The friar’s gray eyes once more twinkled with a cunning gleam that boded 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 bethinking 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!” quoth the holy man; “choose you, choose you, my fine fellow, whether you will sink or swim!” And he gained his own bank without more ado, while Robin thrashed and spluttered about until he made shift to grasp a willow wand and thus haul himself ashore on the other side.
Then Robin’s rage waxed furious, despite his wetting, and he took his bow and his 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 hail-stones.
“Shoot on, shoot on, good fellow,” he sang out; “shoot as you have begun; if you shoot here a summer’s day, your mark I will not shun!”
So Robin shot, and passing well, till all his arrows were gone, when from very rage he began to revile him.
“You bloody villain!” shouted he, “You psalm-singing hypocrite! You reviler of good hasty pudding! Come but within reach of my sword arm, and, friar or no friar, I’ll shave your tonsure closer than ever bald-pated monk was shaven before!”
“Soft you and fair!” said the friar unconcernedly; “hard words are cheap, and you may need your wind presently. An you would like a bout with swords, meet me halfway i’ the stream.”
And with this speech the friar waded into the brook, sword in hand, where he was met halfway by the impetuous outlaw.