Suddenly the trav’ling pair,
Found themselves surrounded,
By men in mottled, greenish garb,
With bows and knives they hounded.
“Speech yer name! Ye trav’lingers,
Yer why fer comin’ through!”
Spoke the leader of the ring,
Stepping into view.
His eyes gleamed out beneath his hat,
Forrest green and grim,
A feather tucked against the side,
A fitting, simple trim.
“We both but heroes on a quest,
To thwart a villain foe.”
“Heroes are ye? Well, we see,
Where to do ye go?”
“Bound are we for Atherley,
Yon this darkish wood.”
“‘Tis good enough fer me, my sir.
I see yer word be good.”
Then the circle stood at ease,
And hostile face turned light,
The roguish band of green-clad men,
Welcomed them for night.
They left the beaten forest trail,
And pushed past branches wild,
Soon they reached an oak tree ring,
Where firewood was piled.
In time the flame was burning bright.
They ate by flicking glow,
And conversed with easiness,
Though each man kept his bow.