“The three foresters gladly obeyed, and soon reached the high road that ran through the wood. Many a stout yeoman and honest peasant did they encounter, and pass with a fair salutation, and one poor beggar, half clothed in rags, they sent on his path rejoicing. As they reached the summit of a hill, two monks riding upon palfreys, attended by about a score armed men on foot, and six sumpter mules heavily laden, appeared just ascending upon the opposite side. “‘I’ll wager my best bow-string,’ exclaimed Little John, ‘that these holy fathers have brought our captain’s money. Bend your bows, my lads, and scatter the herd that follows them.’ The foresters let fly arrow after arrow in such quick succession that the frightened travellers turned and fled precipitately; the archers pursued, and soon gained upon the fugitives, who one and all rushed into the woods, and endeavoured to escape amid the concealment of the foliage. Those on foot soon disappeared, but the two monks on their palfreys and the sumpter mules were easily captured by the outlaws. They immediately tied the hands of their prisoners behind them, and fastening the reins of their steeds together, they drove them to the presence of the chief, who doffed his cap, and advanced with great courtesy to meet his guests. “‘I pray ye, holy fathers,’ he said to them, ‘take not offence at the rough usage of my followers. I care not to dine unless in goodly company, and therefore did they bring ye from your straight journeying.’ The monks preserved a sullen silence, and suffered their bonds to be cut, and themselves dismounted without speaking a word. “‘Gramercy, good sirs,’ cried Robin Hood, ‘methinks ye have but a small share of courtesy. What holy house do ye inhabit?’ “‘We are but poor brethren of St. Mary’s Abbey,’ replied one of the monks, who was the high cellarer, ‘and were on our way to London to do reverence to the pope’s legate, who has required our presence.’ “‘May his blessing attend ye,’ said the outlaw, in a mock solemn tone. ‘Come now, my good friends, the feast is spread, sit ye and make merry.’ It is probable that in their present condition the monks would have declined this request, had not the savoury odour that arose from a smoking haunch of venison and a roasted wild swan smoothed down their angry feelings. They were soon seated by the side of the gallant forester; sparkling wine was brought, and the health of the pope’s legate was drunk with great glee. The monks ate heartily, and quaffed many a cup to their host and his merry men; forgetting, in their enjoyment, that they would pay dearly for the treat. Robin Hood laughed and sang, and his men trolled out their legendary ballads, till the sun had nearly reached the horizon. “‘I fear me,’ said the outlaw to Little John, ‘that our dear Lady is wroth with us. The day is well nigh spent, and our four hundred pounds are yet to come.’