Robin was a proud outlaw, while as he walked on the ground, so courteous an outlaw as he was one, was never none else found. In the days of Good King Harry II of England, he of the warring sons, there were certain forests in the North Country set aside for the king's hunting, and no man might shoot deer therein under penalty of death. These forests were guarded by the king's foresters, the chief of whom, in each wood, was no mean man but equal in authority to the sheriff in his walled town, or even to my lord bishop in his abbey. One of the greatest of royal preserves was Sherwood and Barnsdale Forest, near the two towns of Nottingham and Barnsdale. Here for some years, dealt one Hugh Fitzsuth as head forester, with his good wife and son Robert. The boy had been born in Laxley Town, in the year 1160, stern records say, and was often called Laxley, or Robb of Laxley. He was a comely, well-knit stripling, and as soon as he was strong enough to walk, his chief delight was to go with his father into the forest. As soon as his right arm received few and sinew, he learned to draw the longbow and speed a true arrow. While on winter evenings, his greatest joy was to hear his father tell of bold will of the green, the outlaw, who for many summers defied the king's foresters and feasted with his men upon king's deer. And on other stormy days, the boy learned to whittle out a straight shaft for the longbow and tip it with gray goose feathers. The fine mother sighed when she saw the boy's face light up at these woodland tales. She was of gentle birth, and had hoped to see her son famous at court or abbey. She taught him to read and to write, to doff his cap without awkwardness, and to answer directly and truthfully both Lord and peasant. But the boy, although he took kindly to these lessons of breeding, was yet happiest when he had his beloved bow in hand and strolled at will, listening to the murmur of the trees. Two playmates had Robb in these gladsome early days. One was Will Gamewell, his father's brother's son, who lived at Gamewell Lodge, hard by Nottingham Town. The other was Marion Fitzwalter, the only child of the Earl of Huntingdon. The castle of Huntingdon could be seen from the top of one of the tall trees in Sherwood, and on more than one bright day, Robb's white signal from this tree told Marion that he awaited her there. For you must know that Robb did not visit her at the castle. His father and her father were enemies. Some people whispered that Hugh Fitzsuth was the rightful Earl of Huntingdon, but that he had been defrauded out of his lands by Fitzwalter, who had won the king's favor by a crusade to the Holy Land. But little cared Robb or Marion for this enmity, however it had arisen. They knew that the great green wood was open to them, and that the wide, wide world was full of the scent of flowers and the song of birds. Days of youth speed all too swiftly, and troubled skies come all too soon. Robb's father had two other enemies besides Fitzwalter, in the persons of the lean sheriff of Nottingham and the fat bishop of Herford. These three enemies one day got possession of the king's ear and whispered therein to such good or evil purpose that Hugh Fitzsuth was removed from his post of king's forester. He and his wife and Robb, then a youth of 19, were descended upon during a cold winter's evening and dispossessed without warning. The sheriff arrested the forester for treason, of which poor man he was as guiltless as you or I, and carried him to Nottingham jail. Robb and his mother were sheltered overnight in the jail also, but next morning were roughly bathed to go about their business. Thereupon they turned for succor to their only kinsman, Squire George of Gamewell, who sheltered them in all kindness. But the shock and the winter's night's journey proved too much for Dame Fitzsuth. She had not been strong for some time before leaving the forest. In less than two months she was no more. Robb felt as though his heart was broken at this loss, but scarcely had the first spring flowers begun to blossom upon her grave when he met another crushing blow in the loss of his father. That stern man had died in prison before his accusers could agree upon the charges by which he was to be brought to trial. Two years passed by. Robb's cousin Will was away at school, and Marion's father, who had learned of her friendship with Robb, had sent his daughter to the court of Queen Eleanor. So these years were lonely ones to the orphan lad. The bluff old Squire was kind to him, but secretly could make nothing of one who went about brooding and as though seeking for something he had lost. The truth is that Robb missed his old life in the forest no less than his mother's gentleness and his father's companionship. Every time he twang the string of the longbow against his shoulder and heard the gray goose shaft sing, it told him of happy days that he could not recall. One morning as Robb came into breakfast, his uncle greeted him with, I have news for you Robb, my lad. And the hearty old Squire finished his draught of ale and set his pewter tankered down with a crash. What may that be, Uncle Gamewell? asked the young man. Here is a chance to exercise your good longbow and win a pretty prize. The fair is on at Nottingham, and the sheriff proclaims an archer's tournament. The best fellows are to have places with the king's foresters, and the one who shoots straightest of all will win for prize a golden arrow. A useless bobble enough, but just the thing for your lady love, eh Robb, my boy? Here the Squire laughed and whacked the table again with his tankered. Robb's eyes sparkled. Toer indeed were shooting for, Uncle Mine, he said. I should dearly love to let fly arrow alongside another man, and a place among the foresters is what I have long desired. Will you let me try? To be sure, rejoined his uncle, well I know that your good mother would have had me make a clerk of you, but well I see that the green wood is where you will pass your days. So here's luck to you in the bout, and the huge tanker came a third time into play. The young man thanked his uncle for his good wishes, and set about making preparations for the journey. He traveled lightly, but his you-bowl must needs have a new string, and his clothyard arrows must be of the straightest and soundest. One fine morning, a few days after, Robb might have been seen passing by way of loxley, through Sherwood Forest to Nottingham Town. Briskly walked he, and gaily, for his hopes were high, and never an enemy had he in the wide world. But twas the very last morning in his life when he was to lack an enemy. For as he went his way through Sherwood, whistling a blithe tune, he came suddenly upon a group of foresters, making merry beneath the spreading branches of an oak tree. They had a huge meat pie before them, and were washing down prodigious slices of it with nut-brown ale. One glance at the leader, and Robb knew at once that he had found an enemy.  But never a word said he for good or bad, and would have passed on his way, had not this man clearing his throat with a huge gulp bellowed out. By my troth, here is a pretty little archer.  Be like he would shoot at knotting him fair. Ho-ho! A roar of laughter greeted this sally. Robb flushed, for he was mightily proud of his shooting. My bow is as good as yours, he retorted, and my shafts will carry a straight and as far, so I'll not take lessons of any of ye. They laughed again loudly at this, and the leader said with frown, Show us some of your skill, and if you can hit the mark, here's twenty silver pennies for you, but if you hit it not, you are in for a sound-drubbing for your pertness. Pick your own target, quote Robb in a fine rage. I'll lay my head against that purse that I can hit it. It shall be as you say, retorted the forester angrily, your head for your sauciness that you hit not my target. Now, at a little rise in the wood, a herd of deer came grazing by, distance full five-score yards. They were kings-deer, but at that distance seemed safe from any harm. The head forester pointed to them. If your young arm could speed a shaft for half that distance, I'd shoot with you. Done! cried Robb. My head against twenty pennies I'll cause yawn find fellow in the lead of them to breathe his last. And without more adieu, he tried the string of his longbow, placed a shaft thereon, and drew it to his ear. A moment, and the quivering string sang death as the shaft whistled across the glade. Another moment, and the leader of the herd leaped high in his tracks and fell prone, dying the sword with his heart's blood. A murmur of amazement swept through the foresters, and then a growl of rage. He that had wagered was angriest of all. Know what you have done, rash youth, he said.  Talk not to me of pennies, but get ye gone straight, and let me not look upon your face again. Robb's blood boiled within him, and he uttered a rash speech. I have looked upon your face once too often already my fine forester, Tijou who wear my father's shoes. And with this he turned upon his heel and strode away. The forester heard his parting thrust with an oath. Red with rage he seized his bow, strung an arrow, and without warning launched it full after Robb. Well was it for the latter that the forester's foot turned on a twig at the critical instant, for as it was the arrow whizzed by his ear so close as to take a stray strand of his hair with it. Robb turned upon his assailant, now two score yards away.  Take this from the two penny bow. Straight flew his answering shaft. The head forester gave one cry, then fell face downward and lay still. His life had avenged Robb's father, but the son was outlawed. Forward he rammed through the forest before the band could gather their scattered wits. Still forward into the great greenwood, the swaying trees seemed to open their arms to the wanderer and to welcome him home. Toward the close of the same day, Robb paused hungry and weary at the cottage of a poor widow who dwelt upon the outskirts of the forest. Now this widow had often greeted him kindly in his boyhood days, giving him to eat and drink. So he boldly entered her door. The old dame was right glad to see him and baked him cakes in the ashes and had him rest and tell her his story. Then she shook her head. Tis an evil wind that blows through Sherwood, she said. The poor are despoiled and the rich ride over their bodies. My three sons have been outlawed for shooting King's Deer to keep us from starving and now hide in the wood. And they tell me that two score of as good men as ever drew bow are in hiding with them. Where are they, good mother? cried Robb. By my faith I will join them. Nay, nay, replied the old woman at first. But when she saw that there was no other way, she said, My sons will visit me tonight. Stay you here and see them if you must. So Robb stayed willingly to see the widow's sons that night. For they were men after his own heart, and when they found that his mood was with them, they made him swear an oath of fealty and told him the haunt of the band, a place he knew right well. Finally one of them said, But the band lacks a leader, one who can use his head as well as his hand, so we have agreed that he who has skill enough to go to Nottingham and outlaw and win the prize at archery shall be our chief. Robb sprang to his feet. Said in good time, cried he, For I had started to that self-same fare, and all the foresters and all the sheriff's men in Christendom shall not stand between me and the center of their target. And though he was but barely grown he stood so straight in his eye flashed with such fire that the three brothers seized his hand and shouted, A loxley, a loxley, if you win the golden arrow you shall be chief of outlaws in Sherwood forest. So Robb felt a planning how he could disguise himself to go to Nottingham town, for he knew that the foresters had even then set a price on his head in the marketplace. It was even as Robb had surmised, the sheriff of Nottingham posted a reward of 200 pounds for the capture, dead or alive, of one Robert Fitzuth outlaw. And the crowds thronging the streets upon that busy fair day often paused to read the notice and talk together about the death of the head forester. But what with wrestling bouts and bouts with quarter-staves and wandering minstrels, there came up so many other things to talk about that the reward was forgotten for the nonce, and only the foresters and sheriff's men watched the gates with diligence, the sheriff indeed spurring them to effort by offers of larguess, his hatred of the father had descended to the son. The great event of the day came in the afternoon. It was the archers' contest for the golden arrow and twenty men stepped forth to shoot. Among them was a beggar man, a sorry-looking fellow with leggings of different colors and brown scratched face and hands. Over a tawny shock of hair he had a hood drawn, much like that of a monk. Slowly he leaped to his place in the line while a mob shouted in derision. But the contest was open to all comers, so no man said him nay. Side by side with Rob, for it was he, stood a muscular fellow of swarthy visage and with one eye hid by a green bandage. Him also the crowd jeered, but he passed them by with indifference while he tried his bow with practiced hand. A great crowd had assembled in the amphitheater enclosing the lists. All the gentry and populace of the surrounding country were gathered there in eager expectancy. The central box contained the lean but pompous sheriff, his bejeweled wife, and their daughter, a supercilious young woman enough who, it was openly hinted, was hoping to receive the golden arrow from the victor, and thus be crowned queen of the day. Next to the sheriff's box was one occupied by the fat Bishop of Herford. While in the other side was a box wherein sat a girl whose dark hair, dark eyes, and fair features caused Rob's heart to leap. It was made Marian. She had come up for a visit from the Queen's court at Londontown, and now sat demerly by her father, the Earl of Huntingdon. If Rob had been grimly resolved to win the arrow before, the sight of her sweet face multiplied his determination and hundredfold. He felt his muscles tightening into bands of steel, tense and true, yet with all his heart would throb, making him quake in a most unaccountable way. Then the trumpet sounded, and the crowd became silent while the herald announced the terms of the contests. The lists were open to all comers. The first target was to be placed at 30 L's distance, and all those who hit its center were allowed to shoot at the second target, placed 10 L's farther off. The third target was to be removed yet farther, until the winner was proved. The winner was to receive the golden arrow and a place with the king's foresters. He it was also who crowned the queen of the day. The trumpet sounded again, and the archers prepared to shoot. Rob looked to his string, while the crowd smiled and whispered at the odd figure he cut, with his very colored legs and little cape. What is the first man's shot, they grew silent. The target was not so far, but that twelve out of the twenty contestants reached its inner circle. Rob shot sixth in the line and landed fairly, being rewarded by an approving grunt from the man with the green blinder, who shot seventh, and with apparent carelessness, yet true to the bullseye. The mob cheered and yelled themselves hoarse at even this markmanship. The trumpet sounded again, and a new target was set up at 40 L's. The first three archers again struck true, amid the loud applause of the onlookers, for they were general favorites and expected to win. Indeed, it was whispered that each was backed by one of the three dignitaries of the day. The fourth and fifth archers barely grazed the center. Rob fitted his arrow quietly, and with some confidence sped it unerringly toward the shining circle. The beggar, the beggar, yelled the crowd, another bull for the beggar. In truth, his shaft was nearer the center than any of the others. But it was not so nearer that blinder, as the mob had promptly christened his neighbor, did not place his shaft just within the mark. Again the crowd cheered wildly. Such shooting as this was not seen every day in Nottingham town. The other archers in this round were disconcerted by their preceding shots, or unable to keep the pace. They missed one after another and dropped moodily back, while the trumpet sounded for the third round, and the target was set up 50 L's distant. Why, my hallowed them, you draw a good bow, young mister, said Rob's queer comrade to him in the interval allowed for rest. Do you wish me to shoot first on this trial? Nay, said Rob, but you are a good fellow by this token, and if I win not, I hope you may keep the prize from Jan Strudders. And he nodded scornfully to the three other archers who were surrounded by their admirers, and were being made much of by retainers of the sheriff, the bishop, and the earl. From them his eye wandered toward maid Marion's booth.  Blinders' quick eye followed those of Rob. A fair maid that, he said smilingly, and one more worthy the golden arrow than the sheriff's haughty miss. Rob looked at him swiftly and saw not but kindness in his glance.   The target seemed hardly larger than the inner ring had looked at the first trial. The first three sped their shafts, and while they were fair shots they did not more than graze the inner circle. Rob took his stand with some misgiving. Some flicking clouds overhead made the light uncertain, and a handful of wind frolicked across the range in a way quite disturbing to a bowman's nerves. His eyes wandered for a brief moment to the box wherein sat the dark-eyed girl. His heart leaped. She met his glance and smiled at him reassuringly, and in that moment he felt that she knew him despite his disguise and looked at him to keep the honor of old Sherwood. He drew his bow firmly, and taking advantage of a momentary lull in the breeze, launched the arrow straight and true, singing across the range to the center of the target. The beggar, the beggar, a bull, a bull, yelled the fickle mob, who from during him were now his warm friends. Can you beat that, Blinder? The last archer smiled scornfully and made ready. He drew his bow with ease and grace, and without seeming to study the course, released the winged arrow. Forward it leaped toward the target, and all eyes followed its flight. A loud uproar broke forth when it alighted, just without the center and grazing the shaft sent by Rob. The stranger made a gesture of surprise when his own eyes announced the result to him, but saw his error. He had not allowed for the fickle gust of wind which seized the arrow and carried it to one side, but for all that he was the first to congratulate the victor. I hope we may shoot again, quote he, in truth I care not for the golden bobble and wish to win it in despite of the share for whom I have no love. Now crown the lady of your choice. And turning suddenly he was lost in the crowd, before Rob could utter what was upon his lips to say that he would shoot again with him. And now the herald summoned Rob to the Sheriff's box to receive the prize.  Yet you shoot well. What name go you by? Marian sat nearby and listened intently. I am called Rob the Stroller, my Lord Sheriff, said the archer. Marian leaned back and smiled. Well, Rob the Stroller, with a little attention to your skin and clothes, you would not be so bad a man, said the Sheriff. How like you the idea of entering my service? Rob the Stroller has ever been a free man, my Lord, and desires no service. The Sheriff's brow darkened. Yet for the sake of his daughter in the golden arrow he dissembled. Rob the Stroller, said he, here is the golden arrow which has been offered to the best of archers this day. You are awarded the prize. See that you bestow it worthily. At this point the herald nudged Rob and half inclined his head toward the Sheriff's daughter who sat with a thin smile upon her lips. But Rob heeded him not. He took the arrow and strode to the next box where sat made Marian. Lady, he said, pray accept this little pledge from a poor Stroller who would devote the best shafts in his quiver to serve you. My thanks to you, Rob, in the hood, replied she with a roguish twinkle in her eye, and she placed the gleaming arrow in her hair, while the people shouted, the Queen, the Queen! The Sheriff glowered furiously upon this ragged archer who had refused to service, taking his prize without a word of thanks and snubbed his daughter. He would have spoken but his proud daughter restrained him. He called to his guard and bade them watch the beggar. But Rob had already turned swiftly, lost himself in the throng, and headed straight for the town gate.  Suddenly a twig crackled and they sprang to their feet and seized their weapons. I look for the widows' sons, a clear voice said, and I come alone. Instantly the three men stepped forward. His Rob, they cried, welcome to Sherwood Forest, Rob, and all the men came and greeted him, for they had heard his story. Then one of the widows' sons, Stout Will, stepped forth and said, Comrades all, ye know that our band has sadly lacked a leader, one of birth, breeding, and skill. Be like we have found that leader in this young man, and I and my brothers have told him that the band would choose that one who should bring the sheriff to shame this day and capture his golden arrow. Is it not so? The band gave assent. We'll turn to Rob. What news bring you from Nottingham Town? asked he. Rob laughed. In truth I brought the sheriff to shame for my own pleasure, and won his golden arrow to boot. But as to the prize, ye must eat and take my word, for I bestowed it upon a maid. And seeing the men stood in doubt at this he continued, but I'll gladly join your band, and you take me as a common archer, for there are others older and may have more skill than I. Then stepped one forward from the rest, a tall, swarthy man, and Rob recognized him as the man with the green blinder. Only this was now removed, and his freed eye gleamed as stoutly as the other one. Rob in the hood, for such the lady called you, said he, I can vouch for your tale. You shamed the sheriff, even as I had hoped to do, and we can forgo the golden arrow since it is in such fair hands. As to your shooting in mind, we must let future days decide, but here I, Will Stutley, declare that I will serve none other chief save only you. Then Good Will Stutley told the outlaws of Rob's deeds, and gave him his hand of filthy, and the widows' sons did likewise, and the other members every one write gladly, because Will Stutley had heretofore been the truest bow in all the company, and they toasted him in nut-brown ale and hailed him as their leader, by the name of Robin Hood, and he accepted that name because Maid Marion had said it. By the light of the campfire the band exchanged signs and passwords. They gave Robin Hood a horn upon which he was to blow to summon them. They swore also that while they might take money and goods from the unjust rich, they would aid and befriend the poor and the helpless, and that they would harm no woman, be she Maid, Wife, or Widow. They swore all this with solemn oars, while they feasted about the ruddy blaze under the greenwood tree. And that is how Robin Hood became an outlaw. Oh, here is my hand, the stranger replied. I'll serve you with all my heart. My name is John Little, a man of good metal. Nair doubt me, for I'll play my part. His name shall be altered, quote William Stutley, and I will his godfather be. Prepare then a feast, and none of the least, for we will be merry, quote he. All that summer Robin Hood and his merry men roamed in Sherwood Forest, and the fame of their deeds ran abroad in the land. The sheriff of Nottingham waxed Roth at the report, but all his traps and excursions failed to catch the outlaws. The poor people began by fearing them, but when they found that the men in Lincoln Green, who answered Robin Hood's horn, meant them no harm, but despoiled the oppressor to relieve the oppressed, they began to have great liking for them. And the band increased by other stout hearts, till by the end of the summer, four score good men and true had sworn fealty. But the days of quiet which came on grew irksome to Robin's adventurous spirit.  This fresh breeze stirs the blood, my lads, quote he, and I would be seen what a gay world looks like in the direction of Nottingham Town, but tarry he behind in the borders of the forest, with an earshot of my bugle call. Thus saying, he strode merrily forward to the edge of the wood, and paused there a moment. His agile form erect, his brown locks flowing, and his brown eyes watching the road, and a goodly sight he made, as the wind blew the ruddy color into his cheeks. The highway led clear in the direction of the town, and thither he boldly directed his steps. But at a bend in the road, he knew of a bypass leading across to Brook, which made the way nearer and less open, into which he turned. As he approached the stream, he saw that it had become swollen by recent rains into quite a pretty torrent. The log footbridge was still there, but at this end of it a puddle intervened which could be crossed only with a leap, if you would not get your feet wet. But Robin cared little for such a handicap. Taking a running start, his nimble legs carried him easily over and bounced neatly upon the end of the broad log. But he was no sooner started across than he saw a tall stranger coming from the other side. Thereupon Robin quickened his pace, and the stranger did likewise, each thinking to cross first. Midway they met, and neither would yield an inch. Give way, fellow, roared Robin, whose leadership of a band, I am afraid, had not tended to mend his manners. The stranger smiled. He was almost a head taller than the other. Nay, he retorted, fair and softly, I give way only to a better man than myself. Give way, I say, repeated Robin, or I shall have to show you a better man. His opponent budged not an inch, but laughed loudly. Now, by my halodome, he said good-naturedly, I would not move after hearing that speech, even if minded to it before, for this better man I have sought my life long. Therefore, show him to me, and it please you. That will I write soon, quote Robin.  So saying, he sought his own bank again with a leap, laid aside his long bow and arrows, and cut him a stout staff of oak, straight, knotless, and a good six feet in length. But still, it was a full foot shorter than his opponents. Then back came he boldly. I am I not telling you, fellow, said he, that about with archery would have been an easier way with me. But there are other tunes in England besides that the arrow sings.   Well was it for Robin that he was quick and nimble afoot, for the blow that grazed a hair's breath from his shoulder would have fell the knocks. Nevertheless, while swerving to avoid this stroke, Robin was poising for his own, and back came he forthwith. Whack! Whack! parried the other. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! The fight waxed fast and furious. It was strength pitted against subtlety, and the match was a merry one. The mighty blows of the stranger went whistling around Robin's ducking head, while his own swift undercuts were feigned to give the other an attack of indigestion. Yet each stood firmly in his place, not moving backward or forward a foot for a good half hour, nor thinking of crying enough, though some chance blow seemed likely to knock one or the other off the narrow footbridge. The giant's face was getting red, and his breath came snorting forth like a bull's. He stepped forward with a furious onslaught to finish this audacious fellow. Robin dodged his blows lightly, then sprang in swiftly and unexpectedly and dealt the stranger such a blow upon the short ribs that you would have sworn the tanner was trimming down his hides from market. The stranger reeled and came within an ace of falling, but regained his footing right quickly. By my life you can hit hard, he gasped forth, giving back a blow almost while he was yet staggering. This blow was a lucky one. It caught Robin off his guard. His stick had rested a moment while he looked to see the giant topple into the water when down came the other upon his head. Wack! Robin saw more stars in that one moment than all the astronomers have since discovered, and forthwith he dropped neatly into the stream. The cool rushing current quickly brought him to his senses, albeit he was still so dazed that he groped blindly for the swaying reeds to pull himself up on the bank. His assailant could not forebear laughing heartily at his plight, but was also quick to lend his aid. He thrust down his long staff to Robin crying, lay hold of that, and your fists whirl not so much as your head. Robin laid hold and was hauled to dry land for all the whirl like a fish, except that the fish would never have come forth so wet and dripping. He lay upon the worm bank for a space to regain his senses. Then he sat up and gravely rubbed his paint.  Then he seized his horn which lay near and blew thereon three shrill notes that echoed against the trees. A moment of silence ensued, and then was heard the rustling of leaves and crackling of twigs like the coming of many men. And forth from the glade burst a score or two of stalwart yeoman, all clad in Lincoln Green like Robin, with good Will Stutley and the Will's three sons at their head. Good Master, cried Will Stutley, how was this? In sooth there is not a dry thread on your body. Why, Mary, replied Robin, this fellow would not let me pass the footbridge, and when I tickled him in the ribs, he must needs answer by a pat on the head which landed me overboard. Then shall he taste some of his own porridge, both Will, seize him, lads. Nay, let him go free, said Robin. The fight was a fair one, and I abide by it. I surmise you also are quits, he continued, turning to the stranger with a twinkling eye. I am content, said the other, for verily you now have the best end of the cudgel.  Why, said Robin, my men and even the sheriff of Nottingham know me as Robin Hood, the outlaw. Then I am right sorry that I beat you, exclaimed the man, for I was on my way to seek you, and to try to join your merry company. But after my unmanly use of the cudgel, I fear we are still strangers. Nay, never say it, cried Robin. I am glad I fell in with you. Though soothed to say, I did all the falling. And amid a general laugh the two men clasped hands, and in that clasp the strong friendship of a lifetime was begun. But you have not yet told us your name, said Robin, be thinking himself. Once I came, men call me John Little. Enter our company then, John Little. Enter and welcome. The rites are few, the fee is large. We ask your whole mind and body and heart even unto death. I give you the bond upon my life, said the tall man. Thereupon, Will Stutley, who loved a good jest, spoke up and said, The infant in our household must be christened, and I'll stand Godfather. This fair little stranger is so small a bone in sinew that his old name is not to the purpose. Here he paused long enough to fill a horn in the stream. Hark ye, my son, standing on tiptoe to splash the water on the giant. Take your new name on entering the forest.  At this jest the men roared long and loud. Give him a bow and find a full sheath of arrows for little John, said Robin joyfully. Can you shoot as well as you fence with the staff, my friend? I have hid an ash twig at forty yards, said little John. Thus chatting pleasantly the band turned back into the woodland and sought their secluded dell. Where the trees were the thickest, the moss was the softest, and a secret path led to a cave, at once a retreat and a stronghold.  And here they built a ruddy fire and sat down to the meat and ale, Robin Hood in the center with Will Stutley on the one hand and little John on the other. And Robin was right well pleased with the day's adventure, even though he had got a drubbing, for sore ribs and heads will heal, and tis not every day that one can find a recruit as stout of bone and true of soul as little John. So ends Chapter 2 Chapter 3 of Robin Hood by J. Walker McSpadeon. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. How Robin Hood turned butcher and entered the sheriff's service. The butcher he answered jolly Robin, no matter where I do dwell, for a butcher am I, and to Nottingham, am I going my flesh to sell. The next morning the weather had turned ill, and Robin Hood's band stayed close to their dry and friendly cave. The third day brought a diversion in the shape of a trap by a roving party of the sheriff's men. A fine stag had been struck down by one of Will Stutley's fellows, and he and others had stepped forth from the covert to seize it, when twenty bullmen from Nottingham appeared at the end of the glade. Down dropped Will's men on all fours, barely in time to hear a shower of arrows whistle above their heads. Then from behind the friendly trees they sent back such a welcome that the sheriff's men deemed it prudent not to tarry in their steps. Two of them ensuth or back unpleasant wounds in their shoulders from the encounter. When they returned to town the sheriff waxed red with rage. What, he gasped, do my men fear to fight this Robin Hood face to face? Would that I could get him within my reach once? We should see then, we should see. What it was the sheriff would see he did not state, but he was to have his wish granted in short space, and you and I will see how he profited by it. The fourth day, and the one following this friendly bout, little John was missing. One of his men said that he saw him talking with a beggar, but did not know whether they had gone. Two more days passed. Robin grew uneasy. He did not doubt the faith of little John, but he was fearful least a roving band of foresters had captured him. At last Robin could not remain quiet. Upspring he, with bow and arrows and a short sordid aside. I must away to Nottingham town, my men, he cried. The goodly sheriff has long desired to see me, and may hap he can tell me tidings of the best quarterstaff in the shire, meaning little John. Others of the band besought him to let them go with him, but he would not. Nay, he said smilingly, the sheriff and I are two good friends to put doubt upon our meeting, but tear ye in the edge of the wood opposite the west gate of the town, and ye may be of service ere tomorrow night. So sane he strode forward to the road leading to Nottingham, and stood as before looking up and down to see if the way was clear. Back at a bend in the road he heard a rumbling and a lumbering, when up drove a stout butcher, whistling gaily and driving a mare that sped slowly enough because of the weight of meat with which the cart was loaded.   No matter where I dwell, I am but a simple butcher, and to Nottingham am I going, my flesh to sell. Tis fair week, and my beef and mutton should fetch a fair penny, and he laugh loudly at his jest, but whence come you? A yeoman am I from Locksley town, men call me Robin Hood.   Not so much as a silver penny would I take from you, for I love an honest Saxon face and a fair name with my neighbors, but I would strike a bargain with you. Here he took from his girdle a well-filled purse and continued, I would feign be a butcher this day and sell meat at Nottingham town. Could you sell me your meat, your cart, your mare, and your good will, without loss, for five marks? Heaven bless ye, good Robin, cried the butcher right joyfully, that can I. And he leaped down forthwith from the cart, and handed Robin the reins in exchange for the purse. One moment more, laughed Robin, we must eon change garments for the nons. Take mine and scurry home quickly, lease the king's foresters try to put a hole through this Lincoln Green. So saying, he donned the butcher's blouse and apron, and climbing into the cart drove merrily down the road to the town. When he came to Nottingham, he greeted the scowling gatekeeper blithely and proceeded to the marketplace. Oldly he led his shuffling horse to the place where the butchers had their stalls. He had no notion for the price to ask for his meat, but put on a foolish and simple air as he called aloud his wares. Hark ye, lasses and dames. Hark ye, good meat, come by, come by. Three pennors, go for one penny, and a kiss is good, say I. Now when the folk found what a simple butcher he was, they crowded around his cart. For he really did sell three times as much for one penny as was sold by the other butchers. And one or two serving lasses with twinkling eyes, liked his comely face so well that they willingly gave boot of a kiss. But the other butchers were wroth when they found how he was taking their trade, and they accordingly put their heads together. One said, he is a prodigal and has sold his father's land, and this is his first venture in trading. Another said, he is a thief who has murdered a butcher and stolen his horse and meat. Robin heard these sayings but only laughed merrily and sang his song the louder. His good humor made the people laugh also, and crowed round his cart closely, shouting uproiously when some box of lasses submitted to be kissed. Then the butchers saw that they must meet craft with craft, and they said to him, come, brother butcher, if you would sell meat with us, you must even join our guild and stand by the rules of our trade. We dine at the sheriff's mansion today, said another, and you must take one of our party. A cursed of his heart, said Jolly Robin, that a butcher will deny. I ll go with you, my brethren true, and as fast as I can hide. Whereupon, having sold all his meat, he left his horse and cart in charge of a friendly hostler and prepared to follow his mates to the mansion house. It was the sheriff's custom to dine various guilds of the trade from time to time on fair days, for he got a pretty profit out of the fees they paid him for the right to trade in the marketplace. The sheriff was already come with great pomp into the banqueting room, when Robin and three or four butchers entered, and he greeted them all with great condescension. And presently, the whole of a large company was seated at a table, groaning beneath the good cheer of the feast. Now the sheriff, Bade Robin, sit by his right hand, at the head of the board, for one or two butchers had whispered to the official, that fellow is a right mad blade, who yet made us much sport today. He sold more meat for one penny than we could sell for three, and he gave extra weight to whatsoever last would bust him. And others said, he is some prodigal who knows not the value of goods, and may be plucked by a shrewd man right closely. The sheriff was will to pluck a prodigal with the next man, and he was more over glad to have a guest who promised to enliven the feast. So, as I have told you, he placed Robin by his side, and he made much of him and laughed boisterously at his jests. Though soothed to say, the laugh were come by easily, for Robin had never been in merry or mood, and his quips and jests soon put the whole table at a roar. Then my Lord Bishop of Hurford came in, last of all, to say a ponderous grace and take his seat on the other side of the sheriff. The prelate's fat body showing up in goodly contrast to the other's lean bones. After grace was said, and while the servants clattered in with the meat platters, Robin stood up and said, and amen, say I to my Lord Bishop's thanks. How now, my fine fellows, be merry and drink deep! For the shot I'll pay ere I go my way, though it costs me five pounds and more. So, my Lord and gentlemen all, spare not the wine, but fall too lustily. Here, here, shouted the butchers, now are you a right jolly soul, quote the sheriff. But this feast is mine own. How be it you must have many a head of horned beast, and many an acre of broad land to spend from your purse so freely. I, that have I, returned Robin, his eyes all at twinkle. Five hundred horned beast have I in my brothers, and none of them have we been able to sell. This is why I have turned butcher, but I know not to trade, and would gladly sell the whole herd, and I could find a buyer. At this the sheriff's greed ganned to rise. Since this fool would be plucked, thought he, why should not he do the plucking? Five hundred beasts, say you, he queried sharply. Five hundred and ten fat beasts by actual count, that I would sell for a just figure. I, to him who will pay me and write money, would I sell them for twenty pieces of gold. Is that too much to ask, Lording?  Nay, good fellow, quote he chuckling. I am always ready to help any in my shire, and you cannot find a buyer for your herd at this just figure, I will even buy them myself. At this generosity Robin was quite overcome, and felt appraising the sheriff to the skies, and telling him that he should not have cause to forget the kindness. Cut, cut, said the sheriff, tis not but a trade, drive in your herd tomorrow to the marketplace, and you shall have money down. Nay, excellence, said Robin, that can I not easily do, for they are grazing in scattered fashion, but they are over near game well, not more than a mile there from at most. Will you not come and choose your own beasts tomorrow? I, that I will, said the sheriff, his cupidity casting his caution to the winds. Carry with me overnight, and I will go with you in the morning. This was a poser for Robin. Since he liked not the idea of staying overnight at the sheriff's house, he had hoped to appoint a meeting place for the other, but now saw that this might excite doubt. He looked around at the company. By this time you must know the feast had progressed far, and the butchers were deep in their cups. The sheriff and Robin had talked in a low voice, and my lord bishop was almost asleep. Agreed, said Robin presently, and the words were no sooner out of his mouth than the door opened, and a serving man entered bearing tray of mulled wine. At sight of the fellow's face, Robin gave an involuntary start of surprise, which was instantly checked. The other also saw him stood still a moment, and as if forgetting something, turned about and left the hall. It was little John. A dozen questions flashed across Robin's mind, and he could find answer for none of them. What was little John doing in the sheriff's house? Why had he not told the band? Was he true to them? Would he betray them? But these questions of distrust were dismissed from Robin's open mind as soon as they had entered. He knew that little John was faithful and true. He recovered his spirits and began again upon a vein of foolish banter, for the amusement of the sheriff and his guests, all being now merry with wine. A song, one of them shouted, and the cry was taken up round the table. Robin mounted his chair and trolled forth. A lass and a butcher of Nottingham agreed, twix them, for to wed. Says he, I'll give you the meat, fair dame, and ye will give me the bread. Then they joined in the chorus, amid a pounding of cups upon the board. With a hay and a hoe and a hay-notting-o, a butcher of Nottingham. While the song was at its height, little John reappeared with other servants and refilled the cups. He came up to Robin and, as if asking him if he would have more wine said softly, meet me in the pantry tonight. Robin nodded and sang loudly. The day was already far spent, and presently the company broke up with many hiccupy bows to the sheriff and little notice of the drowsy bishop. When the company was dispersed, the sheriff bade a servant show Robin to his room and promised to see him at breakfast the next day. Robin kept his word and met little John that night and the sheriff next day, but little John has been doing so much in the meantime that he must be allowed a chapter to himself. So let us turn to another story that was sung of in the ballads of olden time and find out how little John entered the sheriff's service. So ends Chapter 3. Chapter 4 of Robinhood by J. Walker McSpaden This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. How little John entered the sheriff's service. List and hearken, gentlemen, all ye that now be here, of little John that was night's man, good Murthy now shall hear. It had come around another fair day at Nottingham Town and folk crowded there by all the gates. Goods of many kinds were displayed in gaily colored booths, and at every cross street a free show was in progress. Here and there, stages had been erected for the play at Quarterstaff, a highly popular sport. There was a fellow, one Eric of Lincoln, who was thought to be the finest man with the staff for miles around. His feats were sung about in ballads through all the shire. A great boaster was he with all, and today he strutted about on one of these corner stages and vaunted his prowess, and offered to crack any man's crown for his shilling. Several had tried their skill with Eric, but he had soon sent them spinning in no gentle manner, amid the jeers and laughter of the onlookers. A beggar man sat over against Eric's stage and grinned every time a pate was cracked. He was an uncouth fellow, ragged and dirty and unshaven. Eric caught sight of his leering face at one of his boasts, for there was a lull in the game, because no man else wanted to come within reach of Eric's blows. Eric, I say, noticed the beggar man grinning at him rather impudently and turned toward him sharply.  The beggar man still grinned. I am always ready to mend my manners to my betters, said he, but I am afraid you cannot teach me any better than you can dust my jacket. Come up, come up, roared the other, flourishing his staff. That I will, said the beggar, getting up slowly and with difficulty. It will pleasure me hugely to take a braggart down a notch, and some good man will lend me a stout quarterstaff. At this, a score of idlers reached him their stabs.  He made a sorry enough figure as he climbed awkwardly upon the stage, but when he had gained it, he towered full half-ahead above the other for all his awkwardness. Nevertheless, he held his stick so clumsily that the crowd laughed in great glee. Now each man took his place and looked the other up and down, watching warily for an opening.  The beggar danced about and made as though he would drop his staff from very pain, while the crowd roared and Eric raised himself for another crushing blow. But just then the awkward beggar came to life. Straightening himself like a flash, he dealt Eric a backhanded blow, the like of which he had never before seen. Down went the boaster to the floor with a sounding thump. And the fickle people yelled and laughed themselves purple, for it was a new sight to see Eric of Lincoln eating dust. But he was up again almost as soon as he had fallen and right quickly retreated to his own ringside to gather his wits and watch for an opening. He saw instantly that he had no easy antagonist and he came in cautiously this time. And now those who stood around saw the merriest game of quarterstaff that was ever played inside the walls of Nottingham town. Both men were on their guard and fenced with fine skill, being well matched in prowess. Again and again did Eric seek to force an opening under the other's guard, and just as often were his blows parried. The beggar stood sturdily in his tracks, contenting himself with beating off the attack. For a long time their blows met like the steady crackling of some huge forest fire, and Eric strove to be wary, for he now knew that the other had no mean wits or metal. But he grew right mad at last, and began to send down blows so fierce and fast that you would have sworn a great hail storm was pounding on the shingles over your head. Yet he never so much as entered the tall beggar's guard. Then at last the stranger saw his chance and changed his tune of fighting. With one upward stroke he sent Eric's staff whirling through the air, with another he tapped Eric on the head, and with a third broad swing, Eric the other could recover himself. He swept him clear off the stage, much as you would brush a fly off the windowpane. Now the people danced and shouted and made so much a do that the shopkeepers left their stalls and others came running from every direction. The victory of the queer beggar made him immensely popular. Eric had been a great bully, and many had suffered defeat and insult at his hands. So the ragged stranger found money and food and drink everywhere at his disposal, and he feasted right comfortably till the afternoon. Then a longbow contest came on, and to it the beggar went with some of his new friends. It was held in the same arena that Robin had formerly entered, and again the sheriff and lords and ladies graced the scene with their presence while the people crowded to their places. When the archers had stepped forward the herald rose and proclaimed the rules of the game.  A dozen keen-eyed bowmen were there, and among them some of the best fellows in the foresters and sheriff's companies. Down at the end of the line towered the tall beggar man, who must needs twang a bolstering with the best of them. The sheriff noted his queer figure and asked, Who is that ragged fellow? Tis he that hath now so soundly cracked the crown of Eric of Lincoln, was the reply. The shooting presently began, and the target soon showed a fine reckoning. Last of all came the beggar's turn. By your leave, he said loudly, I'd like it well to shoot with any other man here present at a mark of my own placing. And he strode down the lists with a slender peeled sapling which he stuck upright in the ground. There, said he, is a right good mark, will any man try it? But not an archer would risk his reputation on so small a target. Whereupon the beggar drew his bow with seeming carelessness and split the wand with his shaft. Long lived the beggar, yelled the bystanders. The sheriff swore a full great oath and said, This man is the best archer that ever yet I saw, and he beckoned to him and asked him, How now, good fellow, what is your name, and in what country were you born? In holderness I was born, the man replied. Men call me Rhynald Greenleaf.  Will you enter my service? I will give you twenty marks a year above your living, and three good suits of clothes. Three good suits, say you. Then right gladly will I enter your service, for my back has been bare this many a long day. Then Rhynald turned him about to the crowd and shouted, Hark ye good people, I have entered the sheriff's service, and need not the yoke of steers for prize. So take them for yourselves, defeat with all. At this the crowd shouted more merrily than ever, and threw their caps high into the air, and none so popular a man had come to Nottingham Town in many a long day as this same Rhynald Greenleaf. Now you may have guessed by this time who Rhynald Greenleaf really was, so I shall tell you that he was none other than Little John, and forth went he to the sheriff's house and entered his service. But it was a sorry day for the sheriff when he got his new man, for Little John winked his shrewd eye and said softly to himself, By my faith I shall be the worst servant to him that ever yet had he. Two days passed by, Little John, it must be confessed, did not make a good servant. He insisted upon eating the sheriff's best bread and drinking his best wine, so that the steward waxed wroth. Nath Les, the sheriff, held him in high esteem, and made great talk of taking him along on the next hunting trip. It was now the day of the banquet to the butchers, about which we have already heard. The banquet hall, you must know, was not in the main house, but connected with it by a corridor. All the servants were bustling about making preparations for the feast, save only Little John, who must needs lie a bed the greater part of the day. But he presented himself at last when the dinner was half over, and being desirous of seeing the guest for himself, he went into the hall with the other servants to pass the wine. First, however, I am afraid some of the wine passed his own lips while he went down the corridor. When he entered the banquet hall, whom should he see but Robin Hood himself? We can imagine the start of surprise felt by each of these bold fellows upon seeing the other in such strange company. But they kept their secrets, as we have seen, and arranged to meet each other that same night. Meanwhile, the proud sheriff Little knew that he harbored the two chief outlaws of the whole countryside beneath his roof. After the feast was over and night was beginning to advance, Little John felt faint of stomach and remembered him that he had eaten nothing all that day. Back went he to the pantry to see what eatables were laid by, but there, locking up the stores for the night, stood the fat steward. Good sir steward, said Little John, give me to dine, for it is long for green leaf to be fasting. The steward looked grimly at him and rattled the keys at his girdle. Sir, I lie a bed, quote he, his late in the day to be talking of eating. Since you have waited thus long to be hungry, you can eat and take your appetite back to bed again. Now by mine appetite, that will I not do, cried Little John. Your own punch of fat would be enough for any bear to sleep on through the winter, but my stomach craves food and food it shall have. Saying this, he brushed past the steward and tried the door, but it was locked fast. Where at the fat steward chuckled and jangled his keys again. Then was Little John right mad, and brought down his huge fist on the door panel with a sledgehammer blow that shivered an opening you could thrust your hand into. Little John stooped and peered through the hole to see what food lay within reach. When crack went the steward's keys upon his crown, and the worthy danced around him playing a tattoo that made Little John's ears ring. At this he turned upon the steward and gave him such a wrap that his back went nigh in two, and overwent the fat fellow rolling on the floor. Lie there, quoth Little John, till you find strength to go to bed. Meanwhile, I must be about my dinner. And he kicked open the buttery door without ceremony, and brought to light a venison pasty and cold roast pheasant, goodly sights to a hungry man. Placing these down on a convenient shelf, he fell too with right good will, so Little John ate and drank as much as he would. Now the sheriff had in his kitchen a cook, a stout man and bold, who heard the rumpus and came in to see how the land lay.  I make my vow, said the cook, you are a shrewd hind to dwell thus in a household and ask thus to dine. So, saying, he laid aside his spit and drew a good sword that hung at his side. I make my vow, said Little John, you are a bold man and hearty to come thus between me and my meat. So defend yourself and see that you prove the better man. And he drew his own sword and crossed weapons with the cook. Then back and forth they clashed with sullen sound. The old ballad, which tells of their fight, says that they thought nothing for to flee, but stiffly fought to stand. There they fought sword together, two miles away and more, but neither might the other harm for the space of a full hour. I make my vow, cried Little John, you are the best swordsman that ever yet I saw. What say you to resting a space and eating and drinking good health with me? Then we may fall to again with the swords. Agreed, said the cook, who loved good fare as well as a good fight, and they both laid by their swords and fell to the food with hearty will. The venison pasty soon disappeared, and the roast pheasant flew at as lively a rate as ever the bird itself had sped. Then the warriors rested a space and padded their stomachs, and smiled across to each other like bosom friends. For a man, when he as dined, looks out pleasantly upon the world. And now, Reinold Greenleaf, said the cook, we may as well settle the spray fight we have in hand. A true saying, rejoined the other, but first tell me, friend, for I protest you are my friend henceforth. What is the score we have to settle? Not save who can handle the sword best, said the cook. By my trough I had thought to carve you like a cape on air now, and I had long since thought to shave your ears, replied Little John. This bout we can settle in right good time, but just now I and my master have need of you, and you can turn your stout blade to better service than that of the sheriff. Who service would that be? asked the cook. Mine, answered a would-be butcher entering the room, and I am Robin Hood. So ends Chapter 4. Chapter 5 of Robin Hood by J. Walker McSpaden. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. How the sheriff lost three good servants and found them again. Make good cheer, said Robin Hood, sheriff for charity, and for the love of Little John, thy life is granted thee. The cook gasped in amazement. This, Robin Hood, and under the sheriff's very roof. Now, by my trough, you are a brave fellow, he said. I have heard great tales of your prowess, and the half has not been told. But who might this tall slasher be? Men do call me Little John, good fellow. Then Little John, or Reinhold Greenleaf, I like you well, on my honor as much the miller's son. And you too, bold Robin Hood, and you take me, I will enter your service right gladly.  Lucky for you, twain that wine flowed so freely in the house today, else the noise of your combat would have brought other onlookers besides Robin Hood. Now, if you would flee the house tonight, I will join you in the good Greenwood tomorrow. But good master, said the cook, you would not stay here overnight. Fairly, it is running your head into a noose. Come with us. The sheriff has set strict watch on all the gates, since tis fair week, but I know the warden at the west gate and could bring us through safely. Tomorrow you will be stayed. Nay, that I will not, laughed Robin, for I shall go through with no less escort than the sheriff himself.  In the borders of the wood you will find my merry men. Tell them to kill two fine hearts against tomorrow eve, for we shall have great company and lordly sport. And Robin left them as suddenly as he had come. Comrade, then said little John, we may as well bid the sheriff's roof farewell, but ere we go it would seem a true pity to fail to take such of the sheriff's silver plate as will cause us to remember him, and also grace our special feasts. Tis well said indeed, quote the cook. Thereupon they got a great sack and filled it with silver plate from the shelves where it would not at once be missed, and they swung the sack between them and away they went, out of the house, out of the town, and into the friendly shelter of Sherwood Forest. The next morning the servants were late a stirrer in the sheriff's house. The steward awoke from a heavy sleep, but his cracked head was still in such a whirl that he could not have sworn whether the sheriff had ever owned so much as one silver dish. So the theft went undiscovered for the nonce. Robin Hood met the sheriff at breakfast when his host soon spoke of what was uppermost in his heart. The purchase of the fine herd of cattle near Gamewell. It was clear that a vision of them purchased for twenty paltry gold pieces had been with him all through the night in his dreams. And Robin again appeared such a silly fellow that the sheriff saw no need of dissembling, but said that he was ready to start at once to look at the herd. Accordingly they set forth Robin in his little butcher's cart behind the lean mare and the sheriff mounted on a horse. Out of Nottingham town, through gates open wide, they proceeded and took the hill road leading through Sherwood Forest. And as they went on and plunged deeper among the trees, Robin whistled blithely and sang snatches of tunes. Why are you so gay, fellow? said the sheriff, or soothed to say the silence of the woods was making him uneasy. I am whistling to keep my courage up, replied Robin. What is there to fear when you have the sheriff of Nottingham beside you? Quoth the other pompously. Robin scratched his head. They do say that Robin Hood and his men care little for the sheriff, he said. Who? said the sheriff. I would not give that for their lives if I could once lay hands upon them. And he snapped his fingers angrily. But Robin Hood himself was on this very road the last time I came to town, said the other. The sheriff started at the crackling of a twig under his horse's foot and looked around. Did you see him? He asked. I, that did I. He wanted the use of this mare and cart to drive to Nottingham. He said he would feign turn butcher. But see! As he spoke, he came to a turn in the road, and there before them stood a herd of the king's deer, feeding. Robin pointed to them and continued. There is my herd of cattle, good master sheriff. How do you like them? Are they not fat and fair to see? The sheriff drew rain quickly. Now fellow, quote he, I would I were well out of this forest, for I care not to see such herds as these or such faces as yours. Choose your own way therefore, whoever you be, and let me go mine. Nay, laughed Robin, seizing the sheriff's bridle. I have been at too much pains to cultivate your company to forego it now so easily. Besides, I wish you'd meet some of my friends and dine with me, since you have so lately entertained me at your board. So saying, he clapped a horn on his lips and winded three merry notes. The deer bounded away, and before the last of them was seen, there came a running and a rustling, and out from behind covert and tree came full two score of men, clad in Lincoln green, and bearing gold you bows in their hands and short swords at their sides. Up they ran to Robin and doff their caps to him respectfully, while the sheriff sat still from very amazement. Welcome to the Greenwood, said one of the leaders, bending the knee with mock reverence before the sheriff. The sheriff glared, it was Little John. Woe the worth, Rhinole Greenleaf, he said. You have betrayed me. I make my vow, said Little John, that you are to blame, master. I was mis-served of my dinner when I was at your house, but we shall set you down to a feast we hope you will enjoy. Well spoken, Little John, said Robin Hood. Take you his bridle and let us do honor to the guest who has come to feast with us. Then turning abruptly, the whole company plunged into the heart of the forest. After twisting and turning till the sheriff's bewildered head sat dizzily upon his shoulders, the Greenwood men passed through a narrow alley amid the trees which led to a gully open space flanked by wide spreading oaks. Under the largest of these a pleasant fire was crackling and near it two fine hearts lay ready for cooking. Around the blaze were gathered another company of Yeoman quite as large as that which came with Robin Hood. Upspraying they as the latter advanced and saluted their leader with deference, but with hearty gladness to see him back again. That merry wag, Will Stutley, was in command, and when he saw the pale-faced sheriff being led in like any culprit, he took his cloak and laid it humbly upon the ground and besought the sheriff to alight upon it as the ground of Sherwood was unused to such dignitaries. Be stir yourselves, good fellows, cried Robin Hood, and while our new cook, whom I see with us is preparing a feast worthy of our high guest, let us have a few games to do him honor. Then while the whole glade was filled with the savory smell of roasting venison and fat capons and brown pastries warmed beside the blaze and mulled wine sent forth a cordial fragrance, Robin Hood placed the sheriff upon a knoll beneath the largest oak and sat himself down by him. First stepped forward several pairs of men armed with the quarterstaff, the widow's sons among them, and so skillfully did they thrust and parry and beat down guards that the sheriff, who loved a good game as well as any man, clapped his hands for getting where he was and shouted, well struck, well struck, never have I seen such blows at all the fairs of Nottingham. Then the best archers of the band set up a small wand at eight scorepaces distant, and thereon they affixed a wreath of green, and the archers began to shoot, and he who shot not through the garland without disturbing its leaves and tendrils was feigned to submit to a good sound buffet from little John. But right cunning was the shooting, for the men had spent a certain time in daily practice, and many were the shafts which sped daintily through the circle. Nathlas now and again some luckless fellow would shoot a rye and would be sent winding from a long arm blow from the tall lieutenant while the glade roared with laughter, and none more hearty a guffaw was given than came from the sheriff's own throat, for the spirit of the greenwood was upon him. But presently his high mood was dashed. The company sat down to meet, and the guest was treated to two more disturbing surprise. The cook came forward to serve the food. When the sheriff beheld in him his own former servant, and one whom he supposed was at the moment in the scullery and nodding him, much the miller's son grinned by way of answer to the sheriff's amazement and served the plates and placed them before the party. Then did the sheriff gasp and fairly choke with rage. The service was his own silverware from the mansion house.  Was it not enough to defraud me out of three of my servants that you must also rob me of my best silver service?  But Robinhood bade him pause. Gray mercy, quote he, servants come and go in merry England as so does service. The platters are but used to do your worship honor, and as for your life it is forfeit to your eagerness to buy my herd of cattle so cheaply. Now sit you down again and make good cheer, Sheriff, for charity, and for the love of little John your life is granted you. So the sheriff sat him down again, with the best face he could assume, and soon the cook's vines were disappearing down his gullet as rapidly as the next man's, and they feasted royally and clinked each other's cups until the sun had ceased to print the pattern of the leaves upon the forest carpet. Then the sheriff arose and said, I thank you, Robinhood, one-time butcher, and you, little John, one-time beggar, and you, much, one-time cook, and all you good men who have entertained me and sure would so well. Promises I make not as to how I shall requite you when next you come denoting him, for I am in the king's service. So for the present the score rests with you, but the shadows grow long and I must away, if you will be pleased to pilot me to the road. Then Robinhood and all his men arose and drank the sheriff's health, and Robin said, if you must needs go at once, we will not detain you, except that you have forgotten two things. What may they be? asked the sheriff, while his heart sank within him. You forgot that you came with me today to buy a herd of horned beasts. Likewise, that he who dines at the Greenwood Inn must pay the landlord. The sheriff fidgeted like a small boy who has forgotten his lesson. Nay, I have but a small sum with me, he began apologetically. What is that sum, gossip? questioned little John, for my own wage should also come out of it. And mine, said much. And mine, smiled Robin. The sheriff caught his breath. By my troth, are all these silver dishes worth anything? The outlaws roared heartily at this. I'll tell you what it is, worship, said Robin. We three rascally servants will compound our back wages for those plates, and we will keep the herd of cattle free for our own use, and the kings. But this little tavern bill should be settled. Now, what sum have you about you? I have only those twenty pieces of gold, and twenty others, said the sheriff, and well it was that he told the truth for once. For Robin said, count it, little John. Little John turned the sheriff's wallet inside out. It is true enough, he said. Then you shall pay no more than twenty pieces for your entertainment, excellence, decreed Robin. Speak I soothly, men of Greenwood. Good, echoed the others. The sheriff should swear by his patron saint that he will not molest us, said Will Stulley, and his addition was carried unanimously. So be it then, cried little John, approaching the sheriff.  I will swear it by St. George, who is patron of us all, said the sheriff vigorously, that I will never disturb or distress the outlaws in Sherwood. But let me catch any of you out of Sherwood, thought he to himself. Then the twenty pieces of gold were paid over, and the sheriff once more prepared to depart. Never had we so worshipful a guest before, said Robin, and as the new moon is beginning to silver the leaves, I shall bear you company myself for part of the way, to as I who brought you into the wood. Nay, I protest against your going needlessly far, said sheriff. But I protest that I am loath to lose your company, replied Robin. The next time I may not be so pleased. And he took the sheriff's horse by the bridal rain, and led him through the lane, and by many a thicket till the main road was reached. Now fare you well, good sheriff, he said, and when next you think to spoil a poor prodigal, remember the herd you would have bought over against Gamewell, and when next you employ a servant, make certain that he is not employing you. So, saying, he smote the nag's haunch, and off went the sheriff upon the road to Nottingham. And that is how you will find from many ballads that came to be sung at the sheriff's expense, and which are known even to the present day, that, I say, is how the sheriff lost three good servants and found them again. So ends Chapter 5 Chapter 6 of Robin Hood by J. Walker McSpaden This sleeper vox recording is in the public domain How Robin Hood Met Will Scarlett The youngster was clothed in scarlet red, in scarlet fine and gay, and he did frisk it or the plain, and chanted a roundelay. One fine morning, soon after the proud sheriff had been brought to grief, Robin Hood and little John went strolling down a path through the wood. It was not far from the footbridge where they had fought their memorable battle, and by common impulse they directed their steps to the brook to quench their thirst and rest them in the cool bushes. The morning gave promise of a hot day. The road even by the brook was dusty, so the cooling stream was very pleasing and grateful to their senses. On each side of them, beyond the dusty highway, stretched out broad fields of tender young corn, and on Yon's side of the fields up rose the sturdy oaks and beaches and ashes of the forest. While at their feet modest violets peeped out shyly and greeted the loiterers with an odor which made the heart glad. Over on the far side of the brook in a tiny bay floated three lily pads, and from amid some clover blossoms on the bank an industrious bee rose with the home of busy contentment. It was a day so brimful of quiet joy that the two friends lay flat on their backs, gazing up at the scurrying clouds and neither caring to break the silence. Presently they heard someone coming up the road whistling gaily as though he owned the whole world and was what made to whistle in. Anon he chanted around a lay with a merry note.   His whole costume was of scarlet, from the feather to the silk hose on his legs. A goodly sword hung at his side, it scabbard all embossed with tilting knights and weeping ladies. His hair was long and yellow and hung clustering about his shoulders for all the world like a schoolgirls. And he bore himself with as mincing a gate as the pertest of them. Little John clucked his teeth droly at this sight. By my troth, a gay bird, he said echoing the other's words, then added, but not so bad a build for all his prettiness. Look, you, those calves and thighs are well rounded and straight, the arms, for all that gold-wrought cloak, hang stoutly from full shoulders. I warrant you the fat can use his dainty sword right well on occasion. Nay, retorted Robin, he is not but a lady's man from court. My longbow against a plugged shilling that he would run and bellow lustily at sight of a quarterstaff.  Be like his silk purse may contain more pennies than the law allows to one man in Sherwood or Barnsdale. So saying, Robin hood stepped forth briskly from the covert and planted himself in the way of the Scarlet Stranger. The latter had walked so slowly that he was scarce come to their resting place, and now, on beholding Robin, he neither slackened nor quickened his pace, but sauntered idly straight ahead, looking to the right and to the left with the finest air in the world, but never once at Robin. Hold, quote the outlaw, what mean ye by running thus over a wayfarer, roughshod? Wherefore should I hold, good fellow? said the stranger in a smooth voice, and looking at Robin for the first time. Because I bid you to, replied Robin. And who may you be? asked the other as coolly as you please. What my name is matters not, said Robin, but know that I am a public tax-gatherer and equalizer of shillings. If your purse have more than a just number of shillings or pence, I must enlighten it somewhat, for there are many worthy people round about these borders who have less than the just amount. Wherefore, sweet gentleman, I pray you hand over your purse without more adieu, that I may judge of its weight in proper fashion. The other smiled as sweetly as though a lady were paying him a compliment.  Your speech amuses me mightily. Pray continue, if you have not done, for I am in no hurry this morning. I have said all with my tongue that is needful, retorted Robin, beginning to grow red under the collar. Naith less, I have other arguments which may not be so pleasing to your dainty skin. Prithee, stand and deliver. I promise to deal fairly with the purse. A lack a day, said the stranger with a shrug of his shoulders, I am deeply sorrowful that I cannot show my purse to every rough lout that asks to see it. But I really could not, as I have further need of it myself and every farthing it contains. Wherefore, pray stand aside. Nay, that I will not, and will go the harder with you if you do not yield at once. Good fellow, said the other gently, have I not heard all your speech with patience? Now that is all I promise to do. My conscience is solved, and I must go on my way. To roll a rolly loo, he careled, making as though to depart. Hold, I say, quote Robin Hotley, for he knew how little John must be chuckling at this from behind the bushes. Hold, I say, else I shall have to bloody those fair locks of yours. And he swung his quarterstaff threateningly. Alas, moaned the stranger shaking his head, the pity of it all. Now I shall have to run this fellow through with my sword, and I hope to be a peaceable man henceforth. And sighing deeply he drew his shining blade and stood on guard. Put by your weapon, said Robin. It is too pretty a piece of steel to get cracked with common oak cudgel, and that is what would happen on the first pass I made at you. Get you a stick like mine out of yarn undergrowth, and we will fight fairly, man to man. The stranger thought a moment with his usual slowness, and eyed Robin from head to foot. Then he unbuckled his scabbard, laid it and the sword aside, and walked deliberately over to the oak thicket. Choosing from among the shoots and saplings, he found a stout little tree to his liking, when he laid hold of it without stopping to cut it and gave a tug. Up it came, root and awe, as though it were a stalk of corn, and the stranger walked back trimming it as quietly as though pulling up trees were the easiest thing in the world. Little John from his hiding place saw this feat and could hardly restrain a long whistle. By our lady, he muttered to himself, I would not be in Master Robin's boots. Whatever Robin thought upon seeing the stranger's strength, he uttered not a word and budged not an inch. He only put his oak staff at Perry as the other took his stand. There was a threefold surprise that day by the Brookside. The stranger and Robin and Little John in the bushes all found a combat that upset all reckoning. The stranger for all his easy strength and cool nerve found an antagonist who met his blows with the skill of a woodman. Robin found the stranger as hard to hit as though fenced in by an oak hedge, while Little John rolled over and over in silent joy. Back and forth swayed the fighters, their cudgels pounding this way and that, knocking off splinters and bark, and threatening direst damage to bone and muscle and skin. Back and forth they pranced, kicking up a cloud of dust and gasping for fresh air. From a little way off you would have vowed that these two men were trying to put out a fire, so thickly hung the cloud of battle over them. Thrice did Robin smite the Scarlet Man with such blows that a less stout fellow must have bowled over. Only twice did the Scarlet Man smite Robin, but the second blow was like to finish him. The first had been delivered over the knuckles, and though it was a glancing stroke, it well nigh broke Robin's fingers, so that he could not easily raise his staff again. And while he was dancing about in pain and muttering a dust-covered oath, the other staff came swinging through the cloud at one side, zip, and struck him under the arm. Down went Robin, as though he were a nine pin, flat down into the dust of the road. But despite the pain he was bounding up again like an Indian rubberman to renew the attack, when little John interfered. Hold! said he, bursting out of the bushes and seizing the stranger's weapon. Hold, I say! Nay! retorted the stranger quietly. I was not offering to smite him while he was down, but if there be a wholeness of you hatching here by the water side, click out the other chicks, and I'll make shift to fight them all. Not for all the deer in Sherwood, cried Robin.  I'll fight no more with you, for verily I feel sore in wrist and body, nor shall any of mine molest you henceforth. Soothed to say, Robin did not look in good fighting trim. His clothes were coated with dirt. One of his hosin had slipped halfway down from his knee, the sleeve of his jerkin was split, and his face was streaked with sweat and dirt. Little John eyed him drooly. How now, good master, quote he, the sport you were to kick up has left you in sorry plight. Let me dust your coat for you. Mary, it has been dusted enough already, replied Robin, and I now believe the scripture saying that all men are but dust, for it has sifted me through and through and lined my gullet an inch deep. By your leave, and he went to the brookside and drank deep and laved his face in hands. All this while the stranger had been eyeing Robin attentively and listening to his voice as though striving to recall it. If I mistake not, he said slowly at last, you are that famous outlaw, Robin Hood of Barnsdale. You say right, replied Robin, but my fame has been tumbling sadly about in the dust today. Now why did I not know you at once, continued the stranger. This battle need not have happened, for I came abroad to find you today and thought to have remembered your face and speech. Know you not me, Rob my lad? Hast ever been to Gamewell Lodge? Ha, Will Gamewell, my dear old chum, Will Gamewell, shouted Robin, throwing his arms about the other in sheer affection.  Will embraced his cousin no less heartily. We are quits on not knowing kinsmen, he said, for you have changed and strengthened much from the stripling with whom I used to run foot races in old Sherwood. But why seek you me? asked Robin. You know I am an outlaw and dangerous company, and how left you, my uncle, and have you heard aught of late of, of Maid Marion? Your last question first, answered Will, laughing, for I perceive that it lies nearest your heart. I saw Maid Marion not many weeks after the great shooting at Nottingham, when you one heard the golden arrow. She prizes the bobble among her dearest possessions, though it has made her an enemy in the sheriff's proud daughter. Maid Marion bade me tell you, if I ever saw you, that she must return to Queen Eleanor's court, but she could never forget the happy days in the Greenwood. As for the old squire, he is still hail and hearty, though rheumatic with awe. He speaks of you as a sad young dog, but for all that is secretly proud of your skill at the bow and of the way you are pestering the sheriff whom he likes not. It was for my father's sake that I am now in the open and outlaw like yourself. He has had a steward, a surly fellow enough, who, while I was away at school, bootlick his way to favor until he lorded it over the whole house. Then he grew right saucy and impudent, but my father minded it not, deeming the fellow indispensable in managing the estate. But when I came back it irked me sorely to see the fellow strut about as though he owned the place. He was sly enough with me at first, and would browbeat the squire only when I was out of earshot. It chanced one day, however, that I heard loud voices through an open window and paused to hearken.  Fool and meddler are thou thyself, farlet, I shouted, springing through the window. That for thy impudence. And in my heat I smote him a blow mightier than I intended, for I have some strength in my arm. The fellow rolled over and never breathed afterwards. I think I broke his neck, or something the like. Then I knew that the sheriff would use this as a pretext to hound my father if I tarried, so I bade the squire farewell and told him I would seek you in Sherwood. Now buy my halodome, said Robin Hood. For a man escaping the law, you took it about as coolly as one could wish.  Indeed, I remarked to Little John, here that I hoped your purse was not as light as your heart. Be like you meant head, laughed Will. And is this Little John the great? Shake hands with me and you will, and promise me to cross the staff with me in friendly bouts some day in the forest. That will I, quote Little John Harley. Here's my hand on it. What is your last name again, say you? Tis to be changed, interposed Robin. Then shall the men armed with warrants go hang for all of us. Let me be think myself. Ah, I have it. In Scarlet he came to us, and that shall be his name henceforth. Welcome to the Greenwood, Will Scarlet. I welcome Will Scarlet, said Little John, and they all clasped hands again, and swore to be true each to the other, and to Robin Hood's men in Sherwood Forest. So ends Chapter 6. Chapter 7 of Robin Hood by J. Walker McSpaden This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. How Robin Hood Met Friar Tuck The Friar took Robin Hood on his back, deep water he did bestride, and spake neither good word nor bad, till he came at the other side. In the summer time when leaves grow green, and flowers are fresh and gay, Robin Hood and his merry men were all disposed to play. Thus runs a quaint old ballad, which begins the next adventure. Then some would leap, and some would run, and some try archery, and some ply the quarter staff, and some fall too with the good broadsword. Some again would try around at Buffett and Fisticuff, and thus by every variety of sport and exercise, they perfected themselves in skill, and made the band and its prowess well known throughout all England. It had been a custom of Robin Hood's to pick out the best men in all the countryside. Whenever he heard of one more than usually skilled in any feat of arms, he would seek the man, and test him in personal encounter, which did not always end happily for Robin. And when he found a man to his liking, he offered him service with the bold fellows of Sherwood Forest. Thus it came about that one day after a practice at shooting, in which little John struck down a heart at 500 feet distance, Robin Hood was vain to boast. God's blessing on your heart, he cried, clapping the burly fellow on the shoulder, I would travel a hundred miles to find one who could match you. At this will Scarlet laugh full roundly. There lives a Kurtall friar in Fountain's Abbey, tucked by name, who can beat both him and you, he said. Robin pricked up his ears at this free speech. By our lady, he said, I'll neither eat nor drink till I see this same friar. And with his usual impetuosity, he at once set about arming himself for the adventure. On his head he placed a cap of steel. Underneath his Lincoln green, he wore a coat of chain metal. Then with sword and buckler, girded at his side, he made a goodly show. But he also took with him his stout U-bow and a sheaf of chosen arrows. So he set forth upon his way with Blythe heart. For it was a day when the whole face of the earth seemed glad and rejoicing in pulsing life. Steadily he pressed forward by winding ways till he came to a green broad pastureland at whose edge flowed a stream dipping in and out among the willows and rushes on the banks. A pleasant stream it was, but it flowed calmly as though of some depth in the middle. Robin did not fancy getting his feet wet or his fine suit of mail rusted, so he paused on the hither bank to rest and take his bearings. As he sat down quietly under the shade of a drooping willow, he heard snatches of a jovial song floating to him from the farther side. Then came a sound of two men's voices arguing. One was upholding the merits of hasty pudding and the other stood out stoutly for meat pie. Especially, quote this one, when flavored with young onions. Gray mercy muttered Robin to himself. That is a tantalizing speech to a hungry man. But, odds bodkins, did ever two men talk more alike than those two fellows yonder? In truth, Robin could well marvel at the speech, for the voices were curiously alike. Presently the willows parted on the other bank and Robin could hardly forbear a laughing outright. His mystery was explained. It was not two men who had done all this singing and talking, but one, and that one, a stout, fertile friar who wore a long cloak over his portly frame, tied with a cord in the middle.  His twofold argument was finished. The meat pie had triumphed, and no wonder, for it was the present witness, soon to give its own testimony. But first the friar took off his helmet to cool his head, and a drool picture he made. His head was as round as an apple, and eek as smooth in spots. A fringe of close curling black hair grew round the base of his skull, but his crown was bare and shiny as an egg. His cheeks also were smooth and red and shiny, and his little gray eyes danced about with the funniest air imaginable. You would not have blamed Robin Hood for wanting to laugh, had you heard this serious, two-faced talk, and then seen this jovial one-faced man. Good humor and fat living stood out all over him. Yet for all that, he looked stout enough and able to take care of himself with any man. His short neck was thick, like that of a Berkshire bull. His shoulders were set far back, and his arms sprouted therefrom like two oak limbs. As he sat him down, the cloak fell apart, disclosing a sword and buckler as stout as Robin's own. Naveless, Robin was not dismayed at sight of the weapons. Instead, his heart fell within him when he saw the meat pie, which was now in fair way to be devoured before his very eyes. For the friar lost no time in thrusting one hand deep into the pie while he crossed himself with the other. Thereupon, Robin seized his bow and fitted a shaft. Hey, friar, he sang out, carry me over the water, or else I cannot answer for your safety. The other started at the unexpected greeting and laid his hand upon his sword. Then he looked up and beheld Robin's arrow pointing full upon him.   So the friar knight got him up gravely, though his eyes twinkled with a cunning light, and laid aside his beloved pie and his cloak and his sword and buckler, and waded across the stream with waddling dignity. Then he took Robinhood upon his back and spoke neither good word nor bad till he came to the other side. Lightly leaped Robin off his back and said, I am much beholden to you, good father. Beholden, say you, rejoin the other drawing his sword, then by my faith you shall even repay your score. Now mine own affairs, which are of a spiritual kind, and much more important than yours, which are carnal, lie on the other side of the stream. I see that you are a likely man, and one, moreover, who would not refuse to serve the church. I must therefore pray of you that whatsoever I have done unto you, you will also do unto me. In short, my son, you must even carry me back again. Courteously enough was this said, but so suddenly had the friar drawn his sword, that Robin had no time to unsling his bow from his back, whether he had placed it to avoid getting it wet, or to unfasten his scabbard, so he was famed to temporize. Nay, good father, but I shall get my feet wet, he commenced. Are your feet any better than mine, retorted the other? I fear now that I have already wetted myself so sadly as to lay in a store of rheumatic pains by way of penance. I am not so strong as you, continued Robin, that helmet and sword and buckler would be my undoing on an uncertain footing amidst stream, to say nothing of your holy flesh and bones. Then I will lighten up somewhat, replied the other calmly, promise to carry me across, and I will lay aside my war gear. Agreed, said Robin, and the friar thereupon stripped himself, and Robin bent his stout back and took him up even as he had promised. Now the stones at the bottom of the stream were round and slippery, and the currents swept along strongly, waist deep in the middle. Moreover, Robin had a heavier load than the other had borne, nor did he know the ford. So he went stumbling along now, stepping into a deep hole, now stumbling over a boulder in a manner that threatened to unseat his rider, or plunge them both clear under current. But the fat friar hung on and dug his heels into his steed's ribs, in as gallant manner as if he were riding in a tournament. While as for poor Robin, the sweat ran down him in torrents, and he gasped like the winded horse he was, but at last he managed to stay her out on the bank and deposit his unwieldy load. No sooner had he sat the friar down than he seized his own sword. Now, holy friar, quote he, panting and wiping the sweat from his brow, what say the scriptures that you quote so glibly? Be not wary of well-doing, you must carry me back again, or I swear that I will make a cheesecloth out of your jacket. The friar's gray eyes once more twinkled with a cunning gleam that boated no good to Robin, but his voice was as calm and courteous as ever. Your wits are keen, my son, he said, and I see that the waters of the stream have not quenched your spirit. Once more will I bend my back to the oppressor and carry the weight of the haughty. So Robin mounted again in high glee, and carried his sword in his hand and went prepared to tarry upon the other side. But while he was befinking himself what great words to use when he should arrive thither, he felt himself slipping from the friar's broad back. He clutched frantically to save himself, but had too round a surface to grasp, besides being hampered by his weapon, so down went he with a loud splash into the middle of the stream where the crafty friar had conveyed him. There, quote the holy man, choose you, choose you, my fine fellow, whether you will sink or swim. And he gained his own bank without more adieu, while Robin thrashed and spluttered about until he made shift to grasp a willow wand and thus hauled himself ashore on the other side. Then Robin's rage waxed furious, despite his wedding, and he took his bow and arrows and let fly one shaft after another at the worthy friar. But they rattled harmlessly off his steel buckler, while he laughed and minded them no more than if they had been hailstones. Shoot on, shoot on, good fellow, he sang out. Shoot as you have begun.  So Robin shot and passing well till all his arrows were gone, when from very rage he began to revile him.  Come but within reach of my sword arm and friar or no friar, I'll shave your tanchers closer than ever ball-pated monk was shaven before. Soft you and fair, said the friar unconcernedly, hard words are cheap and you may need your win presently and you would like about with swords, meet me halfway in the stream. And with this speech the friar waited into the brook, sword in hand, where he was met halfway by the impetus outlaw. Thereupon began a fierce and mighty battle, up and down in and out, back and forth they fought. The swords flashed in the rays of the declining sun and then met with a clash that would have shivered less sturdy weapons or disarmed less sturdy wielders. Many a smart blow was landed, but each perceived that the other wore an undercoat of linked mail which might not be pierced. Naithless their ribs ached at the force of the blows. Once and again they paused by mutual consent and caught breath and looked hard each at the other, for never had either met so stout a fellow. Finally in a furious onslaught of lunge and parry, Robin's foot stepped on a rolling stone and he went down upon his knees. But his antagonist would not take this advantage. He paused until Robin should get upon his feet. Now, by our lady, cried the outlaw, using his favorite oath, you are the fair swordsmen that I have met in many a long day. I would beg a boon of you. What is it? said the other. Give me lead to set my horn to my mouth and blow three blasts thereon. That will I do, said the curtall friar.   Whose men are these, said the friar, that come so hastily? These men are mine, said Robin Hood, feeling that his time to laugh was come at last. Then said the friar in his turn, a boon, a boon, the like I give to you. Give me lead to set my fist to my mouth and whistle three blasts thereon. That will I do, said Robin, or else I were lacking in courtesy. The friar set his fist to his mouth and put the horn to shame by the piercing whistles he blew, whereupon half a hundred great dogs came running and jumping so swiftly that they had reached their bank as soon as Robin Hood's men had reached his side. Then followed a rare foolish conflict. Stutley, Much, Little John, and the other outlaws began sending their arrows whizzing toward the opposite bank, but the dogs, which were taut of the friar, dodged the missiles cleverly and ran and fetched them back again, just as the dogs of today catch sticks. I have never seen the like of this in my days, cried Little John, amazed. Tis rank sorcery in witchcraft.  Friar tuck, exclaimed Robin astounded. Are you friar tuck? Then am I your friend? For you are he I came to seek. I am but a poor anchorite, a curtall friar, said the other whistling to his pack. By name, friar tuck of Fountainsdale. For seven years have I tended the Abbey here, preached a Sundays, and married and christened and buried folk, and fought too, if need were. And if it smacks not too much of boasting, I have not yet met the knight or trooper or yeoman that I would yield before, but yours is a stout blade. I would feign know you. Tis Robin Hood, the outlaw, who has been assisting you at this christening, said Will Scarlett, glancing roguishly at the two opponents' dripping garments, and at this sally the whole band burst into a shout of laughter in which Robin and Friar tuck joined. Robin Hood cried the good friar presently, holding his sides. Are you indeed that famous yeoman?  To speak soothly, replied Robin Gailey, was the same pie that led me to be rude. Now, therefore, bring it and your dogs and repair with us to the Greenwood. We have need of you. With this message came I today to seek you. We will build you a hermitage and sure would forest, and you shall keep us from evil ways. Will you not join our band? Mary, that will I, cried Friar tuck jovally. Once more will I cross this much-beforeted stream and go with you to the good Greenwood. So ends Chapter 7. Chapter 8 of Robin Hood by J. Walker McSpaden This Librivox recording is in the public domain. How Alan Adele's wooing was prospered. What is thy name? then said Robin Hood. Come tell me without any fail. By the faith of my body, then said the young man, my name it is Alan Adele. Friar tuck and much, the miller's son, soon became right good friends over the steaming stew they jointly prepared for the merry men that evening. Tuck was mightily pleased when he found a man in the forest who could make pasties and who had cooked for no less person than the high sheriff himself. While much marveled at the Friar's knowledge of herbs and symbols and woodland things which savored a stew greatly, so they gabbled together like two old gossips and between them made such a tasty mess that Robin Hood and his stout followers were like never to leave off eating. And the Friar said grace too with great unction over the food and Robin said amen and that henceforth they were always to have mass of Sundays. So Robin walked forth into the wood that evening with his stomach full and his heart therefore in great contentment and love for other men. He did not stop the first passerby as his manner often was and desire a fight. Instead he stepped behind a tree when he heard a man's voice in song and waited to behold the singer. Perhaps he remembered also the merry chanting of Will Scarlett and how he had tried to give it pause a few days before. Like Will, this fellow was clad in Scarlett though he did not look quite as fine a gentleman. Naveless he was a sturdy yeoman of honest face and a voice far sweeter than Will's.  Robin let the singer pass Caroline on his way. He is not in me to disturb a lighthearted lover this night. He muttered a memory of Marion coming back to him. Pray heaven she may be true to him and the wedding a gay one back in the town. So Robin went back to his camp where he told of the minstrel. If any of ye set on him after this quote he in ending bring him to me for I would have speech with him. The very next day his wish was gratified. Little John and much the Miller's son were out together on a foraging expedition when they aspired the same young man. At least they thought it must be he for he was clad in scarlet and carried a harp in his hand. But now he came drooping along the way. His scarlet was all in tatters and at every step he fetched a sigh a lack and a well a day. Then stepped forth little John and much the Miller's son. Oh do not wet the earth with your weeping said little John else we shall all have lumbago. No sooner did the young man catch sight of them than he bent his bow and held an arrow back to his ear.  He said what is your will with me. Put by your weapon said much. We will not harm you but you must come before our master straight under Yon Greenwood tree. So the minstrel put by his bow and suffered himself to be led before Robin Hood. How now quote Robin when he beheld his sorry continents are you not he whom I heard no longer ago than yesterday night caroling so blithely about Alassi back in the town. The same in body good sir replied the other sadly but my spirit is grievously changed. Tell me your tale said Robin courteously be like I can help you. That can no man on earth I fear said the stranger. Naveless I'll tell you the tale. Yesterday I stood pledged to a maid and thought soon to wet her but she has been taken from me and is to become an old night's bride this very day and as for me I care not what ending comes to my days or how soon without her. Mary come up said Robin. How got the old night so sudden vantage. Look you worshiped is this way. The Normans overrun us and are in such great favor that none may say them nay. This old return crusader coveted the land where on my lady dwells. The estate is not large but all in her own right. Whereupon her brother says she shall wed a title and he and the old night have fixed it up for today. Nay but surely began Robin. Hear me out worship said the other. Be like you think me a sorry dog not to make fight of this but the old night look you is not come addable. I threw one of his violets into a thorn hedge and another into a water but and a third landed headfirst into a ditch but I couldn't do any fighting at all. Tis a pity, quoth little John Gravely. He had been sitting cross-legged listening to this tale of woe. What think you friar-tuck doth not a bit of fighting ease a man's mind? Bloodletting is oft times recommended of the leeches, replied Tuck. Does the maid love you? asked Robin Hood. By our troth she loved me right well, said the minstrel. I have a little ring of hers by me which I have kept for seven long years. What is your name? then said Robin Hood. By the faith of my body, replied the young man, my name is Allen Adale. What will you give me, Allen Adale? said Robin Hood, in ready gold or fee to help you to your true love again and deliver her back unto you. I have no money, save only five shillings, quoth Allen, but are you not Robin Hood? Robin nodded. Then you, if anyone can aid me, said Allen Adale eagerly, and if you give me back my love, I swear upon the book that I will be your true servant for ever after. Where is this wedding to take place and when? asked Robin. At Plimpton Church, scarce five miles from here at three o'clock of the afternoon. Then to Plimpton we will go, cried Robin, suddenly springing into action, and he gave out orders like a general. Will Steli, do you have four and twenty good men or against Plimpton Church against three o'clock of the afternoon? Much good fellow, do you cook up some porridge for this youth, for he must have a good round stomach, I, and a bitter gear. Will Scarlett, you will see to decking him out bravly for the nonce, and Fryer Tuck, hold yourself in readiness, good book in hand at the church, may Hap you had best go ahead of us all.  He was to celebrate the marriage of an old knight, a returned crusader, and a landed young woman, and all the gentry there about were to grace the occasion with their presence. The church itself was gaily festooned with flowers for the ceremony, while out in the churchyard at one side, brown ale flowed freely for all the servitors. Already were the guests beginning to assemble, when the bishop, back in the vestry, saw a minstrel clad in green walk up boldly to the door and peer within. It was Robin Hood, who had borrowed Allen's bereaved heart for the time. Now who are you fellow, quote the bishop, and what do you hear at the church door with your harp and saucy air? May it please your reverence, returned Robin, bowing very humbly. I am but a strolling harper, yet likened the best in the whole North Country, and I had hoped that my thrumming might add zest to the wedding today. What tune can you harp? demanded the bishop. I can harp a tune so merry that a forlorn lover will forget he is jilted, said Robin. I can harp another tune that will make a bride forsake her lord at the altar. I can harp another tune that will bring loving souls together, though they were uphill and down dale five good miles away from each other. Then welcome, good minstrel, said the bishop. Music pleases me right well, and if you can play up to your prattle, it will indeed grace your ceremony. Let us have a sample of your wares. Nay, I must not put finger to string until the bride and groom have come. Such a thing would ill fortune both us and them. Have it as you will, said the bishop. But here comes the party now. Then up the lane to the church came the old night, preceded by ten archers liveryed in scarlet and gold, a brave sight the archers made, but their master walked slowly, leaning upon a cane and shaking as though in a palsy. And after them came a sweet lass leaning upon her brother's arm. Her hair did shine like glistening gold, and her eyes were like blue violets that peep out shyly at the sun. The color came and went in her cheeks, like that tinting of a seashell, and her face was flushed as though she had been weeping. But now she walked with a proud air as though she defied the world to crush her spirit. She had but two maids with her, finnican lasses, with black eyes and broad bosoms, who set off their ladies more delicate beauty well. One held up the bride's gown from the ground, the other carried flowers in plenty. Now by all the wedding bells that ever were rung, quote Robin Boldly, this is the worst matched pair that ever mine eyes beheld. Silence, miscreant, said a man who stood near. The bishop had hurriedly donned his gown and now stood ready to meet the couple at the chancel. But Robin paid no heed to him. He let the night and his ten archers pass by, then he strode up to the bride and placed himself on the other side from her brother. Courage, lady, he whispered, there is another minstrel near who may have played more to your liking. The lady glanced at him with a frightened air, but read such honesty and kindness in his glance that she brightened and gave him a grateful look. Stand aside, fool, cried the brother wrathfully. Nay, but I am to bring good fortune to the bride by accompanying her through the church doors, said Robin, laughing. Thereupon he was allowed to walk by her side unmolested, up to the chancel with the party. Now strike up your music, fellow, ordered the bishop. Right gladly will I, quote Robin, and you will let me choose my instrument, for sometimes I like the harp, and other times I think the horn makes the merriest music in all the world. And he drew forth his bugle from underneath his green cloak and blew three winding notes that made the church rafters ring again. Seize him, yelled the bishop. There's mischief afoot. These are the tricks of Robinhood. The ten liveried archers rushed forward from the rear of the church where they had been stationed. But their rush was blocked by the onlookers who now rose from their pews in alarm and crowded the aisles. Meanwhile, Robin had leaped lightly over the chancel rail and stationed himself in a nook by the altar. Stand where you are, he shouted, drawing his bow. The first man to pass the rail dies the death.  We shall even have one, since we are come into the church. But the bride shall choose her own swing. Then up rose another great commotion at the door, and four and twenty good bowmen came marching in with Will Stutley at their head, and they seized the ten liveried archers and the bride's scowling brother and the other men on guard and bound them prisoners. Then in came Alan Adale, decked out gaily with Will Scarlett for best man, and they walked gravely down the aisle and stood over against the chancel. Before a maiden wedged she chooses, and the laws of Good King Harry be just ones, said Robin. Now maiden, before this wedding continues, whom will you have to husband? The maiden answered not in words, but smiled with a glad light in her eyes and walked over to Alan and clasped her arms about his neck. That is her true love, said Robin, young Alan instead of the gouty knight, and the true lovers shall be married at this time before we depart away. Now, my Lord Bishop, proceed with the ceremony. Nay, that shall not be protested the bishop. The veins must be cried three times in the church. Such is the law of our land. Come here, little John, called Robin impatiently, and plucked off the bishop's frock from his back and put it on the yeoman. Now the bishop was short and fat, and little John was long and lean. The gown hung loosely over little John's shoulders and came only to his waist. He was a fine comical sight, and the people began to laugh consumedly at him. By the faith of my body, said Robin, this cloth makes you a man.  Now cry the veins. So little John clamored awkwardly into the choir, his short gown fluttering gaily, and he called the veins for the marriage of the maid and Alan Adele once, twice, and thrice. That's not enough, said Robin. Your gown is so short that you must talk longer. Then little John asked him in the church four, five, six, and seven times. Good enough, said Robin. Now be like I see a worthy friar in the back of this church who can say a better service than ever my Lord Bishop of Herford. My Lord Bishop shall be witness and seal the papers, but do you, good friar, blessed as pair with book and candle. So friar Tuck, who all along had been back in one corner of the church, came forward, and Alan and his maid kneeled before him, while the old knight held an unwilling witness, gnashed his teeth in impotent rage, and the friar began with the ceremony. When he asked, who giveth this woman, Robin stepped up and answered in a clear voice, I do, I, Robin Hood of Barnsdale and Sherwood, and he who takes her from Alan Adele shall buy her full dearly. So the twain were declared man and wife and duly blessed, and the bride was kissed by each sturdy yeoman beginning with Robin Hood. Now I cannot end this jolly tale better than in the words of the ballad which came out of the happening and which has been sung in the villages and countryside ever since. And thus having end of this merry wedding, the bride looked like a queen, and so they returned to the merry Greenwood amongst the leaves so green. So ends Chapter 8 Chapter 9 of Robin Hood by J. Walker McSpaden This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. How the widow's three sons were rescued Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone with a link, a down, and a down, and there he met with the proud sheriff was walking along the town. The wedding party was a merry one that left Plimpton Church I weaned, but not so merry were the ones left behind. My Lord Bishop Hurford was stuck up in the organ loft and left, gownless and fuming. The ten livereed archers were variously disposed about the church to keep him company. Two of them being locked in a tiny crypt, three in the belfry to ring us a wedding peel, as Robin said, and the others under choir seats or in the vestry. The bride's brother at her entreaty was released, but bidden not to return to the church that day or interfere with his sister again on pain of death. While the rusty old knight was forced to climb a high tree, where he sat insecurely perched among the branches, feebly cursing the party as it departed. It was then approaching sundown, but none of the retainers or villagers dared rescue the imprisoned ones that night for fear of Robin Hood's men. So it was not until sun up the next day that they were released. The bishop and the old knight, stiff as they were, did not delay longer than for breakfast, but so great was their rage and shame made straight to Nottingham and levied the sheriff's forces. The sheriff himself was not anxious to try conclusions again with Robin in the open. Perhaps he had some slight scruples regarding his oath, but the others swore that they would go straight to the king if he did not help them, so he was feigned to consent. A force of an hundred picked men from the royal foresters and swordsmen of the shire was gathered together and marched straight way into the greenwood. There, as fortune would have it, they surprised some score of outlaws hunting and instantly gave chase. But they could not surround the outlaws who kept well in the lead, ever in an arm dropping behind a log or boulder to speed back a shaft which meant mischief to the pursuers. One shaft, indeed, carried off the sheriff's hat and caused that worthy man to fall forward upon his horse's neck from sheer terror, while five other arrows landed in the fleshy parts of forester's arms. But the attacking party was not wholly unsuccessful. One outlaw in his flight stumbled and fell when two others instantly stopped and helped to put him on his feet again. They were the widow's three sons, Stout Will and Lester and John. The pause was an unlucky one for them as a party of sheriff's men got above them and cut them off from their fellows. Swordsmen came up in the rear and they were soon hemmed in on every side. But they gave good account of themselves and before they had been overborn by force of numbers they had killed two and disabled three more. The infuriated attackers were almost on the point of hewing the Stout outlaws to pieces when the sheriff cried, hold, find the villains, we will follow the law in this and take them to the town jail. But I promise ye the biggest public hanging that has been seen in this shire for many changes of the moon. So they bound the widow's three sons and carried them back speedily to Nottingham. Now Robin had not chance to be near the scene of the fight or with his men. So for a time he heard nothing of the happening. But that evening while returning to the camp he was met by the widow herself who came weeping along the way. What news, what news good woman said Robin hastily but courteously for he liked her well.  God keep ye from the fate that has met my three sons. The sheriff has laid hands on them and they are condemned to die. Now by our lady that cuts me to the heart. Stout Will and Lester and Mary John the earliest friends I had in the band and still among the bravest it must not be. When is this hanging set? Middle of the tinker tells me that it is for tomorrow noon replied the dame. By the truth of my body you could not tell me in better time. The memory of the old days when you freely bade me sup and dine would spur me on even if three of the bravest lads and all the shire were not imperiled. Trust me good woman. The old widow threw herself on the ground and embraced his knees. The dire danger I am asking need to face she said weeping and yet I knew your brave true heart would answer me. Heaven help ye good master Robin to answer a poor widow's prayers. Then Robin Hood sped straight away to the forest camp where he heard the details of the skirmish. How that his men had been outnumbered five to one but got off safely as they thought until a count of their members had shown the loss of the widow's three sons. We must rescue them my men quote Robin even from out the shadow of the rope itself. Whereupon the band set to work to devise ways and means.  When whom should he meet but an old begging Palmer one of a devout order which made pilgrimages and wandered from place to place supported by charity. This old fellow walked boldly up to Robin and asked alms of him since Robin had been want to aid members of his order. What news what news this foolish old man said Robin what news I do the pray. Three squires in Nottingham town quote the Palmer are condemned to die be like that is greater news than the shire has had in some Sundays. Then Robin's long sought idea came to him like a flash. Change change I apparel with me old man he said and I'll give the 40 shillings in good silver to spend in beer or wine. Oh thine apparel is good the Palmer protested and mine is ragged and torn the holy church teaches that thou shalt snare laugh an old man to scorn. I am in simple earnest I say come change thine apparel with mine here are 20 pieces of good broad gold defeat thy brethren right royally. So the Palmer was persuaded and Robin put on the old man's hat which stood full high in the crown and his cloak patched with black and blue and red like Joseph's coat of many colors in its old age and his britches which had been sewed over with so many patterns that the original was scarce discernible and his tattered hose and his shoes cobbled above and below and while as he made the change in dress he made so many whimsical comments also about a man's pride and the dress that makes a man that the Palmer was like to choke with cackling laughter. I warrant you the two were comical sites when they parted company that day naveless Robin's own mother would not have known him had she been living the next morning the whole town of Nottingham was early a stir and as soon as the gates were open country folk began to pour in for a triple hanging was not held there every day in the week and the bustle almost equated a fair day Robin Hood in his Palmer's disguise was one of the first ones to enter the gates and he strolled up and down and around the town as though he had never been there before in all his life presently he came to the marketplace and beheld thereon three gallows erected who are these building for my son asked he of a rough soldier standing by for three of Robin Hood's men answered the other and it were Robin himself would be thrice as high I warrant ye but Robin is too smart to get within the sheriff's clutches again the Palmer crossed himself they say that he is a bold fellow he warned ha said the soldier he may be bold enough out behind stumps in the forest but the open marketplace is another matter who is to hang these three poor wretches asked the Palmer that hath the sheriff not decided but here he comes now to answer his own questions and the soldier came to stiff attention as the sheriff and his bodyguard stalked pompously up to inspect the gallows oh heaven save you worshipful sheriff said the Palmer heaven protect you what will you give a silly old man today to be your hangman who are you fellow asked the sheriff sharply not save a poor old Palmer but I can shrift their souls and hang their bodies most devoutly very good replied the other the fee today is 13 pence and I will add their unto some suits of clothing for that ragged back of yours God bless ye said the Palmer and he went with the soldier to the jail to prepare his three men for execution just before the stroke of noon the doors of the prison opened and the procession of the condemned came forth down through the long lines of packed people they walked to the marketplace the Palmer in the lead and the widow's three sons marching firmly erect between soldiers at the gallows foot they halted the Palmer whispered to them as though offering last words of consolation and the three men with arms bound tightly behind their backs ascended the scaffold followed by their confessor then robin stepped to the edge of the scaffold while the people grew still as death for they desired to hear the last words uttered to the victims but robin's voice did not quaver forth weakly as formerly and his figure had stiffened bolt upright beneath the black robe that covered his rags hark ye proud sheriff he cried I was never a hangman in all my life nor do I now intend to begin that trade a cursed be he who first set the fashion of hanging I have but three more words to say listen to them and forth from the robe he drew his horn and blew three loud blasts there on then his keen hunting knife flew forth and in a trice stout will Lester and Mary John were free men and had sprung forward and seized the halberds from the nearest soldiers guarding the gallows seized them tis robin hood screamed the sheriff and hundred pounds if he hold them dead or alive I make it 200 roared the fat bishop but their voices were drowned in the uproar that ensued immediately after robin blew his horn he himself had drawn his sword and leaped down the stairs from the scaffold followed by his three men the guard had closed around them in vain effort to disarm them when a rescuer shouted will stutley's clear voice on one side of them and a rescue bella little johns on the other and down through the terror-stricken crowd rushed four score men in lincoln green their force seeming twice that number in the confusion with swords drawn they fell upon the guard from every side at once there was a brief clash of hot weapons then the guard scattered wildly and robin hood's men formed in a compact mass around their leader and forced their way slowly down the marketplace seize them in the king's name shrieked the sheriff close the gates in truth the pearl would have been even greater had this last order been carried out but will scarlet and alana dale had foreseen that event and had already overpowered the two warders so the gates stood wide open and toward them the band of outlaws headed the soldiers rallied a force of twice their number and tried resolutely to pierce their center but the retreating force turned thrice and sent such valleys of keen arrows from their good you bows that they kept a distance between the two forces and thus the gate was reached and the long road leading up the hill and at last the protecting greenwood itself the soldiers dared come no farther and the widows three sons i warrant you sucked more heartily that night than ever before in their whole lives so ends chapter nine chapter 10 of robin hood by jay walker mcspaden this lever vox recording is in the public domain how a beggar filled the public eye good robin accost him in his way to see what he might be if any beggar had money he thought some part had he one bright morning soon after the stirring events told in the last chapter robin wandered forth alone down the road to barnsdale to see if ought had come of the sheriff's pursuit but all was still and serene and peaceful no one was in sight save a solitary beggar who came sturdily along his way in robin's direction the bigger caught sight of robin at the same moment as he emerged from the trees but gave no sign of having seen him he neither slackened nor quickened his pace but jogged forward merrily whistling as he came and beating time by punching holes in the dusty road with a stout pike staff in his hand the curious look of the fellow arrested robin's attention and he decided to stop and talk with him the fellow was bare-legged and bare-armed and wore a long shift of a shirt bassined with a belt about his neck hung a stout bulging bag which was buckled by a good piece of leather thong he had three hats upon his head together sticked fast he cared neither for the wind nor wet in lands where error he passed the fellow looked so fat and hearty and the wallet on his shoulders seemed so well filled that robin thought within himself ha this is a lucky beggar for me if any of them have money this is the chap and merri he should share it with us poorer bodies so he flourished his own stick and planted himself in the traveler's path sir raw fellow quote he wither away so fast terry for i would have speech with ye the beggar made as though he heard him not and kept straight on with his faring terry i say fellow said robin again for there's a way to make folks obey nay, tis not so answered the beggar speaking for the first time i obey no man in all england not even the king himself so let me pass on my way for tis growing late and i have still far to go before i can care for my stomach's good now buy my troth said robin once more getting in front of the other i see well by your fat countenance that you lack not for good food while i go hungry therefore you must lend me of your means till we meet again so that i may hide to the nearest tavern i have no money to lend said the beggar crossley me thinks you are as young a man as i and as well able to earn a supper so go your way and i'll go mine if you fast till you get ought out of me you'll go hungry for the next 12 months not while i have a stout stick to thwack your saucy bones cried robin stand and deliver i say or i'll dust your shirt for you and if that will not teach you manners then we'll see what a broad arrow can do with a beggar's skin the beggar smiled and answered boast with boast come on with your staff fellow i care no more for it than a pudding stick as for your pretty bow that for it and with amazing quickness he swung his pike staff around and knocked robin's bow clean out of his hand so that his fingers smarted with pain robin danced and tried to bring his own staff into action but the beggar never gave him a chance biff whack came the pike staff smiting him soundly and beating down his guard there were but two things to do either stand there and take a sound rubbing or beat a hasty retreat robin chose the latter as you or i would probably have done and scurried back into the wood blowing his horn as he went fi for shame man cheered the bold beggar after him what is your haste we had but just begun stay and take your money else you will never be able to pay your reckoning at the tavern but robin answered him never a word he fled uphill and down dale till he met three of his men who were running up and answered to his summons what is wrong may ask tis a saucy beggar said robin clutching his breath he is back there on the high road with the hardest stick i've met in a good many days he gave me no chance to reason with him the dirty scamp the men much and two of the widow's sons could scarce conceal their mirth at the thought of robin hood running from a beggar nay less they kept gray faces and asked their leader if he was hurt nay he replied but i shall speedily feel better if you will fetch me that same beggar and let me have a fair chance at him so the three yeoman made haste and came out upon the high road and followed after the beggar who was going smoothly along his way again as though he were at peace with all the world the easiest way to settle this beggar said much is to surprise him let us cut through yon neck of woods and come upon him before he is aware the others agreed to this and the three were soon close upon their prey now quote much and the other two sprang quickly upon the beggar's back and rested his pike staff from his hand at the same moment much drew his dagger and flashed it before the fellow's breast yield you my man cried he for a friend of ours awaits you in the wood to teach you how to fight properly give me a fair chance said the beggar valiantly and i'll fight you all at once but they would not listen to him instead they turned him about and began to march him toward the forest seeing that it was useless to struggle the beggar began to parley good my masters quote he why use this violence i will go with ye safe and quietly if ye insist but if ye will set me free i'll make it worth your while i have a hundred pounds in my bag here let me go my way and ye shall have all that's in the bag the three outlaws took counsel together at this what say you as much of the others our master will be more glad to see this beggar's wallet than his sorry face the other two agreed and the little party came to a halt and loosed hold of the beggar count out your gold speedily friend said much there was a brisk wind blowing and the beggar turned about to face it directly they had unhanded him it shall be done gossips said he one of you lend me your cloak and we will spread it upon the ground and put the wealth upon it the cloak was handed him and he placed his wallet upon it as though it were very heavy indeed then he crouched down and fumbled with the leather fastenings the outlaws also bent over and watched the proceeding closely least he should hide some of the money on his person presently he got the bag unfastened and plunged his hands into it forth from it he drew not chilling gold but handfuls of fine meal which he dassed into the eager faces of the men around him the wind aided him in this and soon there arose a blinding cloud which filled the eyes noses and mouths of the three outlaws till they could scarcely see or breathe while they gasped and choked and sputtered and felt around wildly for that rogue of a beggar he finished the job by picking up the cloak by its corners and shaking it vigorously in the faces of his suffering victims then he seized a stick which lay conveniently near and began to rain blows down upon their heads shoulders and sides all the time dancing first on one leg then on the other and crying villains rascals here are the hundred pounds I promised how do you like them I faith you'll get all that's in the bag whack whack whack whack went the stick emphasizing each word howls of pain might have gone up from the sufferers but they had too much meal in their throats for that their one thought was to flee and they stumble