"It groweth nigh time," quoth he to himself, "that I were getting back again to Sherwood; yet it would please me well to have one more merry adventure ere I go back again to my jolly band." So he looked up the road and down the road to see who might come, until at last he saw someone drawing near, riding upon a horse.

When the traveler came nigh enough for him to see him well, Robin laughed, for a strange enough figure he cut.

He was a thin, wizened man, and, to look upon him, you could not tell whether he was thirty years old or sixty, so dried up was he even to skin and bone.

As for the nag, it was as thin as the rider, and both looked as though they had been baked in Mother Huddle's Oven, where folk are dried up so that they live forever.
But although Robin laughed at the droll sight, he knew the wayfarer to be a certain rich corn engrosser of Worksop, who more than once had bought all the grain in the countryside and held it till it reached even famine prices, thus making much money from the needs of poor people, and for this he was hated far and near by everyone that knew aught of him.
So, after a while, the Corn Engrosser came riding up to where Robin sat; whereupon merry Robin stepped straightway forth, in all his rags and tatters, his bags and pouches dangling about him, and laid his hand upon the horse's bridle rein, calling upon the other to stop.
"Who art thou, fellow, that doth dare to stop me thus upon the King's highway ?" said the lean man, in a dry, sour voice.
"Pity a poor beggar," quoth Robin.

"Give me but a farthing to buy me a piece of bread." "Now, out upon thee!" snarled the other.