Shrunken Arm, of King Arthur’s time, and of his love to his one true maid, and of what they dared and suffered for each other’s sake. That noble story you yourself may read some time, for it has been written and sung in more than one ancient tale and ballad, both in courtly and in homely phrase. To this all listened without a word, and when it was done many drew deep breaths, being carried away by the tale of knightly daring and noble sacrifice.

Will Scathelock telleth the goodly story of Sir Caradoc of the Shrunken Arm.

“It doth make a man better,” quoth Robin Hood, “to hear of those noble men that lived so long ago. When one doth list to such tales, his soul doth say, ‘Put by thy poor little likings and seek to do likewise.’ Truly, one may not do as nobly one’s self, but in the striving one is better. I mind me our good Gaffer Swanthold was wont to say, ‘He who jumps for the moon and gets it not leaps higher than he who stoops for a penny in the mud.’ ”

“Truly,” quoth Will Stutely, “it is a fine thought, but nevertheless, good master, the one gets a penny and the other gets nought, and, without the penny, one is like to go with an empty stomach. These same stories are well to listen to but ill to follow, say I.”

Robin Hood sendeth Will Stutely and six yeomen out to seek a guest.

“By the faith of my heart,” quoth merry Robin, “thou dost ever trip up a lofty thought that gazes in the sky, and dost bring its nose in the dust. Nevertheless, thou hast a shrewd wit in thy head, good Stutely; and now that thou bringest me to things of the world, I do bethink me that we have had no one to dine with us for this long time. Our money groweth low in the purse, for no one hath come to pay a reckoning for many a day. Now busk thee, good Stutely, and choose thee six men, and get thee gone to Fosse Way or thereabouts, and see that thou bringest some one to eat with us this evening. Meantime we will prepare a grand feast to do whosoever may come the great honor. And stay, good Stutely. I would have thee take Will Scarlet with thee, for it is meet that he should become acquaint with the ways of the forest.”

“Now do I thank thee, good master,” quoth Stutely, springing to his feet, “that thou hast chosen me for this adventure. Truly, my limbs do grow slack through abiding idly here. As for two of my six, I will choose Midge the Miller, and Arthur a Bland, for, as well thou knowest, good master, they are stout fists at the quarterstaff. Is it not so, Little John?”

At this all laughed but Little John, and Robin, who twisted up his face. “I can speak for Midge,” said he, “and likewise for my cousin Scarlet. This very blessed morn I looked at my ribs and found them as many colors as a beggar’s cloak.”

So, having chosen four more stout fellows, Will Stutley and his band set forth to Fosse Way, to find whether they might not come across some rich guest to feast that day in Sherwood with Robin and his band.

For all the livelong day they abided near this highway. Each man had brought with him a good store of cold meat and a bottle of stout March beer to stay his stomach till the home-coming. So when high noontide had come they sat them down upon the soft grass, beneath a green and wide-spreading hawthorn bush, and held a hearty and jovial feast. After this, one kept watch while the others napped, for it was a still and sultry day.

The seven yeomen lodge by the roadside.

Thus they passed the time pleasantly enow, but no guest such as they desired showed his face in all the time that they lay hidden there. Many passed along the dusty road in the glare of the sun: now it was a bevy of chattering damsels merrily tripping along; now it was a plodding tinker; now a merry shepherd lad; now a sturdy farmer; all gazing ahead along the road, unconscious of the seven stout fellows that lay hidden so near them. Such were the travellers along the way; but fat abbot, rich esquire, or money-laden usurer came there none.

At last the sun