the car with him. To Mr. Macey the teamster pointed out
the barely visible bit of black fluttering a hundred and sixty
feet above the pavement.

"Now how about the reward, Mr. Macey?" demanded the teamster.

"That will be paid you, if you return the scarf to Mrs. Macey,"
replied the real estate man dryly.

The teamster's jaw dropped. For the uppermost eighteen feet of
the spire consisted of a stout flagpole. Below this was the sloping
slate roof of the top of the steeple proper. Only a monkey or
a "steeplejack" could get up there, and on a day like this, with
a half gale still blowing, a steeplejack might be pardoned for
declining the task.

Swiftly the news spread, and a great crowd collected. Dave Darrin
heard of it right after breakfast, and hurried to get Dick Prescott.
Together the chums joined the crowd.

"You'll have to get a steeplejack for the job, Mr. Macey," the
chums heard one man advise the real estate operator.

Only one was known. His home was some forty miles away. Mr.
Macey tried patiently to get the man over the long distance telephone.
Some member of the man's family answered for him. The expert
was away, and would not be home, or available, for three days
to come at least.

"Never mind, Macey," laughed the friend, consolingly. "It'll
wait. No one in Gridley will take the scarf. It's safe up there."

"Huh! Is it, though?" snorted the real estate man. "At any minute
the strong wind may unwind it and send it whirling off over the
town. Or the gale may tear it to pieces, scattering the diamonds
over a whole block, and not one in ten of the stones would ever
be found."

Mrs. Macey sat in the runabout, a picture of mute misery.

Herr Schimmelpodt elbowed his way through the outskirts of the
crowd and stood absorbing his share in the local excitement.

"Ach! I am afraid dere is von thing dot you gan't do, Bresgott,"
smiled the German. "Ach! By chimminy, though, I don't know yet."

"I was wondering myself whether I could make a good try at steeple
climbing," laughed Dick eagerly. "The money sounds good to me
anyway."

"No; I don't know. I think it would be foolish," replied Herr
Schimmelpodt.

"I believe you could get up there, Dick," muttered Darrin, in
a low voice.

"Then you could, Dave."

"I think I could," nodded Darrin. "And, by crickets, if you were
here, Dick, I'd certainly try it."

"Try it anyway, then," urged Prescott.

"Not unless you balk at it," re