“The same I coveted,” quoth Robin as if to himself.
“So we agreed to this,” went on Much, “and spread a cloak down, and he opened his bag and shook it thereon. Instantly a great cloud of meal filled the air, whereby we could neither see nor breathe; and in the midst of this cloud he vanished like a wizard.”
“But not before he left certain black and blue spots, to be remembered by, I see,” commented Robin.
“He was in league with the evil one,” said one of the widow’s sons, rubbing himself ruefully.
Then Robin laughed outright, and sat him down upon the gnarled root of a tree, to finish his merriment.
“Four bold outlaws, put to rout by a sorry beggar!” cried he. “I can laugh at ye, my men, for I am in the same boat with ye. But ‘twould never do to have this tale get abroad—even in the greenwood—how that we could not hold our own with the odds in our favor. So let us have this little laugh all to ourselves, and no one else need be the wiser!”
The others saw the point of this, and felt better directly, despite their itching desire to get hold of the beggar again. And none of the four ever told of the adventure.
But the beggar must have boasted of it at the next tavern; or a little bird perched among the branches of a neighboring oak must have sung of it. For it got abroad, as such tales will, and was put into a right droll ballad which, I warrant you, the four outlaws did not like to hear.