d left his marks on the cliff. Here the soil had been
trodden away and stones loosened; there bushes had been broken or torn
from the soil. The sharp eyes of the Gauls saw, in the morning light,
these proofs that some one had climbed or descended the hill. The cliff,
then, could be climbed. Some Roman had climbed it; why not they? The
spot, supposed to be inaccessible, was not guarded. There was no wall at
its top. Here was an open route to that stubborn citadel. They resolved
to attempt it as soon as night should fall.

It was midnight when the Gauls began to make their way slowly and with
difficulty up the steep cliff. The moon may have aided them with its
rays, but, if so, it revealed them to no sentinel above. The very
watch-dogs failed to scent and signal their approach. They reached the
summit, and, to their gratification, no alarm had been given. The Romans
slept on.

The fate of Rome in that hour hung in the balance. Had the citadel been
taken and its defenders slain, Rome might never have recovered from the
blow. The whole course of history might have been changed. It was the
merest chance that saved the city from this impending disaster.

It chanced that on this part of the hill stood the temple of the
guardian gods of Rome,--Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva,--and in this temple
were kept a number of geese, sacred to Juno. Though food was not
abundant, the garrison had spared these sacred geese. They were now to
be amply repaid, for the geese alone heard the noise of the ascending
Gauls, and in alarm began a loud screaming and flapping of wings.

The noise aroused Marcus Manlius, who slept near. Hastily seizing his
sword and shield, he called to his comrades and ran to the edge of the
cliff. He reached there just in time to see the head and shoulders of a
burly Gaul, who had nearly attained the summit. Dashing the rim of his
shield into the face of the barbarian, Manlius tumbled him down the
rock, and with him those who followed in his track. The others,
dismayed, dropped their arms to cling more closely to the rocks. Unable
to ascend or descend, they were easily slaughtered by the guards who
followed Manlius. The Capitol was saved. As for the captain of the
watch, from whose neglect of duty this peril had come, he was punished
the next morning by being hurled down the cliff upon the slaughtered
Gauls.

Manlius was rewarded, says the story, by each man giving him from his
scanty store a day's allowance of food,