Tug lost no time in adapting himself to the new weapon.  He simply waved it gently about and described a bright circle in the air over his head.  And his enemies fell off his back and scattered like grasshoppers.

Tug now got quickly to his feet, and he and History shook hands with their left hands very majestically.  Then they faced about and stood back to back, asking the Crows why they had lost interest so suddenly, and cordially inviting them to return and finish the game.

They stood thus, monarchs of all they surveyed, for a few moments.  But dismay replaced their joy as they heard the words of the first Crow: 

“They can’t get back to their rooms before their pokers grow cold, and it is only a matter of a few minutes until they chill, anyway, so all that we have to do is to wait here a little while, and then go back and finish up our work—­and perhaps add a little extra on account of this last piece of rambunctiousness.”

Tug saw that they were prisoners indeed, but intended to hold the fort until the last possible moment.  He told History to put his poker back in the fire and to heat it up again, while he stood guard with his own.

To this stratagem the first Crow responded with another,—­he trumped Tug’s ace, as it were,—­for though he saw that the fire was going out and would not heat the pokers much longer, he decided not to wait for this, but set his men to gathering stones and sticks to pelt the two luckless Lakerimmers with.

And now Tug saw that the chances of escape were indeed small.  He felt that he could make a dash for liberty and outrun any one in the crowd, or outfight any one who might overtake him; but he would sooner have died than leave History, who could neither run well nor fight well, to the mercies of the merciless gang that surrounded them.

“Let’s give the Lakerim yell together, History,” he said; “perhaps the fellows have missed us and are out looking for us, and will come to our rescue.”

So he and History filled their lungs and hurled forth into the air the old Lakerim yell, or as much of it as two could manage: 

{ray!
{ri!
{ro! 
“L`"iy-krim!  L`"iy-krim!  L`"iy-krim!  Hoo-{row!
{roo!
{rah!”

The Crows listened in amazement to the war-whoop of the two Lakerimmers.  Then the first Crow, who had Irish blood in his veins, smiled and said: 

“Oho!  I see what they are up to; they’re calling for help.  Well, now, we’ll just drown out their yell with a little noise of our own.”

And so, when Tug and History had regained breath enough to begin their club cry again, the whole two dozen of the Crows broke forth into a horrible hullabaloo of shrieks and howls that drowned out Tug’s and History’s voices completely, but raised far more noise than they could ever have hoped to make.

After a few moments of thus caterwauling night hideous, like a pack of coyotes, the Crows began to close in on the Lakerim stronghold, and stones and sticks flew around the two in a shower that kept them busy dodging.