"You are the Bishop of Hereford," said Robin, "and so can well afford to give in charity this very sum. Who does not know of your hard dealings with the poor and ignorant? Have you not amassed your wealth by less open but more cruel robbery than this? Who speaks a good word for you or loves you, for all you are a Bishop? You have put your heels on men's necks; and have been always an oppressor, greedy and without mercy. For all these things we take your money now, to hold it in trust and will administer it properly and in God's name. There is an end of the matter, then, unless you will lead us in a song to show that a better spirit is come unto your body. Or mayhap you would sooner trip a measure?"
"Neither the one nor the other will I do," snarled the Bishop.
Robin made Stuteley a sign and Will brought his master a harp: whereupon Robin sat himself cross-legged beside the fire and twanged forth a lively tune.
Warrenton and most of the men began forthwith to dance; and Stuteley, seizing the Bishop by one hand, commenced to hop up and down. Little John, laughing immoderately, grasped the luckless Bishop by the other hand, and between the two of them my lord of Hereford was forced to cut some queer capers.
The moon flung their shadows fantastically upon the sward, and the more their guest struggled the more he was compelled to jump about. Robin put heart into his playing, and laughed with the loudest of them.
At last, quite exhausted, the Bishop sank to the ground.
Little John seized him then like a sack of wood, and flung him across the back of his horse. Rapidly they led the beast across the uneven ground until the highroad was reached, the whole of the band accompanying them, shouting and jesting noisily. The Bishop of Hereford, more dead than alive, was then tied to his horse and the animal headed for Nottingham.
"'Tis the most and the least that we can do for him," said Robin, gleefully. "Give you good night, lording! A fair journey to you! Deliver our respectful homage to Master Monceux and to the rest of law-abiding Nottingham! Come now, Little John, you have borne yourself well this day; and for my part I willingly give the right to be of this worshipful company of free men. What say you, friends all?"
The giant was admitted by acclamation, and then all went back noisily into that hiding-place in Barnesdale which had defied both the ferret eyes of lean-faced Simeon Carfax and the Norman archer Hubert.
The Sheriff of Nottingham learned next day that Sherwood had not been purged of its toll-collectors, as he had so fondly hoped.
After the adventure with the good Bishop, Robin and his men waited in some trepidation for a sign from Nottingham.
However, several weeks passed without any untoward incident.
The fourth week after my lord of Hereford's despoilment a quarrel broke out betwixt Stuteley and Little John; and these two hot-headed fellows must needs get from words to blows.
In the bouts of fencing and wrestling Little John could hold his own with all; but at quarter-staff Stuteley could, and did, rap the giant's body very shrewdly. After one bout both lost their temper: and Robin had to stay them by ordering Stuteley to cease the play.
This was in the forenoon. Later on, chance threw Little John and Stuteley into a fresh dispute. It happened just before dusk; the two of them from different parts of the wood had stalked and run to earth the same stag. Little John had already drawn his bow when Stuteley espied him. At once the little esquire called out that no one had the right to shoot such a deer but Robin of Locksley, his master. Little John scoffed at this, and flew his arrow; but between them they had startled the stag and it bounded away. Little John was furious with Stuteley, and the noise of their quarrelling brought Robin again between them. This time young Robin spoke his mind to Little John, saying that he was sorry that Master John Little Nailor had ever come into their free band.
"'Tis not free at all!" cried Little John, raging. "'Tis the most galling of service. Here I may not do this nor that. I'll stay no more in Barnesdale, but try my fortunes with your foes."
He flung himself away from them, and when the roll was called that night, the name of Little John evoked no response.
