The Crows hustled the Lakerimmers out without any unnecessary tenderness, forgetting to close the door after them.  Out of the hall and across the board walk, on to the soft, frosty grass where the sound of their scuffling feet would not betray them, they jostled their way.  Tug soon decided that the best thing for him to do was to reserve his strength; so he ceased to resist, and followed meekly where they led.  They whirled him round on his heel several times to confuse him as to the direction they took, then they hurried him through the dark woods of a neglected corner of the campus.  History simply refused to go on his own feet, and they had to carry him most 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.