“I know,” said Mark. “We can put it in a sand-martin’s hole, then it won’t get wet if it rains.” They started for the bathing-place, and carefully deposited the roll in a sand-martin’s hole some way up the face of the quarry, covering it with sand. To know the spot again, they counted and found it was the third burrow to the right, if you stood by the stone heap and looked straight towards the first sycamore-tree. Having taken the bearings, they dragged the catamaran down to the water, and had a swim. When they came out, and were running about on the high ground by the sycamores, they caught sight of a dog-cart slowly crossing the field a long way off, and immediately hid behind a tree to reconnoitre the new savage, themselves unseen. “It’s Jack,” said Bevis; “I’m sure it is.” It was Jack, and he was going at a walking pace, because the track across the field was rough, and he did not care to get to the gateway before the man sent to open it had arrived there. His object was to look at some grass to rent for his sheep. “Yes, it’s Jack,” said Mark, very slowly and doubtfully. Bevis looked at him. “Well, suppose it is; he won’t hurt us. We can easily shoot him if he comes here.” “But the letter,” said Mark. “What letter?” Mark had started for his clothes, which were in a heap on the sward, he seized his coat, and drew a note much frayed from one of the pockets. He looked at it, heaved a deep sigh, and ran with all his might to intercept Jack. Bevis watched him tearing across the field and laughed; then he sat down on the grass to wait for him. Mark, out of breath and with thistles in his feet, would never have overtaken the dog-cart had not Jack seen him coming and stopped. He could not speak, but handed up the note in silence, more like Cupid than messengers generally. He panted so that he could not run away directly, as he had intended. “You rascal,” said Jack, flicking at him with his whip. “How long have you had this in your pocket?” Mark tried to run away, he could only trot; Jack turned his mare’s head, as if half-inclined to drive after him. “If you come,” said Mark, shaking his fist, “we’ll shoot you and stick a spear into you. Aha! you’re afraid! aha!” Jack was too eager to read his note to take vengeance. Mark walked away jeering at him. The reins hung down, and the mare cropped as the master read. Mark laughed to think he had got off so easily, for the letter had been in his pocket a week, though he had faithfully promised to deliver it the same day--for a shilling. Had he not been sent home with the sails it might have remained another week till the envelope was fretted through. Frances asked if he had given it to Jack. Mark started. “Ah,” said she, “you have forgotten it.” “Of course I have,” said Mark. “It’s so long ago.” “Then you did really?”