The "King Deed" of Daring
"Yes; that performance helped a lot."
Herr Schimmelpodt was prevailed upon, by Mr. Morton, to come around
on another evening to show some further feats with his great strength.
Around the waist-line the German was flabby; the fat rolled in
heavy ridges. Feeling aware of this defect in personal appearance
Herr Schimmelpodt determined to devote some of his abundant leisure
to getting his belt line into smaller compass. But the German
would not do this before all eyes in the public, gym. So he and
some other well-to-do business men who were conscious that the
years had dealt too generously by them in the matter of flesh,
hired a small hall and converted it into a private gym.
It was all the doings of Dick & Co., just the same.
The town was ripe, now, for performances in extraordinary athletics.
Fate willed it that there should be a chance.
Once a year an opera company of considerable prominence appeared
at Gridley for one evening.
Whenever this evening came around, it was made the occasion for
a big time in local society. The women of the well-to-do families
turned out in their most dazzling finery.
This year "Lohengrin" was to be sung at the local opera house.
Dick could have obtained, at "The Blade" office, free seats for
Dave and himself for this Friday night. But they were still in
close training, and there was a game on for the afternoon of the
day following. For that reason nine o'clock found both of the
young men in bed and asleep.
Near the opera house the street was thronged with carriages.
Carriage after carriage drove up and discharged its load of handsomely
dressed women and their more severely attired escorts. All of
Gridley that could attend the opera were in evening dress.
During the evening a half gale of wind sprang up. While all was
light and warmth inside, outside the wind howled harder and harder.
By the time that the music lovers began to pour out, the blast
was furious.
Leaning on the arm of her escort, as her carriage drove up to
the door, one beautifully gowned woman stepped out. Over her
hair was thrown a black, filmy scarf in which nestled a number
of handsome diamonds.
Just as she reached the curb, but before she could step into the
waiting carriage, this woman gave a shriek of dismay.
The gale had caught at her diamond-strewn head-covering. Like
a flash that costly creation was caught up from her hair and borne
on the wind.
Others standing by saw the costly thing whisked obliquely up into
the air. It was still ascending on the blast when it passed
out of the range of vision.
"O-o-o-oh! My beautiful jeweled scarf!" sobbed the woman hysterically.
The crowd quickly formed about her. She was recognized as Mrs.
Macey, the wife of a wealthy real estate operator.
"It was careless not to have it fastened more securely, but it's
no use to cry over what can't be helped now, my dear," replied
her husband. "Get into the carriage and I'll see if any trace
can be found of the scarf."
Still sobbing, Mrs. Macey was helped into the carriage. Then
Mr. Macey enlisted the help of the bystanders.
In every direction the street was searched. The fronts of the
buildings opposite were examined; the gratings in the sidewalk
were peered through. But there was no trace, anywhere, of the
jeweled scarf.
"It will be worth two hundred and fifty dollars for anyone to
find it and return it to me," shouted Mr. Macey. That scattered
the searchers more widely still. Presently a woman friend drove
home with Mrs. Macey, while her husband remained to push the search.
He kept at it until two o'clock in the morning, half a hundred
men and boys remaining in the search.
Then Mr. Macey gave it up. The gaudy, foolish trifle was worth
about five thousand dollars. As the night wore on Mr. Macey began
to have a pessimistic notion that perhaps some one had found the
scarf but had been too "thrifty" to turn in such a precious article
for so small a reward.
"I guess it may as well be given up," sighed Mr. Macey, after
two in the morning. "I'm going home, anyway."
The readers of "The Blade" that crisp October morning knew of
Mrs. Macey's loss.
There was much talk about the matter around the town. People
who walked downtown early that morning peered into gutters and
down through sidewalk gratings. Then, at about seven o'clock
a sensation started, and swiftly grew.
One man, glancing skyward, had his attention attracted to something
fluttering at the top of the spire of the Methodist church, more
than half a block away from the opera house. It was fabric of
some sort, and one end fluttered in the breeze, though most of
the black material appeared to be wrapped around the tip of the
weather vane in which the spire staff terminated.
"That's the jeweled scarf, I'll bet a month's pay!" gasped the
discoverer. Then, mindful of the reward, he dashed to the
nearest telephone office, asking "central" to ring insistently
until an answer came over the Macey wire.
"Hullo, is that you, Mr. Macey?" called the discoverer, a teamster.
"Then come straight up to the Methodist church. I'll be there.
I've discovered the jeweled scarf."
"How---how many jewels are left on it?" demanded Mr. Macey.
"Come right up! I'll tell you all about it when you get here."
Then the teamster rang off, after giving his name. The real estate
man came in a hurry, in a runabout. His wife, pallid and hollow-cheeked,
rode in the car with him. To Mr. Macey the teamster pointed out
the barely visible bit of black fluttering a hundred and sixty
feet above the pavement.
"Now how about the reward, Mr. Macey?" demanded the teamster.
"That will be paid you, if you return the scarf to Mrs. Macey,"
replied the real estate man dryly.
The teamster's jaw dropped. For the uppermost eighteen feet of
the spire consisted of a stout flagpole. Below this was the sloping
slate roof of the top of the steeple proper. Only a monkey or
a "steeplejack" could get up there, and on a day like this, with
a half gale still blowing, a steeplejack might be pardoned for
declining the task.
Swiftly the news spread, and a great crowd collected. Dave Darrin
heard of it right after breakfast, and hurried to get Dick Prescott.
Together the chums joined the crowd.
"You'll have to get a steeplejack for the job, Mr. Macey," the
chums heard one man advise the real estate operator.
Only one was known. His home was some forty miles away. Mr.
Macey tried patiently to get the man over the long distance telephone.
Some member of the man's family answered for him. The expert
was away, and would not be home, or available, for three days
to come at least.
"Never mind, Macey," laughed the friend, consolingly. "It'll
wait. No one in Gridley will take the scarf. It's safe up there."
"Huh! Is it, though?" snorted the real estate man. "At any minute
the strong wind may unwind it and send it whirling off over the
town. Or the gale may tear it to pieces, scattering the diamonds
over a whole block, and not one in ten of the stones would ever
be found."
Mrs. Macey sat in the runabout, a picture of mute misery.
Herr Schimmelpodt elbowed his way through the outskirts of the
crowd and stood absorbing his share in the local excitement.
"Ach! I am afraid dere is von thing dot you gan't do, Bresgott,"
smiled the German. "Ach! By chimminy, though, I don't know yet."
"I was wondering myself whether I could make a good try at steeple
climbing," laughed Dick eagerly. "The money sounds good to me
anyway."
"No; I don't know. I think it would be foolish," replied Herr
Schimmelpodt.
"I believe you could get up there, Dick," muttered Darrin, in
a low voice.
"Then you could, Dave."
"I think I could," nodded Darrin. "And, by crickets, if you were
here, Dick, I'd certainly try it."
"Try it anyway, then," urged Prescott.
"Not unless you balk at it," returned Darrin.
"I'm not going to balk at it," retorted Dick, flushing just a
bit. "But you spoke of it first, Dave, and I think you ought
to have first chance at the reward."
"Tell you what I'll do," proposed Darrin, seriously. "We'll toss
for it, and the winner has the try."
"I'll go you," nodded Prescott.
Herr Schimmelpodt, regarding them both seriously, saw that they
meant it.
"Boys, boys!" he remonstrated. "Don't think of it yet!"
"Why not?" asked Dick.
"You would be killed," remonstrated the big German.
"Is that the best opinion you have of us, after the way you've
been praising us athletes for two years?" laughed Prescott.
"I'll toss you for it, Dick," nudged Dave.
"What's this?" demanded Mr. Macey.
"Prescott and I are going to toss for it, to see who shall have
the first chance to climb the spire and flagstaff," replied Dave.
"Nonsense! Out of the question," almost exploded Mr. Macey.
"It would be like murder to allow either of you to try. That's
work for a regular steeplejack."
"Well, what is a steeplejack?" demanded Dick. "He's a fellow
of good muscle and nerve, who can stand being in high places.
Either of us could climb a flagpole from down here in the street.
Why can't either of us go up there, just as well, and climb from
the steeple roof?"
"Prescott, have you any idea of the strength of the wind up there?"
demanded the real estate man. "It's blowing great guns up there!"
"Get some one to toss the coin, and either you or I call," insisted
Darrin.
Some one told Mrs. Macey what was being proposed.
"Oh, stop them!" she cried, leaning forward from the runabout.
"Boys, boys! Don't do anything wildly rash like that! I'd sooner
lose the scarf than have lives risked."
"She needn't worry," sneered some one in the crowd. "The High
School dudes are only bluffing. They haven't either o' them the
sand to do a thing like that."
Both Prescott and Darrin heard. Both flushed, though that was
all the sign they gave.
"Herr Schimmelpodt, you must have a cent," suggested Dick. "Toss
it, will you, and let Darrin call the turn."
Grumbling a good deal the German produced the required coin.
He fingered it nervously, for a moment, then flipped it high in
the air.
"Tails!" called Dave.
It came down heads.
"Oh, well, the best two out of three," insisted Dick.
"That fellow's nerve is going already," laughed some one. "He's
anxious for the other fellow to get the honor."
There was a grim twitching at the corners of prescott's mouth,
but he said nothing.
Again the coin was tossed. This time Dick called:
"Heads!"
He won.
"I'm ready," announced Dick quietly.
"I congratulate you, old fellow," murmured Dave eagerly. "And
I'm going with you to the base of the flagpole! The last climb
is yours you've won it!"