“Ten shillings, just.” “Then take here my working-bag and my good hammer too; and if I light upon that knave I will soon come back after them.” “Give me your leathern coat as well,” said mine host; “the hammer and bag of tools are as naught to me.” “Gramercy!” cried Master Middle, losing what was left of his temper. “It seems that I have escaped one thief only to fall into the hands of another. If you will but walk with me out into the middle of the road, I’ll give you such a crack as shall drive some honesty into your thick skull.” “You are wasting your breath and my time,” retorted the landlord. “Give me your things, and get you gone after your man, speedily.” Middle thought this to be good advice; so he strode forth from the “Seven Does” in a black mood. Ere he had gone half a mile, he saw Robin Hood walking demurely among the trees a little in front of him. “Ho there, you villain!” roared the tinker. “Stay your steps! I am desperately in need of you this day!” Robin turned about with a surprised face. “What knave is this?” he asked gently, “who comes shouting after me?” “No knave! no knave at all!” panted the other, rushing up. “But an honest--man--who would have--that warrant--and the money for drink!” “Why, as I live, it is our honest tinker who was seeking Robin Hood! Did you find him, gossip?” “Marry, that did I! and I’m now going to pay him my respects!” And he plunged at him, making a sweeping stroke with his crab-tree-cudgel. Robin tried to draw his sword, but could not do it for a moment through dodging the other’s furious blows. When he did get it in hand, the tinker had reached him thrice with resounding thwacks. Then the tables were turned, for he dashed in right manfully with his shining blade and made the tinker give back again. The greenwood rang with the noise of the fray. ‘Twas steel against wood, and they made a terrible clattering when they came together. Robin thought at first that he could hack the cudgel to pieces, for his blade was one of Toledo--finely tempered steel which the Queen had given him. But the crab-tree-staff had been fired and hardened and seasoned by the tinker’s arts until it was like a bar of iron--no pleasant neighbor for one’s ribs. Robin presently found this out to his sorrow. The long reach and long stick got to him when ‘twas impossible for him to touch his antagonist. So his sides began to ache sorely. “Hold your hand, tinker,” he said at length. “I cry a boon of you.” “Before I do it,” said the tinker, “I’d hang you on this tree.” But even as he spoke, Robin found the moment’s grace for which he longed; and immediately grasped his horn and blew the three well-known blasts of the greenwood. “A murrain seize you!” roared the tinker commencing afresh. “Up to your old tricks again, are you? Well, I’ll have time to finish my job, if I hurry.”