The Chronicles of Robin Hood Read Online Free PDF Page A

came away.’
    Robin threw back his head and shouted with laughter. ‘Well done, my young fighting-cock!’ he cried, and then added: ‘Are you hungry, John the Little?’
    ‘I be always hungry,’ replied John, simply.
    ‘Then you shall sup with me and my men—always supposing that there
is
supper for any of us this evening.’ And so saying, Robin set his lips to the bugle-horn which hung from his belt, and winded a strange broken call.
    ‘Tar-ran-tan-tra-trum-tran,’ sang the bugle-horn, waking the echoes far and wide and sending the small creatures of the forest scurrying for shelter in wild alarm; and almost before the last echoes had died out into the evening hush, green-clad men came starting out from the undergrowth to throng the bank of the stream. So swiftly and silently did they appear, that to the startled eyes of John Naylor they seemed to have sprung up out of the ground.
    Will Stukely had returned from his hunting, and now came running to his master. ‘Master Robin, we heard the summons. What has happened?’
    ‘Nothing save that I have had a ducking and my head is broken,’ said Robin, laughing. ‘This good lad and I have had a bout of quarterstaff play, and he tipped me into the stream.’
    An angry shout rose from the outlaws. Much-the-Miller’s son rushed straight at the stranger and skilfully tripped him up, and instantly the others were upon him, holding him down by the arms and legs, and struggle as he would, great John Naylor was powerless among so many.
    ‘What shall we do with him, Master Robin?’ asked Will Stukely, clinging round the big man’s neck. ‘Shall us duck him?’
    Robin stood with his back against an alder tree, and laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks. ‘No, lads, let him go, for it was done in fair fight.’
    The outlaws relaxed their hold, and John Naylor got up, cherishing a bruised elbow.
    ‘John,’ said the outlaw chief, turning to him, ‘I am Robin of Barnesdale, sometimes called Robin o’ the Hood, of whom you may have heard. These are my men—brave lads and true—and we live by reaving from the rich and powerful; and what we can do to right the wrongs of humble folk, that we do. Will you join us, John Naylor?’
    ‘With all my heart!’ cried John, and, striding over to Robin, he held out an enormous hand. ‘I will be a loyal man to you all the days of my life, and here is my hand on it.’
    Robin returned his hand-grip strongly, and turned towards his outlaw band. ‘Lads, here is a new brother, and if size counts for anything he should be worth two! His master set him in the pillory, but he had no liking for the pillory, so he broke the steward’s head and came away. And indeed I have a fellow feeling for that steward!’ A shout of laughter greeted his words. ‘His name is John Naylor,’ Robin went on, as their mirth abated, ‘but folks call him John the Little.’
    The outlaws fairly roared their approval. They crowded round their new comrade, and Will Stukely reached up and smote him on the shoulder, crying: ‘His name shall be changed to Little John! We will baptize him in good brown ale, and I will stand his godfather!’
    ‘Aye!’ agreed Much. ‘And a sweet pretty babe he do be, to be sure!’
    And so, amid a merry, jostling crowd, Little John was hustled off through the trees toward the Stane Ley, where the carcass of a fat buck was roasting beside the fire—for Will Stukely’s hunting had fared better than his master’s. And here, in an uproarious ceremony, he was baptized with his new name, by having a jack of ale poured over his head, and another down his throat.
    So Little John joined the brotherhood of the Greenwood, and Robin gained a loyal follower and his best friend.

3
Robin, Will Scarlet, and the Curtel Friar
    SUMMER CAME, AND the Stane Ley seemed full of the humming of brown velvet bees among the lime blossom. The blossom fell and the forest changed from green to gold, and it was autumn—the second autumn of