stout and apoplectic-looking.

"I don't blame ye any," agreed the janitor. "It ain't just the
place, 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't
do that without getting dizzy, it would be foolish to climb the
pole."

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

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

"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 the
janitor.

"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," replied
Darrin quietly. "Who knows but I may be able to be of some use?"

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

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

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

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

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

Dave darted inside, picking up the lighter of the ropes. Going
out on the balcony again Darrin tossed one end of the rope to
Dick, 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 swayed
while holding to the stout, vibrating mast. "But you can make
it, old fellow."

It had been the original intention in building the church to use
this mast as a flag pole. Then some doubt had arisen among the
members of the parish. A weather vane had be