One bright morning in May a slim, straight youth, slightly bearded, dressed in a green suit, with bow unstrung, and a fresh color blowing on his cheeks, came out of the wood upon the highroad by Copmanhurst.
He stood erect, quietly alert, and with his brown eyes watchful of the road. He then moved softly along the road until he came to where but last year the brook had sprawled and scrambled across it. Now a fine stone bridge had been built, at the word of Prince John, who had complained much at having wetted his feet when he had passed by St. Dunstan's shrine eight months agone.
The stranger smiled as he looked at the bridge, half sadly, half in reverie. He paused to admire the neat work; then slowly walked over the bridge still thinking deeply. Suddenly he plumped himself right into the arms of a tall, ungainly man, who had crossed from the other side.
The youth sprang back; then planted his lithe body exactly in the center of the bridge.
"Give way, fellow," roared the other, instantly. "Make room for your betters, or I will throw you into the brook!"
The younger man laughed. "I know this little stream right well, friend. Therefore I have no need to make that closer acquaintance of it which you promise."
"You may be acquainted and yet make better acquaintance," returned his big opponent, stirring not an inch. "This bridge is too narrow for us both. One must go back."
"Go back then, friend, by all means. I will not stay you."
"Now will I trounce you right well, stripling," cried the tall man, grasping his cudgel. He made a pass or two with it about the head of the youth.
The latter jumped back and fitted an arrow to his bow.
"Nay, by my body, but this is ungenerous of you, forester," cried the tall man. "I have only a stick and you have a bow! If we are to fight, surely you might fight fairly."
Again the youth laughed brightly. "Nay, by my inches, friend," replied he, "but how can we fight fairly with staves when you are so much the bigger?"
"Cut yourself a longer cudgel, friend," retorted the big fellow.
The youth threw down his bow, and, opening a knife which hung at his waist, went forthwith towards the nearest bush. He cut himself a stout ash staff and fell to trimming it deftly.
When it was complete he came coolly up to his foe.
"Make ready, friend," said he, giving his cudgel a twirl. "Now take tune from me. One, two----"
"Three!" roared the giant, smiting at him instantly.
The fight was a long one, for the youth had such skill and so ready a guard that the other but wasted his anger on him. This "stripling" jumped from one side to the other so lightly and unexpectedly, and parried each thrust so surely, that presently the giant relaxed a little from the fury of his onslaught. Then the youth ran in and gave him such a crack as to make the welkin ring.
"By my life, but you can hit hard!" cried the giant, dropping his stick that he might rub his pate. "For so small a man that was a right hearty blow." He picked up his stick again. "Fall to, spitfire. I am ready!"
They sparred for a minute longer, and then the giant had his chance. He caught the jumping youth so sound a thwack as to send him flying over the low parapet of the bridge far into the bubbling brook. "How now, spitfire? Have you had enough?"
"Marry, that have I," spluttered his antagonist, trying to scramble out of the rushing water. Then he became dizzy again, and fell back with a little cry.
The big man vaulted down to his help, and plucked his foe to the bank. There he laid him down on the grassy sward and fell to bathing his brows with handfuls of fresh water till the youth opened his eyes again.
"Friend," said the stripling, gravely, sitting up, "you dealt me that blow most skilfully. Tell me your name."
"Why," said the giant, a little awkwardly, "as for the blow, 'twas but an under-cut that I know well. My name is John Little Nailor."
"You are anything but little, friend," answered the youth, struggling to his feet. "And now I will give you my name also." He put a horn to his lips at this and blew a strange, shrill note.
