It was well known that he possessed the art of taming the most refractory bulls, and it therefore followed as a matter of course that he had also the power of bewitching other cattle. Sometimes, when a cow was sick, and all the usual nostrums of the village farrier had failed in effecting a cure, recourse was had, as a last resort, to Robin, who was generally successful. What conclusion was more natural, than that he, who could so easily remove a malady, had also the power of inflicting it? Besides, it was whispered about by some of those who contrive to be well informed of all that passes, even in the most secret recesses of their neighbours’ houses, that Robin would sit for hours together, shut up in his private room, with a pack of cards before him, with which he appeared to be playing some game. No adversary was seen, but what game can be played by one man alone? It was clear to the most obtuse that another was present, although invisible to mortal eye, and who could this be but the great enemy of human souls? At last old age came on; Robin became more and more infirm, and was at last confined to his bed. During his illness his attendants were much annoyed by the continual creaking and cracking of an ancient oaken press, which stood in the corner of the room, and which he would not allow them on any account to open or meddle with. Of course they all thought that this chest contained untold gold, for he was known to be extremely avaricious--in fact he was one of those “who would cut a double[177] in two” as the saying is. He was frightfully hard on all his workmen, exacting every moment of their time. So far did he carry this, that it is said he only allowed them five minutes to take their noon-day meal, which, according to the universal custom at that time, was furnished by the employer, and eaten at his table. It was commonly believed that one source of his wealth was the discovery of a buried treasure in one of his fields. There was a well on his property which was intermittent, at times overflowing, and at others not having above an inch or so of water in it. It was supposed to conceal a treasure, and a man was sent down to examine it, but no sooner had he begun to bale out the water than it returned with such violence that he was obliged to be drawn up to avoid drowning. When Robin was dying, his son urged him to give something to the poor, but his constant answer was:-- “_Je n’en counis pouïnt_.” (“I do not know any.”)