le in October.
Hast thou haply any Malmsey left in that stout pottle?"

"Truly," said the Friar in a glum voice, "thou dost ask thyself freely
where thou art not bidden. Yet I trust I am too good a Christian to
refuse any man drink that is athirst. Such as there is o't thou art
welcome to a drink of the same." And he held the pottle out to Robin.

Robin took it without more ado and putting it to his lips, tilted his
head back, while that which was within said "glug!" "lug! glug!" for more
than three winks, I wot. The stout Friar watched Robin anxiously the
while, and when he was done took the pottle quickly. He shook it, held
it betwixt his eyes and the light, looked reproachfully at the yeoman,
and straightway placed it at his own lips. When it came away again there
was nought within it.

"Doss thou know the country hereabouts, thou good and holy man?" asked
Robin, laughing.

"Yea, somewhat," answered the other dryly.

"And dost thou know of a certain spot called Fountain Abbey?"

"Yea, somewhat."

"Then perchance thou knowest also of a certain one who goeth by the name
of the Curtal Friar of Fountain Abbey."

"Yea, somewhat."

"Well then, good fellow, holy father, or whatever thou art," quoth
Robin, "I would know whether this same Friar is to be found upon this
side of the river or the other."

"That," quoth the Friar, "is a practical question upon which the cunning
rules appertaining to logic touch not. I do advise thee to find that out
by the aid of thine own five senses; sight, feeling, and what not."

"I do wish much," quoth Robin, looking thoughtfully at the stout priest,
"to cross yon ford and strive to find this same good Friar."

"Truly," said the other piously, "it is a goodly wish on the part of one
so young. Far be it from me to check thee in so holy a quest. Friend,
the river is free to all."

"Yea, good father," said Robin, "but thou seest that my clothes are of
the finest and I fain would not get them wet. Methinks thy shoulders
are stout and broad; couldst thou not find it in thy heart to carry me
across?"

"Now, by the white hand of the holy Lady of the Fountain!" burst forth
the Friar in a mighty rage, "dost thou, thou poor puny stripling, thou
kiss-my-lady-la poppenjay; thou--thou What shall I call thee? Dost thou
ask me, the holy Tuck, to carry thee? Now I swear--" Here he paused
suddenly, then slowly the anger passed from his face, and his little
eyes twinkled once more. "But why