“Upon the next morning, ere the sun had risen above the horizon, Robin
Hood started from his couch, and armed himself. He put on his helmet and
breast-plate, he took up his good broadsword, his long tried buckler,
and his trustiest bow, and then placing his bugle-horn to his lips, he
played so loud a _réveille_ that his men, frightened from their slumbers,
seized their nearest weapons, as if an army had appeared against them.
A few gentler notes made them remember the appointed time, and soon
fifty bold youths attended the summons of their master. He bade them
hasten to Fountains’ Dale by the shortest path, but on no account to show
themselves till he had sounded three blasts upon his bugle; and with a
light foot and merry heart he sprang into his horse’s saddle, and set out
to encounter the renowned friar.
“This friar, whose fame was spread far and wide, had once been an inmate
and one of the brethren of Fountains’ Abbey, but his irregular course
of life and lawless pursuits had brought down upon him the wrath of
the superior, and he had been expelled. Friar Tuck, so was he called,
bore his disgrace boldly; he immediately retired to the forests, and
there built himself a rude hut of the large stones with which the
country abounded, thatching it with branches of trees. There he lived
in solitude, gaining from the country people, who frequently came to
him for religious consolation, a character of the greatest sanctity.
The friar took care to turn this to his advantage, and many were the
presents of butter, milk, and sometimes of a more enlivening liquid, that
he received. But these did not constitute his chief means of livelihood;
early in the morning the friar had more than once been seen with a good
long bow in his hand, and a quiver of arrows at his side, and a report
had gone abroad that few could equal him in the use of this favourite
weapon.
“The friar was a tall burly man, at least six feet high, with a broad
expanded chest, and a muscular arm that the sturdiest blacksmith might
have been proud of. He usually wore a dark mulberry coloured cloak that
reached nearly to his ancles, and girded it with a black woollen rope,
the two ends of which hung down before him, about half a yard in length.
On the morning upon which Robin Hood had determined to discover him, from
some unaccountable reason friar Tuck had put a steel cap upon his head,
and a corslet upon his breast, and with his long oaken staff in his hand
had rambled to the margin of the fair river Skell, where he stood gazing
steadfastly upon the waves, as they rippled by. Presently he heard the
sound of a horse’s step, and turning, he beheld within a few feet of him
an armed horseman. The stranger quickly dismounted, and fastening his
steed by his bridle, to the branch of a tree, advanced towards him.
“‘Art thou the Friar of Fountains’ Abbey?’ he asked, when each had
regarded the other in silence for a short space.
“‘They that speak of me call me so,’ replied the priest; ‘why dost thou
seek me?’
“‘Carry me over this stream, thou burly friar, and I will tell thee,’
replied Robin Hood. The priest, without a word, tucked up his garments to
the waist, took the daring outlaw upon his back, and gravely waded across
the stream. Robin Hood leaped off lightly upon the opposite bank.
“‘Now do thou carry me back, thou gay gallant,’ said the friar. The
outlaw stooped, took him upon his shoulders, and with great difficulty
bore his weighty burden across.
“‘Now by my faith thou’rt double the weight that I am,’ cried Robin Hood
as the priest alighted, ‘and I’ll have two rides to thy one.’ The friar
did not answer, but taking up the merry forester again, bore him to the
middle of the stream, and bending down, pitched him headlong into the
water.
“‘Choose thee, my fine fellow, whether thou’lt sink or swim!’ he said;
‘a morning bath will do thine health good.’ Robin Hood scrambled to the
bank, fitted an arrow to his bow, and let it fly at the treacherous
friar; but the wet had sodden both the bow-string and the feathers of the
shaft, and it flew far wide. The priest not wishing to stand a second
trial, flourished his staff and knocked the bow from the grasp of the
forester, who quickly drew his sword and retaliated by severely wounding
his vigorous opponent upon the shoulder. The friar at this grew wrathful,
and returned a most terrible thwack upon the outlaw’s head. Blow followed
upon blow; now the thick oaken staff beat down the less weighty but more
deadly weapon, and again the sharp edge of the sword drank blood. They
fought thus for more than an hour, and each began to weary of such warm
work before breakfast.
“‘A boon, a boon,’ cried Robin Hood, retiring from the contest. ‘Give me
leave to sound three blasts upon my bugle-horn.’
[Illustration: ROBIN HOOD & THE FRIAR