e to keep me in good heart, for they say it is not
well for a novice to be at a steeple-top alone. Merrill would see to the
lashings, and Walter would give a hand at the hauling-line. Thus all
conditions favored my ascent; even the sun smiled, and after taking off
coat and hat I was ready. There we were at the top of the tower, and at
the base of the steeple Lawlor, red-faced and red-shirted, preparing to
ascend; Merrill, pale, as he always is, but powerful, standing at the
ropes; and I, in shirt-sleeves and bareheaded, watching Walter make a
little harness for my kodak.

After a time Lawlor, having reached the top, called down something, and
Merrill answered. It was my turn now. I climbed out through a small
window and stood on the ledge, while "Steeple Bob" dropped the swing
noose over my head and proceeded to lash me fast to seat and ropes.

"That's in case a suicidal impulse should get hold of you!" he said,
smiling, but meaning it. "Now, keep this rope between your legs, and
work your hands up along it as we lift you. It's anchored to St. Peter."

Then he explained how I was to press my toes against the steeple side,
so as to keep my knees from barking on the shingles.

"And don't look down at all," he told me. "Just watch your ropes and
take it easy. Are you ready?"

At this moment Walter said something in a low tone, and Merrill asked me
to lend him my knife. I handed it out, and he stuck it in his pocket.
"You don't need this now," said he, and a moment later the pulley ropes
tightened and my small swing-board lifted under me. I was rising.

"Shove off there with your toes!" he cried. "Take short steps. Put your
legs wider apart. Wider yet. You don't have to pull on the rope. Just
slide your hands along. Now you're going!"

I saw nothing but the steeple side in front of me, and the life-line
hanging down like a bell-rope between my spread legs, and the pulley
block creaking by my head, and the toes of my shoes as I pressed them
against the shingles step by step. It struck me as a ridiculous thing to
be climbing a steeple in patent-leather shoes. I smiled to think of the
odd appearance I must present from below. And then for the first time I
let my eyes turn into the depths, and caught a glimpse of men on
housetops watching me. I saw Merrill's upturned face down where the
ropes ended. And I saw little horses wriggling along on the street.

[Illustration: HOW THE STEEPLE-CLIMBER GOES UP A FLAGPOLE.]

Ther