Bob, after the ladder bad been pointed out to him, began to climb. He had not gone far before he discovered that the rungs of the iron ladder were hot. They were so much so that he yelled, "ouch!" removing first one hand and then the other to rub it on his trousers. He was unable to keep both hands on the ladder for any great length of time.
Bob began to growl, and he kept up his growling all the way up the fifty-foot ladder. Finally he decided he must have gone about a hundred feet, instead of fifty and halting he shouted, "Hello!"
"Hello, yourself," answered a gruff voice from the cloud above. "What do you want?"
"It isn't a question of what I want, but rather what I am going to get. Are you the feeder?"
"I'm charging, if that's what you mean."
"Well, if you don't charge too much I'll come up and be shown," laughed the irrepressible Bob.
"Quit that fooling or I'll throw a bag of coke down on you."
Bob ran nimbly up the rest of the ladder, and a moment later stood facing a soot-covered fellow of about his own age.
"Say, did you mean that about the coke?"