So they all left the gymnasium with its prisoners, and Sawed-Off locked the door firmly behind him. Then they went at a double-quick for Moore's restaurant and the waiting banquet, which, they suspected, was by this time growing cold.

When MacManus left his room he had thrown on a long ulster overcoat with a very high collar. When this was turned up about his ears it completely hid the gag around his mouth, and Tug and Sawed-Off locked arms with him and hurried him along the poorly lighted streets of Kingston without fear of detection from any passer-by. MacManus dragged his feet and refused to go for a time, till Tug and Sawed-Off hauled him over such rough spots that he preferred to walk. Then, without warning, when they were crossing a slippery place he pushed his feet in opposite directions and knocked Sawed-Off's and Tug's feet out from under them. But inasmuch as all three of them fell in a heap, with him at the bottom, he decided that this was a poor policy.

The Dozen were soon at Moore's restaurant; and there, at the door, they found waiting one of the Crows whom they had forgotten to take into account. He was the fat boy whom Tug and History had seen hazed just before their turn came, on the eventful night at Roden's Knoll.

Having been hazed, and having been taxed, this boy who was known as "Fatty" Warner, was entitled to banquet with the Crows; but he had been invited out to a bigger supper than he could get at the "Slaughter-house," and so he did not receive his note, and escaped the fate of the Crows who had been put in cold storage in the gymnasium.

B.J. and Bobbles, however, took him to one side and told him that they were afraid they would have to tie him up and put him in a corner with MacManus. But the tears came into his eyes at the thought of sitting and looking at a feast in which he could not take part, and he reminded the Lakerimmers that he had had no share in the attack on Tug and History, and had done nothing to interfere with their escape from Roden's Knoll, and besides, he had been compelled to pay out his last cent of spending-money to the Crows for this banquet: So the Lakerimmers decided to invite him to join them in eating the feast of the enemy.

Mr. Moore, the proprietor of the village restaurant, had a very bad memory for faces, and when the Lakerimmers came into the room where the table was spread, and told him to hurry up with the banquet, it never occurred to him to ask for a certificate of character from the guests. He was surprised, however, that there were only twelve men where he had provided for eighteen or more; but Jumbo said, with a twinkle in his eye:

"The rest of them couldn't come; so we'll eat their share."

The Lakerimmers grinned at this. Mr. Moore suspected that there was some joke which he could not understand; but the ways of the Academy boys were always past his comprehension, so he and the waiters came bustling in with the first course of just such a banquet as would please a crowd of academicians, and would give an older person a stomach-ache for six weeks.

Besides, the wise Mr. Moore knew the little habit students have of postponing the payment of their bills, and he had insisted upon being paid in advance. Poor MacManus suddenly remembered how he had doled out the funds of the Crows for this very spread, and he almost sobbed as he thought of the hard time he had spent in collecting the money and preparing the menu—and all for the enjoyment of the hated Lakerimmers, who had already spoiled the final hazing of the year, and were now giggling and gobbling the precious banquet provided at such expense! Mr. Moore wondered at the presence of such a sad-looking guest at the feast, and wondered why he insisted on abstaining from the monstrous delicacies that made the tables groan; but he reasoned that it was none of his affair, and asked no questions.

Before they had eaten much the Lakerimmers grew as uncomfortable over the torment they were inflicting on poor MacManus as the poor MacManus was himself. And Tug explained to him in a low voice that if he would promise on his solemn honor not to make any disturbance they would be glad to have him as a guest instead of a prisoner. MacManus objected bitterly for a long time, but the enticing odor drove him almost crazy, and the sight of the renegade fat boy, who was fairly making a cupboard of himself, finally convinced the president that it was better to take his ill fortune with a good grace. So he nodded assent to the promises Tug exacted of him, his muffler and overcoat were removed, and he was invited to make himself at home; and his misery was promptly forgotten in the rattle of dishes and the clatter of laughter and song with which the Dozen reveled in the feast of its ancient enemies.

The delight of the Lakerimmers in the banquet was no greater than the misery of the Crows whose wings had been clipped, and who had been left to flop about in the dark nooks of the chapel. The feast of the Dozen had just begun when two of the Crows in the cupola and two others in the cellar bethought themselves to roll close to each other, back to back, and untie the knots around each other's wrists. They were soon free, and quickly had their fellows liberated and the gags all removed. But the liberty of hands and feet and tongues, though it left them free to express their rage, still left them as far as ever from the banquet which, as they soon suspected, was disappearing rapidly under the teeth of the Lakerimmers. They groped around in the pitch-black darkness, and finally one of the men in the cupola found a little round window through which he could put his head and yell for help. His cry was soon answered by another that seemed to come faintly from the depths of the earth.