the friars feel in their pouches and see if the Saint had sent them anything; so each put his hand slowly in the pouch that hung beside him, but brought nothing thence.

Little John and the two friars pray to Saint Dunstan for money.

“Ha!” quoth Little John, “have your prayers so little virtue? Then let us at it again.”

Then straightway he began calling on Saint Dunstan again, somewhat in this wise: “O gracious Saint Dunstan! send some money straightway to these poor folk, lest the fat one waste away and grow as lean as the lean one, and the lean one waste away to nothing at all, ere they get to Lincoln Town; but send them only ten shillings apiece, lest they grow puffed up with pride. Any more than that that thou sendest, send to me.”

“Now,” quoth he, rising, “let us see what each man hath.” Then he thrust his hand into his pouch, and drew thence four golden angels. “What have ye, brothers?” said he.

Then once again each friar slowly thrust his hand into his pouch, and once again brought it out with nothing in it.

“Have ye nothing?” quoth Little John. “Nay, I warrant there is somewhat that hath crept into the seams of your pouches, and so ye ha’ missed it. Let me look.”

So he went first to the lean Friar, and, thrusting his hand into the pouch, he drew forth a leathern bag, and counted therefrom one hundred and ten pounds of golden money. “I thought,” quoth Little John, “that thou hadst missed, in some odd corner of thy pouch, the money that the blessed Saint had sent thee. And now let me see whether thou hast not some, also, brother.” Thereupon he thrust his hand into the pouch of the fat Friar, and drew thence a bag like the other and counted out from it threescore and ten pounds. “Look, ye now,” quoth he, “I knew the good Saint had sent thee some pittance that thou, also, hadst missed.”

Saint Dunstan answereth Little John’s prayer with great bountifulness.

Then, giving them one pound between them, he slipped the rest of the money into his own pouch, saying, “Ye pledged me your holy word that ye had no money. Being holy men, I trust that ye would not belie your word so pledged, therefore I know the good Saint Dunstan hath sent this in answer to my prayers. But as I only prayed for ten shillings to be sent to each of you, all over and above that belongeth by rights to me, and so I take it. I give you good den, brothers, and may ye have a pleasant journey henceforth.” So saying, he turned and left them, striding away. The friars looked at one another with a woeful look, and slowly and sadly they mounted their horses again and rode away with never a word.

But Little John turned his footsteps back again to Sherwood Forest, and merrily he whistled as he strode along.

And now we will see what befell Robin Hood in his venture as beggar.

Little John taketh leave of the two friars of Fountain Abbey.

II.

Robin Hood turns Beggar.

AFTER jolly Robin had left Little John at the forking of the roads, he walked merrily onward in the mellow sunshine that shone about him.

Ever and anon he would skip and leap or sing a snatch of song, for pure joyousness of the day; for, because of the sweetness of the springtide, his heart was as lusty within him as that of a colt newly turned out to grass. Sometimes he would walk a long distance, gazing aloft at the great white swelling clouds that moved slowly across the deep blue sky; anon he would stop and drink in the fullness of life of all things, for the hedgerows were budding tenderly and the grass of the meadows was waxing long and green; again he would stand still and listen to the pretty song of the little birds in the thickets or hearken to the clear crow of the cock daring the sky to rain, whereat he would laugh, for it took but little to tickle Robin’s heart into merriment. So he trudged manfully along, ever willing to stop for this reason or for that, and ever ready to chat with such merry lasses as he met now and then. So the morning slipped along, but yet he met no beggar with whom he could change clothes. Quoth he, “If I do not change my luck in haste, I