"The cock hath crowed. Ha! Will ye sing,
knave, will ye sing, in faith?"
"In faith, that will I!" laughed Robin.
"Here come we to bring ye to the gallows, Robin--how say ye?"
"The more reason for singing since my singing must soon be done!" So, with
pikemen before him and behind, bold Robin marched forth to die, yet sang
full blithely as he went:
"So lay my bones 'neath good yew-tree,
Thus Rob and yew soon one shall be,
Where all true men may find o' we
A trusty bow!"
"Ha' done!" growled Black Lewin, shivering in the chilly air of dawn.
"Quit--quit thy singing, rogue, or by the foul fiend I--"
"Who dareth name the fiend?" croaked an awful voice, whereat Black Lewin
halted, gaped and stood a-tremble, while beneath steel cap and bascinet
all men's hair stirred and rose with horror; for before them was a ghastly
shape, a shape that crouched in the gloom with dreadful face aflame with
smouldering green fire.
"Woe!" cried the voice. "Woe unto thee, Lewin the Black, that calleth on
fiend o' the pit!"
And now came a fiery hand that, hovering in the air, pointed lambent finger
at gaping Lewin and at each of the shivering pike-men in turn.
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