They had their tea, or rather they sat at table, and rushed off as soon as possible; who cared for eating when war was about to begin! Seizing an opportunity, as the coast was clear, Mark ran up the field with the eagles, which, having long handles, were difficult to hide. Cecil and Bill took the greatcoat, and a railway-rug, which Bevis meant to represent his general’s cloak. He followed with the basket of provisions on his shoulder, and was just thinking how lucky they were to get off without any inquiries, when he found they had forgotten the matches to light the camp-fire. He came back, took a box, and was going out again when he met Polly the dairymaid. “What are you doing now?” said she. “Don’t spoil that basket with your tricks--we use it. What’s in it?” putting her hand on the lid. “Only bread-and-butter and ham, and summer apples. It’s a picnic.” “A picnic. What’s that ribbon for?” Bevis wore the blue ribbon round his arm. “O! that’s nothing.” “I’ve half a mind to tell--I don’t believe you’re up to anything good.” “Pooh! don’t be a donk,” said Bevis. “I’ll give you a long piece of this ribbon when I come back.” Off he went, having bribed Scylla, but he met Charybdis in the gateway, where he came plump on the Bailiff. “What’s up now?” he gruffly inquired. “Picnic.” “Mind you don’t go bathing; the waves be as big as cows.” “Bathing,” said Bevis, with intense contempt. “We don’t bathe in the evening. Here, you--” donk, he was going to say, but forebore; he gave the Bailiff a summer apple, and went on. The Bailiff bit the apple, muttered to himself about “mischief,” and walked towards the rick-yard. In a minute Mark came to meet Bevis. “You did him?” he said. “Yes,” said Bevis, “and Polly too.” “Hurrah!” shouted Mark. “They’re all there but one, and he’s coming in five minutes.” Bevis found his army assembled by the gate leading to the New Sea. Each soldier wore a blue ribbon round the left arm for distinction; Tim, who had been sent by Pompey to be with them till all was ready, wore a red one. “Two and two,” said Caesar Bevis, taking his sword and instantly assuming a general’s authoritative tone. He marshalled them in double file, one eagle in front, one halfway down, where his second lieutenant, Scipio Cecil, stood; the basket carried in the rear as baggage. Caesar and Mark Antony stood in front side by side. “March,” said Bevis, starting, and they followed him. The route was beside the shore, and so soon as they left the shelter of the trees the wind seemed to hit them a furious blow, which pushed them out of order for a moment. The farther they went the harder the wind blow, and flecks of brown foam, like yeast, came up and caught against them. Rolling in the same direction as they were marching, the waves at each undulation increased in size, and when they came to the bluff Bevis walked slowly a minute, to look at the dark hollows and the ridges from whose crests the foam was driven.