Bevis, of course, was not at home, and Mark returned to the battlefield, every minute now adding to his anxiety. It was so unlike Bevis that he felt sure something must be wrong. “Perhaps he’s drowned,” said Val. “Drowned,” repeated Mark, with intense contempt; “why he can swim fifty yards.” Fifty yards is not far, but it would be far enough to save life on many occasions. Val was silenced, still Mark, to be certain, went along the shore, and even some way up the Nile. By now the others had left, one at a time, and only Val, Cecil, and Charlie remained. The four hunted again, then they walked slowly across the field, trying to think. Mark picked up Bevis’s hat, which had fallen off in the battle; but to find Bevis’s hat was nothing, for he had a knack of leaving it behind him. “Perhaps he’s gone to your place,” said Charlie, meaning Mark’s home. Mark shook his head. “But I wish you would go and see,” he said; he dared not face Frances. “So I will,” said Charlie, always ready to do his best, and off he went. Charlie’s idea gave rise to another, that Bevis might be gone to Jack’s home in the Downs, and Val offered to go and inquire, though it was a long, long walk. He set out, Cecil went with him, and Mark, left to himself, walked slowly home, hoping once more Bevis might have returned. As he came in with Bevis’s hat in his hand, the servants pounced upon him. Bevis was missed, there had been a great outcry, and all the people were inquiring for him. Several had come to the kitchen to gossip about it. The uproar would not have been so great so soon but it had got out that there had been a battle. “You said it was a picnic,” said Polly, shaking Mark. “You told I so,” said the Bailiff, seizing his collar. “Let me go,” shouted Mark, punching. “Well, what have you done with him? Where is he?” Mark could not tell, and between them, four or five to one, they hustled him into the cellar. “You must go to gaol,” said the Bailiff grimly. “Bide there a bit.” “How can you find Bevis without me!” shouted Mark, who had just admitted he did not know where Bevis was. But the Bailiff pushed him stumbling down the three stone steps, and he heard the bolt grate in the staple. Thus the general who had just won a great battle was thrust ignominiously into a cellar. Mark kicked and banged the door, but it was of solid oak, without so much as a panel to weaken it, and though it resounded it did not even shake. He yelled till he was hoarse, and hit the door till his fists became numbed. Then suddenly he sat down quite quiet on the stone steps, and the tears came into his eyes. He did not care for the cellar, it was about Bevis--Bevis was lost somewhere and wanted him, and he _must_ go to Bevis.