“Which pole?” panted George.
“The one with the flag on it.”
“How’ll we do it?”
“Shin up and sit on the cross-arm. It’s right over the place.”
“Maybe they won’t let us.”
“Yes, they will. Everything’s free.”
“Aw, shucks!” George puffed, slackening. “Somebody else is there.”
So there was: a man had mounted to the cross-arm and was astride it.
“Shucks!” agreed Terry. “I’d been saving that for us.”
He, too, slackened, disappointed.