Bevis was beaten on his knee. He crouched, his left side against the tree with his left hand against it, hitting wild and savage, and still keeping a short clear space with his sword. “Stop!” cried Val, himself desisting. “That’s enough. Stop! stop! Don’t hit him! He’s done. We’ve got him! Now, Phil.” Phil and Tim rushed in with the noose: Bevis sprang up, drove his head into Phil and sent him whirling with Tim under. Bevis made good use of the moment’s breathing time he thus obtained, punishing three of his hardest thrashers. “Keep together,” shouted Phil as he got up on his knees. “If Ted would only do as I said. Hurrah!” They had hammered Bevis by sheer dint of knocks down on his knees again. Fred and Bill in vain tried to get to him; they were attacked front and rear: Mark quite beside himself with rage, pushed, wrestled, and struck, but they encompassed him like bees. Bevis could hit no more; he warded as well as he could, he could not return. “Shame! shame!” cried Val, pulling two back, one with each hand. “Don’t hit him! He’s down!” “Why doesn’t he give in, then?” said Phil, black as thunder. Ted Pompey, who had watched this scene for a moment without moving, smiled grimly as he saw Bevis could not hit. “Now,” said he, “Phil, Tim, George--Val’s too soft. Come on--keep close--in we go and have him. Hurrah! Hang it! I say!” “Whoop!” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ End of Volume One. Volume Two, Chapter I. THE BATTLE CONTINUED--SCIPIO’S CHARGE. Scipio’s cohort rushed them clean away from the sycamore. In a mass, Scipio Cecil and his men (fetched by Charlie), with half or more of Caesar’s scattered soldiers, who rallied at once to Cecil’s compact party, rushed them right away. Cecil forced his men to be quiet as they ran; they saw the point, and there was not a sound till in close order they fell on Pompey. Pompey, Val, Phil, and the whole attacking party were swept away like leaves before the wind. Had they seen Scipio coming, or heard him, or in the least expected him, it would not have been so. But thus suddenly burst on from the rear, they were helpless, and carried away by the torrent. In a second Bevis, Mark, Fred, and Bill, found themselves free. Bevis stood up and breathed again. They came to him. “Are you hurt?” said Mark. “Not a bit,” said Bevis, laughing as he shook himself together. “Look there!” Whirled round and round by the irresistible pressure of the crowd, Pompey and his lieutenants were hurried away, shouting and yelling, but unable even to strike, so closely were they hemmed in. “They’ve got my eagle,” said Mark in a fury. His standard-bearer had been overthrown while he defended himself at the tree, and the eagle taken from him. “Phil’s down,” said Fred. “So’s Tim! And Ike! Hurrah!” “Look at little Charlie hitting!” said Bill. “Shout for Charlie,” said Bevis. “Capital!” “My eagle,” said Mark.