"Oh, that doesn't make any difference to us." Again the black flock flapped its wings and cawed.
And now Tug, as usual, lost his temper when he saw they were making a guy of him, and he blurted fiercely:
"Get out of here, all of you!"
Then the crowd laughed uproariously at him.
And this made him still more furious, and though they were ten to one, Tug flung himself at them without fear or hesitation. When five of them fell on him at once, he dragged them round the room as if they were football-players trying to down him; but the odds were too great, and before long they overpowered him and tied his wrists behind him; not without difficulty, for Tug had the slipperiness of an eel, along with the strength of a young shark. When they had him well bound, and his legs tethered so that he could take only very short steps, they lifted him to his feet.
"I think we'd better gag him," said the leader of the Crows; and he, produced a stout handkerchief. But Tug gave him one contemptuous look, and remarked:
"Do you suppose I'm a cry-baby? I'm not going to call for help."
There was something in his tone that convinced the captain of the
Crows.
VI
A detachment was now sent to scurry through the dormitory and see if it could find any other Lakerimmers. This squad finally came down the stairs, the biggest one of the Crows carrying little History under his arm. History was waving his arms and legs about as if he were a tarantula, but the big black Crow held him tight and kept one hand over the boy's mouth so that he could not scream.