Then Eric o’ Lincoln laughed aloud.  “Well spoken for one who fears to meet me fairly, man to man,” said he.  “Saucy art thou thine own self, and if thou puttest foot upon these boards, I will make thy saucy tongue rattle within thy teeth!”

“Now,” quoth Little John, “is there never a man here that will lend me a good stout staff till I try the mettle of yon fellow?” At this, half a score reached him their staves, and he took the stoutest and heaviest of them all.  Then, looking up and down the cudgel, he said, “Now, I have in my hand but a splint of wood—­a barley straw, as it were—­yet I trow it will have to serve me, so here goeth.”  Thereupon he cast the cudgel upon the stand and, leaping lightly after it, snatched it up in his hand again.

Then each man stood in his place and measured the other with fell looks until he that directed the sport cried, “Play!” At this they stepped forth, each grasping his staff tightly in the middle.  Then those that stood around saw the stoutest game of quarterstaff that e’er Nottingham Town beheld.  At first Eric o’ Lincoln thought that he would gain an easy advantage, so he came forth as if he would say, “Watch, good people, how that I carve you this cockerel right speedily”; but he presently found it to be no such speedy matter.  Right deftly he struck, and with great skill of fence, but he had found his match in Little John.  Once, twice, thrice, he struck, and three times Little John turned the blows to the left hand and to the right.  Then quickly and with a dainty backhanded blow, he rapped Eric beneath his guard so shrewdly that it made his head ring again.  Then Eric stepped back to gather his wits, while a great shout went up and all were glad that Nottingham had cracked Lincoln’s crown; and thus ended the first bout of the game.

Then presently the director of the sport cried, “Play!” and they came together again; but now Eric played warily, for he found his man was of right good mettle, and also he had no sweet memory of the blow that he had got; so this bout neither Little John nor the Lincoln man caught a stroke within his guard.  Then, after a while, they parted again, and this made the second bout.

Then for the third time they came together, and at first Eric strove to be wary, as he had been before; but, growing mad at finding himself so foiled, he lost his wits and began to rain blows so fiercely and so fast that they rattled like hail on penthouse roof; but, in spite of all, he did not reach within Little John’s guard.  Then at last Little John saw his chance and seized it right cleverly.  Once more, with a quick blow, he rapped Eric beside the head, and ere he could regain himself, Little John slipped his right hand down to his left and, with a swinging blow, smote the other so sorely upon the crown that down he fell as though he would never move again.

Then the people shouted so loud that folk came running from all about to see what was the ado; while Little John leaped down from the stand and gave the staff back to him that had lent it to him.  And thus ended the famous bout between Little John and Eric o’ Lincoln of great renown.