"Hurrah!" he shouted.
Billy was pale and trembling.
"If you do that again I'll have an attack of heart disease,
Phil!" he called. "Now, what are you going to do? The rope is
hanging seven or eight feet away from you."
"Hello, that's so. I hadn't observed that before. I should
not have let go of it. Never mind, I'll get it unless
something breaks. See here, Billy, you get from under there."
"Is the plank likely to fall?" asked Billy innocently.
"The plank? No. I am likely to take a tumble," answered
Phil, with a short laugh. All at once he grew serious
and still. "I think I can make it," he decided.
His resolution formed, the lad crouched low, so as not to throw
so great a leverage on the plank that it would slip from under
him when he leaped. He prepared for the spring.
"Don't do it!" howled Billy, now thoroughly frightened.
"Don't you see what he's up to? He's going to jump off
the plank and try to catch hold of the rope hanging from
the cupola. He'll never make it. He'll miss it sure as
he's a foot high. This is awful!"
"Don't bother me, Billy. Mr. Farmer, is that cupola strong
enough to bear my weight on a sudden jolt?"
"It ought to hold a ton, dead weight."
"Then I guess it will hold me. Don't talk to me down there.
Here goes!"
It seemed a foolhardy thing to do.
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