by that vile Bishopof Hereford. He sent to arrest thee at the archery butts at FinsburyFields, but not finding thee there, he hath gathered together his armedmen, fifty-score and more, and is sending them in haste along this veryroad to Sherwood, either to take thee on the way or to prevent thygetting back to the woodlands again. He hath given the Bishop ofHereford command over all these men, and thou knowest what thou hastto expect of the Bishop of Hereford—short shrift and a long rope. Twobands of horsemen are already upon the road, not far behind me, sothou hadst best get thee gone from this place straightway, for, if thoutarriest longer, thou art like to sleep this night in a cold dungeon.This word the Queen hath bidden me bring to thee."

"Now, Richard Partington," quoth Robin, "this is the second time thatthou hast saved my life, and if the proper time ever cometh I will showthee that Robin Hood never forgets these things. As for that Bishop ofHereford, if I ever catch him nigh to Sherwood again, things will belike to go ill with him. Thou mayst tell the good Queen that I willleave this place without delay, and will let the landlord think that weare going to Saint Albans; but when we are upon the highroad again, Iwill go one way through the country and will send my men the other, sothat if one falleth into the King's hands the others may haply escape.We will go by devious ways, and so, I hope, will reach Sherwood insafety. And now, Sir Page, I wish thee farewell."

"Farewell, thou bold yeoman," said young Partington, "and mayst thoureach thy hiding in safety." So each shook the other's hand, and thelad, turning his horse's head, rode back toward London, while Robinentered the inn once more.

There he found his yeomen sitting in silence, waiting his coming;likewise the landlord was there, for he was curious to know what MasterPartington had to do with the fellow in blue. "Up, my merry men!" quothRobin, "this is no place for us, for those are after us with whom wewill stand but an ill chance an we fall into their hands. So we willgo forward once more, nor will we stop this night till we reach SaintAlbans." Hereupon, taking out his purse, he paid the landlord his score,and so they left the inn.

When they had come to the highroad without the town, Robin stopped andtold them all that had passed between young Partington and himself, andhow that the King's men were after them with hot heels. Then he toldthem that here they should part company; they three going to theeastward and he to the westward, and so, skirting the main highroads,would come by devious paths to Sherwood. "So, be ye wily," said RobinHood, "and keep well away from the northward roads till ye have gottenwell to the eastward. And thou, Will Scarlet, take the lead of theothers, for thou hast a cunning turn to thy wits." Then Robin kissed thethree upon the cheeks, and they kissed him, and so they parted company.

Not long after this, a score or more of the King's men came clatteringup to the door of the inn at Barnet Town. Here they leaped from theirhorses and quickly surrounded the place, the leader of the band and fourothers entering the room where the yeomen had been. But they found thattheir birds had flown again, and that the King had been balked a secondtime.

"Methought that they were naughty fellows," said the host, when he heardwhom the men-at-arms sought. "But I heard that blue-clad knave say thatthey would go straight forward to Saint Albans; so, an ye hurry forward,ye may, perchance, catch them on the highroad betwixt here and there."For this news the leader of the band thanked mine host right heartily,and, calling his men together, mounted and set forth again, gallopingforward to Saint Albans upon a wild goose chase.

After Little John and Will Scarlet and Allan a Dale had left the highwaynear garnet, they traveled toward the eastward, without stopping, aslong as their legs could carry them, until they came to Chelmsford,in Essex. Thence they turned northward, and came through Cambridge andLincolnshire, to the good town of Gainsborough. Then, striking to thewestward and the south, they came at last to the northern borders ofSherwood Forest, without in all that time having met so much as a singleband of the King's men. Eight days they journeyed thus ere they reachedthe woodlands in safety, but when they got to the greenwood glade, theyfound that Robin had not yet returned.

For Robin was not as lucky in getting back as his men had been, as youshall presently hear.

After having left the great northern road, he turned his face to thewestward, and so came past Aylesbury, to fair Woodstock, in Oxfordshire.Thence he turned his footsteps northward, traveling for a great distanceby way of Warwick Town, till he came to Dudley, in Staffordshire. Sevendays it took him to journey thus far, and then he thought he had gottenfar enough to the north, so, turning toward the eastward, shunning themain roads, and choosing byways and grassy lanes, he went, by way ofLitchfield and Ashby de la Zouch, toward Sherwood, until he came to aplace called Stanton. And now Robin's heart began to laugh aloud, forhe thought that his danger had gone by, and that his nostrils would soonsnuff the spicy air of the woodlands once again. But there is many aslip betwixt the cup and the lip, and this Robin was to find. For thusit was:

When the King's men found themselves foiled at Saint Albans, and thatRobin and his men were not to be found high nor low, they knew not whatto do. Presently another band of horsemen came, and another, until allthe moonlit streets were full of armed men. Betwixt midnight anddawn another band came to the town, and with them came the Bishop ofHereford. When he heard that Robin Hood had once more slipped out ofthe trap, he stayed not a minute, but, gathering his bands together, hepushed forward to the northward with speed, leaving orders for all thetroops that came to Saint Albans to follow after him without tarrying.On the evening of the fourth day he reached Nottingham Town, and therestraightway divided his men into bands of six or seven, and sent themall through the countryside, blocking every highway and byway to theeastward and the southward and the westward of Sherwood. The Sheriffof Nottingham called forth all his men likewise, and joined with theBishop, for he saw that this was the best chance that had ever befallenof paying back his score in full to Robin Hood. Will Scarlet and LittleJohn and Allan a Dale had just missed the King's men to the eastward,for the very next day after they had passed the line and enteredSherwood the roads through which they had traveled were blocked, sothat, had they tarried in their journeying, they would surely havefallen into the Bishop's hands.

But of all this Robin knew not a whit; so he whistled merrily as hetrudged along the road beyond Stanton, with his heart as free from careas the yolk of an egg is from cobwebs. At last he came to where a littlestream spread across the road in a shallow sheet, tinkling and sparklingas it fretted over its bed of golden gravel. Here Robin stopped, beingathirst, and, kneeling down, he made a cup of the palms of his hands,and began to drink. On either side of the road, for a long distance,stood tangled thickets of bushes and young trees, and it pleased Robin'sheart to hear the little birds singing therein, for it made him thinkof Sherwood, and it seemed as though it had been a lifetime since he hadbreathed the air of the woodlands. But of a sudden, as he thus stooped,drinking, something hissed past his ear, and struck with a splash intothe gravel and water beside him. Quick as a wink Robin sprang to hisfeet, and, at one bound, crossed the stream and the roadside, andplunged headlong into the thicket, without looking around, for he knewright well that that which had hissed so venomously beside his ear wasa gray goose shaft, and that to tarry so much as a moment meant death.Even as he leaped into the thicket six more arrows rattled among thebranches after him, one of which pierced his doublet, and would havestruck deeply into his side but for the tough coat of steel that hewore. Then up the road came riding some of the King's men at headlongspeed. They leaped from their horses and plunged straightway into thethicket after Robin. But Robin knew the ground better than they did,so crawling here, stooping there, and, anon, running across some littleopen, he soon left them far behind, coming out, at last, upon anotherroad about eight hundred paces distant from the one he had left. Here hestood for a moment, listening to the distant shouts of the seven menas they beat up and down in the thickets like hounds that had lost thescent of the quarry. Then, buckling his belt more tightly around hiswaist, he ran fleetly down the road toward the eastward and Sherwood.

But Robin had not gone more than three furlongs in that direction whenhe came suddenly to the brow of a hill, and saw beneath him another bandof the King's men seated in the shade along the roadside in the valleybeneath. Then he paused not a moment, but, seeing that they had notcaught sight of him, he turned and ran back whence he had come, knowingthat it was better to run the chance of escaping those fellows that wereyet in the thickets than to rush into the arms of those in the valley.So back he ran with all speed, and had gotten safely past the thickets,when the seven men came forth into the open road. They raised a greatshout when they saw him, such as the hunter gives when the deer breakscover, but Robin was then a quarter of a mile and more away from them,coursing over the ground like a greyhound. He never slackened his pace,but ran along, mile after mile, till he had come nigh to Mackworth, overbeyond the Derwent River, nigh to Derby Town. Here, seeing that he wasout of present danger, he slackened in his running, and at last sat himdown beneath a hedge where the grass was the longest and the shade thecoolest, there to rest and catch his wind. "By my soul, Robin," quoth heto himself, "that was the narrowest miss that e'er thou hadst in allthy life. I do say most solemnly that the feather of that wicked shafttickled mine ear as it whizzed past. This same running hath given me amost craving appetite for victuals and drink. Now I pray Saint Dunstanthat he send me speedily some meat and beer."

It seemed as though Saint Dunstan was like to answer his prayer, foralong the road came plodding a certain cobbler, one Quince, of Derby,who had been to take a pair of shoes to a farmer nigh Kirk Langly, andwas now coming back home again, with a fair boiled capon in his pouchand a stout pottle of beer by his side, which same the farmer had givenhim for joy of such a stout pair of shoon. Good Quince was an honestfellow, but his wits were somewhat of the heavy sort, like unbakeddough, so that the only thing that was in his mind was, "Three shillingssixpence ha'penny for thy shoon, good Quince—three shillings sixpenceha'penny for thy shoon," and this traveled round and round inside of hishead, without another thought getting into his noddle, as a pea rollsround and round inside an empty quart pot.

"Halloa, good friend," quoth Robin, from beneath the hedge, when theother had gotten nigh enough, "whither away so merrily this bright day?"

Hearing himself so called upon, the Cobbler stopped, and, seeing awell-clad stranger in blue, he spoke to him in seemly wise. "Give yegood den, fair sir, and I would say that I come from Kirk Langly, whereI ha' sold my shoon and got three shillings sixpence ha'penny for themin as sweet money as ever thou sawest, and honestly earned too, I wouldha' thee know. But an I may be so bold, thou pretty fellow, what dostthou there beneath the hedge?"

"Marry," quoth merry Robin, "I sit beneath the hedge here to drop salton the tails of golden birds; but in sooth thou art the first chick ofany worth I ha' seen this blessed day."

At these words the Cobbler's eyes opened big and wide, and his mouthgrew round with wonder, like a knothole in a board fence, "slack-a-day,"quoth he, "look ye, now! I ha' never seen those same golden birds. Anddost thou in sooth find them in these hedges, good fellow? Prythee, tellme, are there many of them? I would fain find them mine own self."

"Ay, truly," quoth Robin, "they are as thick here as fresh herring inCannock Chase."

"Look ye, now!" said the Cobbler, all drowned in wonder. "And dost thouin sooth catch them by dropping salt on their pretty tails?"

"Yea," quoth Robin, "but this salt is of an odd kind, let me tell thee,for it can only be gotten by boiling down a quart of moonbeams in awooden platter, and then one hath but a pinch. But tell me, now, thouwitty man, what hast thou gotten there in that pouch by thy side and inthat pottle?"

At these words the Cobbler looked down at those things of which merryRobin spoke, for the thoughts of the golden bird had driven them fromhis mind, and it took him some time to scrape the memory of them backagain. "Why," said he at last, "in the one is good March beer, and inthe other is a fat capon. Truly, Quince the Cobbler will ha' a finefeast this day an I mistake not."

"But tell me, good Quince," said Robin, "hast thou a mind to sell thosethings to me? For the hearing of them sounds sweet in mine ears. I willgive thee these gay clothes of blue that I have upon my body and tenshillings to boot for thy clothes and thy leather apron and thy beer andthy capon. What sayst thou, bully boy?"

"Nay, thou dost jest with me," said the Cobbler, "for my clothes arecoarse and patched, and thine are of fine stuff and very pretty."

"Never a jest do I speak," quoth Robin. "Come, strip thy jacket off andI will show thee, for I tell thee I like thy clothes well. Moreover, Iwill be kind to thee, for I will feast straightway upon the good thingsthou hast with thee, and thou shalt be bidden to the eating." At thesewords he began slipping off his doublet, and the Cobbler, seeing him soin earnest, began pulling off his clothes also, for Robin Hood's garbtickled his eye. So each put on the other fellow's clothes, and Robingave the honest Cobbler ten bright new shillings. Quoth merry Robin,"I ha' been a many things in my life before, but never have I been anhonest cobbler. Come, friend, let us fall to and eat, for somethingwithin me cackles aloud for that good fat capon." So both sat down andbegan to feast right lustily, so that when they were done the bones ofthe capon were picked as bare as charity.

Then Robin stretched his legs out with a sweet feeling of comfort withinhim. Quoth he, "By the turn of thy voice, good Quince, I know thatthou hast a fair song or two running loose in thy head like colts in ameadow. I prythee, turn one of them out for me."

"A song or two I ha'," quoth the Cobbler, "poor things, poor things, butsuch as they are thou art welcome to one of them." So, moistening histhroat with a swallow of beer, he sang:

"Of all the joys, the best I love,     Sing hey my frisking Nan, O,     And that which most my soul doth move,     It is the clinking can, O.     "All other bliss I'd throw away,     Sing hey my frisking Nan, O,     But this—"

The stout Cobbler got no further in his song, for of a sudden sixhorsemen burst upon them where they sat, and seized roughly upon thehonest craftsman, hauling him to his feet, and nearly plucking theclothes from him as they did so. "Ha!" roared the leader of the bandin a great big voice of joy, "have we then caught thee at last, thoublue-clad knave? Now, blessed be the name of Saint Hubert, for we arefourscore pounds richer this minute than we were before, for the goodBishop of Hereford hath promised that much to the band that shall bringthee to him. Oho! thou cunning rascal! thou wouldst look so innocent,forsooth! We know thee, thou old fox. But off thou goest with us to havethy brush clipped forthwith." At these words the poor Cobbler gazed allaround him with his great blue eyes as round as those of a dead fish,while his mouth gaped as though he had swallowed all his words and solost his speech.

Robin also gaped and stared in a wondering way, just as the Cobblerwould have done in his place. "Alack-a-daisy, me," quoth he. "I knownot whether I be sitting here or in No-man's-land! What meaneth all thisstir i' th' pot, dear good gentlemen? Surely this is a sweet, honestfellow."

"'Honest fellow,' sayst thou, clown?" quoth one of the men "Why, I tellthee that this is that same rogue that men call Robin Hood."

At this speech the Cobbler stared and gaped more than ever, for therewas such a threshing of thoughts going on within his poor head that hiswits were all befogged with the dust and chaff thereof. Moreover, ashe looked at Robin Hood, and saw the yeoman look so like what he knewhimself to be, he began to doubt and to think that mayhap he was thegreat outlaw in real sooth. Said he in a slow, wondering voice, "Am Iin very truth that fellow?—Now I had thought—but nay, Quince, thou artmistook—yet—am I?—Nay, I must indeed be Robin Hood! Yet, truly, I hadnever thought to pass from an honest craftsman to such a great yeoman."

"Alas!" quoth Robin Hood, "look ye there, now! See how yourill-treatment hath curdled the wits of this poor lad and turned them allsour! I, myself, am Quince, the Cobbler of Derby Town."

"Is it so?" said Quince. "Then, indeed, I am somebody else, and can benone other than Robin Hood. Take me, fellows; but let me tell you thatye ha' laid hand upon the stoutest yeoman that ever trod the woodlands."

"Thou wilt play madman, wilt thou?" said the leader of the band. "Here,Giles, fetch a cord and bind this knave's hands behind him. I warrantwe will bring his wits back to him again when we get him safe before ourgood Bishop at Tutbury Town." Thereupon they tied the Cobbler's handsbehind him, and led him off with a rope, as the farmer leads off thecalf he hath brought from the fair. Robin stood looking after them, andwhen they were gone he laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks;for he knew that no harm would befall the honest fellow, and he picturedto himself the Bishop's face when good Quince was brought before himas Robin Hood. Then, turning his steps once more to the eastward, hestepped out right foot foremost toward Nottinghamshire and SherwoodForest.

But Robin Hood had gone through more than he wotted of. His journeyfrom London had been hard and long, and in a se'ennight he had traveledsevenscore and more of miles. He thought now to travel on withoutstopping until he had come to Sherwood, but ere he had gone a half ascore of miles he felt his strength giving way beneath him like a riverbank which the waters have undermined. He sat him down and rested, buthe knew within himself that he could go no farther that day, for hisfeet felt like lumps of lead, so heavy were they with weariness. Oncemore he arose and went forward, but after traveling a couple of mileshe was fain to give the matter up, so, coming to an inn just then, heentered and calling the landlord, bade him show him to a room, althoughthe sun was only then just sinking in the western sky. There were butthree bedrooms in the place, and to the meanest of these the landlordshowed Robin Hood, but little Robin cared for the looks of the place,for he could have slept that night upon a bed of broken stones. So,stripping off his clothes without more ado, he rolled into the bed andwas asleep almost ere his head touched the pillow.

Not long after Robin had so gone to his rest a great cloud peepedblackly over the hills to the westward. Higher and higher it aroseuntil it piled up into the night like a mountain of darkness. All aroundbeneath it came ever and anon a dull red flash, and presently a shortgrim mutter of the coming thunder was heard. Then up rode four stoutburghers of Nottingham Town, for this was the only inn withinfive miles' distance, and they did not care to be caught in such athunderstorm as this that was coming upon them. Leaving their nags tothe stableman, they entered the best room of the inn, where fresh greenrushes lay all spread upon the floor, and there called for the goodliestfare that the place afforded. After having eaten heartily they bade thelandlord show them to their rooms, for they were aweary, having riddenall the way from Dronfield that day. So off they went, grumbling athaving to sleep two in a bed, but their troubles on this score, as wellas all others, were soon lost in the quietness of sleep.

And now came the first gust of wind, rushing past the place, clappingand banging the doors and shutters, smelling of the coming rain, and allwrapped in a cloud of dust and leaves. As though the wind had brought aguest along with it, the door opened of a sudden and in came a friar ofEmmet Priory, and one in high degree, as was shown by the softness andsleekness of his robes and the richness of his rosary. He called to thelandlord, and bade him first have his mule well fed and bedded in thestable, and then to bring him the very best there was in the house.So presently a savory stew of tripe and onions, with sweet little fatdumplings, was set before him, likewise a good stout pottle ofMalmsey, and straightway the holy friar fell to with great courage andheartiness, so that in a short time nought was left but a little pool ofgravy in the center of the platter, not large enow to keep the life in astarving mouse.

In the meantime the storm broke. Another gust of wind went rushingby, and with it fell a few heavy drops of rain, which presently camerattling down in showers, beating against the casements like a hundredlittle hands. Bright flashes of lightning lit up every raindrop, andwith them came cracks of thunder that went away rumbling and bumping asthough Saint Swithin were busy rolling great casks of water across roughground overhead. The womenfolks screamed, and the merry wags inthe taproom put their arms around their waists to soothe them intoquietness.

At last the holy friar bade the landlord show him to his room; but whenhe heard that he was to bed with a cobbler, he was as ill contented afellow as you could find in all England, nevertheless there was nothingfor it, and he must sleep there or nowhere; so, taking up his candle,he went off, grumbling like the now distant thunder. When he came to theroom where he was to sleep he held the light over Robin and looked athim from top to toe; then he felt better pleased, for, instead, of arough, dirty-bearded fellow, he beheld as fresh and clean a lad as onecould find in a week of Sundays; so, slipping off his clothes, he alsohuddled into the bed, where Robin, grunting and grumbling in his sleep,made room for him. Robin was more sound asleep, I wot, than he had beenfor many a day, else he would never have rested so quietly with one ofthe friar's sort so close beside him. As for the friar, had he known whoRobin Hood was, you may well believe he would almost as soon have sleptwith an adder as with the man he had for a bedfellow.

So the night passed comfortably enough, but at the first dawn of dayRobin opened his eyes and turned his head upon the pillow. Then how hegaped and how he stared, for there beside him lay one all shaven andshorn, so that he knew that it must be a fellow in holy orders. Hepinched himself sharply, but, finding he was awake, sat up in bed, whilethe other slumbered as peacefully as though he were safe and sound athome in Emmet Priory. "Now," quoth Robin to himself, "I wonder how thisthing hath dropped into my bed during the night." So saying, he arosesoftly, so as not to waken the other, and looking about the room heespied the friar's clothes lying upon a bench near the wall. First helooked at the clothes, with his head on one side, and then he lookedat the friar and slowly winked one eye. Quoth he, "Good BrotherWhat-e'er-thy-name-may-be, as thou hast borrowed my bed so freely I'lle'en borrow thy clothes in return." So saying, he straightway donned theholy man's garb, but kindly left the cobbler's clothes in the placeof it. Then he went forth into the freshness of the morning, and thestableman that was up and about the stables opened his eyes as though hesaw a green mouse before him, for such men as the friars of Emmet werenot wont to be early risers; but the man bottled his thoughts, and onlyasked Robin whether he wanted his mule brought from the stable.

"Yea, my son," quoth Robin—albeit he knew nought of the mule—"andbring it forth quickly, I prythee, for I am late and must be jogging."So presently the stableman brought forth the mule, and Robin mounted itand went on his way rejoicing.

As for the holy friar, when he arose he was in as pretty a stew as anyman in all the world, for his rich, soft robes were gone, likewise hispurse with ten golden pounds in it, and nought was left but patchedclothes and a leathern apron. He raged and swore like any layman, but ashis swearing mended nothing and the landlord could not aid him, and as,moreover, he was forced to be at Emmet Priory that very morning uponmatters of business, he was fain either to don the cobbler's clothesor travel the road in nakedness. So he put on the clothes, and, stillraging and swearing vengeance against all the cobblers in Derbyshire,he set forth upon his way afoot; but his ills had not yet done with him,for he had not gone far ere he fell into the hands of the King's men,who marched him off, willy-nilly, to Tutbury Town and the Bishop ofHereford. In vain he swore he was a holy man, and showed his shavencrown; off he must go, for nothing would do but that he was Robin Hood.

Meanwhile merry Robin rode along contentedly, passing safely by twobands of the King's men, until his heart began to dance within himbecause of the nearness of Sherwood; so he traveled ever on to theeastward, till, of a sudden, he met a noble knight in a shady lane. ThenRobin checked his mule quickly and leaped from off its back. "Now, wellmet, Sir Richard of the Lea," cried he, "for rather than any other manin England would I see thy good face this day!" Then he told Sir Richardall the happenings that had befallen him, and that now at last he felthimself safe, being so nigh to Sherwood again. But when Robin had done,Sir Richard shook his head sadly. "Thou art in greater danger now,Robin, than thou hast yet been," said he, "for before thee lie bands ofthe Sheriff's men blocking every road and letting none pass through thelines without examining them closely. I myself know this, having passedthem but now. Before thee lie the Sheriffs men and behind thee theKing's men, and thou canst not hope to pass either way, for by thistime they will know of thy disguise and will be in waiting to seize uponthee. My castle and everything within it are thine, but nought could begained there, for I could not hope to hold it against such a force as isnow in Nottingham of the King's and the Sheriffs men." Having so spoken,Sir Richard bent his head in thought, and Robin felt his heart sinkwithin him like that of the fox that hears the hounds at his heels andfinds his den blocked with earth so that there is no hiding for him.But presently Sir Richard spoke again, saying, "One thing thou canst do,Robin, and one only. Go back to London and throw thyself upon the mercyof our good Queen Eleanor. Come with me straightway to my castle. Doffthese clothes and put on such as my retainers wear. Then I will hie meto London Town with a troop of men behind me, and thou shalt mingle withthem, and thus will I bring thee to where thou mayst see and speak withthe Queen. Thy only hope is to get to Sherwood, for there none can reachthee, and thou wilt never get to Sherwood but in this way."

So Robin went with Sir Richard of the Lea, and did as he said, for hesaw the wisdom of that which the knight advised, and that this was hisonly chance of safety.

Queen Eleanor walked in her royal garden, amid the roses that bloomedsweetly, and with her walked six of her ladies-in-waiting, chatteringblithely together. Of a sudden a man leaped up to the top of the wallfrom the other side, and then, hanging for a moment, dropped lightlyupon the grass within. All the ladies-in-waiting shrieked at thesuddenness of his coming, but the man ran to the Queen and kneeled ather feet, and she saw that it was Robin Hood.

"Why, how now, Robin!" cried she, "dost thou dare to come into the veryjaws of the raging lion? Alas, poor fellow! Thou art lost indeed if theKing finds thee here. Dost thou not know that he is seeking thee throughall the land?"

"Yea," quoth Robin, "I do know right well that the King seeks me, andtherefore I have come; for, surely, no ill can befall me when he hathpledged his royal word to Your Majesty for my safety. Moreover, I knowYour Majesty's kindness and gentleness of heart, and so I lay my lifefreely in your gracious hands."

"I take thy meaning, Robin Hood," said the Queen, "and that thou dostconvey reproach to me, as well thou mayst, for I know that I have notdone by thee as I ought to have done. I know right well that thou musthave been hard pressed by peril to leap so boldly into one danger toescape another. Once more I promise thee mine aid, and will do all I canto send thee back in safety to Sherwood Forest. Bide thou here till Ireturn." So saying, she left Robin in the garden of roses, and was gonea long time.

When she came back Sir Robert Lee was with her, and the Queen's cheekswere hot and the Queen's eyes were bright, as though she had beentalking with high words. Then Sir Robert came straight forward to whereRobin Hood stood, and he spoke to the yeoman in a cold, stern voice.Quoth he, "Our gracious Sovereign the King hath mitigated his wrathtoward thee, fellow, and hath once more promised that thou shalt departin peace and safety. Not only hath he promised this, but in three dayshe will send one of his pages to go with thee and see that none arrestthy journey back again. Thou mayst thank thy patron saint that thou hastsuch a good friend in our noble Queen, for, but for her persuasion andarguments, thou hadst been a dead man, I can tell thee. Let this perilthat thou hast passed through teach thee two lessons. First, be morehonest. Second, be not so bold in thy comings and goings. A man thatwalketh in the darkness as thou dost may escape for a time, but in theend he will surely fall into the pit. Thou hast put thy head in theangry lion's mouth, and yet thou hast escaped by a miracle. Try it notagain." So saying, he turned and left Robin and was gone.

For three days Robin abided in London in the Queen's household, and atthe end of that time the King's head Page, Edward Cunningham, came, andtaking Robin with him, departed northward upon his way to Sherwood.Now and then they passed bands of the King's men coming back again toLondon, but none of those bands stopped them, and so, at last, theyreached the sweet, leafy woodlands.

Robin Hood and Guy of Gisbourne

A LONG TIME passed after the great shooting match, and during that timeRobin followed one part of the advice of Sir Robert Lee, to wit, that ofbeing less bold in his comings and his goings; for though mayhap he maynot have been more honest (as most folks regard honesty), he took goodcare not to travel so far from Sherwood that he could not reach it botheasily and quickly.

Great changes had fallen in this time; for King Henry had died and KingRichard had come to the crown that fitted him so well through many hardtrials, and through adventures as stirring as any that ever befell RobinHood. But though great changes came, they did not reach to Sherwood'sshades, for there Robin Hood and his men dwelled as merrily as they hadever done, with hunting and feasting and singing and blithe woodlandsports; for it was little the outside striving of the world troubledthem.

The dawning of a summer's day was fresh and bright, and the birds sangsweetly in a great tumult of sound. So loud was their singing thatit awakened Robin Hood where he lay sleeping, so that he stirred, andturned, and arose. Up rose Little John also, and all the merry men;then, after they had broken their fast, they set forth hither andthither upon the doings of the day.

Robin Hood and Little John walked down a forest path where all aroundthe leaves danced and twinkled as the breeze trembled through them andthe sunlight came flickering down. Quoth Robin Hood, "I make my vow,Little John, my blood tickles my veins as it flows through them this gaymorn. What sayst thou to our seeking adventures, each one upon his ownaccount?"

"With all my heart," said Little John. "We have had more than onepleasant doing in that way, good master. Here are two paths; take thouthe one to the right hand, and I will take the one to the left, and thenlet us each walk straight ahead till he tumble into some merry doing orother."

"I like thy plan," quoth Robin, "therefore we will part here. But lookthee, Little John, keep thyself out of mischief, for I would not haveill befall thee for all the world."

"Marry, come up," quoth Little John, "how thou talkest! Methinks thouart wont to get thyself into tighter coils than I am like to do."

At this Robin Hood laughed. "Why, in sooth, Little John," said he, "thouhast a blundering hard-headed way that seemeth to bring thee right sideuppermost in all thy troubles; but let us see who cometh out best thisday." So saying, he clapped his palm to Little John's and each departedupon his way, the trees quickly shutting the one from the other's sight.

Robin Hood strolled onward till he came to where a broad woodland roadstretched before him. Overhead the branches of the trees laced togetherin flickering foliage, all golden where it grew thin to the sunlight;beneath his feet the ground was soft and moist from the shelteringshade. Here in this pleasant spot the sharpest adventure that everbefell Robin Hood came upon him; for, as he walked down the woodlandpath thinking of nought but the songs of the birds, he came of a suddento where a man was seated upon the mossy roots beneath the shade ofa broad-spreading oak tree. Robin Hood saw that the stranger had notcaught sight of him, so he stopped and stood quite still, looking at theother a long time before he came forward. And the stranger, I wot,was well worth looking at, for never had Robin seen a figure like thatsitting beneath the tree. From his head to his feet he was clad in ahorse's hide, dressed with the hair upon it. Upon his head was a cowlthat hid his face from sight, and which was made of the horse's skin,the ears whereof stuck up like those of a rabbit. His body was clad ina jacket made of the hide, and his legs were covered with the hairy skinlikewise. By his side was a heavy broadsword and a sharp, double-edgeddagger. A quiver of smooth round arrows hung across his shoulders, andhis stout bow of yew leaned against the tree beside him.

"Halloa, friend," cried Robin, coming forward at last, "who art thouthat sittest there? And what is that that thou hast upon thy body? Imake my vow I ha' never seen such a sight in all my life before. Had Idone an evil thing, or did my conscience trouble me, I would be afraidof thee, thinking that thou wast someone from down below bringing amessage bidding me come straightway to King Nicholas."

To this speech the other answered not a word, but he pushed the cowlback from his head and showed a knit brow, a hooked nose, and a pair offierce, restless black eyes, which altogether made Robin think of a hawkas he looked on his face. But beside this there was something about thelines on the stranger's face, and his thin cruel mouth, and the hardglare of his eyes, that made one's flesh creep to look upon.

"Who art thou, rascal?" said he at last, in a loud, harsh voice.

"Tut, tut," quoth merry Robin, "speak not so sourly, brother. Hastthou fed upon vinegar and nettles this morning that thy speech is sostinging?"

"An thou likest not my words," said the other fiercely, "thou hadst bestbe jogging, for I tell thee plainly, my deeds match them."

"Nay, but I do like thy words, thou sweet, pretty thing," quoth Robin,squatting down upon the grass in front of the other. "Moreover, I tellthee thy speech is witty and gamesome as any I ever heard in all mylife."

The other said not a word, but he glared upon Robin with a wicked andbaleful look, such as a fierce dog bestows upon a man ere it springs athis throat. Robin returned the gaze with one of wide-eyed innocence, nota shadow of a smile twinkling in his eyes or twitching at the corners ofhis mouth. So they sat staring at one another for a long time, until thestranger broke the silence suddenly. "What is thy name, fellow?" saidhe.

"Now," quoth Robin, "I am right glad to hear thee speak, for I began tofear the sight of me had stricken thee dumb. As for my name, it may bethis or it may be that; but methinks it is more meet for thee to tellme thine, seeing that thou art the greater stranger in these parts.Prythee, tell me, sweet chuck, why wearest thou that dainty garb uponthy pretty body?" At these words the other broke into a short, harshroar of laughter. "By the bones of the Daemon Odin," said he, "thou artthe boldest-spoken man that ever I have seen in all my life. I know notwhy I do not smite thee down where thou sittest, for only two days ago Iskewered a man over back of Nottingham Town for saying not half so muchto me as thou hast done. I wear this garb, thou fool, to keep my bodywarm; likewise it is near as good as a coat of steel against a commonsword-thrust. As for my name, I care not who knoweth it. It is Guyof Gisbourne, and thou mayst have heard it before. I come from thewoodlands over in Herefordshire, upon the lands of the Bishop of thatilk. I am an outlaw, and get my living by hook and by crook in a mannerit boots not now to tell of. Not long since the Bishop sent for me, andsaid that if I would do a certain thing that the Sheriff of Nottinghamwould ask of me, he would get me a free pardon, and give me tenscorepounds to boot. So straightway I came to Nottingham Town and found mysweet Sheriff; and what thinkest thou he wanted of me? Why, forsooth, tocome here to Sherwood to hunt up one Robin Hood, also an outlaw, and totake him alive or dead. It seemeth that they have no one here to facethat bold fellow, and so sent all the way to Herefordshire, and to me,for thou knowest the old saying, 'Set a thief to catch a thief.' As forthe slaying of this fellow, it galleth me not a whit, for I would shedthe blood of my own brother for the half of two hundred pounds."

To all this Robin listened, and as he listened his gorge rose. Well heknew of this Guy of Gisbourne, and of all the bloody and murderous deedsthat he had done in Herefordshire, for his doings were famous throughoutall the land. Yet, although he loathed the very presence of the man, heheld his peace, for he had an end to serve. "Truly," quoth he, "I haveheard of thy gentle doings. Methinks there is no one in all the worldthat Robin Hood would rather meet than thee."

At this Guy of Gisbourne gave another harsh laugh. "Why," quoth he, "itis a merry thing to think of one stout outlaw like Robin Hood meetinganother stout outlaw like Guy of Gisbourne. Only in this case it will bean ill happening for Robin Hood, for the day he meets Guy of Gisbournehe shall die."

"But thou gentle, merry spirit," quoth Robin, "dost thou not think thatmayhap this same Robin Hood may be the better man of the two? I knowhim right well, and many think that he is one of the stoutest menhereabouts."

"He may be the stoutest of men hereabouts," quoth Guy of Gisbourne,"yet, I tell thee, fellow, this sty of yours is not the wide world.I lay my life upon it I am the better man of the two. He an outlaw,forsooth! Why, I hear that he hath never let blood in all his life,saving when he first came to the forest. Some call him a great archer;marry, I would not be afraid to stand against him all the days of theyear with a bow in my hand."

"Why, truly, some folk do call him a great archer," said Robin Hood,"but we of Nottinghamshire are famous hands with the longbow. Even I,though but a simple hand at the craft, would not fear to try a bout withthee."

At these words Guy of Gisbourne looked upon Robin with wondering eyes,and then gave another roar of laughter till the woods rang. "Now," quothhe, "thou art a bold fellow to talk to me in this way. I like thy spiritin so speaking up to me, for few men have dared to do so. Put up agarland, lad, and I will try a bout with thee."

"Tut, tut," quoth Robin, "only babes shoot at garlands hereabouts. Iwill put up a good Nottingham mark for thee." So saying, he arose, andgoing to a hazel thicket not far off, he cut a wand about twicethe thickness of a man's thumb. From this he peeled the bark, and,sharpening the point, stuck it up in the ground in front of a great oaktree. Thence he measured off fourscore paces, which brought him besidethe tree where the other sat. "There," quoth he, "is the kind of markthat Nottingham yeomen shoot at. Now let me see thee split that wand ifthou art an archer."

Then Guy of Gisbourne arose. "Now out upon it!" cried he. "The Devilhimself could not hit such a mark as that."

"Mayhap he could and mayhap he could not," quoth merry Robin, "but thatwe shall never know till thou hast shot thereat."

At these words Guy of Gisbourne looked upon Robin with knit brows, but,as the yeoman still looked innocent of any ill meaning, he bottled hiswords and strung his bow in silence. Twice he shot, but neither time didhe hit the wand, missing it the first time by a span and the second timeby a good palm's-breadth. Robin laughed and laughed. "I see now," quothhe, "that the Devil himself could not hit that mark. Good fellow, ifthou art no better with the broadsword than thou art with the bow andarrow, thou wilt never overcome Robin Hood."

At these words Guy of Gisbourne glared savagely upon Robin. Quoth he,"Thou hast a merry tongue, thou villain; but take care that thou makestnot too free with it, or I may cut it out from thy throat for thee."

Robin Hood strung his bow and took his place with never a word, albeithis heartstrings quivered with anger and loathing. Twice he shot, thefirst time hitting within an inch of the wand, the second time splittingit fairly in the middle. Then, without giving the other a chance forspeech, he flung his bow upon the ground. "There, thou bloody villain!"cried he fiercely, "let that show thee how little thou knowest of manlysports. And now look thy last upon the daylight, for the good earth hathbeen befouled long enough by thee, thou vile beast! This day, Our Ladywilling, thou diest—I am Robin Hood." So saying, he flashed forth hisbright sword in the sunlight.

For a time Guy of Gisbourne stared upon Robin as though bereft of wits;but his wonder quickly passed to a wild rage. "Art thou indeed RobinHood?" cried he. "Now I am glad to meet thee, thou poor wretch! Shrivethyself, for thou wilt have no time for shriving when I am done withthee." So saying, he also drew his sword.

And now came the fiercest fight that ever Sherwood saw; for each manknew that either he or the other must die, and that no mercy was to behad in this battle. Up and down they fought, till all the sweet greengrass was crushed and ground beneath the trampling of their heels. Morethan once the point of Robin Hood's sword felt the softness of flesh,and presently the ground began to be sprinkled with bright red drops,albeit not one of them came from Robin's veins. At last Guy of Gisbournemade a fierce and deadly thrust at Robin Hood, from which he leaped backlightly, but in so leaping he caught his heel in a root and fell heavilyupon his back. "Now, Holy Mary aid me!" muttered he, as the other leapedat him, with a grin of rage upon his face. Fiercely Guy of Gisbournestabbed at the other with his great sword, but Robin caught the blade inhis naked hand, and, though it cut his palm, he turned the point away sothat it plunged deep into the ground close beside him; then, ere a blowcould be struck again, he leaped to his feet, with his good sword inhis hand. And now despair fell upon Guy of Gisbourne's heart in a blackcloud, and he looked around him wildly, like a wounded hawk. Seeing thathis strength was going from him, Robin leaped forward, and, quick as aflash, struck a back-handed blow beneath the sword arm. Down fellthe sword from Guy of Gisbourne's grasp, and back he staggered at thestroke, and, ere he could regain himself, Robin's sword passed throughand through his body. Round he spun upon his heel, and, flinging hishands aloft with a shrill, wild cry, fell prone upon his face upon thegreen sod.

Then Robin Hood wiped his sword and thrust it back into the scabbard,and, coming to where Guy of Gisbourne lay, he stood over him with foldedarms, talking to himself the while. "This is the first man I have slainsince I shot the Kings forester in the hot days of my youth. I ofttimesthink bitterly, even yet, of that first life I took, but of this I am asglad as though I had slain a wild boar that laid waste a fair country.Since the Sheriff of Nottingham hath sent such a one as this against me,I will put on the fellow's garb and go forth to see whether I may notfind his worship, and perchance pay him back some of the debt I owe himupon this score."

So saying, Robin Hood stripped the hairy garments from off the dead man,and put them on himself, all bloody as they were. Then, strapping theother's sword and dagger around his body and carrying his own in hishand, together with the two bows of yew, he drew the cowl of horse'shide over his face, so that none could tell who he was, and set forthfrom the forest, turning his steps toward the eastward and NottinghamTown. As he strode along the country roads, men, women, and childrenhid away from him, for the terror of Guy of Gisbourne's name and of hisdoings had spread far and near.

And now let us see what befell Little John while these things werehappening.

Little John walked on his way through the forest paths until he hadcome to the outskirts of the woodlands, where, here and there, fields ofbarley, corn, or green meadow lands lay smiling in the sun. So he cameto the highroad and to where a little thatched cottage stood back ofa cluster of twisted crab trees, with flowers in front of it. Here hestopped of a sudden, for he thought that he heard the sound of someonein sorrow. He listened, and found that it came from the cottage; so,turning his footsteps thither, he pushed open the wicket and enteredthe place. There he saw a gray-haired dame sitting beside a coldhearthstone, rocking herself to and fro and weeping bitterly.

Now Little John had a tender heart for the sorrows of other folk, so,coming to the old woman and patting her kindly upon the shoulder, hespoke comforting words to her, bidding her cheer up and tell him hertroubles, for that mayhap he might do something to ease them. At allthis the good dame shook her head; but all the same his kind words didsoothe her somewhat, so after a while she told him all that bore uponher mind. That that morning she had three as fair, tall sons beside heras one could find in all Nottinghamshire, but that they were now takenfrom her, and were like to be hanged straightway; that, want havingcome upon them, her eldest boy had gone out, the night before, into theforest, and had slain a hind in the moonlight; that the King's rangershad followed the blood upon the grass until they had come to hercottage, and had there found the deer's meat in the cupboard; that, asneither of the younger sons would betray their brother, the forestershad taken all three away, in spite of the oldest saying that he alonehad slain the deer; that, as they went, she had heard the rangerstalking among themselves, saying that the Sheriff had sworn that hewould put a check upon the great slaughter of deer that had been goingon of late by hanging the very first rogue caught thereat upon thenearest tree, and that they would take the three youths to the King'sHead Inn, near Nottingham Town, where the Sheriff was abiding that day,there to await the return of a certain fellow he had sent into Sherwoodto seek for Robin Hood.

To all this Little John listened, shaking his head sadly now and then."Alas," quoth he, when the good dame had finished her speech, "this isindeed an ill case. But who is this that goeth into Sherwood after RobinHood, and why doth he go to seek him? But no matter for that now; onlythat I would that Robin Hood were here to advise us. Nevertheless, notime may be lost in sending for him at this hour, if we would save thelives of thy three sons. Tell me, hast thou any clothes hereabouts thatI may put on in place of these of Lincoln green? Marry, if our stoutSheriff catcheth me without disguise, I am like to be run up morequickly than thy sons, let me tell thee, dame."

Then the old woman told him that she had in the house some of theclothes of her good husband, who had died only two years before. Theseshe brought to Little John, who, doffing his garb of Lincoln green, putthem on in its stead. Then, making a wig and false beard of uncardedwool, he covered his own brown hair and beard, and, putting on a great,tall hat that had belonged to the old peasant, he took his staff in onehand and his bow in the other, and set forth with all speed to where theSheriff had taken up his inn.

A mile or more from Nottingham Town, and not far from the southernborders of Sherwood Forest, stood the cosy inn bearing the sign of theKing's Head. Here was a great bustle and stir on this bright morning,for the Sheriff and a score of his men had come to stop there andawait Guy of Gisbourne's return from the forest. Great hiss and fuss ofcooking was going on in the kitchen, and great rapping and tapping ofwine kegs and beer barrels was going on in the cellar. The Sheriffsat within, feasting merrily of the best the place afforded, and theSheriff's men sat upon the bench before the door, quaffing ale, or laybeneath the shade of the broad-spreading oak trees, talking and jestingand laughing. All around stood the horses of the band, with a greatnoise of stamping feet and a great switching of tails. To this inn camethe King's rangers, driving the widow's three sons before them. Thehands of the three youths were tied tightly behind their backs, and acord from neck to neck fastened them all together. So they were marchedto the room where the Sheriff sat at meat, and stood trembling beforehim as he scowled sternly upon them.

"So," quoth he, in a great, loud, angry voice, "ye have been poachingupon the King's deer, have you? Now I will make short work of you thisday, for I will hang up all three of you as a farmer would hang up threecrows to scare others of the kind from the field. Our fair county ofNottingham hath been too long a breeding place for such naughty knavesas ye are. I have put up with these things for many years, but now Iwill stamp them out once for all, and with you I will begin."

Then one of the poor fellows opened his mouth to speak, but the Sheriffroared at him in a loud voice to be silent, and bade the rangers to takethem away till he had done his eating and could attend to the mattersconcerning them. So the three poor youths were marched outside, wherethey stood with bowed heads and despairing hearts, till after a whilethe Sheriff came forth. Then he called his men about him, and quoth he,"These three villains shall be hanged straightway, but not here, lestthey breed ill luck to this goodly inn. We will take them over yonder tothat belt of woodlands, for I would fain hang them upon the very treesof Sherwood itself, to show those vile outlaws therein what they mayexpect of me if I ever have the good luck to lay hands upon them." Sosaying, he mounted his horse, as did his men-at-arms likewise, and alltogether they set forth for the belt of woodlands he had spoken of, thepoor youths walking in their midst guarded by the rangers. So they cameat last to the spot, and here nooses were fastened around the necks ofthe three, and the ends of the cords flung over the branch of a greatoak tree that stood there. Then the three youths fell upon their kneesand loudly besought mercy of the Sheriff; but the Sheriff of Nottinghamlaughed scornfully. "Now," quoth he, "I would that I had a priest hereto shrive you; but, as none is nigh, you must e'en travel your road withall your sins packed upon your backs, and trust to Saint Peter to letyou in through the gates of Paradise like three peddlers into the town."

In the meantime, while all this had been going forward, an old man haddrawn near and stood leaning on his staff, looking on. His hair andbeard were all curly and white, and across his back was a bow of yewthat looked much too strong for him to draw. As the Sheriff lookedaround ere he ordered his men to string the three youths up to the oaktree, his eyes fell upon this strange old man. Then his worship beckonedto him, saying, "Come hither, father, I have a few words to say tothee." So Little John, for it was none other than he, came forward, andthe Sheriff looked upon him, thinking that there was something strangelyfamiliar in the face before him. "How, now," said he, "methinks I haveseen thee before. What may thy name be, father?"

"Please Your Worship," said Little John, in a cracked voice like that ofan old man, "my name is Giles Hobble, at Your Worship's service."

"Giles Hobble, Giles Hobble," muttered the Sheriff to himself, turningover the names that he had in his mind to try to find one to fit tothis. "I remember not thy name," said he at last, "but it matters not.Hast thou a mind to earn sixpence this bright morn?"

"Ay, marry," quoth Little John, "for money is not so plenty with me thatI should cast sixpence away an I could earn it by an honest turn. Whatis it Your Worship would have me do?"

"Why, this," said the Sheriff. "Here are three men that need hangingas badly as any e'er I saw. If thou wilt string them up I will pay theetwopence apiece for them. I like not that my men-at-arms should turnhangmen. Wilt thou try thy hand?"

"In sooth," said Little John, still in the old man's voice, "I ha' neverdone such a thing before; but an a sixpence is to be earned so easilyI might as well ha' it as anybody. But, Your Worship, are these naughtyfellows shrived?"

"Nay," said the Sheriff, laughing, "never a whit; but thou mayst turnthy hand to that also if thou art so minded. But hasten, I prythee, forI would get back to mine inn betimes."

So Little John came to where the three youths stood trembling, and,putting his face to the first fellow's cheek as though he were listeningto him, he whispered softly into his ear, "Stand still, brother, whenthou feelest thy bonds cut, but when thou seest me throw my woolen wigand beard from my head and face, cast the noose from thy neck and runfor the woodlands." Then he slyly cut the cord that bound the youth'shands; who, upon his part, stood still as though he were yet bound. Thenhe went to the second fellow, and spoke to him in the same way, and alsocut his bonds. This he did to the third likewise, but all so slyly thatthe Sheriff, who sat upon his horse laughing, wotted not what was beingdone, nor his men either.

Then Little John turned to the Sheriff. "Please Your Worship," said he,"will you give me leave to string my bow? For I would fain help thesefellows along the way, when they are swinging, with an arrow beneath theribs."

"With all my heart," said the Sheriff, "only, as I said before, makethou haste in thy doings."

Little John put the tip of his bow to his instep, and strung the weaponso deftly that all wondered to see an old man so strong. Next he drewa good smooth arrow from his quiver and fitted it to the string; then,looking all around to see that the way was clear behind him, he suddenlycast away the wool from his head and face, shouting in a mighty voice,"Run!" Quick as a flash the three youths flung the nooses from theirnecks and sped across the open to the woodlands as the arrow speeds fromthe bow. Little John also flew toward the covert like a greyhound, whilethe Sheriff and his men gazed after him all bewildered with the suddendoing. But ere the yeoman had gone far the Sheriff roused himself."After him!" he roared in a mighty voice; for he knew now who it waswith whom he had been talking, and wondered that he had not known himbefore.

Little John heard the Sheriff's words, and seeing that he could not hopeto reach the woodlands before they would be upon him, he stopped andturned suddenly, holding his bow as though he were about to shoot."Stand back!" cried he fiercely. "The first man that cometh a footforward, or toucheth finger to bowstring, dieth!"

At these words the Sheriff's men stood as still as stocks, for they knewright well that Little John would be as good as his word, and that todisobey him meant death. In vain the Sheriff roared at them, callingthem cowards, and urging them forward in a body; they would not budge aninch, but stood and watched Little John as he moved slowly away towardthe forest, keeping his gaze fixed upon them. But when the Sheriff sawhis enemy thus slipping betwixt his fingers he grew mad with his rage,so that his head swam and he knew not what he did. Then of a sudden heturned his horse's head, and plunging his spurs into its sides he gavea great shout, and, rising in his stirrups, came down upon Little Johnlike the wind. Then Little John raised his deadly bow and drew the graygoose feather to his cheek. But alas for him! For, ere he could loosethe shaft, the good bow that had served him so long, split in his hands,and the arrow fell harmless at his feet. Seeing what had happened, theSheriff's men raised a shout, and, following their master, came rushingdown upon Little John. But the Sheriff was ahead of the others, andso caught up with the yeoman before he reached the shelter of thewoodlands, then leaning forward he struck a mighty blow. Little Johnducked and the Sheriff's sword turned in his hand, but the flat of theblade struck the other upon the head and smote him down, stunned andsenseless.

"Now, I am right glad," said the Sheriff, when the men came up and foundthat Little John was not dead, "that I have not slain this man in myhaste! I would rather lose five hundred pounds than have him die thusinstead of hanging, as such a vile thief should do. Go, get some waterfrom yonder fountain, William, and pour it over his head."

The man did as he was bidden, and presently Little John opened his eyesand looked around him, all dazed and bewildered with the stun of theblow. Then they tied his hands behind him, and lifting him up set himupon the back of one of the horses, with his face to its tail and hisfeet strapped beneath its belly. So they took him back to the King'sHead Inn, laughing and rejoicing as they went along. But in the meantimethe widow's three sons had gotten safely away, and were hidden in thewoodlands.

Once more the Sheriff of Nottingham sat within the King's Head Inn. Hisheart rejoiced within him, for he had at last done that which he hadsought to do for years, taken Little John prisoner. Quoth he to himself,"This time tomorrow the rogue shall hang upon the gallows tree in frontof the great gate of Nottingham Town, and thus shall I make my longscore with him even." So saying, he took a deep draught of Canary. Butit seemed as if the Sheriff had swallowed a thought with his wine, forhe shook his head and put the cup down hastily. "Now," he mutteredto himself, "I would not for a thousand pounds have this fellow slipthrough my fingers; yet, should his master escape that foul Guy ofGisbourne, there is no knowing what he may do, for he is the cunningestknave in all the world—this same Robin Hood. Belike I had better notwait until tomorrow to hang the fellow." So saying, he pushed his chairback hastily, and going forth from the inn called his men together.Quoth he, "I will wait no longer for the hanging of this rogue, but itshall be done forthwith, and that from the very tree whence he savedthose three young villains by stepping betwixt them and the law. So getye ready straightway."

Then once more they sat Little John upon the horse, with his face to thetail, and so, one leading the horse whereon he sat and the others ridingaround him, they went forward to that tree from the branches of whichthey had thought to hang the poachers. On they went, rattling andjingling along the road till they came to the tree. Here one of the menspake to the Sheriff of a sudden. "Your Worship," cried he, "is not yonfellow coming along toward us that same Guy of Gisbourne whom thou didstsend into the forest to seek Robin Hood?" At these words the Sheriffshaded his eyes and looked eagerly. "Why, certes," quoth he, "yon fellowis the same. Now, Heaven send that he hath slain the master thief, as wewill presently slay the man!"

When Little John heard this speech he looked up, and straightway hisheart crumbled away within him, for not only were the man's garments allcovered with blood, but he wore Robin Hood's bugle horn and carried hisbow and broadsword.

"How now!" cried the Sheriff, when Robin Hood, in Guy of Gisbourne'sclothes, had come nigh to them. "What luck hath befallen thee in theforest? Why, man, thy clothes are all over blood!"

"An thou likest not my clothes," said Robin in a harsh voice like thatof Guy of Gisbourne, "thou mayst shut thine eyes. Marry, the blood uponme is that of the vilest outlaw that ever trod the woodlands, and onewhom I have slain this day, albeit not without wound to myself."

Then out spake Little John, for the first time since he had fallen intothe Sheriff's hands. "O thou vile, bloody wretch! I know thee, Guy ofGisbourne, for who is there that hath not heard of thee and cursed theefor thy vile deeds of blood and rapine? Is it by such a hand as thinethat the gentlest heart that ever beat is stilled in death? Truly,thou art a fit tool for this coward Sheriff of Nottingham. Now I diejoyfully, nor do I care how I die, for life is nought to me!" So spakeLittle John, the salt tears rolling down his brown cheeks.

But the Sheriff of Nottingham clapped his hands for joy. "Now, Guy ofGisbourne," cried he, "if what thou tellest me is true, it will be thebest day's doings for thee that ever thou hast done in all thy life."

"What I have told thee is sooth, and I lie not," said Robin, still inGuy of Gisbourne's voice. "Look, is not this Robin Hood's sword, and isnot this his good bow of yew, and is not this his bugle horn? Thinkestthou he would have given them to Guy of Gisbourne of his own free will?"

Then the Sheriff laughed aloud for joy. "This is a good day!" cried he."The great outlaw dead and his right-hand man in my hands! Ask what thouwilt of me, Guy of Gisbourne, and it is thine!"

"Then this I ask of thee," said Robin. "As I have slain the masterI would now kill the man. Give this fellow's life into my hands, SirSheriff."

"Now thou art a fool!" cried the Sheriff. "Thou mightst have had moneyenough for a knight's ransom if thou hadst asked for it. I like ill tolet this fellow pass from my hands, but as I have promised, thou shalthave him."

"I thank thee right heartily for thy gift," cried Robin. "Take the roguedown from the horse, men, and lean him against yonder tree, while I showyou how we stick a porker whence I come!"

At these words some of the Sheriff's men shook their heads; for, thoughthey cared not a whit whether Little John were hanged or not, they hatedto see him butchered in cold blood. But the Sheriff called to them ina loud voice, ordering them to take the yeoman down from the horse andlean him against the tree, as the other bade.

While they were doing this Robin Hood strung both his bow and that ofGuy of Gisbourne, albeit none of them took notice of his doing so. Then,when Little John stood against the tree, he drew Guy of Gisbourne'ssharp, double-edged dagger. "Fall back! fall back!" cried he. "Wouldye crowd so on my pleasure, ye unmannerly knaves? Back, I say! Fartheryet!" So they crowded back, as he ordered, many of them turning theirfaces away, that they might not see what was about to happen.

"Come!" cried Little John. "Here is my breast. It is meet that the samehand that slew my dear master should butcher me also! I know thee, Guyof Gisbourne!"

"Peace, Little John!" said Robin in a low voice. "Twice thou hast saidthou knowest me, and yet thou knowest me not at all. Couldst thou nottell me beneath this wild beast's hide? Yonder, just in front of thee,lie my bow and arrows, likewise my broadsword. Take them when I cut thybonds. Now! Get them quickly!" So saying, he cut the bonds, and LittleJohn, quick as a wink, leaped forward and caught up the bow and arrowsand the broadsword. At the same time Robin Hood threw back the cowl ofhorse's hide from his face and bent Guy of Gisbourne's bow, with a keen,barbed arrow fitted to the string. "Stand back!" cried he sternly. "Thefirst man that toucheth finger to bowstring dieth! I have slain thyman, Sheriff; take heed that it is not thy turn next." Then, seeing thatLittle John had armed himself, he clapped his bugle horn to his lips andblew three blasts both loud and shrill.

Now when the Sheriff of Nottingham saw whose face it was beneath Guy ofGisbourne's hood, and when he heard those bugle notes ring in his ear,he felt as if his hour had come. "Robin Hood!" roared he, and withoutanother word he wheeled his horse in the road and went off in a cloud ofdust. The Sheriff's men, seeing their master thus fleeing for his life,thought that it was not their business to tarry longer, so, clappingspurs to their horses, they also dashed away after him. But thoughthe Sheriff of Nottingham went fast, he could not outstrip a clothyardarrow. Little John twanged his bowstring with a shout, and when theSheriff dashed in through the gates of Nottingham Town at full speed, agray goose shaft stuck out behind him like a moulting sparrow with onefeather in its tail. For a month afterward the poor Sheriff could situpon nought but the softest cushions that could be gotten for him.

Thus the Sheriff and a score of men ran away from Robin Hood and LittleJohn; so that when Will Stutely and a dozen or more of stout yeomenburst from out the covert, they saw nought of their master's enemies,for the Sheriff and his men were scurrying away in the distance, hiddenwithin a cloud of dust like a little thunderstorm.

Then they all went back into the forest once more, where they found thewidow's three sons, who ran to Little John and kissed his hands. Butit would not do for them to roam the forest at large any more; sothey promised that, after they had gone and told their mother oftheir escape, they would come that night to the greenwood tree, andthenceforth become men of the band.

King Richard Comes to Sherwood Forest

NOT MORE than two months had passed and gone since these stirringadventures befell Robin Hood and Little John, when all Nottinghamshirewas a mighty stir and tumult, for King Richard of the Lion's Heart wasmaking a royal progress through merry England, and everyone expectedhim to come to Nottingham Town in his journeying. Messengers went ridingback and forth between the Sheriff and the King, until at last the timewas fixed upon when His Majesty was to stop in Nottingham, as the guestof his worship.

And now came more bustle than ever; a great running hither and thither,a rapping of hammers and a babble of voices sounded everywhere throughthe place, for the folk were building great arches across the streets,beneath which the King was to pass, and were draping these arches withsilken banners and streamers of many colors. Great hubbub was going onin the Guild Hall of the town, also, for here a grand banquet was tobe given to the King and the nobles of his train, and the best mastercarpenters were busy building a throne where the King and the Sheriffwere to sit at the head of the table, side by side.

It seemed to many of the good folk of the place as if the day thatshould bring the King into the town would never come; but all the sameit did come in its own season, and bright shone the sun down into thestony streets, which were all alive with a restless sea of people.On either side of the way great crowds of town and country folk stoodpacked as close together as dried herring in a box, so that the Sheriffsmen, halberds in hands, could hardly press them back to leave space forthe King's riding.

"Take care whom thou pushest against!" cried a great, burly friar to oneof these men. "Wouldst thou dig thine elbows into me, sirrah? By'r Ladyof the Fountain, an thou dost not treat me with more deference I willcrack thy knave's pate for thee, even though thou be one of the mightySheriff's men."

At this a great shout of laughter arose from a number of tall yeomen inLincoln green that were scattered through the crowd thereabouts; but onethat seemed of more authority than the others nudged the holy man withhis elbow. "Peace, Tuck," said he, "didst thou not promise me, ere thoucamest here, that thou wouldst put a check upon thy tongue?"

"Ay, marry," grumbled the other, "but 'a did not think to have ahard-footed knave trample all over my poor toes as though they were nomore than so many acorns in the forest."

But of a sudden all this bickering ceased, for a clear sound of manybugle horns came winding down the street. Then all the people cranedtheir necks and gazed in the direction whence the sound came, and thecrowding and the pushing and the swaying grew greater than ever. And nowa gallant array of men came gleaming into sight, and the cheering of thepeople ran down the crowd as the fire runs in dry grass.

Eight and twenty heralds in velvet and cloth of gold came ridingforward. Over their heads fluttered a cloud of snow-white feathers,and each herald bore in his hand a long silver trumpet, which he blewmusically. From each trumpet hung a heavy banner of velvet and clothof gold, with the royal arms of England emblazoned thereon. After thesecame riding fivescore noble knights, two by two, all fully armed, savingthat their heads were uncovered. In their hands they bore tall lances,from the tops of which fluttered pennons of many colors and devices. Bythe side of each knight walked a page clad in rich clothes of silk andvelvet, and each page bore in his hands his master's helmet, from whichwaved long, floating plumes of feathers. Never had Nottingham seen afairer sight than those fivescore noble knights, from whose armor thesun blazed in dazzling light as they came riding on their great warhorses, with clashing of arms and jingling of chains. Behind the knightscame the barons and the nobles of the mid-country, in robes of silk andcloth of gold, with golden chains about their necks and jewels at theirgirdles. Behind these again came a great array of men-at-arms, withspears and halberds in their hands, and, in the midst of these, tworiders side by side. One of the horsemen was the Sheriff of Nottinghamin his robes of office. The other, who was a head taller than theSheriff, was clad in a rich but simple garb, with a broad, heavy chainabout his neck. His hair and beard were like threads of gold, and hiseyes were as blue as the summer sky. As he rode along he bowed to theright hand and the left, and a mighty roar of voices followed him as hepassed; for this was King Richard.

Then, above all the tumult and the shouting a great voice was heardroaring, "Heaven, its saints bless thee, our gracious King Richard!and likewise Our Lady of the Fountain, bless thee!" Then King Richard,looking toward the spot whence the sound came, saw a tall, burly,strapping priest standing in front of all the crowd with his legs wideapart as he backed against those behind.

"By my soul, Sheriff," said the King, laughing, "ye have the tallestpriests in Nottinghamshire that e'er I saw in all my life. IfHeaven never answered prayers because of deafness, methinks I wouldnevertheless have blessings bestowed upon me, for that man yonder wouldmake the great stone image of Saint Peter rub its ears and hearken untohim. I would that I had an army of such as he."

To this the Sheriff answered never a word, but all the blood left hischeeks, and he caught at the pommel of his saddle to keep himself fromfalling; for he also saw the fellow that so shouted, and knew him to beFriar Tuck; and, moreover, behind Friar Tuck he saw the faces of RobinHood and Little John and Will Scarlet and Will Stutely and Allan a Daleand others of the band.

"How now," said the King hastily, "art thou ill, Sheriff, that thougrowest so white?"

"Nay, Your Majesty," said the Sheriff, "it was nought but a sudden painthat will soon pass by." Thus he spake, for he was ashamed that the Kingshould know that Robin Hood feared him so little that he thus dared tocome within the very gates of Nottingham Town.

Thus rode the King into Nottingham Town on that bright afternoon in theearly fall season; and none rejoiced more than Robin Hood and his merrymen to see him come so royally unto his own.

Eventide had come; the great feast in the Guild Hall at Nottingham Townwas done, and the wine passed freely. A thousand waxen lights gleamedalong the board, at which sat lord and noble and knight and squire ingoodly array. At the head of the table, upon a throne all hung withcloth of gold, sat King Richard with the Sheriff of Nottingham besidehim.

Quoth the King to the Sheriff, laughing as he spoke, "I have heard muchspoken concerning the doings of certain fellows hereabouts, one RobinHood and his band, who are outlaws and abide in Sherwood Forest. Canstthou not tell me somewhat of them, Sir Sheriff? For I hear that thouhast had dealings with them more than once."

At these words the Sheriff of Nottingham looked down gloomily, and theBishop of Hereford, who was present, gnawed his nether lip. Quoth theSheriff, "I can tell Your Majesty but little concerning the doings ofthose naughty fellows, saving that they are the boldest lawbreakers inall the land."

Then up spake young Sir Henry of the Lea, a great favorite with theKing, under whom he had fought in Palestine. "May it please YourMajesty," said he, "when I was away in Palestine I heard ofttimes frommy father, and in most cases I heard of this very fellow, Robin Hood.If Your Majesty would like I will tell you a certain adventure of thisoutlaw."

Then the King laughingly bade him tell his tale, whereupon he toldhow Robin Hood had aided Sir Richard of the Lea with money that he hadborrowed from the Bishop of Hereford. Again and again the King and thosepresent roared with laughter, while the poor Bishop waxed cherry red inthe face with vexation, for the matter was a sore thing with him. WhenSir Henry of the Lea was done, others of those present, seeing how theKing enjoyed this merry tale, told other tales concerning Robin and hismerry men.

"By the hilt of my sword," said stout King Richard, "this is as bold andmerry a knave as ever I heard tell of. Marry, I must take this matter inhand and do what thou couldst not do, Sheriff, to wit, clear the forestof him and his band."

That night the King sat in the place that was set apart for his lodgingwhile in Nottingham Town. With him were young Sir Henry of the Lea andtwo other knights and three barons of Nottinghamshire; but the King'smind still dwelled upon Robin Hood. "Now," quoth he, "I would freelygive a hundred pounds to meet this roguish fellow, Robin Hood, and tosee somewhat of his doings in Sherwood Forest."

Then up spake Sir Hubert of gingham, laughing: "If Your Majesty hathsuch a desire upon you it is not so hard to satisfy. If Your Majesty iswilling to lose one hundred pounds, I will engage to cause you not onlyto meet this fellow, but to feast with him in Sherwood."

"Marry, Sir Hubert," quoth the King, "this pleaseth me well. But howwilt thou cause me to meet Robin Hood?"

"Why, thus," said Sir Hubert, "let Your Majesty and us here present puton the robes of seven of the Order of Black Friars, and let Your Majestyhang a purse of one hundred pounds beneath your gown; then let usundertake to ride from here to Mansfield Town tomorrow, and, without Iam much mistaken, we will both meet with Robin Hood and dine with himbefore the day be passed."

"I like thy plan, Sir Hubert," quoth the King merrily, "and tomorrow wewill try it and see whether there be virtue in it."

So it happened that when early the next morning the Sheriff came towhere his liege lord was abiding, to pay his duty to him, the King toldhim what they had talked of the night before, and what merry adventurethey were set upon undertaking that morning. But when the Sheriff heardthis he smote his forehead with his fist. "Alas!" said he, "what evilcounsel is this that hath been given thee! O my gracious lord and King,you know not what you do! This villain that you thus go to seek hath noreverence either for king or king's laws."

"But did I not hear aright when I was told that this Robin Hood hathshed no blood since he was outlawed, saving only that of that vile Guyof Gisbourne, for whose death all honest men should thank him?"

"Yea, Your Majesty," said the Sheriff, "you have heard aright.Nevertheless—"

"Then," quoth the King, breaking in on the Sheriffs speech, "what haveI to fear in meeting him, having done him no harm? Truly, there is nodanger in this. But mayhap thou wilt go with us, Sir Sheriff."

"Nay," quoth the Sheriff hastily, "Heaven forbid!"

But now seven habits such as Black Friars wear were brought, and theKing and those about him having clad themselves therein, and His Majestyhaving hung a purse with a hundred golden pounds in it beneath hisrobes, they all went forth and mounted the mules that had been broughtto the door for them. Then the King bade the Sheriff be silent asto their doings, and so they set forth upon their way. Onward theytraveled, laughing and jesting, until they passed through the opencountry; between bare harvest fields whence the harvest had beengathered home; through scattered glades that began to thicken as theywent farther along, till they came within the heavy shade of the forestitself. They traveled in the forest for several miles without meetinganyone such as they sought, until they had come to that part of the roadthat lay nearest to Newstead Abbey.

"By the holy Saint Martin," quoth the King, "I would that I had a betterhead for remembering things of great need. Here have we come away andbrought never so much as a drop of anything to drink with us. NowI would give half a hundred pounds for somewhat to quench my thirstwithal."

No sooner had the King so spoken, than out from the covert at theroadside stepped a tall fellow with yellow beard and hair and a pair ofmerry blue eyes. "Truly, holy brother," said he, laying his hand uponthe King's bridle rein, "it were an unchristian thing to not givefitting answer to so fair a bargain. We keep an inn hereabouts, and forfifty pounds we will not only give thee a good draught of wine, but willgive thee as noble a feast as ever thou didst tickle thy gullet withal."So saying, he put his fingers to his lips and blew a shrill whistle.Then straightway the bushes and branches on either side of the roadswayed and crackled, and threescore broad-shouldered yeomen in Lincolngreen burst out of the covert.

"How now, fellow," quoth the King, "who art thou, thou naughty rogue?Hast thou no regard for such holy men as we are?"

"Not a whit," quoth merry Robin Hood, for the fellow was he, "for insooth all the holiness belonging to rich friars, such as ye are, onecould drop into a thimble and the goodwife would never feel it with thetip of her finger. As for my name, it is Robin Hood, and thou mayst haveheard it before."

"Now out upon thee!" quoth King Richard. "Thou art a bold and naughtyfellow and a lawless one withal, as I have often heard tell. Now,prythee, let me, and these brethren of mine, travel forward in peace andquietness."

"It may not be," said Robin, "for it would look but ill of us to letsuch holy men travel onward with empty stomachs. But I doubt not thatthou hast a fat purse to pay thy score at our inn since thou offerestfreely so much for a poor draught of wine. Show me thy purse, reverendbrother, or I may perchance have to strip thy robes from thee to searchfor it myself."

"Nay, use no force," said the King sternly. "Here is my purse, but laynot thy lawless hands upon our person."

"Hut, tut," quoth merry Robin, "what proud words are these? Art thou theKing of England, to talk so to me? Here, Will, take this purse and seewhat there is within."

Will Scarlet took the purse and counted out the money. Then Robin badehim keep fifty pounds for themselves, and put fifty back into the purse.This he handed to the King. "Here, brother," quoth he, "take this halfof thy money, and thank Saint Martin, on whom thou didst call before,that thou hast fallen into the hands of such gentle rogues that theywill not strip thee bare, as they might do. But wilt thou not put backthy cowl? For I would fain see thy face."

"Nay," said the King, drawing back, "I may not put back my cowl, forwe seven have vowed that we will not show our faces for four and twentyhours."

"Then keep them covered in peace," said Robin, "and far be it from me tomake you break your vows."

So he called seven of his yeomen and bade them each one take a muleby the bridle; then, turning their faces toward the depths of thewoodlands, they journeyed onward until they came to the open glade andthe greenwood tree.

Little John, with threescore yeomen at his heels, had also gone forththat morning to wait along the roads and bring a rich guest to Sherwoodglade, if such might be his luck, for many with fat purses musttravel the roads at this time, when such great doings were going on inNottinghamshire, but though Little John and so many others were gone,Friar Tuck and twoscore or more stout yeomen were seated or lying aroundbeneath the great tree, and when Robin and the others came they leapedto their feet to meet him.

"By my soul," quoth merry King Richard, when he had gotten down from hismule and stood looking about him, "thou hast in very truth a fine lot ofyoung men about thee, Robin. Methinks King Richard himself would be gladof such a bodyguard."

"These are not all of my fellows," said Robin proudly, "for threescoremore of them are away on business with my good right-hand man, LittleJohn. But, as for King Richard, I tell thee, brother, there is not a manof us all but would pour out our blood like water for him. Ye churchmencannot rightly understand our King; but we yeomen love him right loyallyfor the sake of his brave doings which are so like our own."

But now Friar Tuck came bustling up. "Gi' ye good den, brothers," saidhe. "I am right glad to welcome some of my cloth in this naughty place.Truly, methinks these rogues of outlaws would stand but an ill chancewere it not for the prayers of Holy Tuck, who laboreth so hard for theirwell-being." Here he winked one eye slyly and stuck his tongue into hischeek.

"Who art thou, mad priest?" said the King in a serious voice, albeit hesmiled beneath his cowl.

At this Friar Tuck looked all around with a slow gaze. "Look you now,"quoth he, "never let me hear you say again that I am no patient man.Here is a knave of a friar calleth me a mad priest, and yet I smite himnot. My name is Friar Tuck, fellow—the holy Friar Tuck."

"There, Tuck," said Robin, "thou hast said enow. Prythee, cease thy talkand bring some wine. These reverend men are athirst, and sin' they havepaid so richly for their score they must e'en have the best."

Friar Tuck bridled at being so checked in his speech, nevertheless hewent straightway to do Robin's bidding; so presently a great crock wasbrought, and wine was poured out for all the guests and for Robin Hood.Then Robin held his cup aloft. "Stay!" cried he. "Tarry in your drinkingtill I give you a pledge. Here is to good King Richard of great renown,and may all enemies to him be confounded."

Then all drank the King's health, even the King himself. "Methinks, goodfellow," said he, "thou hast drunk to thine own confusion."

"Never a whit," quoth merry Robin, "for I tell thee that we of Sherwoodare more loyal to our lord the King than those of thine order. We wouldgive up our lives for his benefiting, while ye are content to lie snugin your abbeys and priories let reign who will."

At this the King laughed. Quoth he, "Perhaps King Richard's welfare ismore to me than thou wottest of, fellow. But enough of that matter.We have paid well for our fare, so canst thou not show us some merryentertainment? I have oft heard that ye are wondrous archers; wilt thounot show us somewhat of your skill?"

"With all my heart," said Robin, "we are always pleased to show ourguests all the sport that is to be seen. As Gaffer Swanthold sayeth,''Tis a hard heart that will not give a caged starling of the best'; andcaged starlings ye are with us. Ho, lads! Set up a garland at the end ofthe glade."

Then, as the yeomen ran to do their master's bidding, Tuck turned toone of the mock friars. "Hearest thou our master?" quoth he, with a slywink. "Whenever he cometh across some poor piece of wit he straightwaylayeth it on the shoulders of this Gaffer Swanthold—whoever he maybe—so that the poor goodman goeth traveling about with all the odds andends and tags and rags of our master's brain packed on his back." Thusspake Friar Tuck, but in a low voice so that Robin could not hear him,for he felt somewhat nettled at Robin's cutting his talk so short.

In the meantime the mark at which they were to shoot was set up atsixscore paces distance. It was a garland of leaves and flowers twospans in width, which same was hung upon a stake in front of a broadtree trunk. "There," quoth Robin, "yon is a fair mark, lads. Each of youshoot three arrows thereat; and if any fellow misseth by so much as onearrow, he shall have a buffet of Will Scarlet's fist."

"Hearken to him!" quoth Friar Tuck. "Why, master, thou dost bestowbuffets from thy strapping nephew as though they were love taps fromsome bouncing lass. I warrant thou art safe to hit the garland thyself,or thou wouldst not be so free of his cuffing."

First David of Doncaster shot, and lodged all three of his arrows withinthe garland. "Well done, David!" cried Robin, "thou hast saved thineears from a warming this day." Next Midge, the Miller, shot, and he,also, lodged his arrows in the garland. Then followed Wat, the Tinker,but alas for him! For one of his shafts missed the mark by the breadthof two fingers.

"Come hither, fellow," said Will Scarlet, in his soft, gentle voice,"I owe thee somewhat that I would pay forthwith." Then Wat, the Tinker,came forward and stood in front of Will Scarlet, screwing up his faceand shutting his eyes tightly, as though he already felt his earsringing with the buffet. Will Scarlet rolled up his sleeve, and,standing on tiptoe to give the greater swing to his arm, he struck withmight and main. "WHOOF!" came his palm against the Tinker's head, anddown went stout Wat to the grass, heels over head, as the wooden imageat the fair goes down when the skillful player throws a cudgel at it.Then, as the Tinker sat up upon the grass, rubbing his ear and winkingand blinking at the bright stars that danced before his eyes, the yeomenroared with mirth till the forest rang. As for King Richard, he laughedtill the tears ran down his cheeks. Thus the band shot, each in turn,some getting off scot free, and some winning a buffet that always sentthem to the grass. And now, last of all, Robin took his place, and allwas hushed as he shot. The first shaft he shot split a piece from thestake on which the garland was hung; the second lodged within an inch ofthe other. "By my halidom," said King Richard to himself, "I would givea thousand pounds for this fellow to be one of my guard!" And now,for the third time Robin shot; but, alas for him! The arrow wasill-feathered, and, wavering to one side, it smote an inch outside thegarland.

At this a great roar went up, those of the yeomen who sat upon the grassrolling over and over and shouting with laughter, for never before hadthey seen their master so miss his mark; but Robin flung his bow uponthe ground with vexation. "Now, out upon it!" cried he. "That shaft hadan ill feather to it, for I felt it as it left my fingers. Give me aclean arrow, and I will engage to split the wand with it."

At these words the yeomen laughed louder than ever. "Nay, good uncle,"said Will Scarlet in his soft, sweet voice, "thou hast had thy fairchance and hast missed thine aim out and out. I swear the arrow wasas good as any that hath been loosed this day. Come hither; I owe theesomewhat, and would fain pay it."

"Go, good master," roared Friar Tuck, "and may my blessing go with thee.Thou hast bestowed these love taps of Will Scarlet's with great freedom.It were pity an thou gottest not thine own share."

"It may not be," said merry Robin. "I am king here, and no subject mayraise hand against the king. But even our great King Richard may yieldto the holy Pope without shame, and even take a tap from him by way ofpenance; therefore I will yield myself to this holy friar, who seemethto be one in authority, and will take my punishment from him." Thussaying, he turned to the King, "I prythee, brother, wilt thou take mypunishing into thy holy hands?"

"With all my heart," quoth merry King Richard, rising from where he wassitting. "I owe thee somewhat for having lifted a heavy weight of fiftypounds from my purse. So make room for him on the green, lads."

"An thou makest me tumble," quoth Robin, "I will freely give thee backthy fifty pounds; but I tell thee, brother, if thou makest me not feelgrass all along my back, I will take every farthing thou hast for thyboastful speech."

"So be it," said the King, "I am willing to venture it." Thereupon herolled up his sleeve and showed an arm that made the yeomen stare.But Robin, with his feet wide apart, stood firmly planted, waiting theother, smiling. Then the King swung back his arm, and, balancing himselfa moment, he delivered a buffet at Robin that fell like a thunderbolt.Down went Robin headlong upon the grass, for the stroke would havefelled a stone wall. Then how the yeomen shouted with laughter tilltheir sides ached, for never had they seen such a buffet given in alltheir lives. As for Robin, he presently sat up and looked all aroundhim, as though he had dropped from a cloud and had lit in a place he hadnever seen before. After a while, still gazing about him at his laughingyeomen, he put his fingertips softly to his ear and felt all aroundit tenderly. "Will Scarlet," said he, "count this fellow out his fiftypounds; I want nothing more either of his money or of him. A murrainseize him and his buffeting! I would that I had taken my dues from thee,for I verily believe he hath deafened mine ear from ever hearing again."

Then, while gusts of laughter still broke from the band, Will Scarletcounted out the fifty pounds, and the King dropped it back into hispurse again. "I give thee thanks, fellow," said he, "and if ever thoushouldst wish for another box of the ear to match the one thou hast,come to me and I will fit thee with it for nought."

So spake the merry King; but, even as he ended, there came suddenlythe sound of many voices, and out from the covert burst Little John andthreescore men, with Sir Richard of the Lea in the midst. Across theglade they came running, and, as they came, Sir Richard shouted toRobin: "Make haste, dear friend, gather thy band together and come withme! King Richard left Nottingham Town this very morning, and cometh toseek thee in the woodlands. I know not how he cometh, for it was buta rumor of this that reached me; nevertheless, I know that it is thetruth. Therefore hasten with all thy men, and come to Castle Lea, forthere thou mayst lie hidden till thy present danger passeth. Who arethese strangers that thou hast with thee?"

"Why," quoth merry Robin, rising from the grass, "these are certaingentle guests that came with us from the highroad over by NewsteadAbbey. I know not their names, but I have become right well acquaintwith this lusty rogue's palm this morning. Marry, the pleasure of thisacquaintance hath dost me a deaf ear and fifty pounds to boot!"

Sir Richard looked keenly at the tall friar, who, drawing himself up tohis full height, looked fixedly back at the knight. Then of a sudden SirRichard's cheeks grew pale, for he knew who it was that he looked upon.Quickly he leaped from off his horse's back and flung himself upon hisknees before the other. At this, the King, seeing that Sir Richard knewhim, threw back his cowl, and all the yeomen saw his face and knew himalso, for there was not one of them but had been in the crowd in thegood town of Nottingham, and had seen him riding side by side with theSheriff. Down they fell upon their knees, nor could they say a word.Then the King looked all around right grimly, and, last of all, hisglance came back and rested again upon Sir Richard of the Lea.

"How is this, Sir Richard?" said he sternly. "How darest thou stepbetween me and these fellows? And how darest thou offer thy knightlyCastle of the Lea for a refuge to them? Wilt thou make it a hiding placefor the most renowned outlaws in England?"

Then Sir Richard of the Lea raised his eyes to the King's face. "Far beit from me," said he, "to do aught that could bring Your Majesty's angerupon me. Yet, sooner would I face Your Majesty's wrath than suffer aughtof harm that I could stay to fall upon Robin Hood and his band; for tothem I owe life, honor, everything. Should I, then, desert him in hishour of need?"

Ere the knight had done speaking, one of the mock friars that stood nearthe King came forward and knelt beside Sir Richard, and throwing backhis cowl showed the face of young Sir Henry of the Lea. Then Sir Henrygrasped his father's hand and said, "Here kneels one who hath servedthee well, King Richard, and, as thou knowest, hath stepped between theeand death in Palestine; yet do I abide by my dear father, and here I sayalso, that I would freely give shelter to this noble outlaw, Robin Hood,even though it brought thy wrath upon me, for my father's honor and myfather's welfare are as dear to me as mine own."

King Richard looked from one to the other of the kneeling knights,and at last the frown faded from his brow and a smile twitched at thecorners of his lips. "Marry, Sir Richard," quoth the King, "thou arta bold-spoken knight, and thy freedom of speech weigheth not heavilyagainst thee with me. This young son of thine taketh after his sire bothin boldness of speech and of deed, for, as he sayeth, he stepped onetime betwixt me and death; wherefore I would pardon thee for his sakeeven if thou hadst done more than thou hast. Rise all of you, for yeshall suffer no harm through me this day, for it were pity that a merrytime should end in a manner as to mar its joyousness."

Then all arose and the King beckoned Robin Hood to come to him. "Hownow," quoth he, "is thine ear still too deaf to hear me speak?"

"Mine ears would be deafened in death ere they would cease to hear YourMajesty's voice," said Robin. "As for the blow that Your Majesty struckme, I would say that though my sins are haply many, methinks they havebeen paid up in full thereby."

"Thinkest thou so?" said the King with somewhat of sternness inhis voice. "Now I tell thee that but for three things, to wit, mymercifulness, my love for a stout woodsman, and the loyalty thou hastavowed for me, thine ears, mayhap, might have been more tightly closedthan ever a buffet from me could have shut them. Talk not lightly of thysins, good Robin. But come, look up. Thy danger is past, for hereby Igive thee and all thy band free pardon. But, in sooth, I cannot let youroam the forest as ye have done in the past; therefore I will take theeat thy word, when thou didst say thou wouldst give thy service to me,and thou shalt go back to London with me. We will take that boldknave Little John also, and likewise thy cousin, Will Scarlet, and thyminstrel, Allan a Dale. As for the rest of thy band, we will take theirnames and have them duly recorded as royal rangers; for methinks itwere wiser to have them changed to law-abiding caretakers of our deer inSherwood than to leave them to run at large as outlawed slayers thereof.But now get a feast ready; I would see how ye live in the woodlands."

So Robin bade his men make ready a grand feast. Straightway greatfires were kindled and burned brightly, at which savory things roastedsweetly. While this was going forward, the King bade Robin call Allana Dale, for he would hear him sing. So word was passed for Allan, andpresently he came, bringing his harp.

"Marry," said King Richard, "if thy singing match thy looks it isfair enough. Prythee, strike up a ditty and let us have a taste of thyskill."

Then Allan touched his harp lightly, and all words were hushed while hesang thus:

"'Oh, where has thou been, my daughter?     Oh, where hast thou been this day     Daughter, my daughter?'     'Oh, I have been to the river's side,     Where the waters lie all gray and wide,     And the gray sky broods o'er the leaden tide,     And the shrill wind sighs a straining.'     "'What sawest thou there, my daughter?     What sawest thou there this day,     Daughter, my daughter?'     'Oh, I saw a boat come drifting nigh,     Where the quivering rushes hiss and sigh,     And the water soughs as it gurgles by,     And the shrill wind sighs a straining.'     "'What sailed in the boat, my daughter?     What sailed in the boat this day,     Daughter, my daughter?'     'Oh, there was one all clad in white,     And about his face hung a pallid light,     And his eyes gleamed sharp like the stars at night,     And the shrill wind sighed a straining.'     "'And what said he, my daughter?     What said he to thee this day,     Daughter, my daughter?'     'Oh, said he nought, but did he this:     Thrice on my lips did he press a kiss,     And my heartstrings shrunk with an awful bliss,     And the shrill wind sighed a straining.'     "'Why growest thou so cold, my daughter?     Why growest thou so cold and white,     Daughter, my daughter?'     Oh, never a word the daughter said,     But she sat all straight with a drooping head,     For her heart was stilled and her face was dead:     And the shrill wind sighed a straining."

All listened in silence; and when Allan a Dale had done King Richardheaved a sigh. "By the breath of my body, Allan," quoth he, "thou hastsuch a wondrous sweet voice that it strangely moves my heart. But whatdoleful ditty is this for the lips of a stout yeoman? I would ratherhear thee sing a song of love and battle than a sad thing like that.Moreover, I understand it not; what meanest thou by the words?"

"I know not, Your Majesty," said Allan, shaking his head, "for ofttimesI sing that which I do not clearly understand mine own self."

"Well, well," quoth the King, "let it pass; only I tell thee this,Allan, thou shouldst turn thy songs to such matters as I spoke of, towit, love or war; for in sooth thou hast a sweeter voice than Blondell,and methought he was the best minstrel that ever I heard."

But now one came forward and said that the feast was ready; so RobinHood brought King Richard and those with him to where it lay all spreadout on fair white linen cloths which lay upon the soft green grass. ThenKing Richard sat him down and feasted and drank, and when he was donehe swore roundly that he had never sat at such a lusty repast in all hislife before.

That night he lay in Sherwood Forest upon a bed of sweet greenleaves, and early the next morning he set forth from the woodlands forNottingham Town, Robin Hood and all of his band going with him. Youmay guess what a stir there was in the good town when all these famousoutlaws came marching into the streets. As for the Sheriff, he knew notwhat to say nor where to look when he saw Robin Hood in such high favorwith the King, while all his heart was filled with gall because of thevexation that lay upon him.

The next day the King took leave of Nottingham Town; so Robin Hood andLittle John and Will Scarlet and Allan a Dale shook hands with all therest of the band, kissing the cheeks of each man, and swearing that theywould often come to Sherwood and see them. Then each mounted his horseand rode away in the train of the King.

Epilogue

THUS END the Merry Adventures of Robin Hood; for, in spite of hispromise, it was many a year ere he saw Sherwood again.

After a year or two at court Little John came back to Nottinghamshire,where he lived in an orderly way, though within sight of Sherwood, andwhere he achieved great fame as the champion of all England with thequarterstaff. Will Scarlet after a time came back to his own home,whence he had been driven by his unlucky killing of his father'ssteward. The rest of the band did their duty as royal rangers rightwell. But Robin Hood and Allan a Dale did not come again to Sherwood soquickly, for thus it was:

Robin, through his great fame as an archer, became a favorite withthe King, so that he speedily rose in rank to be the chief of all theyeomen. At last the King, seeing how faithful and how loyal he was,created him Earl of Huntingdon; so Robin followed the King to thewars, and found his time so full that he had no chance to come back toSherwood for even so much as a day. As for Allan a Dale and his wife,the fair Ellen, they followed Robin Hood and shared in all his ups anddowns of life.

And now, dear friend, you who have journeyed with me in all these merrydoings, I will not bid you follow me further, but will drop your handhere with a "good den," if you wish it; for that which cometh hereafterspeaks of the breaking up of things, and shows how joys and pleasuresthat are dead and gone can never be set upon their feet to walk again.I will not dwell upon the matter overlong, but will tell as speedily asmay be of how that stout fellow, Robin Hood, died as he had lived, notat court as Earl of Huntingdon, but with bow in hand, his heart in thegreenwood, and he himself a right yeoman.

King Richard died upon the battlefield, in such a way as properly becamea lion-hearted king, as you yourself, no doubt, know; so, after atime, the Earl of Huntingdon—or Robin Hood, as we still call him as ofold—finding nothing for his doing abroad, came back to merry Englandagain. With him came Allan a Dale and his wife, the fair Ellen, forthese two had been chief of Robin's household ever since he had leftSherwood Forest.

It was in the springtime when they landed once more on the shores ofEngland. The leaves were green and the small birds sang blithely, justas they used to do in fair Sherwood when Robin Hood roamed the woodlandshades with a free heart and a light heel. All the sweetness of the timeand the joyousness of everything brought back to Robin's mind his forestlife, so that a great longing came upon him to behold the woodlands oncemore. So he went straightway to King John and besought leave of him tovisit Nottingham for a short season. The King gave him leave to comeand to go, but bade him not stay longer than three days at Sherwood. SoRobin Hood and Allan a Dale set forth without delay to Nottinghamshireand Sherwood Forest.

The first night they took up their inn at Nottingham Town, yet they didnot go to pay their duty to the Sheriff, for his worship bore many abitter grudge against Robin Hood, which grudges had not been lessenedby Robin's rise in the world. The next day at an early hour they mountedtheir horses and set forth for the woodlands. As they passed along theroad it seemed to Robin that he knew every stick and stone that his eyeslooked upon. Yonder was a path that he had ofttimes trod of a mellowevening, with Little John beside him; here was one, now nigh choked withbrambles, along which he and a little band had walked when they wentforth to seek a certain curtal friar.

Thus they rode slowly onward, talking about these old, familiar things;old and yet new, for they found more in them than they had ever thoughtof before. Thus at last they came to the open glade, and the broad,wide-spreading greenwood tree which was their home for so many years.Neither of the two spoke when they stood beneath that tree. Robin lookedall about him at the well-known things, so like what they used to be andyet so different; for, where once was the bustle of many busy fellowswas now the quietness of solitude; and, as he looked, the woodlands, thegreensward, and the sky all blurred together in his sight through salttears, for such a great yearning came upon him as he looked on thesethings (as well known to him as the fingers of his right hand) that hecould not keep back the water from his eyes.

That morning he had slung his good old bugle horn over his shoulder,and now, with the yearning, came a great longing to sound his bugle oncemore. He raised it to his lips; he blew a blast. "Tirila, lirila," thesweet, clear notes went winding down the forest paths, coming back againfrom the more distant bosky shades in faint echoes of sound, "Tirila,lirila, tirila, lirila," until it faded away and was lost.

Now it chanced that on that very morn Little John was walking througha spur of the forest upon certain matters of business, and as he pacedalong, sunk in meditation, the faint, clear notes of a distant buglehorn came to his ear. As leaps the stag when it feels the arrow at itsheart, so leaped Little John when that distant sound met his ear. Allthe blood in his body seemed to rush like a flame into his cheeks as hebent his head and listened. Again came the bugle note, thin and clear,and yet again it sounded. Then Little John gave a great, wild cry ofyearning, of joy, and yet of grief, and, putting down his head, hedashed into the thicket. Onward he plunged, crackling and rending, asthe wild boar rushes through the underbrush. Little recked he of thornsand briers that scratched his flesh and tore his clothing, for allhe thought of was to get, by the shortest way, to the greenwood gladewhence he knew the sound of the bugle horn came. Out he burst from thecovert, at last, a shower of little broken twigs falling about him, and,without pausing a moment, rushed forward and flung himself at Robin'sfeet. Then he clasped his arms around the master's knees, and all hisbody was shaken with great sobs; neither could Robin nor Allan a Dalespeak, but stood looking down at Little John, the tears rolling downtheir cheeks.

While they thus stood, seven royal rangers rushed into the open gladeand raised a great shout of joy at the sight of Robin; and at theirhead was Will Stutely. Then, after a while, came four more, panting withtheir running, and two of these four were Will Scathelock and Midge, theMiller; for all of these had heard the sound of Robin Hood's horn. Allthese ran to Robin and kissed his hands and his clothing, with greatsound of weeping.

After a while Robin looked around him with tear-dimmed eyes and said,in a husky voice, "Now, I swear that never again will I leave these dearwoodlands. I have been away from them and from you too long. Now do Ilay by the name of Robert, Earl of Huntingdon, and take upon me onceagain that nobler title, Robin Hood, the Yeoman." At this a great shoutwent up, and all the yeomen shook one another's hands for joy.

The news that Robin Hood had come back again to dwell in Sherwood asof old spread like wildfire all over the countryside, so that ere ase'ennight had passed nearly all of his old yeomen had gathered abouthim again. But when the news of all this reached the ears of King John,he swore both loud and deep, and took a solemn vow that he would notrest until he had Robin Hood in his power, dead or alive. Now therewas present at court a certain knight, Sir William Dale, as gallant asoldier as ever donned harness. Sir William Dale was well acquaintedwith Sherwood Forest, for he was head keeper over that part of it thatlay nigh to good Mansfield Town; so to him the King turned, and bade himtake an army of men and go straightway to seek Robin Hood. Likewise theKing gave Sir William his signet ring to show to the Sheriff, that hemight raise all his armed men to aid the others in their chase of Robin.So Sir William and the Sheriff set forth to do the King's bidding and tosearch for Robin Hood; and for seven days they hunted up and down, yetfound him not.

Now, had Robin Hood been as peaceful as of old, everything might haveended in smoke, as other such ventures had always done before; but hehad fought for years under King Richard, and was changed from what heused to be. It galled his pride to thus flee away before those sentagainst him, as a chased fox flees from the hounds; so thus it cameabout, at last, that Robin Hood and his yeomen met Sir William and theSheriff and their men in the forest, and a bloody fight followed. Thefirst man slain in that fight was the Sheriff of Nottingham, for he fellfrom his horse with an arrow in his brain ere half a score of shafts hadbeen sped. Many a better man than the Sheriff kissed the sod that day,but at last, Sir William Dale being wounded and most of his men slain,he withdrew, beaten, and left the forest. But scores of good fellowswere left behind him, stretched out all stiff beneath the sweet greenboughs.

But though Robin Hood had beaten off his enemies in fair fight, allthis lay heavily upon his mind, so that he brooded over it until a feverseized upon him. For three days it held him, and though he strove tofight it off, he was forced to yield at last. Thus it came that, on themorning of the fourth day, he called Little John to him, and told himthat he could not shake the fever from him, and that he would go to hiscousin, the prioress of the nunnery near Kirklees, in Yorkshire, who wasa skillful leech, and he would have her open a vein in his arm and takea little blood from him, for the bettering of his health. Then he badeLittle John make ready to go also, for he might perchance need aid inhis journeying. So Little John and he took their leave of the others,and Robin Hood bade Will Stutely be the captain of the band until theyshould come back. Thus they came by easy stages and slow journeyinguntil they reached the Nunnery of Kirklees.

Now Robin had done much to aid this cousin of his; for it was throughKing Richard's love of him that she had been made prioress of the place.But there is nought in the world so easily forgot as gratitude; so,when the Prioress of Kirklees had heard how her cousin, the Earl ofHuntingdon, had thrown away his earldom and gone back again to Sherwood,she was vexed to the soul, and feared lest her cousinship with himshould bring the King's wrath upon her also. Thus it happened that whenRobin came to her and told her how he wished her services as leech, shebegan plotting ill against him in her mind, thinking that by doing evilto him she might find favor with his enemies. Nevertheless, she keptthis well to herself and received Robin with seeming kindness. She ledhim up the winding stone stair to a room which was just beneath theeaves of a high, round tower; but she would not let Little John comewith him.

So the poor yeoman turned his feet away from the door of the nunnery,and left his master in the hands of the women. But, though he did notcome in, neither did he go far away; for he laid him down in a littleglade near by, where he could watch the place that Robin abided, likesome great, faithful dog turned away from the door where his master hasentered.

After the women had gotten Robin Hood to the room beneath the eaves, thePrioress sent all of the others away; then, taking a little cord, shetied it tightly about Robin's arm, as though she were about to bleedhim. And so she did bleed him, but the vein she opened was not one ofthose that lie close and blue beneath the skin; deeper she cut thanthat, for she opened one of those veins through which the bright redblood runs leaping from the heart. Of this Robin knew not; for, thoughhe saw the blood flow, it did not come fast enough to make him thinkthat there was anything ill in it.

Having done this vile deed, the Prioress turned and left her cousin,locking the door behind her. All that livelong day the blood ran fromRobin Hood's arm, nor could he check it, though he strove in every wayto do so. Again and again he called for help, but no help came, for hiscousin had betrayed him, and Little John was too far away to hear hisvoice. So he bled and bled until he felt his strength slipping away fromhim. Then he arose, tottering, and bearing himself up by the palms ofhis hands against the wall, he reached his bugle horn at last. Thricehe sounded it, but weakly and faintly, for his breath was flutteringthrough sickness and loss of strength; nevertheless, Little John heardit where he lay in the glade, and, with a heart all sick with dread, hecame running and leaping toward the nunnery. Loudly he knocked at thedoor, and in a loud voice shouted for them to let him in, but the doorwas of massive oak, strongly barred, and studded with spikes, so theyfelt safe, and bade Little John begone.

Then Little John's heart was mad with grief and fear for his master'slife. Wildly he looked about him, and his sight fell upon a heavy stonemortar, such as three men could not lift nowadays. Little John tookthree steps forward, and, bending his back, heaved the stone mortar upfrom where it stood deeply rooted. Staggering under its weight, he cameforward and hurled it crashing against the door. In burst the door, andaway fled the frightened nuns, shrieking, at his coming. Then LittleJohn strode in, and never a word said he, but up the winding stone stepshe ran till he reached the room wherein his master was. Here he foundthe door locked also, but, putting his shoulder against it, he burst thelocks as though they were made of brittle ice.

There he saw his own dear master leaning against the gray stone wall,his face all white and drawn, and his head swaying to and fro withweakness. Then, with a great, wild cry of love and grief and pity,Little John leaped forward and caught Robin Hood in his arms. Up helifted him as a mother lifts her child, and carrying him to the bed,laid him tenderly thereon.

And now the Prioress came in hastily, for she was frightened at what shehad done, and dreaded the vengeance of Little John and the others of theband; then she stanched the blood by cunning bandages, so that it flowedno more. All the while Little John stood grimly by, and after she haddone he sternly bade her to begone, and she obeyed, pale and trembling.Then, after she had departed, Little John spake cheering words, laughingloudly, and saying that all this was a child's fright, and that no stoutyeoman would die at the loss of a few drops of blood. "Why," quoth he,"give thee a se'ennight and thou wilt be roaming the woodlands as boldlyas ever."

But Robin shook his head and smiled faintly where he lay. "Mine own dearLittle John," whispered he, "Heaven bless thy kind, rough heart. But,dear friend, we will never roam the woodlands together again."

"Ay, but we will!" quoth Little John loudly. "I say again, ay—out uponit—who dares say that any more harm shall come upon thee? Am I not by?Let me see who dares touch—" Here he stopped of a sudden, for his wordschoked him. At last he said, in a deep, husky voice, "Now, if aught ofharm befalls thee because of this day's doings, I swear by Saint Georgethat the red cock shall crow over the rooftree of this house, for thehot flames shall lick every crack and cranny thereof. As for thesewomen"—here he ground his teeth—"it will be an ill day for them!"

But Robin Hood took Little John's rough, brown fist in his white hands,and chid him softly in his low, weak voice, asking him since what timeLittle John had thought of doing harm to women, even in vengeance. Thushe talked till, at last, the other promised, in a choking voice, that noill should fall upon the place, no matter what happened. Then a silencefell, and Little John sat with Robin Hood's hand in his, gazing out ofthe open window, ever and anon swallowing a great lump that came in histhroat. Meantime the sun dropped slowly to the west, till all the skywas ablaze with a red glory. Then Robin Hood, in a weak, falteringvoice, bade Little John raise him that he might look out once more uponthe woodlands; so the yeoman lifted him in his arms, as he bade, andRobin Hood's head lay on his friend's shoulder. Long he gazed, with awide, lingering look, while the other sat with bowed head, the hot tearsrolling one after another from his eyes, and dripping upon his bosom,for he felt that the time of parting was near at hand. Then, presently,Robin Hood bade him string his stout bow for him, and choose a smoothfair arrow from his quiver. This Little John did, though withoutdisturbing his master or rising from where he sat. Robin Hood's fingerswrapped lovingly around his good bow, and he smiled faintly when he feltit in his grasp, then he nocked the arrow on that part of the stringthat the tips of his fingers knew so well. "Little John," said he,"Little John, mine own dear friend, and him I love better than allothers in the world, mark, I prythee, where this arrow lodges, and therelet my grave be digged. Lay me with my face toward the East, LittleJohn, and see that my resting place be kept green, and that my wearybones be not disturbed."

As he finished speaking, he raised himself of a sudden and sat upright.His old strength seemed to come back to him, and, drawing the bowstringto his ear, he sped the arrow out of the open casement. As the shaftflew, his hand sank slowly with the bow till it lay across his knees,and his body likewise sank back again into Little John's loving arms;but something had sped from that body, even as the winged arrow spedfrom the bow.

For some minutes Little John sat motionless, but presently he laid thatwhich he held gently down, then, folding the hands upon the breast andcovering up the face, he turned upon his heel and left the room withouta word or a sound.

Upon the steep stairway he met the Prioress and some of the chief amongthe sisters. To them he spoke in a deep, quivering voice, and said he,"An ye go within a score of feet of yonder room, I will tear downyour rookery over your heads so that not one stone shall be left uponanother. Bear my words well in mind, for I mean them." So saying, heturned and left them, and they presently saw him running rapidly acrossthe open, through the falling of the dusk, until he was swallowed up bythe forest.

The early gray of the coming morn was just beginning to lighten theblack sky toward the eastward when Little John and six more of the bandcame rapidly across the open toward the nunnery. They saw no one, forthe sisters were all hidden away from sight, having been frightened byLittle John's words. Up the stone stair they ran, and a great sound ofweeping was presently heard. After a while this ceased, and then camethe scuffling and shuffling of men's feet as they carried a heavy weightdown the steep and winding stairs. So they went forth from the nunnery,and, as they passed through the doors thereof, a great, loud sound ofwailing arose from the glade that lay all dark in the dawning, as thoughmany men, hidden in the shadows, had lifted up their voices in sorrow.

Thus died Robin Hood, at Kirklees Nunnery, in fair Yorkshire, with mercyin his heart toward those that had been his undoing; for thus he showedmercy for the erring and pity for the weak through all the time of hisliving.

His yeomen were scattered henceforth, but no great ill befell themthereafter, for a more merciful sheriff and one who knew them not sowell succeeding the one that had gone, and they being separated here andthere throughout the countryside, they abided in peace and quietness,so that many lived to hand down these tales to their children and theirchildren's children.

A certain one sayeth that upon a stone at Kirklees is an oldinscription. This I give in the ancient English in which it was written,and thus it runs:

HEAR UNDERNEAD DIS LAITL STEAN LAIS ROBERT EARL OF HUNTINGTUN NEA ARCIRVER AS HIE SAE GEUD AN PIPL KAULD IM ROBIN HEUD SICK UTLAWS AS HI AN ISMEN VIL ENGLAND NIDIR SI AGEN OBIIT 24 KAL. DEKEMBRIS 1247.

And now, dear friend, we also must part, for our merry journeyings haveended, and here, at the grave of Robin Hood, we turn, each going his ownway.

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