en put at the top
of the pole, and the question of connecting flag tackle had been
left to be decided at a later date.

Had the flag tackle been there now Dick could have made an easier
problem of the ascent; yet, even with the rope, it would have
been an undertaking from which most men would have shrunk.

"I'm going to start now," said Dick very quietly.

"Good luck, Dick, old fellow!" called Dave cheerily. "You'll
get through."

Darrin still remained standing on top of the spire after Dick
had started to climb.

The only way that Prescott could move upward was to wrap arms
and legs around the pole.

How the wind swayed, jarred and vibrated it! Once, when ten feet
of the ascent had been accomplished, Dick felt his heart fail
him.

A momentary impulse, almost of cowardice, swept over him.

Then he steeled himself, and went on and up.

That staff must be more than a mile high, it now seemed to the
boy, hanging there in momentary danger of his life.

Dave, standing below, looking up, knew far more torment.

Watching Dick, Darrin began to feel wholly responsible for the
whole awful predicament of his chum.

"I urged him on to it," thought Dave, with a rush of horror that
his own peril could not have brought to him. "Oh, I hope the
splendid old fellow does make this stunt safely!"

It seemed as though thousands were packed in the street below,
every face upturned. The breath of the multitude came short and
sharp. Two women and a girl fainted from the strain.

In a window in the building across the street a photographer poised
his camera. Behind the shutter was a long-angled lens, fitted
for taking pictures at a distance.

Just as Dick Prescott's arms were within two feet of the weather
vane the photographer exposed his plate.

Dick, in the meantime, was moving in a sort of dumb way now.
The keenness of his senses had left him. He moved mechanically;
he knew what he was after, and he kept on. Yet he seemed largely
to have lost the power to realize the danger of his position.

A-a-ah! He was up there now, holding to the weathervane! His
legs curled doggedly around the flagstaff. He had need now to
use all the strength in his legs, for he must use one hand to
disentangle the black scarf, which lay twisted about the vane
just over his head. But it was the right scarf. The glint and
dazzle of the diamonds was in his eyes.

How the extreme end of that flag pole quivered. It seemed to
the bo