By a quarter to eight the Lakerimmers believed that they had accounted for all of the twenty-four Crows except the president, MacManus.  Six had left town, six were stowed aloft in the cupola, and eleven were, as B.J., the sailor, expressed it, “below hatches.”  Five of the Dozen were posted as guards, and that left seven to go out upon the war-path and bring in the chief of the Ravens.

He had felt his dignity too great to permit him to take two meals in one evening; besides, he was very solemnly engaged in preparing a speech to deliver at the banquet; and his task was very difficult, since he had to make a great splurge about the glories of the campaign, without reminding every one of the inglorious result of the attempt to haze the Dozen.

No note had been sent to him, and it seemed necessary to concoct some scheme to decoy him from his room, because any attempt to drag him out would probably bring one of the professors down upon the scene.

Tug had an idea; and leaving three of the seven to guard the door, he took the other three and hurried to the dormitory where MacManus roomed, and threw pebbles against his window.  The chief Crow soon stuck his head out and peered down into the dark, asking what was the matter.  A voice that he did not recognize—­or suspect—­came out of the blackness to inform him that some of the Crows were in trouble at the gymnasium, and he must come at once.

After waiting a moment they saw his light go out and heard his feet upon the stairs, for he had lost no time in stuffing into his pocket the notes for his address at the banquet, and flying to the rescue of the captive banqueters.  As soon as he stepped out of the door of the dormitory, History’s knit muffler was wrapped around his mouth, and he was seized and hustled along toward the gymnasium.

Tug felt a strong desire to inflict punishment then and there upon the man who had tortured him when he was helpless, but that was not according to the Lakerim code.  Another idea, however, which was quite as cruel, but had the saving grace of fun, suggested itself to him, and he said to the others, when they had reached the gymnasium: 

“I’ll tell you what, fellows—­”

“What?” said the reunited seven, in one breath.

“Instead of putting MacManus with the rest of ’em, let’s take him along and make him look on while we eat the Crows’ banquet.”

“Make him ‘eat crow’ himself, you mean,” suggested Jumbo.

The idea appealed strongly to the Lakerimmers, who, after all, were human, and couldn’t help, now and then, enjoying the misery of those who had made them miserable.  While MacManus was securely held by two of the Dozen, Sawed-Off and Tug went to the cupola to summon the Twins.  The knots with which the “cummitty” were tied were carefully looked to and strengthened, and then the Lakerimmers withdrew from the cupola, taking the lantern with them, dragging a heavy trap-door over their heads as they descended the ladder, and then taking the ladder away and laying it on the floor.  They hurried down the stairs then, and went to the cellar, looking alive again to the fetters of the Crows, and closing and barring the heavy wooden doors between the compartments as securely as they could.