“I care not who thou art,” answered the bold Tanner, “and unless thou hast many more of thy kind by thee, thou canst never make Arthur a Bland cry ‘A mercy.’”

“Is it so?” cried Little John in a rage.  “Now, by my faith, thou saucy rogue, thy tongue hath led thee into a pit thou wilt have a sorry time getting out of; for I will give thee such a drubbing as ne’er hast thou had in all thy life before.  Take thy staff in thy hand, fellow, for I will not smite an unarmed man.

“Marry come up with a murrain!” cried the Tanner, for he, too, had talked himself into a fume.  “Big words ne’er killed so much as a mouse.  Who art thou that talkest so freely of cracking the head of Arthur a Bland?  If I do not tan thy hide this day as ne’er I tanned a calf’s hide in all my life before, split my staff into skewers for lamb’s flesh and call me no more brave man!  Now look to thyself, fellow!”

“Stay!” said Little John.  “Let us first measure our cudgels.  I do reckon my staff longer than thine, and I would not take vantage of thee by even so much as an inch.”

“Nay, I pass not for length,” answered the Tanner.  “My staff is long enough to knock down a calf; so look to thyself, fellow, I say again.”

So, without more ado, each gripped his staff in the middle, and, with fell and angry looks, they came slowly together.

Now news had been brought to Robin Hood how that Little John, instead of doing his bidding, had passed by duty for pleasure, and so had stopped overnight with merry company at the Blue Boar Inn, instead of going straight to Ancaster.  So, being vexed to his heart by this, he set forth at dawn of day to seek Little John at the Blue Boar, or at least to meet the yeoman on the way, and ease his heart of what he thought of the matter.  As thus he strode along in anger, putting together the words he would use to chide Little John, he heard, of a sudden, loud and angry voices, as of men in a rage, passing fell words back and forth from one to the other.  At this, Robin Hood stopped and listened.  “Surely,” quoth he to himself, “that is Little John’s voice, and he is talking in anger also.  Methinks the other is strange to my ears.  Now Heaven forfend that my good trusty Little John should have fallen into the hands of the King’s rangers.  I must see to this matter, and that quickly.”

Thus spoke Robin Hood to himself, all his anger passing away like a breath from the windowpane, at the thought that perhaps his trusty right-hand man was in some danger of his life.  So cautiously he made his way through the thickets whence the voices came, and, pushing aside the leaves, peeped into the little open space where the two men, staff in hand, were coming slowly together.

“Ha!” quoth Robin to himself, “here is merry sport afoot.  Now I would give three golden angels from my own pocket if yon stout fellow would give Little John a right sound drubbing!  It would please me to see him well thumped for having failed in my bidding.  I fear me, though, there is but poor chance of my seeing such a pleasant sight.”  So saying, he stretched himself at length upon the ground, that he might not only see the sport the better, but that he might enjoy the merry sight at his ease.