were
standing stock still with wonder of what they saw.
As the hawk darts down upon its
quarry, so sped the four dogs
at the yeomen; but when the four men saw the hounds so coming,
all with one
accord, saving only Will Scarlet, drew each man
his goose
feather to his ear and let fly his shaft.
And now the old
ballad telleth of a
wondrous thing that happened, for thus
it says, that each dog so shot at leaped
lightly aside, and as the arrow
passed him whistling, caught it in his mouth and bit it in twain.
Now it would have been an ill day for these four good fellows
had not Will Scarlet stepped before the others and met the hounds
as they came rushing. "Why, how now, Fangs!" cried he sternly.
"Down, Beauty! Down, sirrah! What means this?"
At the sound of his voice each dog
shrank back quickly and then
straightway came to him and licked his hands and fawned upon him,
as is the wont of dogs that meet one they know. Then the four yeomen
came forward, the hounds leaping around Will Scarlet joyously.
"Why, how now!" cried the stout Friar, "what means this?
Art thou
wizard to turn those wolves into lambs? Ha!" cried he,
when they had come still nearer, "can I trust mine eyes?
What means it that I see young Master William Gamwell
in such company?"
"Nay, Tuck," said the young man, as the four came forward to where Robin
was now clambering down from the tree in which he had been roosting,
he having seen that all danger was over for the time; "nay, Tuck, my name
is no longer Will Gamwell, but Will Scarlet; and this is my good uncle,
Robin Hood, with whom I am abiding just now."
"Truly, good master," said the Friar, looking somewhat abashed
and reaching out his great palm to Robin, "I ha' oft heard thy name
both sung and
spoken of, but I never thought to meet thee in battle.
I crave thy
forgiveness, and do wonder not that I found so stout
a man against me."
"Truly, most holy father," said Little John, "I am more
thankfulthan e'er I was in all my life before that our good friend Scarlet
knew thee and thy dogs. I tell thee
seriously that I felt my
heart
crumble away from me when I saw my shaft so miss its aim,
and those great beasts of thine coming straight at me."
"Thou mayst indeed be
thankful, friend," said the Friar gravely.
"But, Master Will, how cometh it that thou dost now abide in Sherwood?"
"Why, Tuck, dost thou not know of my ill
happening with my
father's steward?" answered Scarlet.
"Yea, truly, yet I knew not that thou wert in hiding because of it.
Marry, the times are all awry when a gentleman must lie hidden
for so small a thing."
"But we are losing time," quoth Robin, "and I have yet to find
that same Curtal Friar."
"Why, uncle, thou hast not far to go," said Will Scarlet,
pointing to the Friar, "for there he stands beside thee."
"How?" quoth Robin, "art thou the man that I have been at such pains
to seek all day, and have got such a ducking for?"
"Why, truly," said the Friar demurely, "some do call me the Curtal Friar
of Fountain Dale; others again call me in jest the Abbot of Fountain Abbey;
others still again call me simple Friar Tuck."
"I like the last name best," quoth Robin, "for it doth slip more glibly
off the tongue. But why didst thou not tell me thou wert he I sought,
instead of sending me searching for black moonbeams?"
"Why, truly, thou didst not ask me, good master," quoth stout Tuck;
"but what didst thou desire of me?"
"Nay," quoth Robin, "the day groweth late, and we cannot
stand longer talking here. Come back with us to Sherwood,
and I will
unfold all to thee as we travel along."
So, without tarrying longer, they all
departed, with the stout
dogs at their heels, and wended their way back to Sherwood again;
but it was long past
nightfall ere they reached the
greenwood tree.
Now listen, for next I will tell how Robin Hood compassed the happiness
of two young lovers, aided by the merry Friar Tuck of Fountain Dale.
Robin Hood Compasses a Marriage
AND NOW had come the morning when fair Ellen was to be married,
and on which merry Robin had sworn that Allan a Dale should,
as it were, eat out of the
platter that had been filled
for Sir Stephen of Trent. Up rose Robin Hood,
blithe and gay,
up rose his merry men one and all, and up rose last of all stout
Friar Tuck, winking the smart of sleep from out his eyes.
Then, while the air seemed to brim over with the song of many birds,
all blended together and all joying in the misty morn, each man
raved face and hands in the leaping brook, and so the day began.
"Now," quoth Robin, when they had broken their fast, and each man had eaten