“I don’t understand it quite yet,” said Val. “Even if the wind works it, how’ll it ring the bell?”
“Why,” replied Bar, “up there, on one side of the bell, is an old pulley-wheel. I’ll have to oil it before it will run well. Now, I’ll hitch the end of this rope to the bell-hammer, and pass it over that wheel. It’ll come down at the east side, close to the timbers, where nobody can see it with a telescope. Then I’ll pass it under this wheel here and hitch it to the lower arm of our van. Then, if there comes a good wind, that bell’s bound to toll every time the van is blown in.”
“It would take a west wind for it,” said Val.
“Perhaps, to work it regularly,” replied Bar, “but ’most any wind may do some good. Now, I’ve a pokerish job before me.”
It looked like it, indeed!
Val Manning was brave enough, but he would hardly have liked to undertake that climb in the dark. Not every boy would have cared for it in broad daylight.
Up went Bar, however, as surely and as rapidly as if he had served an apprenticeship at sea, and Val waited for him in almost breathless expectation till he saw him once more emerge into the moonlight, which was now beginning to stream through the bell-tower.
“It’ll work,” said Bar, “but I came pretty near losing my hold once. That would have been a bad piece of business.”
“Killed you!” exclaimed Val.
“Maybe not,” said Bar. “I fell as far as that once, but I came down on my feet. Made me lame for a month.”