guessed that they had been driven by the greenwood men all that
day--that perchance Stuteley and the rest were near the beasts, in
ambush. Reining in his lean horse, he turned in his cart to call to the
Sheriff.

"See, excellence, here are my beasts, coming to welcome me! Now choose
those which your eyes like and pay me the gold."

Monceux saw then that he had been duped, and flew into a terrible
passion. Robin cut his reproaches very short, however; and, taking off
his butcher's smock, blew on his horn that short, queer signal.

The Sheriff turned to fly, but had not travelled a hundred yards ere,
hearing an uncomfortable hissing sound, made by an arrow, as it flew
just over his head, thought it better to stop. Robin had hidden his bow
and quiver in the straw at the bottom of the butcher's cart. He now
stood up and sped his shafts all round and about the poor Sheriff.

Then Monceux reined up his fat pony and surrendered himself grudgingly,
trying to bargain all the while. "If I give you my horse, and a golden
penny, will you let me go, butcher?" said he, whiningly. "Did I not
treat you well last night, giving you a fair supper and much ale? This
is ill requiting my usage of you, butcher."

Suddenly he saw himself surrounded by the men of the greenwood, headed
by Stuteley. Robin nodded, and in a moment the Sheriff was seized and
hurried away to the gravel-pit, and his pony was set galloping in the
direction of Nottingham with empty saddle.

The greenwood men soon brought their captive through the dangerous
passage, having first blindfolded him. Within five hours of his
departure from Nottingham my lord the Sheriff found himself in a
strange, unknown part of Sherwood, seated amongst two score and ten wild
fellows, to a wilder meal of venison, brown bread, and wine.

With a shock of surprise he saw that the hot, juicy portion of the
King's beast handed to him as his share was smoking fragrantly upon a
golden plate. He glanced around from the merry faces of the lawless men
to the dishes and plates from which they were eating. All were of gold
and very familiar.

His rolling eye encountered that of Little John's, coolly helping
himself to a second serve. "You rascal! you rogue!" spluttered Monceux.
"You scum of the kitchens! Where is my plate? You shall be shred into
little pieces for this trick, and you also, false butcher."

"Nay, excellence," said a gentle voice near to him, "this is no butcher;
but rather Mast