"Long life to you and happiness, Robin o' th' Hood! Here's fortune's best and confusion to all your enemies! Huzza, Robin o' th' Hood!"
The darkening woods echoed it back to them. "Robin o' th' Hood! Robin—Hood!"
"You will have to be christened, gossip," said Little John, with an air of importance; "and surely I know the man who will be sponsor. But you spoke just now of a reckoning; and I do see that our guest is become fidgety. Shall I tot up the bill for him?"
"Do so, friend."
The Sheriff appeared uneasy at this. "I have not my purse with me," he began, apologetically.
"How did you purpose paying me for my beasts?" asked Robin.
"Why—that is—I have, of course, a small sum about me."
"What is that sum, gossip?" questioned Little John, very kindly.
"'Tis no more than forty pieces of gold," said Monceux, recollecting that he had named this amount to Robin.
"Is that all?"