“Verily, your lordship,” said Robin, scratching his head, “I have enjoyed your company so much, that I scarce know how to charge for it.” “Lend me your purse, my lord,” said Little John, interposing, “and I’ll give you the reckoning by and by.” The Bishop shuddered. He had collected Sir Richard’s debt only that morning, and was even then carrying it home. “I have but a few silver pennies of my own,” he whined; “and as for the gold in my saddle-bags, ‘tis for the church. Ye surely would not levy upon the church, good friends.” But Little John was already gone to the saddle-bags, and returning he laid the Bishop’s cloak upon the ground, and poured out of the portmantua a matter of four hundred glittering gold pieces. ‘Twas the identical money which Robin had lent Sir Richard a short while before! “Ah!” said Robin, as though an idea had but just then come to him. “The church is always willing to aid in charity. And seeing this goodly sum reminds me that I have a friend who is indebted to a churchman for this exact amount. Now we shall charge you nothing on our own account; but suffer us to make use of this in aiding my good friend.” “Nay, nay,” began the Bishop with a wry face, “this is requiting me ill indeed. Was this not the King’s meat, after all, that we feasted upon? Furthermore, I am a poor man.” “Poor forsooth!” answered Robin in scorn. “You are the Bishop of Hereford, and does not the whole countryside speak of your oppression? Who does not know of your cruelty to the poor and ignorant--you who should use your great office to aid them, instead of oppress? Have you not been guilty of far greater robbery than this, even though less open? Of myself, and how you have pursued me, I say nothing; nor of your unjust enmity against my father. But on account of those you have despoiled and oppressed, I take this money, and will use it far more worthily than you would. God be my witness in this! There is an end of the matter, unless you will lead us in a song or dance to show that your body had a better spirit than your mind. Come, strike up the harp, Allan!” “Neither the one nor the other will I do,” snarled the Bishop. “Faith, then we must help you,” said Little John; and he and Arthur-a-Bland seized the fat struggling churchman and commenced to hop up and down. The Bishop being shorter must perforce accompany them in their gyrations; while the whole company sat and rolled about over the ground, and roared to see my lord of Hereford’s queer capers. At last he sank in a heap, fuddled with wine and quite exhausted. Little John picked him up as though he were a log of wood and carrying him to his horse, set him astride facing the animal’s tail; and thus fastened him, leading the animal toward the highroad and, starting the Bishop, more dead than alive, toward Nottingham. CHAPTER XVIII HOW THE BISHOP WENT OUTLAW-HUNTING