Were he out of their hands, he thought, And had again his tree, He should not be had back for nought, With such as he did see. 130 Then he bethought him on a wile, If it could take effect, How he the young men might beguile, And give them a begeck. Thus for to do them shame or ill, 135 His beastly breast was bent; He found the wind grew something shril, To further his intent. He said, "Brave gentlemen, be good, And let the poor man be; 140 When ye have taken a beggar's blood, It helps you not a flea. "It was but in my own defence, If he hath gotten skaith; But I will make a recompense, 145 Much better for you baith. "If ye will set me safe and free, And do me no dangèr, An hundred pounds I will you give, And much more good silvèr, 150 "That I have gather'd this many years, Under this clouted cloak, And hid up [wonder] privately,[L153] In bottom of my pock." The young men to a council yeed, 155 And let the beggar gae; They wist full well he had no speed From them to run away. They thought they would the money take, Come after what so may; 160 And then they would not bring him back, But in that place him slay. By that good Robin would not know That they had gotten coin; It would content him for to show 165 That there they had him slain. They said, "False carl, soon have done, And tell forth thy monèy; For the ill turn that thou hast done 'Tis but a simple fee. 170 "And yet we will not have thee back, Come after what so may, If thou will do that which thou spake, And make us present pay." O then he loos'd his clouted cloak, 175 And spread it on the ground, And thereon laid he many a pock, Betwixt them and the wind. He took a great bag from his hase, It was near full of meal, 180 Two pecks in it at least there was, And more I wot full well. Upon his cloak he laid it down, The mouth he open'd wide, To turn the same he made him bown, 185 The young men ready spy'd. In every hand he took a nook Of that great leathern meal, And with a fling the meal he shook, Into their faces hail: 190 Wherewith he blinded them so close, A stime they could not see; And then in heart he did rejoice, And clapt his lusty tree. He thought if he had done them wrong, 195 In mealing of their cloaths, For to strike off the meal again With his pike-staff he goes.