"
The Friar bent his brows and looked shrewdly at Robin Hood. "Now I do
verily think that thou hast some cunning trick in this," quoth he.
"Ne'ertheless, I fear thee not, and will let thee have thy wish,
providing thou wilt also let me blow thrice upon this little whistle."
"With all my heart," quoth Robin, "so, here goes for one." So saying, he
raised his silver horn to his lips and blew thrice upon it, clear and
high.
Meantime, the Friar stood watching keenly for what might come to pass,
holding in his fingers the while a pretty silver whistle, such as
knights use for calling their hawks back to their wrists, which whistle
always hung at his girdle along with his rosary.
Scarcely had the echo of the last note of Robin's bugle come winding
back from across the river, when four tall men in Lincoln green came
running around the bend of the road, each with a bow in his hand and an
arrow ready nocked upon the string.
"Ha! Is it thus, thou traitor knave!" cried the Friar. "Then, marry,
look to thyself!" So saying, he straightway clapped the hawk's whistle
to his lips and blew a blast that was both loud and shrill.
Pages:
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241