failure. I didn't know what to
think; I just waited. We waited ten minutes, twelve minutes; it seemed
like an hour, but nobody dared go up to see what the matter was. Then
suddenly the explosion came--no louder than a pistol-crack, for
dynamite isn't noisy, but it stirred me more than a cannon.

"'Start your engine!' I shouted, and the little dummy had just time to
wind up half a turn of the hitch-line when the old steeple-top swayed
and broke clean in two, right where the block was, and the whole upper
length fell like one piece, fell to the east just as we had planned it,
and landed in the trench, every stone of it; there wasn't a piece as big
as your fingernail, sir, outside that trench. And while she was falling
I don't know how many kodaks were snapped in the hope of getting a
picture; men and women with cameras had been waiting for hours on the
roofs of high buildings, and two or three of them actually caught a
picture of the steeple-top as it hung in the air for a fraction of a
second at right angles to the base."

[Illustration: PICTURE OF THE FALLING STEEPLE, PHOTOGRAPHED JUST AFTER
THE DYNAMITE EXPLODED. THE FALLING SECTION WAS 35 FEET IN LENGTH AND
WEIGHED 35 TONS.]

III

THE GREATEST DANGER TO A STEEPLE-CLIMBER LIES IN BEING STARTLED

IT appears that professional steeple-climbers are quiet-mannered men,
with a certain gentleness of voice (like deaf people) that impresses one
far more than any strident boasting. This habit of silence they form
from being silent so much aloft. And when they do speak it is in a low
tone, because that is the least startling to a man as he swings over
some reeling gulf. Next to an actual disaster (which usually kills
outright and painlessly) what a steeple-climber most dreads is being
startled. This was explained to me in one of our many talks by "Steeple
Bob," famous over the land for daring feats, but never reckless ones.
How plainly I call up his pale, serious face and the massive shoulders,
somewhat bent, and the forearm with muscles to impress a prize-fighter!
Pleasant to note that Merrill uses excellent English.

"Did you ever have an impulse to jump off a steeple?" I questioned,
recalling the sensations of many people in looking down even from a
housetop.

"I've kept pretty free from that," said he; "but there's no doubt
climbing steeples does tell on a man's nerves. Now, there was Dan
O'Brien; he had an impulse to jump off a steeple one day, and a strong