Part 28 (1/2)

”It's no use,” said Bevis, not in the least ruffled; ”I shall beat you.”

”Not you,” said Ted, hot and red in the face. ”Why I'll pitch you in the water first.”

”Take you all your time,” said Bevis, shutting his lips tighter and beginning to look a little dangerous. ”Shut up,” said Val.

”Stop,” said Phil and Bill and George, pressing in.

”Hush,” said Cecil. ”It's a truce.”

”Well, I won't be Pompey,” said Ted sullenly. ”Then we must have somebody who will,” said Bevis sharply, ”and choose again.”

”I wouldn't mind,” said some one in the crowd. ”Nor I,” said another.

”If I was general I wouldn't mind being Pompey. Let me, Bevis.”

”Who's that,” said Ted. ”If any one says that I'll smash him.” When he found he could so easily be superseded he surrendered. ”Well, I'll be Pompey,” he said, ”but mind I shan't be beat.”

”Pompey ought to win if he can,” said Val; ”that's only fair.”

”What's the use of fighting if we are to be beat?” said Phil.

”Of course,” said Bevis, ”how very stupid you all are! Of course, Ted is to win if he can; he's only to be called Pompey to make it proper. I know I shall beat him, but he's to beat us if he can.”

”I'm only to be called Pompey, mind,” said Ted; ”mind that. We are to win if we can.”

”Of course;” and so this delicate point was settled after very nearly leading to an immediate battle.

”Hurrah for Pompey!” shouted George, throwing up his hat.

”Hurrah for Caesar!” said Bill, hurling up his. This was the signal for a general shouting and uproar. They had been quiet ten minutes, and were obliged to let off their suppressed energy. There was a wild capering round the oak.

”Ted Pompey,” said Charlie, little and impudent, ”what fun it will be to see you run away!” For which he had his ears pulled till he squealed.

”Now,” shouted Mark, ”let's get it all done. Come on.” The noise subsided somewhat, and they gathered round as Ted and Bevis began to talk again.

”Caesar,” said Phil to Bevis, ”if you're Caesar and Ted's Pompey, who are we? We ought to have names too.”

”I'm Mark Antony,” said Mark, standing bolt upright.

”Very well,” said Bevis. ”Phil, you can be--let me see, Varro.”

”All right, I'm Varro,” said Phil; ”and who's Val? Oh, I know,”-- running names over in his mind,--”he's Cra.s.sus. Val Cra.s.sus, do you hear?”

”Capital,” said Cra.s.sus. ”I'm ready.”

”Then there's Cecil,” said Mark; ”who's he?”

”Cecil!” said Phil. ”Cecil--Cis--Cis--Scipio, of course.”

”First-rate,” said Mark. ”Scipio Cecil, that's your name.”