“Count out your gold speedily, friend,” said Much. There was a brisk wind blowing, and the beggar turned about to face it, directly they had unhanded him. “It shall be done, gossips,” said he. “One of you lend me your cloak and we will spread it upon the ground and put the wealth upon it.” The cloak was handed him, and he placed his wallet upon it as though it were very heavy indeed. Then he crouched down and fumbled with the leather fastenings. The outlaws also bent over and watched the proceeding closely, lest he should hide some of the money on his person. Presently he got the bag unfastened and plunged his hands into it. Forth from it he drew--not shining gold--but handfuls of fine meal which he dashed into the eager faces of the men around him. The wind aided him in this, and soon there arose a blinding cloud which filled the eyes, noses, and mouths of the three outlaws till they could scarcely see or breathe. While they gasped and choked and sputtered and felt around wildly for that rogue of a beggar, he finished the job by picking up the cloak by its corners and shaking it vigorously in the faces of his suffering victims. Then he seized a stick which lay conveniently near, and began to rain blows down upon their heads, shoulders, and sides, all the time dancing first on one leg, then on the other, and crying, “Villains! rascals! here are the hundred pounds I promised. How do you like them? I’ faith, you’ll get all that’s in the bag.” Whack! whack! whack! whack! went the stick, emphasizing each word. Howls of pain might have gone up from the sufferers, but they had too much meal in their throats for that. Their one thought was to flee, and they stumbled off blindly down the road, the beggar following them a little way to give them a few parting love-taps. “Fare ye well, my masters,” he said finally turning the other way; “and when next I come along the Barnesdale road, I hope you will be able to tell gold from meal dust!” With this he departed, an easy victor, and again went whistling on his way, while the three outlaws rubbed the meal out of their eyes and began to catch their breath again. As soon as they could look around them clearly, they beheld Robin Hood leaning against a tree trunk and surveying them smilingly. He had recovered his own spirits in full measure, on seeing their plight. “God save ye, gossips!” he said, “ye must, in sooth, have gone the wrong way and been to the mill, from the looks of your clothes.” Then when they looked shamefaced and answered never a word, he went on, in a soft voice, “Did ye see aught of that bold beggar I sent you for, lately?” “In sooth, master,” responded Much the miller’s son, “we heard more of him than we saw him. He filled us so full of meal that I shall sweat meal for a week. I was born in a mill, and had the smell of meal in my nostrils from my very birth, you might say, and yet never before did I see such a quantity of the stuff in so small space.” And he sneezed violently.