The latter was standing at his door, and was much struck by the appearance of the young bullock Robin was leading. Our friend, delighted at the great man’s welcome, which was, perhaps, somewhat interested, told him he possessed the finest drove in the Market, and that he would be well pleased an if the Reeve would accept a bullock as a present.

  The Reeve protested modestly against so rich a gift.

  “Sir Reeve,” continued Robin, “I am ignorant of the customs of this country. I do not know my fellow dealers, and I greatly fear me they may seek to fasten a quarrel upon me. I should therefore be obliged if you would extend your protection to one who is only too anxious to please you.”

  “The Reeve swore (for the moment his gratitude equalled the bullock in size) that he would hang any man who should dare to molest our friend; and he declared further that Robin was a good fellow, and the best butcher who had ever sold him meat.

  With mind at rest on this important point, Robin returned to the Market Place, and when the sales began, a crowd of poor people came to ask the price of the meat; but, unhappily for their small purses, the price was still very high. When he saw the prices fixed, Robin offered as much meat for a penny as his neighbours were selling for three.

  The news of this extraordinary cheapness spread rapidly through the town, and the poor flocked in from all sides. Robin then gave them for a penny about as much as his neighbours could give for five. Soon it was known in every corner of the Market that Robin sold only to the poor. Thus they formed an excellent opinion of him, while his fellow-dealers, who were not disposed to follow his example, looked upon him as a prodigal who, in an access of generosity, was squandering the best part of his wealth; so acting on this supposition, they sent to Robin all those to whom they could sell nothing.

  Towards mid-day the cattle-dealers consulted together, and with one accord decided that they must make the acquaintance of the new-comer. One of them, detaching himself from the rest, approached Robin, and said

  “Good friend and brother, your conduct seems passing strange; for, by your leave, it quite ruins the trade. But, on the other hand, as your intentions are excellent, we can only congratulate you heartily, and give warm praise to so admirable a sentiment of generosity. My companions, enraptured with your goodness of heart, charge me to present their compliments and to invite you to dinner in their names.”

  “I accept their invitation with the greatest pleasure,” replied Robin, gaily, “and I am ready to follow wherever you are pleased to lead me.”

  “We usually meet at the Town Reeve’s Inn,” answered the butcher, “and if that house is not out of your way...”

  “Why, certainly not,” interrupted Robin. “On the contrary, I shall be most happy to be in the company of a man whom you honour with your confidence.”

  “In that case, Master, we will end the day right merrily.”

  “Were you with Robin then?” asked Much, surprised to hear the narrator enter into so much detail.

  “Of course. Do you think I could have allowed Robin to expose himself alone to the danger of being recognised? He had ordered me to keep aloof; but I did not consider myself bound to obey his order, and I was almost at his side. All at once he became aware of my presence, and, seizing my hand, he angrily reproached me for my disobedience. In a low voice I explained my motive for disregarding his orders. He calmed down at once, and regarding me with that sweet smile you know so well, he said “Mingle with the crowd, John, and while keeping an eye on me, look to thine own safety also.” I obeyed him, and disappeared in the crowd. When Robin and the gay band of butchers set out for the Reeve’s Inn, I followed in their wake, and entered the dining-hall along with him. Ordering a good meal, I took my place in the embrasure of a window.”

  Robin was very merry that day, and toward the end of dinner he invited them to drink of the best wine in the cellar, adding that he would bear this last expense. As you may imagine, Robin’s generous offer was received with acclamation; the wine went round the room, and I had my share with the rest.

  When the merriment was at its height, the Reeve appeared in the doorway.

  Robin invited him to take a seat. He accepted, and as Robin seemed to be the guest of honour, he asked him for news of Robin Hood.

  “Tis a cunning rascal!” cried one of the butchers; “a fine blade, a rare wit, and a good lad.”

  Then the Reeve perceived me. I was not drunk, and my sober face inspired him with a desire to question me.

  “That young man,” said he, indicating Robin by a glance, “is doubtless a prodigal who, having sold lands, house, or castle, intends to squander his money foolishly.”

  “It may well be so,” I replied with indifference.

  “Maybe he doth still possess some wealth,” continued the Reeve.

  “That is very likely, Master.”

  “Do you think he would be disposed to sell his remaining cattle cheap?”

  “I do not know; but there is one very simple way of finding out.”

  “What is that?” asked the Reeve, innocently.

  “Why, to ask him thyself.”

  “You are right, Sir Stranger.” Saying which the Reeve approached Robin, and, after paying him some pompous compliments on his generosity, he congratulated him on the noble use to which he was putting his fortune. “My young friend,” added the Reeve, “have you not some cattle to sell? I will find you a purchaser, and, while rendering you this service, permit me to remark that a man of your rank and appearance cannot well become a cattle-dealer without compromising his dignity.”

  Robin perfectly understood the true motive of this crafty speech; he began to laugh, and answered the obliging Reeve that he possessed a thousand head of cattle, and that he would dispose of them willingly for five hundred golden crowns.

  “I will offer you three hundred,” said the Reeve.

  “At present prices,” Robin continued, “my beasts are worth, taking one with another, two crowns a head.”

  “If you will consent to sell the whole herd, I will give you three hundred crowns; and I might remark, my gallant gentleman, that three hundred gold crowns in your purse would be worth more than one thousand beasts in your pastures. Come, decide; the bargain will be for three hundred gold crowns.”

  “Tis too little,” replied Robin, throwing a furtive look at me.

  “A liberal heart like yours, my Lord,” replied the Reeve, trying to flatter, “should not haggle over a few crowns. Come, let us strike a bargain. Where are your cattle? I should like to see them all together.”

  “All together!” repeated Robin, laughing at an idea which struck him.

  “Certainly, my young friend; and if the pasture of this magnificent herd is not very far from here, we could ride over and conclude the bargain there. I will take the money, and if you are reasonable, the matter can be settled before we return to Nottingham.”

  “I possess a few acres about a mile from the town,” replied Robin; “my beasts are penned there, and there you may see them at your ease.”

  “A mile from Nottingham!” replied the Reeve “some acres... I know the neighbourhood, and I cannot quite make out the situation of your property.”

  “Silence!” whispered Robin, leaning toward the Reeve. “I desire for private reasons to conceal my name and quality. A word of explanation as to the whereabouts of my cattle would betray a secret required in mine own interest. You take me, do you not?”

  “Perfectly, my young friend,” replied the Reeve, winking slyly; “friends are to be feared, the family dreaded. I understand, I understand.”

  “You possess an admirable penetration of mind,” said Robin, mysteriously, “and I am tempted to believe that we understand each other wonderfully. Well, an if you like, we will profit by the inattention of the butchers, and make off secretly. Are you ready to follow me?”

  “How now! ‘tis I who wait for you. I will have our horses saddled with all haste.”

  “Go, then; I will rejoin you immediately.”

  The Reeve left the room, and at Robin’s orders I went to seek our companions, whom I had posted, in case of misadventure, within sound of his horn, and announced the Town Reeve’s visit to them.

  A few minutes after my departure the latter took Robin up to his private lodging, presented him to his wife, a pretty woman of some twenty years, and begging him to take a seat, said he would go and count his money.

  When the Reeve returned to the room in which he had left Robin alone with his wife, he found the young man at the feet of the lady.

  This sight greatly irritated the touchy husband, but his hope of gulling Robin enabled him to control his anger. He only bit his lips, and said, “I am ready to follow you, fair Sir.”

  Robin threw a kiss to the pretty lady, and, to the great indignation of the scandalised husband, announced to her his speedy return.

  Soon after, the Reeve and Robin set out on horseback from Nottingham.

  Robin led his companion by the most deserted woodland paths to the cross-road where we were to meet him.

  “This,” said Robin, pointing to a delightful valley, “is part of my land.”

  “You speak absurdly and falsely,” replied the Reeve, who thought it was all a hoax. “This Forest, with all it contains, is the property of the King.”

  “Possibly,” returned Robin; “but as I have taken possession of it, it belongs to me.”

  “To you?”

  “Certainly, and you shall soon learn in what manner.”

  “We are in a lonely and dangerous part,” said the Reeve. “The wood is infested by robbers. God keep us from falling into the hands of that wretch, Robin Hood! Should such a misfortune befall us, we should very soon be stripped of all we possess.”

  “We shall see what he will do,” replied Robin, with a laugh, “for I could wager a thousand to one that we shall be face to face with him immediately.”

  The Reeve turned pale, and cast affrighted glances into the underwood.

  “I wish,” said he, “that your estates were less evilly situated; and had you warned me of the dangers surrounding them, I would certainly never have come.”

  “I assure you, my dear sir,” replied Robin, “that we are on my land.”

  “What mean you? Of what land do you speak?” asked the other, anxiously.

  “My words seem plain enow to me,” replied Robin. “I show you these glades, valleys, cross-roads, and I say, ‘Behold my estates.’ When you speak of your wife, do you not say ‘my wife’?”

  “Yea, yea, without doubt,” stammered the Reeve. “And I pray you, what is your name? I am anxious to know the name of so rich a landlord.”

  “Your very proper curiosity shall soon be gratified,” laughed Robin Hood.

  At that moment a large herd of deer crossed the road.

  “Look, look, Master, to your right; there are an hundred beasts. How say you, are they not fat and well to look upon?”

  The poor Reeve trembled in all his limbs.

  “I would I had never come here,” said he, gazing into the depths of the wood with terror.

  “Why?” asked Robin. “I assure you old Sherwood is a charming dwelling-place; besides, what have you to fear? Am I not with you?”

  “That is just what doth alarm me, Sir Stranger. For some moments past I own that your companionship hath ceased to be agreeable to me.”

  “Happily for me, there are very few people of that opinion, Sir Reeve,” replied Robin, laughing; “but since, to my distress, you are of that number, it is useless to prolong our interview.”

  As he said this, Robin bowed ironically to his companion, and raised his hunting-horn to his lips.

  (I forgot to tell you, my friends, that we had followed the travellers step by step.) At his first call we ran forward. The terrified Reeve very near fell flat upon the neck of his horse.

  “What do you desire, noble Master?” said I to Robin. “Give me your orders, I beg, that I may execute them instantly.”

  “Do you always speak thus to Robin, Little John?” asked Will Scarlett.

  “Yea, Will, for it is a duty and a pleasure,” replied the young giant, good-humouredly.

  “I have brought hither the puissant Town Reeve of Nottingham,” replied Robin. “His Lordship wishes to see my cattle and share my supper. See to it, my good lieutenant, that our guest is treated with the style and splendour due to his position.”

  “He shall be served with the choicest viands,” I replied, “for I know he will pay very generously for his dinner.”

  “Pay!” cried the Reeve. “What mean you by that?”

  “Explanations will follow in their turn, Master,” replied Robin. “And now permit me to answer the question you did me the honour to put as we entered the Forest.”

  “What question?” muttered the Reeve.

  “You asked my name.”

  “Alack!” groaned the Innkeeper.

  “They call me Robin Hood, Master.”

  “So I see,” said the Reeve, looking round at the Merrie Men.

  “As to what we mean by paying, it is this. We keep open house for the poor, but we re-imburse ourselves largely by the guests who are fortunate enow to possess well-furnished purses.”

  “What are your conditions?” asked the Reeve, in a doleful voice.

  “We have none, nor any fixed price; we take the whole of our guests’ money without counting it. For example, you have three hundred gold crowns in your pocket.”

  “Lord, Lord!” muttered the Reeve.

  “Your expenses will be three hundred gold crowns.”

  “Three hundred crowns!”

  “Yea, and I advise you to eat as much as possible and drink as much as you can, so as not to have to pay for what you have not consumed.”

  An excellent repast was served upon the green turf. The Reeve was not hungry, and ate but little, though, to make up for it, he drank heartily. This boundless thirst we supposed to be a result of his despair.

  He gave us three hundred golden crowns, and no sooner was the last crown in my purse than he manifested an ardent desire to quit our company. Robin ordered his horse to be brought, helped him into the saddle, wished him good luck, and begged earnestly to be remembered to his charming wife.

  The Reeve made no reply to our farewells; he was in such haste to leave the Forest that he put his horse to a gallop, and set off without saying one word. Thus ended Robin’s adventure with the Town Reeve of Nottingham.

  “I should much like,” said Will Scarlett, “to prove my cleverness in disguising myself one day. Have you ever tried it, Little John?”

  “Yea, once, in obedience to Robin’s orders.”

  “And how did you fare?” asked Will.

  “Well enough for the occasion,” replied John.

  “And what was the occasion?” asked Much.

  “‘Twas thus. One morning Robin Hood wished to pay a visit to Halbert Lindsay and his pretty little wife; but I pointed out to him the danger of going openly into the town after what had happened with the Reeve about the sale of the cattle, for we feared serious reprisals. Robin Hood laughed at my fears, and replied that, in order to deceive everybody, he would go disguised as a Norman. To that intent he assumed a magnificent knight’s dress, paid a visit to Halbert, and from his abode made his way to the Town Reeve’s Inn. There he spent much money, complimented the host’s pretty wife upon her good looks, and chatted with the Reeve, who overwhelmed him with attentions. Then, a few minutes before quitting the house, he took the man aside, and said to him with a laugh, ‘A thousand thanks, good host, for your courteous entertainment of Robin Hood.’”

  Before the Reeve could recover from the astonishment caused by Robin’s words, the latter had vanished.

  “Good,” said William; “but this fresh proof of Robin’s ability doth not tell us in what manner you were disguised Little John.”

  “I dressed myself as a beggar.”

  “But wherefore?”

  “To carry out, as I told you, an order from Robin. Robin wished to put my ability to the test, and desired to know whether I was capable of seconding his wonderful adroitness. The choice of disguise was left to me, and having learnt of the death of a rich Norman whose estates lay in the neighbourhood of Nottingham, I resolved to mingle with the beggars who usually accompany the funeral procession. On my head was an old hat adorned with cockle-shells; I wore a pilgrim’s dress, and carried a mighty staff, a sack of provisions, and a purse destined for gifts of money. My garments were so wretched, and I so much resembled a real beggar that even our merry companions were tempted to offer me an alms. About a mile from our retreat I fell in with several beggars who, like myself, were on their way to the Castle of the deceased noble. One of these rogues was apparently blind, another limped painfully, the others bore no distinctive signs beyond miserable rags and tatters.

  “Here,” I said to myself, regarding them out of the corner of mine eye “here are fellows who will serve me for models. I will accost them, so as to be able to take a leaf out of their book.”

  “Good day, brothers,” I cried heartily. “I am right glad to meet you. Which way are you going?”

  “We are going along the road,” dryly replied the man whom I had more particularly addressed.

  The jester’s companions eyed me with suspicion from head to foot.

  “Might not this fellow be taken for the Tower of Linton Abbey?” quoth one of the beggars, stepping back a step or two.

  “I might be taken for a man who fears no one,” I replied in a menacing tone.

  “Come, come, peace!” growled another of the beggars.

  “So be it,” I replied. “But what is there to devour at the end of this road, that I see surging from all directions our holy fraternity of rags? Why do the bells of Linton Abbey toll so mournfully?”

  “Because a Norman hath just died.”

  “Are ye, then, going to his burial?”

  “We are going to take our share of the largess which they distribute among poor devils like us on the occasion of a funeral; you are at liberty to accompany us.”

  “I trow I am, and I owe you no thanks for the permission,” I replied scornfully.