better shall be their welcome."

Taking their bows, the three yeomen strode at a brisk pace through the
forest, bent upon other game than deer or antlered stag. On reaching the
forest edge near Barnsdale, they lurked in the bushy shadows and kept
close watch and ward upon the highway that there skirted the wood, in
hope of finding a rich relish to Robin's meal.

Propitious fortune seemed to aid their quest. Not long had they bided in
ambush when, afar on the road, they spied a knight riding towards them.
He came alone, without squire or follower, and promised to be an easy
prey to the trio of stout woodsmen. But as he came near they saw that
something was amiss with him. He rode with one foot in the stirrup, the
other hanging loose; a simple hood covered his head, and hung
negligently down over his eyes; grief or despair filled his visage, "a
soryer man than he rode never in somer's day."

Little John stepped into the road, courteously bent his knee to the
stranger, and bade him welcome to the greenwood.

"Welcome be you, gentle knight," he said; "my master has awaited you
fasting, these three hours."

"Your master--who is he?" asked the knight, lifting his sad eyes.

"Robin Hood, the forest chief," answered Little John.

"And a lusty yeoman he," said the knight. "Men say much good of him. I
thought to dine to-day at Blythe or Dankaster, but if jolly Robin wants
me I am his man. It matters little, save that I have no heart to do