“Gee-willikens, Mundon! How are we ever going to get this chimney down?” Ben looked up at the massive pillar of brick which reared itself above him. “It looks about a mile high, when you stand close to it. Why,” he added with a blank look, “it’ll take us months to level it.”
“You was a-calculatin’ to level it?” Mundon laconically asked.
“Of course. How else can we work over the bricks that are in it?”
“Um! How’d you think you’d git it down?”
“Well—that’s what’s worrying me. I had a sort of plan to scrape down the soot. But the bricks—how are we going to get at them?”
“Your idee is good—as fur as it goes; but I think I can give you a better one than scrapin’ the chimney of soot.”
“Let’s have it.”
“I’d rig a cross-piece—shaped just like a cross—to work inside the chimney, from a rope over the top, like an elevator.”
Ben caught his breath. “How would you ever get a rope over the top?” he asked.