ll back Claudius, level money," answered the Duke in stentorian
tones.

"I'll take three to two," said Barker.

"No, I won't. Level money."

"Done for a hundred, then," answered the American.

It was an unlikely thing to bet on, and Barker thought he might have
given the Duke odds, instead of asking them, as he had done. But he
liked to get all he could in a fair way. Having arranged his bet, he
told Claudius he might climb to the mast-head if he liked, but that he,
Barker, was going down so as to have a better view; and he forthwith
descended. All three stood leaning back against the weather bulwarks,
craning their necks to see the better. Claudius was a very large man, as
has been said, and Barker did not believe it possible that he could drag
his gigantic frame up the smooth mast beyond the shrouds. If it were
possible, he was quite willing to pay his money to see him do it.

Claudius put the woollen cap in his pocket, and began the ascent. The
steamer, as has been said, was schooner-rigged, with topsail yards on
the foremast, but there were no ratlines in the main topmast shrouds,
which were set about ten feet below the mast-head. To this point
Claudius climbed easily enough, using his arms and legs against the
stiffened ropes. A shout from the Duke hailed his arrival.

"Now comes the tug of war," said the Duke.

"He can never do it," said Barker confidently.

But Barker had underrated the extraordinary strength of the man against
whom he was betting, and he did not know how often, when a boy, Claudius
had climbed higher masts than those of the _Streak_. The Doctor was one
of those natural athletes whose strength does not diminish for lack of
exercise, and large as he was, and tall, he was not so heavy as Barker
thought. Now he pulled the cap out of his pocket and held it between his
teeth, as he gripped the smooth wood between his arms and hands and
legs, and with firm and even motion he began to swarm up the bare pole.

"There--I told you so," said Barker. Claudius had slipped nearly a foot
back.

"He will do it yet," said the Duke, as the climber clasped his mighty
hands to the mast. He would not slip again, for his blood was up, and he
could almost fancy his iron grip pressed deep into the wood. Slowly,
slowly those last three feet were conquered, inch by inch, and the broad
hand stole stealthily over the small wooden truck at the topmast-head
till it had a firm hold--then the other, and with the two