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The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood-Part40_Howard Pyle(1853-1911)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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more tightly around his waist, he ran fleetly down the road toward

the eastward and Sherwood.



But Robin had not gone more than three furlongs in that direction

when he came suddenly to the brow of a hill, and saw beneath



him another band of the King's men seated in the shade along

the roadside in the valley beneath. Then he paused not



a moment, but, seeing that they had not caught sight of him,

he turned and ran back whence he had come, knowing that it was



better to run the chance of escaping those fellows that were yet

in the thickets than to rush into the arms of those in the valley.



So back he ran with all speed, and had gottensafely past

the thickets, when the seven men came forth into the open road.



They raised a great shout when they saw him, such as the hunter gives

when the deer breaks cover, but Robin was then a quarter of a mile



and more away from them, coursing over the ground like a greyhound.

He never slackened his pace, but ran along, mile after mile,



till he had come

nigh to Mackworth, over beyond the Derwent River, nigh to



Derby Town. Here, seeing that he was out of present danger,

he slackened in his running, and at last sat him down beneath a hedge



where the grass was the longest and the shade the coolest, there to

rest and catch his wind. "By my soul, Robin," quoth he to himself,



"that was the narrowest miss that e'er thou hadst in all thy life.

I do say most solemnly that the feather of that wicked shaft



tickled mine ear as it whizzed past. This same running hath

given me a most cravingappetite for victuals and drink.



Now I pray Saint Dunstan that he send me speedily some meat and beer."

It seemed as though Saint Dunstan was like to answer his prayer,



for along the road came plodding a certain cobbler, one Quince,

of Derby, who had been to take a pair of shoes to a farmer nigh



Kirk Langly, and was now coming back home again, with a fair boiled

capon in his pouch and a stout pottle of beer by his side, which same



the farmer had given him for joy of such a stout pair of shoon.

Good Quince was an honest fellow, but his wits were somewhat of



the heavy sort, like unbaked dough, so that the only thing that was

in his mind was, "Three shillings sixpence ha'penny for thy shoon,



good Quince--three shillings sixpence ha'penny for thy shoon,"

and this traveled round and round inside of his head, without another



thought getting into his noddle, as a pea rolls round and round

inside an empty quart pot.



"Halloa, good friend," quoth Robin, from beneath the hedge,

when the other had gotten nigh enough, "whither away so merrily



this bright day?"

Hearing himself so called upon, the Cobbler stopped, and, seeing a



well-clad stranger in blue, he spoke to him in seemly wise.

"Give ye good den, fair sir, and I would say that I come



from Kirk Langly, where I ha' sold my shoon and got three

shillings sixpence ha'penny for them in as sweet money as ever



thou sawest, and honestly earned too, I would ha' thee know.

But an I may be so bold, thou pretty fellow, what dost thou



there beneath the hedge?"

"Marry," quoth merry Robin, "I sit beneath the hedge here to drop salt



on the tails of golden birds; but in sooth thou art the first chick

of any worth I ha' seen this blessed day."



At these words the Cobbler's eyes opened big and wide, and his

mouth grew round with wonder, like a knothole in a board fence.



"slack-a-day," quoth he, "look ye, now! I ha' never seen those same

golden birds. And dost thou in sooth find them in these hedges,



good fellow? Prythee, tell me, are there many of them?

I would fain find them mine own self."



"Ay, truly," quoth Robin, "they are as thick here as fresh herring

in Cannock Chase."



"Look ye, now!" said the Cobbler, all drowned in wonder.

"And dost thou in sooth catch them by dropping salt on



their pretty tails?"

"Yea," quoth Robin, "but this salt is of an odd kind, let me



tell thee, for it can only be gotten by boiling down a quart

of moonbeams in a woodenplatter, and then one hath but a pinch.



But tell me, now, thou witty man, what hast thou gotten there

in that pouch by thy side and in that pottle?"



At these words the Cobbler looked down at those things of which merry

Robin spoke, for the thoughts of the golden bird had driven them



from his mind, and it took him some time to scrape the memory of them

back again. "Why," said he at last, "in the one is good March beer,



and in the other is a fat capon. Truly, Quince the Cobbler will ha'

a fine feast this day an I mistake not."



"But tell me, good Quince," said Robin, "hast thou a mind to sell those things




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