“Look here, Tom,” said Harry desperately, “if you’ll climb up and get those things down, I’ll give you all the money I have—fifty cents.”
“And I’ll give you ten cents,” chimed in Jack, putting a grubby little hand in his pocket and pulling out the sum in question.
“I don’t want your money, Master Harry,” said the gardener sturdily, “and if I did, I don’t think I could earn it, as I doubt if this pole ’u’d bear me now. I’m heavier than I was a year ago, and the pole’s not so tough.”
“Oh, it’ll bear you,” said Harry. “You see Tom, I don’t want father to know anything about this.”
Tom smiled grimly as he proceeded to take off his coat and boots.
“I’ll try it, Master Harry,” he said, getting up and shaking the staff by way of testing its bearing properties. “‘Never say die’ is my motto, so here goes.”
With these words the gardener commenced his ascent of the staff, which began to tremble violently beneath his weight. We three clustered at its foot, watching the climber’s movements with hard-drawn breath and straining eyes, for it was no light task that Cartwright had set himself to accomplish. Up, up, up, he went, with the skill of a practiced climber, never pausing and never looking down. In order to find out whether he was observed, Harry ran to the parapet and looked over.
“Why, there’s quite a crowd of people there!” he exclaimed, starting back, “and—and—yes, I can see father among them.”
I took a hasty glance over the parapet myself, and noticed that all the people in the neighborhood were hastening out of their houses in order to get a better view of the intrepid climber. From the point where I looked over, the tower went sheer down to the ground, without a break of any kind.
“Tom has reached the top!” sang out Harry, while I was still gazing at the people below.