To all this Robin answered never a word, but, having softly felt around till he found the buckle of the belt that held the Friar's sword, he worked slyly at the fastenings, seeking to loosen them.

Thus it came about that, by the time he had reached the other bank with his load, the Friar's sword belt was loose albeit he knew it not; so when Robin stood on dry land and the Friar leaped from his back, the yeoman gripped hold of the sword so that blade, sheath, and strap came away from the holy man, leaving him without a weapon.
"Now then," quoth merry Robin, panting as he spake and wiping the sweat from his brow, "I have thee, fellow.

This time that same saint of whom thou didst speak but now hath delivered two swords into my hand and hath stripped thine away from thee.

Now if thou dost not carry me back, and that speedily, I swear I will prick thy skin till it is as full of holes as a slashed doublet." The good Friar said not a word for a while, but he looked at Robin with a grim look.

"Now," said he at last, "I did think that thy wits were of the heavy sort and knew not that thou wert so cunning.