Presently queer rasping noises were heard. The besieged craned their necks to see what was going on. The sultan became so curious and apprehensive about his rear that he almost let the King of France get up the ladder. The ominous sounds continued, bumping, scraping, tapping, punctuated by sundry exclamations and advice to “Be careful!” from Alice, who had followed the English forces.
Philip of France, so interested in the efforts of his British allies, forgot to attack and had several narrow escapes from being captured himself.
Finally, after one prolonged scrape accompanied by several grunts, the sturdy figure of Richard towered an instant on the roof of the main house six feet above, then with a whoop of triumph, cautiously dropped down among them amid the shrieks of the defenders.
Acre had fallen.
The vanquished garrison pressed round him, not to demand mercy, but to ask questions.
“How’d you get up there?” Chicken Little demanded.
“Bet Alice put you up to that,” this from Carol.
“Should think you’d been scared to death!” whispered Gertie, still breathless with surprise.
“Pshaw, ’twas easy—just shinned up that wistaria vine on the gable, it’s awful old and strong. I’ve climbed heaps of times before, but I wouldn’t of thought of it, if Alice hadn’t told me.”
“My, wisht I could climb it!” said Katy fairly awestruck with admiration at such daring.