"'Tis yours, forester," spluttered the knight, still holding fast to his manner of courtesy.
Forthwith Robin found his horn, and blew it somehow, all wet as it was.
"I too claim a boon," cried the knight.
"'Tis yours," answered Robin, hearing joyfully the approach of his men.
The knight produced a whistle and caused a shrill note to issue forth from it. Even as Warrenton and the rest came leaping to Robin's rescue on one hand, twenty and five great dogs sprang out of the bushes on the opposite bank.
Warrenton and his fellows immediately sped a volley of arrows at the yelping beasts; but, jumping and leaping they caught the arrows in their mouths, even as they flew!
"I never have seen the like of this in my days!" cried Little John, amazed. "'Tis rank sorcery and witchcraft."
"Take off your dogs, friar," cried Middle, who was the least surprised of them all, "else ill will befall both them and you."
"He calls you friar," said Robin, astounded; "are you not a knight, in sooth?"
"I am but a poor anchorite, a curtal friar," replied the other, pushing out for his side of the river. "By name Friar Tuck of Fountain's Dale. Are these your men, forester?"