“Please Your Worship,” said Little John, in a cracked voice like that of an old man, “my name is Giles Hobble, at Your Worship’s service.”

“Giles Hobble, Giles Hobble,” muttered the Sheriff to himself, turning over the names that he had in his mind to try to find one to fit to this.  “I remember not thy name,” said he at last, “but it matters not.  Hast thou a mind to earn sixpence this bright morn?”

“Ay, marry,” quoth Little John, “for money is not so plenty with me that I should cast sixpence away an I could earn it by an honest turn.  What is it Your Worship would have me do?”

“Why, this,” said the Sheriff.  “Here are three men that need hanging as badly as any e’er I saw.  If thou wilt string them up I will pay thee twopence apiece for them.  I like not that my men-at-arms should turn hangmen.  Wilt thou try thy hand?”

“In sooth,” said Little John, still in the old man’s voice, “I ha’ never done such a thing before; but an a sixpence is to be earned so easily I might as well ha’ it as anybody.  But, Your Worship, are these naughty fellows shrived?”

“Nay,” said the Sheriff, laughing, “never a whit; but thou mayst turn thy hand to that also if thou art so minded.  But hasten, I prythee, for I would get back to mine inn betimes.”

So Little John came to where the three youths stood trembling, and, putting his face to the first fellow’s cheek as though he were listening to him, he whispered softly into his ear, “Stand still, brother, when thou feelest thy bonds cut, but when thou seest me throw my woolen wig and beard from my head and face, cast the noose from thy neck and run for the woodlands.”  Then he slyly cut the cord that bound the youth’s hands; who, upon his part, stood still as though he were yet bound.  Then he went to the second fellow, and spoke to him in the same way, and also cut his bonds.  This he did to the third likewise, but all so slyly that the Sheriff, who sat upon his horse laughing, wotted not what was being done, nor his men either.

Then Little John turned to the Sheriff.  “Please Your Worship,” said he, “will you give me leave to string my bow?  For I would fain help these fellows along the way, when they are swinging, with an arrow beneath the ribs.”

“With all my heart,” said the Sheriff, “only, as I said before, make thou haste in thy doings.”

Little John put the tip of his bow to his instep, and strung the weapon so deftly that all wondered to see an old man so strong.  Next he drew a good smooth arrow from his quiver and fitted it to the string; then, looking all around to see that the way was clear behind him, he suddenly cast away the wool from his head and face, shouting in a mighty voice, “Run!” Quick as a flash the three youths flung the nooses from their necks and sped across the open to the woodlands as the arrow speeds from the bow.  Little John also flew toward the covert like a greyhound, while the Sheriff and his men gazed after him all bewildered with the sudden doing.  But ere the yeoman had gone far the Sheriff roused himself.  “After him!” he roared in a mighty voice; for he knew now who it was with whom he had been talking, and wondered that he had not known him before.