Forthwith the greenwood was alive with men, all dressed in grass-colored clothes like the youth's. They swarmed about him, full two score and ten of them. One of them, a little man, having eyed the stranger askance, gave a signal to the others to seize him; but the youth forbade this. "The fight was a fair one, friends, and the right of this bridge belongs for the moment to Master John Little Nailor. Take your rights, friend," he went on, turning to the giant, "and go upon your way."
"In a manner, stripling, you have now the better of this adventure, and yet do forbear," returned Master Nailor. "Wherefore I like you well, and would ask again your name."
"Tell him, Will," commanded the youth.
The little man, stepping up to the giant impudently, then announced his master. "Know, fellow, that this is none other than a dead man--a wraith, indeed! At least, so saith Master Monceux, the lord Sheriff of Nottingham. This is Robin Fitzooth."
"Then I am right sorry that I beat you," answered Master Nailor. "And had I known you at the first your head would now be whole and your body unbruised. By my inches, but I would like to join with you and your company."
"Enter our company, then, John Little; and be welcome. The rites are few; but the fee is large: for we shall ask unswerving loyalty of you, and you must give a bond that you will be faithful even unto death."
"I give the bond, with all my soul, and on my very life," cried the tall man.
"Master," said the little man, who was none other than our friend Stuteley, "surely we cannot consent to welcome this fellow amongst us having such a name? Harkee, John Little," he continued, turning to the giant, "take your new name from me, since you are to be of our brotherhood. I christen you Little John!"
At this small jest the merry men laughed long and loud.
"Give him a bow and find a full sheath for our friend Little John, Warrenton," said Robin, joyfully. "And hurry, friends, for surely it is the moment when our first new defiance of Master Monceux is to be made? Fall back into the woods speedily; and bide my signal. Little John, we now will try you. Stand out on the bridge path you have just won from me and parley with those who are coming along the road from York. Speak loudly that I may hear what answers you win."
He gave a signal, and at once all disappeared even as they had come, swiftly and silently. Warrenton and Stuteley placed themselves low down behind bushes of white thorn. Warrenton, who had given his quiver to Little John, now produced a great bag from under a bush; and took out of it a dozen or more long smocks such as shepherds wear. Hastily Robin and Stuteley attired themselves as hinds, and the old retainer gave them each a crook to hold. He explored again his stores under the bushes, and dragged out a fat buck, freshly killed and ready spitted for the fire.
Robin and those of the freemen who were now attired in this simple garb helped to pull the deer to the edge of the road; and, hastily making a fire, they soon had their meat cooking merrily. Little John eyed them askew, but made no offer to question them. He had recognized Robin by a sign which the other had given to him.
Meanwhile the noise of a small company nearing them became more evident; and presently seven horsemen turned a bend of the road. Their leader was a stout and haughty looking man clothed in episcopal garments, and so soon as he spied these shepherds he spurred his horse until he came level with them.
Then he drew bridle sharply, and addressed himself to Little John.
"Who are these, fellow, that make so free with the King's deer?" he asked, mildly, as one who wishes first to believe the best of every man.
"These are shepherds, excellence," answered Little John.
"Heaven have mercy! They seem more like to be robbers o' th' greenwood at first glance," said the priest.
"One must not judge on half-hearing or half-seeing, lording," retorted Little John.
"That is true, but I would question you further, good man. Tell me now who has killed this deer, and by what right?" His tones had passed insensibly to an arrogant note.
"Give me first your name, excellence, so that I may know I speak where 'tis fitting," said Little John, stubbornly.
"This is my lord the Bishop of Hereford, fellow," said one of the guards, fiercely. "Keep a civil tongue in your head, or 'twill surely be bad for you!"
