leader accepted the supreme office for the second time.

The sharp watchers among the Gauls had, however, noticed in the broken
shrubs and loosened stones the marks of the daring act of the messenger
who had climbed the hill, and determined to take the hint and enter the
capitol in that way themselves. In the dead of night, but by the bright
light of the moon we may suppose, since the battle of Allia was fought
at the full of the moon, the daring barbarians began slowly and with
great difficulty to climb the rocky hill. They actually reached its
summit, and, to their surprise, were not noisy enough to awaken the
guards; but, alas for them, the sacred geese of the capitol, kept for
use in the worship of Juno, were confined near the spot where the
ascent had been made. Alarmed by the unusual occurrence, the geese
uttered their natural noises and awakened Marcus Manlius, who quickly
buckled on his armor and rushed to the edge of the cliff. He was just
in time to meet the first Gaul as he came up, and to push him over on
the others who were painfully following him. Down he fell backwards,
striking his companions and sending them one after another to the foot
of the precipice in promiscuous ruin. In the morning the captain of the
watch was in turn cast down upon the heads of the enemies, to whom his
neglect had given such an advantage.

Now there remained nothing for the Gauls to do but sit down and wait,
to see if they could starve the Romans confined in the capitol. Months
passed, and, indeed, they almost accomplished their object, but while
they were listlessly waiting, the hot Roman autumn was having its
natural effect upon them, accustomed as they were to an active life in
those Northern woods where the cool winds of the mountains fanned them
and the leafy shades screened their heads from the heat of the sun. The
miasma of the low lands crept up into their camps, and the ashes of the