Then catching up his great crabstaff, the Miller began laying about him as though he were clean gone mad.  This way and that skipped the four, like peas on a drumhead, but they could see neither to defend themselves nor to run away.  Thwack! thwack! went the Miller’s cudgel across their backs, and at every blow great white clouds of flour rose in the air from their jackets and went drifting down the breeze.

“Stop!” roared Robin at last.  “Give over, good friend, I am Robin Hood!”

“Thou liest, thou knave,” cried the Miller, giving him a rap on the ribs that sent up a great cloud of flour like a puff of smoke.  “Stout Robin never robbed an honest tradesman.  Ha! thou wouldst have my money, wouldst thou?” And he gave him another blow.  “Nay, thou art not getting thy share, thou long-legged knave.  Share and share alike.”  And he smote Little John across the shoulders so that he sent him skipping half across the road.  “Nay, fear not, it is thy turn now, black beard.”  And he gave the Tanner a crack that made him roar for all his coughing.  “How now, red coat, let me brush the dust from thee!” cried he, smiting Will Scarlet.  And so he gave them merry words and blows until they could scarcely stand, and whenever he saw one like to clear his eyes he threw more flour in his face.  At last Robin Hood found his horn and clapping it to his lips, blew three loud blasts upon it.

Now it chanced that Will Stutely and a party of Robin’s men were in the glade not far from where this merry sport was going forward.  Hearing the hubbub of voices, and blows that sounded like the noise of a flail in the barn in wintertime, they stopped, listening and wondering what was toward.  Quoth Will Stutely, “Now if I mistake not there is some stout battle with cudgels going forward not far hence.  I would fain see this pretty sight.”  So saying, he and the whole party turned their steps whence the noise came.  When they had come near where all the tumult sounded they heard the three blasts of Robin’s bugle horn.

“Quick!” cried young David of Doncaster.  “Our master is in sore need!” So, without stopping a moment, they dashed forward with might and main and burst forth from the covert into the highroad.

But what a sight was that which they saw!  The road was all white with meal, and five men stood there also white with meal from top to toe, for much of the barley flour had fallen back upon the Miller.

“What is thy need, master?” cried Will Stutely.  “And what doth all this mean?”

“Why,” quoth Robin in a mighty passion, “yon traitor felt low hath come as nigh slaying me as e’er a man in all the world.  Hadst thou not come quickly, good Stutely, thy master had been dead.”

Hereupon, while he and the three others rubbed the meal from their eyes, and Will Stutely and his men brushed their clothes clean, he told them all; how that he had meant to pass a jest upon the Miller, which same had turned so grievously upon them.