“Ay, that have I,” quoth Robin, laughing loudly again, “five hundred and more horned beasts have I and my brothers, and none of them have we been able to sell, else I might not have turned butcher.  As for my land, I have never asked my steward how many acres I have.”

At this the Sheriff’s eyes twinkled, and he chuckled to himself.  “Nay, good youth,” quoth he, “if thou canst not sell thy cattle, it may be I will find a man that will lift them from thy hands; perhaps that man may be myself, for I love a merry youth and would help such a one along the path of life.  Now how much dost thou want for thy horned cattle?”

“Well,” quoth Robin, “they are worth at least five hundred pounds.”

“Nay,” answered the Sheriff slowly, and as if he were thinking within himself, “well do I love thee, and fain would I help thee along, but five hundred pounds in money is a good round sum; besides I have it not by me.  Yet I will give thee three hundred pounds for them all, and that in good hard silver and gold.”

“Now thou old miser!” quoth Robin, “well thou knowest that so many horned cattle are worth seven hundred pounds and more, and even that is but small for them, and yet thou, with thy gray hairs and one foot in the grave, wouldst trade upon the folly of a wild youth.”

At this the Sheriff looked grimly at Robin.  “Nay,” quoth Robin, “look not on me as though thou hadst sour beer in thy mouth, man.  I will take thine offer, for I and my brothers do need the money.  We lead a merry life, and no one leads a merry life for a farthing, so I will close the bargain with thee.  But mind that thou bringest a good three hundred pounds with thee, for I trust not one that driveth so shrewd a bargain.”

“I will bring the money,” said the Sheriff.  “But what is thy name, good youth?”

“Men call me Robert o’ Locksley,” quoth bold Robin.

“Then, good Robert o’ Locksley,” quoth the Sheriff, “I will come this day to see thy horned beasts.  But first my clerk shall draw up a paper in which thou shalt be bound to the sale, for thou gettest not my money without I get thy beasts in return.”

Then Robin Hood laughed again.  “So be it,” he said, smiting his palm upon the Sheriff’s hand.  “Truly my brothers will be thankful to thee for thy money.”

Thus the bargain was closed, but many of the butchers talked among themselves of the Sheriff, saying that it was but a scurvy trick to beguile a poor spendthrift youth in this way.

The afternoon had come when the Sheriff mounted his horse and joined Robin Hood, who stood outside the gateway of the paved court waiting for him, for he had sold his horse and cart to a trader for two marks.  Then they set forth upon their way, the Sheriff riding upon his horse and Robin running beside him.  Thus they left Nottingham Town and traveled forward along the dusty highway, laughing and jesting together as though they had been old friends.  But all the time the Sheriff said within himself, “Thy jest to me of Robin Hood shall cost thee dear, good fellow, even four hundred pounds, thou fool.”  For he thought he would make at least that much by his bargain.