now, but I wasn't much after that fall. Both my legs were broken.
Both my arms were broken. My right shoulder and right wrist were
dislocated, and--let's see. Oh, yes, I had three ribs torn away from the
breast-bone."

"And your--"

"My partner? Poor lad! You wouldn't care to hear how they found him.
They laid him away kindly the next day."

He smiled in a sort of appealing way, and then came the worn, wistful
look I had noticed, and his forehead lines deepened. I fancy all men who
follow steeple-climbing get those strained, anxious eyes.

IV

EXPERIENCE OF AN AMATEUR CLIMBING TO A STEEPLE-TOP

IT came to my knowledge, one bracing day in October, that "Steeple Bob"
had agreed to "do" that famous Brooklyn Church of the Pilgrims, with its
queer, crooked spire and big brass ball, a landmark from the river on
Columbia Heights.

"It's one of those easy jobs that are the hardest," said Merrill. "If
you want to see us use the stirrups come over."

That was exactly what I did want to see, this puzzling stirrup process
which allows a man to lift himself by his boot-straps, as it were, up
the last and narrowest and most dangerous length of a steeple; so I
agreed to be there.

"If you like, you can go up on the swing yourself!" said Merrill, with
the air of conferring a favor. I expressed my thanks as I would to a
lion-tamer offering me the hospitality of his cages, then asked how he
meant that easy jobs are the hardest.

[Illustration: GILDING A CHURCH CROSS, ABOVE NEW YORK CITY.]

"Why, easy jobs make a man careless, and that gets him into trouble.
Another thing, little old churches look easy, but they're apt to be
treacherous. Now, this steeple on the Church of the Pilgrims is built of
wood, with loose shingles on it, and a tumble-down iron lightning-rod,
and rickety beams, and shaky ladders, and--well, you feel all the time
as if you were walking on eggs. It's just the kind of a steeple that
killed young Romaine about a month ago."

Of course I asked for the story of young Romaine, and was told of
certain climbers who advertise their skill by using a steeple-top for
acrobatic feats that have nothing to do with repairing. Upon such
Merrill frowned severely.

"Romaine was a fine athlete," said he, "and a fearless man, but he went
too far. He would stretch out on his stomach across the top of a
steeple, and balance there without touching hands or knees, and he'd do
all sorts of circus tricks on lightning