“Well, if he isn’t in the firs, nor behind the sycamores, nor anywhere else, he _must_ be in the quarry,” said Crassus. “So I think.” “I’m sure.” “Ted’s got him down somewhere.” “Perhaps he’s hiding from Ted.” “Can you see him now in the quarry?” They crowded on the edge, looking over Bevis into the excavated hollow beneath. Now Bevis had not noticed when he crouched that he had put his hand almost on the mouth of a wasp’s nest, but suddenly feeling something tickle the back of his hand, he moved it, and instantly a wasp, which had been crawling over it, stung him. He pressed his teeth together, and shut his eyes in the endeavour to repress the exclamation which rose; he succeeded, but could not help a low sound in his chest. But they were so busy crowding round and talking they did not hear it. “I can’t see him.” “He’s not there.” “He may be hidden behind the stone-heaps. There’s a lot of nettles down there,” said Crassus. “Yes,” said another, and struck at the nettles by Bevis, cutting down three or four with his sword. “Anyhow,” said Crassus, “we’re sure to have him, he can’t get away; and Mark’s a mile off by this time.” “Look sharp then; let’s go down and hunt round the stone heaps.” “There’s the old oak,” said some one; “it’s hollow; perhaps he’s in that.” “Let’s look in the oak as we go round to get down, and then behind the stones. Are there any caves?” “I don’t know,” said Crassus. “Very likely. We’ll see. March.” They moved along to the left; Bevis opened his eyes, and saw the sting and its sheath left sticking in his hand. He drew it out, waited a moment, and then peered out again from the brambles. Crassus and the cohort were going towards the old hollow oak, which stood not far from the quarry on low ground by the shore of the New Sea, so that their backs were towards him. Bevis stood out for a second to try and see Mark. There was not a sign of him, the field was quite deserted, and he remembered that Crassus had said Mark was a mile away. “The battle’s lost,” said Bevis to himself. “Mark has fled, and Pompey’s after him, and they’ll have me in a minute.” He darted down the slope into the hollow which concealed him for the time, and gave him a chance to think. “If I go out on the Plain they’ll see me,” he said to himself; “if I ran to the firs I must cross the open first; if I hide behind the stones, they’re coming to look. What shall I do? The New Sea’s that side, and I can’t. O!”