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 Barnesdale, to see if aught 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 beggar 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 the 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, fastened 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’er he past.
The fellow looked so fat and hearty, and the wallet on his shoulder 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, marry, he should share it with us poorer bodies.”
So he flourished his own stick and planted himself in the traveler’s path.
“Sirrah, fellow!” quoth he; “whither away so fast? Tarry, for I would have speech with ye!”
The beggar made as though he heard him not, and kept straight on with his faring.
“Tarry, I say, fellow!” said Robin again; “for there’s a way to make folks obey!”