“Alas!” cried the Miller, “what would ye do to me?  I have not about me so much as a clipped groat.  Do me no harm, I pray you, but let me depart in peace.  Moreover, let me tell you that ye are upon Robin Hood’s ground, and should he find you seeking to rob an honest craftsman, he will clip your ears to your heads and scourge you even to the walls of Nottingham.

“In truth I fear Robin Hood no more than I do myself,” quoth jolly Robin.  “Thou must this day give up to me every penny thou hast about thee.  Nay, if thou dost budge an inch I will rattle this staff about thine ears.”

“Nay, smite me not!” cried the Miller, throwing up his elbow as though he feared the blow.  “Thou mayst search me if thou wilt, but thou wilt find nothing upon me, pouch, pocket, or skin.”

“Is it so?” quoth Robin Hood, looking keenly upon him.  “Now I believe that what thou tellest is no true tale.  If I am not much mistook thou hast somewhat in the bottom of that fat sack of meal.  Good Arthur, empty the bag upon the ground; I warrant thou wilt find a shilling or two in the flour.”

“Alas!” cried the Miller, falling upon his knees, “spoil not all my good meal!  It can better you not, and will ruin me.  Spare it, and I will give up the money in the bag.”

“Ha!” quoth Robin, nudging Will Scarlet.  “Is it so?  And have I found where thy money lies?  Marry, I have a wondrous nose for the blessed image of good King Harry.  I thought that I smelled gold and silver beneath the barley meal.  Bring it straight forth, Miller.”

Then slowly the Miller arose to his feet, and slowly and unwillingly he untied the mouth of the bag, and slowly thrust his hands into the meal and began fumbling about with his arms buried to the elbows in the barley flour.  The others gathered round him, their heads together, looking and wondering what he would bring forth.

So they stood, all with their heads close together gazing down into the sack.  But while he pretended to be searching for the money, the Miller gathered two great handfuls of meal.  “Ha,” quoth he, “here they are, the beauties.”  Then, as the others leaned still more forward to see what he had, he suddenly cast the meal into their faces, filling their eyes and noses and mouths with the flour, blinding and half choking them.  Arthur a Bland was worse off than any, for his mouth was open, agape with wonder of what was to come, so that a great cloud of flour flew down his throat, setting him a-coughing till he could scarcely stand.

Then, while all four stumbled about, roaring with the smart of the meal in their eyeballs, and while they rubbed their eyes till the tears made great channels on their faces through the meal, the Miller seized another handful of flour and another and another, throwing it in their faces, so that even had they had a glimmering of light before they were now as blind as ever a beggar in Nottinghamshire, while their hair and beards and clothes were as white as snow.