"I want to borrow a piece of spare running gear, sir," he said to the mate on the following morning.
"Take all you want," was the answer.
Long before Mr. Miles had made his appearance at the church, Ben was in the church tower, with the running gear coiled over his shoulder, and a coil of spun yarn in the bosom of his blue shirt. Climbing upward over cobwebbed cross-beams and girders, he found himself under the four narrow skylights of heavy ground glass that dimly lighted the narrow interior of the spire. Through one of these, which was partly open, Ben thrust his neck and shoulders. About twenty feet above him the tapering spire ended in a great ball, through which rose the tall iron "spindle," surmounted by the vane in the shape of an arrow. Two parts of a knotted rope were twisted around the spindle above the ball, and brought down through the skylight. This had served Mr. Miles's workman in lieu of ladder. Ben's head and heart failed for one brief moment, as he looked upward, and for the first time began to realize the magnitude of his task. Only for a moment, though.
"It's for mother's sake," he said, softly, to himself, and the thought strengthened his heart and steadied his nerves.
By this time Mr. Miles had clambered up to a rude scaffolding under the open skylight with a basket containing a can of oil size and some large "books" of gold-leaf. He then showed Ben how to apply the leaf to the size, and cautioned him not to fall, which Ben gravely assured him he should try very hard not to do.
In one end of his coil of light but strong gear Ben had tied a running bowline. This he threw over his shoulder, and taking off his shoes, began his perilous ascent.
It was easy enough to reach the spindle by the knotted rope-ladder. Then came the tug of war. Up the spindle, which shook and swayed, the courageous boy crept, until, breathless and almost exhausted, he threw his arms over the vane itself, and for the first time ventured to look out and downward.
A toy-city, with Lilliputian people moving through the little streets, lay beneath him. Beyond, the Savannah River like a narrow ribbon wound through the low-lying rice fields until it reached the distant sea, which lay hazily indistinct against the horizon. The view was sublimely beautiful, but Ben's head began to swim, and he bethought himself of his task.
BEN AT WORK.