should yet live to laugh at it.

Buoyed up with this belief, I once more approached the staff, with the
intention of climbing up. I did not intend going up to remain. I
thought it would be time enough when my footing failed me below; it was
only to make sure that I should be able to climb the pole when the hour
of necessity arrived.

I found it more difficult than I had anticipated, especially in getting
up the first six feet. This portion of the staff was coated over with
some slimy substance--the same that covered the rocks around--and this
rendered it as slippery as one of the greased poles that I had seen at
merry-makings in our village.

It cost me several attempts and failures before I could get above the
watermark; but the rest was more easy, and I soon reached the top of the
staff.

I stretched my hand upward to seize hold of the barrel, and draw myself
up upon it, congratulating myself that I had been able to accomplish my
object, when a change came suddenly over my feelings, and I was once
more plunged into despair.

My arm was too short to reach the upper rim of the cask. I could only
touch the swell, scarce half-way up. I could get no hold upon it,
either to stay me where I was, or to pull myself up farther.

I could not remain where I was. In a few seconds my strength gave way,
and I was forced to slide down to the base of the staff.

I tried again, with no better success; and then again, with a similar
result. It was to no purpose. Stretch my arms as I would, and wriggle
my limbs as I might, I could not get my body higher than the point where
the staff was set, and could only extend my hand half-way up the rounded
swell of the cask. Of course I could not keep there, as there was
nothing to rest my weight upon, and I was forced to glide back to the
ground.

It was with a feeling of renewed alarm, then, that I made this
discovery, but I did not as before yield myself up to despair. Perhaps
my wits were quickened by the peril that was fast approaching me. At
all events, I kept my senses about me, and set to considering what was
best to be done.

If I had only been in possession of a knife, I might have cut notches in
the pole high up, and on these rested my feet; but I had no knife--
nothing to make notches with--unless I had eaten them out with my teeth.
Verily I was in a difficult dilemma.

All at once, however, a bright thought came to my relief. Why might I
not raise a resting-pla