“Would that we could!” groaned the Sheriff. “The fellow is becoming a nightmare unto me.”
“Let me plan a while,” she replied. “Belike I can cook up some scheme for his undoing.”
“Agreed,” said the Sheriff, “and if anything comes of your planning, I will e’en give you an hundred silver pennies for a new gown, and a double reward to the man who catches the outlaws.”
Now upon that same day, while the Sheriff’s daughter was racking her brains for a scheme, there came to the Mansion House a strolling tinker named Middle, a great gossip and braggart. And as he pounded away upon some pots and pans in the scullery, he talked loudly about what he would do, if he once came within reach of that rascal Robin Hood.
“It might be that this simple fellow could do something through his very simplicity,” mused the Sheriff’s daughter, overhearing his prattle. “Odds bodikins! ‘twill do no harm to try his service, while I bethink myself of some better plan.”
And she called him to her, and looked him over—a big brawny fellow enough, with an honest look about the eye, and a countenance so open that when he smiled his mouth seemed the only country on the map.
“I am minded to try your skill at outlaw catching,” she said, “and will add goodly measure to the stated reward if you succeed. Do you wish to make good your boasted prowess?”
The tinker grinned broadly.
“Yes, your ladyship,” he said.
“Then here is a warrant made out this morning by the Sheriff himself. See that you keep it safely and use it to good advantage.”