before the other could say him yea or nay, he had pulled the sacks into
the house and had closed the door tightly.

It was very dark, and Little John thought it only prudent to keep his
fingers on his knife. He heard the cook rustling about near to him, and
presently came a faint sound as if one of the sacks had bulged forward
and shifted its contents. "Hasten with the ale, good friend," whispered
Little John, hoarsely. "I feel mighty drowsy in this close place; soon I
shall be asleep."

Roger's voice answered him then softly from the end of the narrow hall,
and almost at once the cook appeared with a lantern. He came creakingly
over the boards, and handed Little John a mug of beer. "Your ladle is
of the right sort, dear gossip," he announced, "and I will give you a
penny for it."

"Twenty silver pennies is my price for the spoon," answered Little John,
tossing off the ale at a draught. "Give it to me, brother, or return me
my spoon. I do not find your ale to my taste," he added, wiping his
mouth.

Roger opened the door roughly. "Then begone, ungrateful churl," he
cried, forgetting his caution. He tried to push Little John roughly out
into the night. "What! would you try to steal my bags?" roared Little
John, suddenly snatching hold of Roger by the scruff of his neck. "You
villain--you rascally wretch--you withered apple!"

He tossed and shook Roger like a rat, and finally flung him into the
center of the muddy road. "Help! help!" screamed the cook, at the full
pitch of his voice. "Help! a thief, a thief! Help! murder! help!"

His cries at once attracted notice. The dull, dead street became
instantly alive. With an angry exclamation Little John dashed into the
passage, seized up his bags, and fled, stepping upon the writhing body
of the cook as he ran.

Little John turned the first corner at top speed. Three men rushed at
him with drawn swords. He swung his bags right and left and felled two
of them. The third he butted with his head, and the man asked no more.

Under the wet driving night Little John ran. The bags sadly impeded him,
but he would not let them go. He darted down a little court to avoid a
dozen clutching hands, and fancied he had now safety.

He paused, drawing in his breath with a sob. The race had tried him
terribly. The court was all dark, and his pursuers had overshot it; next
instant, however, they recovered the scent and were upon him full cry.

Little John, snatching his bags, dashed u