“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.”