CHAPTER XII

  The Nerve of the Soldier

  Again Mrs. Macey sought to interpose. Her husband, too, was atfirst against it.

  But, now that the die was fairly cast, Herr Schimmelpodt firmlychampioned the boys.

  "Eider von of dem gan do it---easy!" declared the big German."You don't know dem boys----vot? Ach, I do. Dey got der brain,der nerves und der muscle."

  "It's a crime to let such youths attempt the thing," shiveredan anaemic-looking man in the crowd. "Whichever one goes up thatflagstaff will come down again faster. He'll be killed!"

  "Cheer up some more," advised Herr Schimmelpodt stolidly. "Itdon't gost you nottings, anyway. If Dick Bresgott preak his necksoon, I gif him der bulliest funeral dot any boy in Gridley eferhat."

  "But what good-----" began the nervous man tremulously.

  "Talk ist cheap," retorted Herr Schimmelpodt, with a wink, "middot's all I haf to bay for dot funeral. Dick Bresgott ain't foolenough yet to preak der only neck he has."

  At this a jolly laugh went around, relieving the tension a bit,for there were many in the crowd who had begun to feel mightyserious as soon as they realized that Dick was in earnest.

  Some one brought the janitor of the church. A hardware dealernear by came along with two coils of rope, which he thought mightbe handy.

  Mr. Macey went inside with the janitor and the two chums. A scoreor two more would have followed, but the janitor called to HerrSchimmelpodt to bar the way, which the big German readily did.

  Then the four inside began to climb the winding staircase to thebell loft.

  "Go slowly, Dick; loaf," counseled Dave. "Don't waste a bit ofyour wind foolishly."

  At the bell loft all four paused to look down at the crowd.

  Now up a series of ladders the four were obliged to climb, insidethe spire top. This spire top was thirty-six feet above the floorof the bell loft; but eight feet from the top of the spire a windowlet out upon a narrow iron gallery that ran around the spire.

  "I---I don't believe I'll step out there," faltered Mr. Macey,who was stout and apoplectic-looking.

  "I don't blame ye any," agreed the janitor. "It ain't just theplace, out there, for a man o' your weight and years."

  "Don't look down at the street, Dick," begged Dave.

  "Why not?" asked Prescott, deliberately disobeying. "If I couldn'tdo that without getting dizzy, it would be foolish to climb thepole."

  "Prescott, you'd better not try it," protested Mr. Macey. "Justlisten to how strong the wind is at this height. I'm afraid you'llbe dashed down to the ground. Gracious! Hear the flagstaff rattle."

  "I expected it," replied Dick, sitting down, inside the spiretop.

  "What are you doing?" demanded the real estate man.

  "Taking off my shoes," Dick replied coolly.

  "Do you really mean to make the attempt?"

  "You don't think a Gridley boy would back out at this late moment?"queried Dick, in surprise.

  "Ye couldn't stop these younkers, now, by force," chuckled thejanitor.

  "I certainly wouldn't care to try force," remarked Mr. Macey dryly."These young men are too well developed."

  Dave was now on the floor, getting off his shoes.

  "What are you going to do, old fellow?" asked Prescott.

  "Going to follow you as far as the top of the spire," repliedDarrin quietly. "Who knows but I may be able to be of some use?"

  Dave stepped out first on the little iron balcony. The crowdbelow saw him, but at the distance could not make out clearlywhich boy it was. Then Prescott followed.

  "Give me one foot," called Dave, kneeling and making a cup ofhis hands.

  Dick placed his foot, then started to climb the sloping surfaceof slate, Darrin aiding.

  As Dave straightened to a standing position Dick reached up, gettinghold of the base of the flagstaff.

  "Hold on there, a minute," advised Dave, as his chum stood onthe little ledge at the top of the spire. "And don't be foolishenough to look down into the street."

  Dave darted inside, picking up the lighter of the ropes. Goingout on the balcony again Darrin tossed one end of the rope toDick, who made it fast around the flagpole.

  Using the rope, Dave went easily up and stood beside Prescott.

  "There is a fearful wind here," muttered Dick, as both swayedwhile holding to the stout, vibrating mast. "But you can makeit, old fellow."

  It had been the original intention in building the church to usethis mast as a flag pole. Then some doubt had arisen among themembers of the parish. A weather vane had been put at the topof the pole, and the question of connecting flag tackle had beenleft to be decided at a later date.

  Had the flag tackle been there now Dick could have made an easierproblem of the ascent; yet, even with the rope, it would havebeen 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'llget through."

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

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

  How the wind swayed, jarred and vibrated it! Once, when ten feetof the ascent had been accomplished, Dick felt his heart failhim.

  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 theboy, 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 thewhole awful predicament of his chum.

  "I urged him on to it," thought Dave, with a rush of horror thathis own peril could not have brought to him. "Oh, I hope thesplendid 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 andsharp. Two women and a girl fainted from the strain.

  In a window in the building across the street a photographer poisedhis camera. Behind the shutter was a long-angled lens, fittedfor taking pictures at a distance.

  Just as Dick Prescott's arms were within two feet of the weathervane 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 largelyto have lost the power to realize the danger of his position.

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

  How the extreme end of that flag pole quivered. It seemed tothe boy as though the pole must bend and snap, what with the pressureof the heavy wind and the weight of his body!

  Slowly, laboriously, mechanically, like one in a trance, Dickemployed his left hand in patiently disentangling the black webfrom the trap in which it had been caught.

  At last the scarf was free. Most cautiously Dick lowered hisleft hand, tucking the jeweled fabric carefully into the innerpocket of his coat.

  "I---I---guess---it safe---in there," he muttered, hardlyrealizing that he was saying any thing.

  Dave, from below, had looked on, fascinated. Now that he sawthe major part of the daring feat accomplished, Darrin did notmake the mistake of shouting any advice to his comrade. He knewthat any sudden shout might attract Prescott's attention in away to cause him to lose his head.

  Slowly---oh, so slowly! Dick came down. It seemed as though,at last, he understood his danger to the full and was afraid.The truth was, Prescott realized that, with all the vibratingof the staff in th
e wind, his muscular power was being sappedout of him.

  Dave Darrin was down again, crouching on top of the spire, whenDick reached him.

  "Just touch your feet, Dick!" Darrin called coolly. "Then standholding to the pole until I get down into the balcony."

  Dick obeyed as one who could no longer think for himself.

  This done, Dave slipped down the spire's slope, by the aid ofthe rope, until his feet touched the balcony's floor. Now hestood with upturned face and arms uplifted.

  "Use the rope and come down, Dick," hailed. Darrin softly. "I'mhere to catch you, if you need it."

  Down came Prescott, holding to the rope, but helped more by Dave'sloyal arms.

  "Help Prescott inside, you two," Dave ordered sharply. Then,after the men inside the spire top had obeyed, Dave swung himselfin. He left the rope fastened above, for whoever cared to goand get it.

  Mr. Macey, ashen faced and shaking, stared at Dick in a sort offascination.

  "I---I got it," said Dick, when he could control his voice. "Hereit is, safe in my pocket."

  "I forgot to ask," rejoined Mr. Macey tremulously. "I'm sickof that bauble. Ever since you started aloft, Prescott, I'vebeen calling myself all sorts of names for being a party to thisthing."

  "Why, it's all right," laughed Dick, only a bit brokenly. "Itwas easy enough---with a fellow like Dave to help."

  "Did he go up the flagstaff, too?" demanded Mr. Macey, openinghis eyes wider.

  "No," declared Darrin promptly. "Prescott did it."

  "But good old Dave was right at hand to help," Dick contendedstaunchly.

  "Get yourselves together, boys. Then we'll get down out of here,"urged Mr. Macey. "I haven't done anything, but I feel as thoughI'd be the one to reel and faint."

  "Take this scarf, now, please," begged Dick, holding open hiscoat.

  The real estate man looked over the bauble that had placed twomanly lives in such desperate jeopardy. The fabric was much torn,but all the precious stones still appeared to be there.

  Mr. Macey folded the scarf and placed it in one of his own innerpockets.

  "Now, let us get down out of here," begged the real estate man."This place is giving me the horrors."

  "You can start ahead, sir," laughed Dave. "But we want time toput our shoes on."

  Two or three minutes later the four started below, going slowlyover the ladder part of the route. When they struck the windingstaircase they went a bit more rapidly.

  Down in the street it seemed to the watchers as though ages hadpassed since the two boys had been seen going inside from theiron balcony.

  But now, at last, Herr Schimmelpodt heard steps inside, so hethrew open the heavy door at once.

  As Dick and Dave came out again into the sunlight what a mightyroar of applause and cheering went up.

  Then Herr Schimmelpodt, advancing to the edge of the steps, andlaying one hand over his heart, bowed profoundly and repeatedly.

  That turned the cheering to laughter. The big German held uphis right hand for silence.

  "Ladies und chentlemen," shouted Herr Schimmelpodt, as soon ashe could make him self heard, "I don't vant to bose as a hero!"

  "That's all right," came with a burst of goodhumored laughter."You're not!"

  "It vos really nottings vot I did," continued the German, withanother bow.

  "True for you."

  "Maybe," continued Herr Schimmelpodt, "you think I vos afraidwhen I climb dot pole. But I wos not---I pledch you mein vord.It is nottings for me to climb flagpoles. Ven I vos ein poyin Germany I did it efery day. But I will not dake up your timemit idle remarks. I repeat dot I am not ein hero."

  The wily old German had played out his purpose. He had turnedthe wild cheering, which he knew would have embarrassed Prescott,into a good-natured laugh. He had diverted the first big burstof attention away from the boys, much to the relief of the latter.

  But now the crowd bethought itself of the heroes that a crowdalways loves. Hundreds pressed about to shake the bands of Prescottand Darrin.

  "Get into my car! Stand up in front of Mrs. Macey and myselfuntil we can get out of this crowd," urged Mr. Macey, bustlingthe boys toward the runabout.

  Mrs. Macey, whitefaced, was crying softly and could not speak.But her husband, with the two boys standing up before him, honkedhis horn and turned on the power, starting the car slowly. Apath was thus made for their escape through the crowd, thoughthe cheering began again.

  "Now, you can put us down, if you will, sir,", suggested Dick,when they had reached the outer edge of the crowd.

  "Not yet," retorted Mr. Macey.

  "Why not, sir?"

  "You've a little trip to make with me yet."

  "Trip?"

  "Wait a moment, and you'll see."

  Less than two minutes later Mr. Macey drove his car up in frontof one of the banks and jumped out.

  "Come on, boys," he cried. "I want to get that reward off mymind."

  "You run in, Dick," proposed Dave, on the sidewalk. "I'll waitfor you."

  "You'll go with me," Prescott retorted, "or I won't stir inside."

  So Darrin followed them into the bank.

  "I'm so thankful to see you boys safely out of the scrape," declaredMr. Macey, inside, "that I'm going to pay the full reward to eachof you."

  "No you won't," retorted Dick very promptly. "You'll pay no morethan you offered. Dave and I'll divide that between us."

  "Not a cent for me!" propounded Darrin, with emphasis.

  "If you don't share the reward evenly, I won't touch a cent ofit either, Dave Darrin," rejoined Dick heatedly.

  Dave tried to have his way, but his chum won. Mr. Macey madeanother effort to double the reward, but was overruled.

  So young Prescott received the two hundred and fifty dollars incrisp, new bills, and as promptly turned half of the sum overto his chum.

  Now that it was safely over with, it had not been a bad morning'swork!