About fifty yards from this burning mountain was a lesser volcano, from which, upon the primitive tripod of three long poles; hung sundry pots of vast dimensions, emitting steams very grateful to the nose; while, in a cool spot under the trees, appeared the no less pleasant sight of two large barrels, one twined round with a garland of young vine-leaves, and the other with a wreath of oak. A host of drinking cups, fit to serve an army, lay near them, and a man with a mallet was busily engaged in driving a spigot and faucet to give discreet vent to the liquor within.
"Ho! where is Little John?" cried Robin Hood--"a small friend of mine, my lord, whom you must know. What! Naylor! the master of our revels--where is he? By my life, he is basting the capons! Hallo! friend John!--You will easily see, my lord, how he deserves his title."
As he spoke, a yeoman, some six feet four in height, with shoulders that seemed as fit to carry the bull as the calf, a round head covered with nut-brown hair, and a face running over with fun and jest, came near and shook the Earl's proffered hand.
"We have met before, I believe, Little John," said the Earl, "and I think in as warm a feast-day as this!"
"Warmer, my lord, by a bucket full," replied Naylor. "One of those feasts where one is as likely to be carved as carve."
"I recollect, your face well," said the Earl.
"John of Andelys would recollect it better, my lord, if he could recollect anything, poor fellow," answered the yeoman. "When last he and I and you met together, he had got you by the throat, with his dagger through your avantaille. I just tapped him on the head, to remind him not to do such things; and whether he went away or not I don't know, but if he did, he certainly did not carry his brains with him."
"Ay, you did me good service there," replied the Earl--"I should have lost an eye, at least. There's a jewel, my good friend," he continued, taking a ring from his finger--"I won it with hard strokes myself, near Tripoli, and I give it to you for as good a blow as ever was struck by an English yeoman."
"I'll set it in my cap, my lord," replied Little John, "and, perhaps, some day----"
"Nay, now, no boasting, John!" cried Robin Hood; "but let the Earl sit down to meat. It is the season, my good lord, when one strikes neither hart nor hare, when the partridge is free for her brood, and even the wild bustard runs unscathed. Thus, my good lord, I cannot give you forest cheer; otherwise, so help me Heaven! as you should dine at the King's expense, while his majesty be revelling with my Lord of Leicester. However, not being able to treat you as a yeoman, I will feast you as a baron; and if those good cooks do but their duty, no castle hall in all merry England shall show a better supper than yours this day."