“Why, yon same is a right stout fellow whom men hereabouts do call Robin Hood, which same—­”

“Now, by’r Lady!” cried the Tinker hastily, and in a deep voice like an angry bull, “thou didst see me come into thine inn, I, a staunch, honest craftsman, and never told me who my company was, well knowing thine own self who he was.  Now, I have a right round piece of a mind to crack thy knave’s pate for thee!” Then he took up his cudgel and looked at the landlord as though he would smite him where he stood.

“Nay,” cried the host, throwing up his elbow, for he feared the blow, “how knew I that thou knewest him not?”

“Well and truly thankful mayst thou be,” quoth the Tinker, “that I be a patient man and so do spare thy bald crown, else wouldst thou ne’er cheat customer again.  But as for this same knave Robin Hood, I go straightway to seek him, and if I do not score his knave’s pate, cut my staff into fagots and call me woman.”  So saying, he gathered himself together to depart.

“Nay,” quoth the landlord, standing in front of him and holding out his arms like a gooseherd driving his flock, for money made him bold, “thou goest not till thou hast paid me my score.”

“But did not he pay thee?”

“Not so much as one farthing; and ten good shillings’ worth of ale have ye drunk this day.  Nay, I say, thou goest not away without paying me, else shall our good Sheriff know of it.”

“But nought have I to pay thee with, good fellow,” quoth the Tinker.

“‘Good fellow’ not me,” said the landlord.  “Good fellow am I not when it cometh to lose ten shillings!  Pay me that thou owest me in broad money, or else leave thy coat and bag and hammer; yet, I wot they are not worth ten shillings, and I shall lose thereby.  Nay, an thou stirrest, I have a great dog within and I will loose him upon thee.  Maken, open thou the door and let forth Brian if this fellow stirs one step.”

“Nay,” quoth the Tinker—­for, by roaming the country, he had learned what dogs were—­“take thou what thou wilt have, and let me depart in peace, and may a murrain go with thee.  But oh, landlord!  An I catch yon scurvy varlet, I swear he shall pay full with usury for that he hath had!”

So saying, he strode away toward the forest, talking to himself, while the landlord and his worthy dame and Maken stood looking after him, and laughed when he had fairly gone.

“Robin and I stripped yon ass of his pack main neatly,” quoth the landlord.

Now it happened about this time that Robin Hood was going through the forest to Fosse Way, to see what was to be seen there, for the moon was full and the night gave promise of being bright.  In his hand he carried his stout oaken staff, and at his side hung his bugle horn.  As thus he walked up a forest path, whistling, down another path came the Tinker, muttering to himself and shaking his head like an angry bull; and so, at a sudden bend, they met sharply face to face.  Each stood still for a time, and then Robin spoke: