that it might be climbed again. Should they, who were used to the snowy
peaks, dark abysses, and huge glaciers of the Alps, be afraid to climb
where a soft dweller in a tame Italian town could venture a passage?
Brennus chose out the hardiest of his mountaineers, and directed them to
climb up in the dead of night, one by one, in perfect silence, and thus
to surprise the Romans, and complete the slaughter and victory, before
the forces assembling at Veii would come to their rescue.

Silently the Gauls climbed, so stilly that not even a dog heard them;
and the sentinel nearest to the post, who had fallen into a dead sleep
of exhaustion from hunger, never awoke. But the fatal stillness was
suddenly broken by loud gabbling, cackling, and flapping of heavy wings.
The sacred geese of Juno, which had been so religiously spared in the
famine, were frightened by the rustling beneath, and proclaimed their
terror in their own noisy fashion. The first to take the alarm was
Marcus Manlius, who started forward just in time to meet the foremost
climbers as they set foot on the rampart. One, who raised an axe to
strike, lost his arm by one stroke of Manlius' short Roman sword; the
next was by main strength hurled backwards over the precipice, and
Manlius stood along on the top, for a few moments, ready to strike the
next who should struggle up. The whole of the garrison were in a few
moments on the alert, and the attack was entirely repulsed; the sleeping
sentry was cast headlong down the rock; and Manlius was brought, by each
grateful soldier, that which was then most valuable to all, a little
meal and a small measure of wine. Still, the condition of the Capitol
was lamentable; there was no certainty that Pontius had ever reached
Camillus in safety; and, indeed, the discovery of his path by the enemy
would rather have led to the supposition that he had been seized and
detected. The best hope lay in wearying out the besiegers; and there
seemed to be more chance of this since the Gauls often could be seen