w the good Athelstane was
saved by the little blind mole that digged a trench over which he that
sought the king's life stumbled."

"Truly, friend," said Sir Richard, "methinks thou meanest kindness in
thine own way; nevertheless my troubles are such that it is not likely
that thou canst cure them. But I will go with thee this day into
Sherwood." Hereupon he turned his horse's head, and they all wended
their way to the woodlands, Robin walking on one side of the Knight and
Will Scarlet on the other, while the rest of the band trudged behind.

After they had traveled thus for a time Robin Hood spake. "Sir Knight,"
said he, "I would not trouble thee with idle questions; but dost thou
find it in thy heart to tell me thy sorrows?"

"Truly, Robin," quoth the Knight, "I see no reason why I should not do
so. Thus it is: My castle and my lands are in pawn for a debt that I
owe. Three days hence the money must be paid or else all mine estate is
lost forever, for then it falls into the hands of the Priory of Emmet,
and what they swallow they never give forth again."

Quoth Robin, "I understand not why those of thy kind live in such a
manner that all their wealth passeth from them like snow beneath the
springtide sun."

"Thou wrongest me, Robin," said the Knight, "for listen: I have a son
but twenty winters old, nevertheless he has won his spurs as knight.
Last year, on a certain evil day, the jousts were held at Chester, and
thither my son went, as did I and my lady wife. I wot it was a proud
time for us, for he unhorsed each knight that he tilted against. At last
he ran a course with a certain great knight, Sir Walter of Lancaster,
yet, though my son was so youthful, he kept his seat, albeit both spears
were shivered to the heft; but it happened that a splinter of my boy's
lance ran through the visor of Sir Walter's helmet and pierced through
his eye into his brain, so that he died ere his esquire could unlace his
helm. Now, Robin, Sir Walter had great friends at court, therefore his
kinsmen stirred up things against my son so that, to save him from
prison, I had to pay a ransom of six hundred pounds in gold. All might
have gone well even yet, only that, by ins and outs and crookedness of
laws, I was shorn like a sheep that is clipped to the quick. So it came
that I had to pawn my lands to the Priory of Emmet for more money, and a
hard bargain they drove with me in my hour of need. Yet I would have
thee understand I