"Nay, good youth," quoth he, "if thou canst not sell thy cattle, it may be I will find a man that will lift them from thy hands; perhaps that man may be myself, for I love a merry youth and would help such a one along the path of life.

Now how much dost thou want for thy horned cattle ?" "Well," quoth Robin, "they are worth at least five hundred pounds." "Nay," answered the Sheriff slowly, and as if he were thinking within himself, "well do I love thee, and fain would I help thee along, but five hundred pounds in money is a good round sum; besides I have it not by me.

Yet I will give thee three hundred pounds for them all, and that in good hard silver and gold." "Now thou old miser!" quoth Robin, "well thou knowest that so many horned cattle are worth seven hundred pounds and more, and even that is but small for them, and yet thou, with thy gray hairs and one foot in the grave, wouldst trade upon the folly of a wild youth." At this the Sheriff looked grimly at Robin.

"Nay," quoth Robin, "look not on me as though thou hadst sour beer in thy mouth, man.

I will take thine offer, for I and my brothers do need the money.