Then his worship
beckoned to him, saying, "Come hither, father, I have a few words to say
to thee." So Little John, for it was none other than he, came forward,
and the Sheriff looked upon him, thinking that there was something
strangely familiar in the face before him. "How, now," said he,
"methinks I have seen thee before. What may thy name be, father?"
"Please Your Worship," said Little John, in a cracked voice like that of
an old man, "my name is Giles Hobble, at Your Worship's service."
"Giles Hobble, Giles Hobble," muttered the Sheriff to himself, turning
over the names that he had in his mind to try to find one to fit to
this. "I remember not thy name," said he at last, "but it matters not.
Hast thou a mind to earn sixpence this bright morn?"
"Ay, marry," quoth Little John, "for money is not so plenty with me that
I should cast sixpence away an I could earn it by an honest turn. What
is it Your Worship would have me do?"
"Why, this," said the Sheriff. "Here are three men that need hanging as
badly as any e'er I saw. If thou wilt string them up I will pay thee
twopence apiece for them.
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