hand into his pouch and drew thence four golden angels. "What have
ye, brothers?" said he.

Then once again each friar slowly thrust his hand into his pouch, and
once again brought it out with nothing in it.

"Have ye nothing?" quoth Little John. "Nay, I warrant there is somewhat
that hath crept into the seams of your pouches, and so ye ha' missed it.
Let me look."

So he went first to the lean Friar, and, thrusting his hand into the
pouch, he drew forth a leathern bag and counted therefrom one hundred
and ten pounds of golden money. "I thought," quoth Little John, "that
thou hadst missed, in some odd corner of thy pouch, the money that the
blessed Saint had sent thee. And now let me see whether thou hast not
some, also, brother." Thereupon he thrust his hand into the pouch of the
fat Friar and drew thence a bag like the other and counted out from it
threescore and ten pounds. "Look ye now," quoth he, "I knew the good
Saint had sent thee some pittance that thou, also, hadst missed."

Then, giving them one pound between them, he slipped the rest of the
money into his own pouch, saying, "Ye pledged me your holy word that ye
had no money. Being holy men, I trust that ye would not belie your word
so pledged, therefore I know the good Saint Dunstan hath sent this in
answer to my prayers. But as I only prayed for ten shillings to be sent
to each of you, all over and above that belongeth by rights to me, and
so I take it. I give you good den, brothers, and may ye have a pleasant
journey henceforth." So saying, he turned and left them, striding away.
The friars looked at one another with a woeful look, and slowly and
sadly they mounted their horses again and rode away with never a word.

But Little John turned his footsteps back again to Sherwood Forest, and
merrily he whistled as he strode along.

And now we will see what befell Robin Hood in his venture as beggar.

Robin Hood Turns Beggar

AFTER JOLLY ROBIN had left Little John at the forking of the roads, he
walked merrily onward in the mellow sunshine that shone about him.
Ever and anon he would skip and leap or sing a snatch of song, for pure
joyousness of the day; for, because of the sweetness of the springtide,
his heart was as lusty within him as that of a colt newly turned out
to grass. Sometimes he would walk a long distance, gazing aloft at the
great white swelling clouds that moved slowly across the deep blue sky;
anon he would stop and drink in the fu