But he was not hurt, his feet, as he hung from the bowed branch, were much nearer the earth than it had looked to him from his original perch, and he alighted naturally. The shock dazed him at first, just as Bevis had been confused, a few minutes previously. In a minute he was all right, and running with all his speed towards Scipio. As Caesar ran, with the shout of victorious Pompey close behind, he said, “If we could charge the column sideways we could break it--” “If,” snorted Mark, with the contempt of desperation; “if--of course!” Caesar was right, but he had not got the means just then. Next minute they reached the first sycamore, not ten yards in front of Pompey. As they turned to face the enemy, with their backs to the great tree, Pompey lowered his head, crossed his arms, and the column charged. Nothing could stop that onslaught, which must have crushed them, but Bevis, quick as thought, pushed Mark and Fred one way and Bill the other, stepping after the latter. Ted Pompey, with his eyes shut, and all the force of his men thrusting behind, crashed against the tree. Down he went recoiling, and two or three more behind him. Thwack! thwack! The four defenders hammered their enemies before they could recover the shock. “Quick!” cried Mark; “tie him--prisoner--quick,” pulling a cord from his pocket, and putting his foot on Ted, who was lying in a heap. Before any one could help Mark the heap heaved itself up, and Val Crassus and Phil Varro hauled their half-stunned leader back out of reach. Crash! clatter! bang! thwack! “Backs to trees! Stand with backs to trees!” shouted Bevis, hitting out furiously. “We shall win! Here, Bill!” They planted themselves, these four, Bevis, Mark, Fred, and Bill, with their backs to the great trunk of the sycamore, standing a foot or two in front of it for room to swing their swords, and a little way apart for the same reason. The sycamore formed a bulwark so that none could attack them in rear. The column, as it recoiled, widened out, and came on again in a semicircle, surrounding them. “Give in!” shouted Val. “We’re ten to one!” (that was not numerically correct.) “Give in! You’ll all be prisoners in a minute!” “That we shan’t,” said Bill, fetching him a side way slash. “If we could only get Scipio up,” said Mark. “Where is he? Can’t we get him?” “I forgot him,” said Bevis. “There, take that,” as he warded a cut and returned it. “I forgot him. Look out, Fred, that’s it. Hurrah! Mark,” as Mark made a successful cut. “How stupid.” In the heat and constant changes of the combat they had totally forgotten Cecil and his cohort. “Why, we’ve been fighting two to three,” said Bill, “and they haven’t done us yet.” “But we mean to,” said Tim, and Bill shrank involuntarily under an unexpected knock.