It grew alone in the meadow, and far from any path, so that they could talk as they liked. They had hardly met ten minutes when the confusion led to frequent blows and pushes, and the shouting was so great that no one could catch more than disjointed sentences. Mark now came running with the map in his hand; it had been forgotten, and he had been sent to fetch it. As he came near, and they saw him, there was a partial lull. “What an awful row you have been making,” he said, “I heard it all across the field. Why don’t you choose sides?” “Who’s to choose?” said Ted, as if he did not know that he should be one of the leaders. He was the tallest and biggest of them all, a head and shoulders above Bevis. “You, of course,” came in chorus. “And you needn’t look as if you didn’t want to,” shouted somebody, at which there was a laugh. “Now, Bevis, Bevis! Sides.” They crowded round, and pulled Bevis into the circle. “Best two out of three,” said Mark. “Here’s a penny.” “Lend me one,” said Ted. Phil handed him the coin. “You’ll never get it back,” cried one of the crowd. Ted was rather known for borrowing on the score of his superior strength. “Bevis, you’re dreaming,” as Bevis stood quiet and motionless, still in his far-away mood. “Toss.” Bevis tossed, the penny spun, and he caught it on the back of his hand; Mark nudged him. “Cry.” “Head,” said Ted. Mark nudged again; but it was a head. Mark stamped his foot. “Tail,” and it was a tail; Ted won the toss. “I told you how to do it,” whispered Mark to Bevis in a fierce whisper, “and you didn’t.” “Choose,” shouted everybody. Ted beckoned to Val, who came and stood behind him. He was the next biggest, very easy tempered and a favourite, as he would give away anything. “Choose,” shouted everybody again. It was Bevis’s turn, and of course he took Mark. So far it was all understood, but it was now Ted’s turn, and no one knew who he would select. He looked round and called Phil, a stout, short, slow-speaking boy, who had more pocket-money, and was more inclined to books than most of them. “Who shall I have?” said Bevis aside to Mark. “Have Bill,” said Mark. “He’s strong.” Bill was called, and came over. Ted took another--rank and file--and then Bevis, who was waking up, suddenly called “Cecil.” “You stupe,” said Mark. “He can’t fight.” Cecil, a shy, slender lad, came and stood behind his leader. “You’ll lose everybody,” said Mark. “Ted will have all the big ones. There, he’s got Tim. Have Fred; I saw him knock George over once.” Fred came, and the choosing continued, each trying to get the best soldiers, till none were left but little Charlie, who was an odd one. “He’s no good,” said Ted; “you can put him in your pocket.” “I hate you,” said Charlie; “after all the times I’ve run with messages for you. Bevis, let me come your side.” “Take him,” said Ted; “but mind, you’ll have one more if you do, and I shall get some one else.”