of the way, and found only partial revenge in pinching his spidery
legs and bumping his head into occasional trees.

The two boys knew when they left the campus by the fact that they were
bundled and boosted over a stone wall and across a road.

History, as he stumbled along at. Tug's side, at length came to
himself enough to be reminded of the way the ancient Romans used to
treat such captives as were brought back in triumph by their generals.
But Tug did not care to hear about the troubles of the Gauls--he had
troubles of his own.

Once they paused and heard a mysterious whispering among the Crows,
who left them standing alone and withdrew a little distance. History
was afraid to move in the dark, for fear that he might step out of the
frying-pan into the fire; but Tug, always ready to take even the most
desperate chance, thought, he would make a bolt for it. He put one
foot forward as a starter, but found no ground in front of him.
He felt about cautiously with his toe, and discovered that he was
standing at the brink of a ledge. How deep the ravine in front of him
was, he could only imagine, and in spite of his courage he shivered
at the thought of what he might have done had he followed his first
impulse and made a dash. There are pleasanter things on a dark night
than standing with eyes blindfolded and hands bound on the edge of an
unknown embankment. As he waited, the weakening effect of the struggle
and the mysterious terrors of the darkness told on his nerves, and he
shivered a bit in spite of his clenched teeth. Then he overheard the
voices of the Crows, and one of them was saying:

"Aw, go on, shove him over."

Another protested: "But it might break his neck, and it's sure to
fracture a bone or two."

"Well, what of it? He nearly broke my jaw."

Then Tug heard more excited whispering and what sounded like a
struggle, and suddenly he heard some one rushing toward him; he felt a
sharp blow and a shove from behind, and was launched over the brink of
the ledge. I'll not pretend that he wasn't about as badly scared as
time would allow.

But there was barely space for one lightning stroke of wild regret
that his glad athletic days were over and he was to be at least a
cripple, if he lived at all, when the ground rose up and smote him
much quicker even than he had expected. As he sprawled awkwardly and
realized that he had hardly been even bruised, he felt a sense of rage
at himself for having been taken