for Holywood. Here is his purse."

Ellis counted the contents.

Five score shillings!" he grumbled. "Fool, he had more in his sandal,

or stitched into his tippet. Y' are but a child, Tom Cuckow; ye have

lost the fish."

But, for all that, Ellis pocketed the purse with nonchalance. He stood

leaning on his boar-spear, and looked round upon the rest. They, in

various attitudes, took greedily of the venison pottage, and liberally

washed it down with ale. This was a good day; they were in luck; but

business pressed, and they were speedy in their eating. The first-comers

had by this time even despatched their dinner. Some lay down upon the

grass and fell instantly asleep, like boa-constrictors; others talked

together, or overhauled their weapons: and one, whose humour was

particularly gay, holding forth an ale-horn, began to sing:

"Here is no law in good green shaw,

Here is no lack of meat;

'Tis merry and quiet, with deer for our diet,

In summer, when all is sweet.

Come winter again, with wind and rain--

Come winter, with snow and sleet,

Get home to your places, with hoods on your faces,

And sit by the fire and eat."

The Black Arrow