"Now," quoth he, rising, "let us see what each man hath." Then he thrust
his hand into his pouch and drew thence four golden angels. "What have
ye, brothers?" said he.
Then once again each friar slowly thrust his hand into his pouch, and
once again brought it out with nothing in it.
"Have ye nothing?" quoth Little John. "Nay, I warrant there is somewhat
that hath crept into the seams of your pouches, and so ye ha' missed it.
Let me look."
So he went first to the lean Friar, and, thrusting his hand into the
pouch, he drew forth a leathern bag and counted therefrom one hundred
and ten pounds of golden money. "I thought," quoth Little John, "that
thou hadst missed, in some odd corner of thy pouch, the money that the
blessed Saint had sent thee. And now let me see whether thou hast not
some, also, brother." Thereupon he thrust his hand into the pouch of the
fat Friar and drew thence a bag like the other and counted out from it
threescore and ten pounds. "Look ye now," quoth he, "I knew the good
Saint had sent thee some pittance that thou, also, hadst missed.
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