Quoth Robin, “Now will I go to seek this same Friar of Fountain Abbey of whom we spake yesternight, and I will take with me four of my good men, and these four shall be Little John, Will Scarlet, David of Doncaster, and Arthur a Bland.  Bide the rest of you here, and Will Stutely shall be your chief while I am gone.”  Then straightway Robin Hood donned a fine steel coat of chain mail, over which he put on a light jacket of Lincoln green.  Upon his head he clapped a steel cap, and this he covered by one of soft white leather, in which stood a nodding cock’s plume.  By his side he hung a good broadsword of tempered steel, the bluish blade marked all over with strange figures of dragons, winged women, and what not.  A gallant sight was Robin so arrayed, I wot, the glint of steel showing here and there as the sunlight caught brightly the links of polished mail that showed beneath his green coat.

So, having arrayed himself, he and the four yeomen set forth upon their way, Will Scarlet taking the lead, for he knew better than the others whither to go.  Thus, mile after mile, they strode along, now across a brawling stream, now along a sunlit road, now adown some sweet forest path, over which the trees met in green and rustling canopy, and at the end of which a herd of startled deer dashed away, with rattle of leaves and crackle of branches.  Onward they walked with song and jest and laughter till noontide was passed, when at last they came to the banks of a wide, glassy, and lily-padded stream.  Here a broad, beaten path stretched along beside the banks, on which path labored the horses that tugged at the slow-moving barges, laden with barley meal or what not, from the countryside to the many-towered town.  But now, in the hot silence of the midday, no horse was seen nor any man besides themselves.  Behind them and before them stretched the river, its placid bosom ruffled here and there by the purple dusk of a small breeze.

“Now, good uncle,” quoth Will Scarlet at last, when they had walked for a long time beside this sweet, bright river, “just beyond yon bend ahead of us is a shallow ford which in no place is deeper than thy mid-thigh, and upon the other side of the stream is a certain little hermitage hidden amidst the bosky tangle of the thickets wherein dwelleth the Friar of Fountain Dale.  Thither will I lead thee, for I know the way; albeit it is not overhard to find.”

“Nay,” quoth jolly Robin, stopping suddenly, “had I thought that I should have had to wade water, even were it so crystal a stream as this, I had donned other clothes than I have upon me.  But no matter now, for after all a wetting will not wash the skin away, and what must be, must.  But bide ye here, lads, for I would enjoy this merry adventure alone.  Nevertheless, listen well, and if ye hear me sound upon my bugle horn, come quickly.”  So saying, he turned and left them, striding onward alone.

Robin had walked no farther than where the bend of the road hid his good men from his view, when he stopped suddenly, for he thought that he heard voices.  He stood still and listened, and presently heard words passed back and forth betwixt what seemed to be two men, and yet the two voices were wondrously alike.  The sound came from over behind the bank, that here was steep and high, dropping from the edge of the road a half a score of feet to the sedgy verge of the river.