When the bustle occasioned by this incident was somewhat composed, the chief Outlaw took from his neck the rich horn and baldric which he had recently gained at the strife of archery near Ashby .

“Noble knight,” he said to him of the Fetterlock, “if you disdain not to grace by your acceptance a bugle which an English yeoman has once worn, this I will pray you to keep as a memorial of your gallant bearing⁠—and if ye have aught to do, and, as happeneth oft to a gallant knight, ye chance to be hard bested in any forest between Trent and Tees, wind three mots 41 upon the horn thus, ‘Wasa-hoa!’ and it may well chance ye shall find helpers and rescue.”

He then gave breath to the bugle, and winded once and again the call which he described, until the knight had caught the notes.

“Gramercy for the gift, bold yeoman,” said the Knight; “and better help than thine and thy rangers would I never seek, were it at my utmost need.” And then in his turn he winded the call till all the greenwood rang.

“Well blown and clearly,” said the yeoman; “beshrew me an thou knowest not as much of woodcraft as of war!⁠—thou hast been a striker of deer in thy day, I warrant.⁠—Comrades, mark these three mots⁠—it is the call of the Knight of the Fetterlock; and he who hears it, and hastens not to serve him at his need, I will have him scourged out of our band with his own bowstring.”

“Long live our leader!” shouted the yeomen, “and long live the Black Knight of the Fetterlock!⁠—May he soon use our service, to prove how readily it will be paid.”