Gauls scaled the walls of Rome (only to find that a flock
of silly geese had foiled their plans). But there were no geese to
disturb the Crows, and the first of their number managed to worm
through to the outer air and help up his fellows in misery.

It seemed for a time, though, as if even this escape were to be cut
off; for a very fat Crow got himself stuck in a little window, and the
Crows outside could not pull him through, tug as they would. Then the
Crows inside began to pull at his feet and to hang their whole weight
on his legs.

But still he stuck.

Then they all grew excited, and both the outsiders and the insiders
pulled at once, until the luckless fat boy thought they were trying to
make twins of him, and howled for mercy.

He might have been there to this day had he not managed, by some
mysterious and painful wriggle, to crawl through unaided.

Before long, then, the whole crowd of cellar Crows was standing out in
the cold air and asking the cupola Crows why they didn't come down.

One of the Crows (Irish by descent) suddenly started off on the run;
the others called him back and asked what he was going for.

"For a clothes-line," he said.

"What are you going to do with it?" they asked.

And he answered:

"Going to throw 'em a rope and pull 'em down."

Then he wondered why they all groaned.

The word "rope," however, suggested an idea to the cupola prisoners,
and after much groping they found the bell-rope, and one of them cut
off a good length of it. They fastened it securely then, and slid down
to the next floor, whence they made their way without much difficulty
down the stairs to the ground. There they found the outer door firmly
locked. Then they felt sadder than over.

But by this time the hubbub they had raised had brought on the scene
several of the instructors, one of whom had a duplicate key of the
gymnasium. And they suffered the terrible humiliation of being
released by one of the Faculty!

On being questioned as to the cause of such a breach of the peace
of the Academy, all the seventeen Crows attempted to explain the
high-handed and inexcusable conduct of the wicked Dozen which had
picked on eighteen defenseless men and made them prisoners. The
instructor had been a boy himself once, and he could not entirely
conceal a little smile at the thought of the cruelty of the Lakerim
Twelve. Just then MacManus came by, and with one accord the Crows
exclaimed:

"Where did they tie