“For some long time after this last daring adventure, Robin Hood and his men were so hotly pressed by the sheriff that it was with difficulty that they eluded the pursuit. Now concealing themselves in the recesses of a cavern, now in the thickest coverts of the forest, they were obliged almost daily to change their abode, until at last, tired of the incessant chase, the sheriff disbanded his forces and returned to Nottingham.
“When the outlaws were well assured of this, they quickly came back to their old haunts in Barnesdale and Sherwood, and pursued their usual course of life. One evening Robin Hood was roving through the woods, when he espied a sturdy-looking beggar, clad in an old patched cloak, come jogging along. In his hand he carried a thick oaken staff, with which he assisted himself in walking, and round his neck a well-filled meal-bag was suspended by a broad leathern belt, while three steeple crowned hats placed within each other, sheltered his bald pate from the rain and snow.
“‘Stay, good friend,’ said Robin Hood to him as they met; ‘thou seem’st in haste to-night.’
“‘I’ve far to go yet,’ answered the beggar, still pushing onwards, ‘and should look foolish enough to get to my lodging house when all the supper’s done.’
“‘Ay! ay!’ returned Robin Hood, walking by his side. ‘So long as thou fillest thine own mouth, thou carest but little about mine. Lend me some money, my friend, till we meet again. I’ve not dined yet, and my credit at the tavern is but indifferent.’
“‘If thou fastest till I give thee money,’ replied the mendicant, ‘thou’lt eat nothing this year. Thou’rt a younger man than I am, and ought to work:’ and the old fellow pushed on still more briskly.
“‘Now, by my troth, thou’rt but a churl,’ cried the outlaw. ‘If thou hast but one farthing in thy pouch, ’tshall part company with thee before I go. Off with thy ragged cloak, and let’s see what treasures it conceals, or I’ll make a window in it with my good broad arrows.’
“‘Dost think I care for wee bits of sticks like them?’ said the beggar, laughing; ‘they’re fit for nothing but skewers for a housewife’s pudding-bag.’ Robin Hood drew back a pace or two, and fitted an arrow to his bow-string, but before he could let it fly the beggar swung his staff round his head, and with one stroke splintered bow and arrow into twenty pieces. The outlaw drew his sword, and was about to repay this with interest, when a second blow from the old man’s stick lighted upon his wrist, and so great was the pain it caused that his blade fell involuntarily from his grasp. Poor Robin Hood was now completely in the beggar’s power;—
“‘He could not fight—he could not flee,—
He wist not what to do;