then he looked down, then he looked east, then he looked west, for he
was gathering his wits together, like barley straws blown apart by the
wind. First he thought of his merry companion, but he was gone. Then he
thought of his stout crabstaff, and that he had within his hand. Then
of his warrant, and of the fourscore angels he was to gain for serving
it upon Robin Hood. He thrust his hand into his pouch, but not a scrap
nor a farthing was there. Then he sprang to his feet in a rage.

"Ho, landlord!" cried he, "whither hath that knave gone that was with me
but now?"

"What knave meaneth Your Worship?" quoth the landlord, calling the
Tinker Worship to soothe him, as a man would pour oil upon angry water.
"I saw no knave with Your Worship, for I swear no man would dare call
that man knave so nigh to Sherwood Forest. A right stout yeoman I saw
with Your Worship, but I thought that Your Worship knew him, for few
there be about here that pass him by and know him not."

"Now, how should I, that ne'er have squealed in your sty, know all the
swine therein? Who was he, then, an thou knowest him so well?"

"Why, yon same is a right stout fellow whom men hereabouts do call Robin
Hood, which same--"

"Now, by'r Lady!" cried the Tinker hastily, and in a deep voice like an
angry bull, "thou didst see me come into thine inn, I, a staunch, honest
craftsman, and never told me who my company was, well knowing thine own
self who he was. Now, I have a right round piece of a mind to crack thy
knave's pate for thee!" Then he took up his cudgel and looked at the
landlord as though he would smite him where he stood.