“And what has brought thee into my woods?”
“Thy woods, are they? Well, thou couldst see I came to hunt.”
“And thou must pay for thy sport.”
“Willingly, since I must. Only do not fix the price too high.”
“Thy ransom shall be a hundred marks, and till then thou must be content with the hospitality of the woods. Now for thy followers—three weeks ago the sheriff hung two of my best men as deer slayers, and I have sworn in such cases to have life for life. If they hang, we hang too. If they are merciful, so are we. Now I am loth to slay an Englishman. Hast thou not any outlanders here?”
“If I had, dost think I should tell thee? Why not take me for one?”
“Thou art worth a hundred marks, and they not a hundred pence,” laughed Grimbeard. “It is not that I respect noble blood. I have scant cause. A wandering priest who came to say mass for us told us the story of Jephthah and the Gileadites; I will try the effect of a Shibboleth, too.
“So bring the prisoners forward, one by one, my merrie men.”
The first was evidently an Englishman.
“Say, what food dost thou see on that table yonder?”