Again some two miles further on Ralph met a flock of sheep coming down a bent which the road climbed, and with them were three men, their drovers, and they drew nigh him as he was amidst of the sheep, so that he could scarce see the way.  Each of these three had a weapon; one a pole-axe, another a long spear, and the third a flail jointed and bound with iron, and an anlace hanging at his girdle.  So they stood in the way and hailed him when the sheep were gone past; and the man with the spear asked him whither away.  “I am turned toward Higham-on-the-Way,” quoth he; “and how many miles shall I ride ere I get there?”

Said one of them:  “Little less than twenty, lord.”  Now it was past noon two hours, and the day was hot; so whereas the faces of the men looked kind and friendly, albeit somewhat rugged, he lighted down from his horse and sat down by the way-side, and drew his bottle of good wine from out of his wallet, and asked the men if they were in haste.  “Nay, master,” said he of the pole-axe, while all eyes turned to the bottle, “He has gone by too long; and will neither meddle with us, nor may we deal with him.”

“Well then,” quoth Ralph, “there is time for bever.  Have ye ought of a cup, that we may drink to each other?”

“Yea,” said the carle with the anlace, “that have I.”  Therewith he drew from his pouch a ram’s horn rimmed with silver, and held it up, and said as if he were speaking to it:  “Now, Thirly, rejoice! for ye shall have lord’s wine poured into thy maw.”

Therewith he held it out toward Ralph, who laughed and filled it up, and filled for himself a little silver cup which he carried, and said:  “To you, shepherds!  Much wool and little cry!” And he drank withal.

“And I,” quoth the man with the horn, “call this health; Much cry and little wool!”

“Well, well, how mean ye by that, Greasy Wat?” said the man with the spear, taking the horn as he spake; “that is but a poor wish for a lord that drinketh out of our cup.”

Said Wat:  “Why, neighbour, why! thy wit is none too hasty.  The wool that a knight sheareth is war and battle; that is wounding and death; but the cry is the talk and boasting and minstrelsy that goeth before all this.  Which is the best wish to wish him? the wounds and the death, or the fore-rumour and stir thereof which hurteth no man?”

Ralph laughed thereat, and was merry and blithe with them; but the spearman, who was an old man, said: 

“For all Wat sayeth, lord, and his japes, ye must not misdeem of us that we shepherds of the Downs can do nought but run to ales and feasts, and that we are but pot-valiant:  maybe thou thyself mayst live to see things go otherwise:  and in that day may we have such as thee for captain.  Now, fair lord, I drink to thy crown of valour, and thy good luck; and we thank thee for the wine and yet more for the blithe fellowship.”

So Ralph filled up the ram’s horn till Dame Katherine’s good island wine was well-nigh spent; and at last he said: