The mirror., 1919-05-22
INSIDE THE STACK
The narrowing Experience of Painter Who Had Dropped
His Wallet Down Inside Smokestack
Albert W. Toln,am, in Youths Companion

RNAll0ITTING astride the rim of
ESES5 the Arivaca Light & Pow
ASg98N er Company's smoke
Iegy stack, Duncan Crashaw
pulled his handkerchief from the
pocket of his overalls to mop his
face. With the handkerchief came
his wallet. 1t struck the iron rim
of the smokestack, balanced hesi-
tatingly, and then, before Duncan
could make grab for it. fell in
to the gaping black throat.
Duncan had reached the little
New Mexico town of Arivaca that
morning, to paint the electric light
company's smokestack. He made
his arrangements with the mana
ger at the company's downtown
Office in the forenoon. and after
dinner went out to the plant. The
engine house was locked. and the
fireman would not be back until
little before six o'clock. During
the long summer days the plant
started it's fire at six at night, and
let it 60 out entirely in the morn
ing. By noon there was virtually
no gas in the stack.
Stepping into the coal shed, he
changed bis outer clothing for blue
drilling jumper and overalls. His
wallet, which contained seventy
dollars, he thrust into the hip poe
ket of his overalls, Passing a short
line twice around his waist, he tied
the ends behind his back; into that
improvised belt he thrust his wire
brush for scraping rust from the
iron.
He climbed the stack by the iron
handholds that ran up its side and
soon was sitting in a boatswain's
chair, hung from a hook over the
rim. He painted half round the
steel chimney. and gradually low
cred himself toward the ground.
When he had reached the foot of
the stack, he pulled himself up
again, to paint the other half. He
perched on the rim, while he slid
the hook round to the opposite
side. Just after that the wallet
fell.
How should he recover it?
1t was now twenty minutes after
three, and the plant would not fire
up until six. At precisely that
hour Duncan had arranged to take
the express for Mordecai, fifty
miles away, where he had another
job the next morning. To miss the
train would mean his losing a
whole days work.
Why not drop his rope inside
the stack, slide down and pick up
his wallet, and climb back hand
over handg
The physical effort demanded
meant no more to Duncan than a
short walk would mean to an or
binary man. Years of work as a
steeple jack had made the muscles
on his chest and arms very strong.
His rigging was in perfect condi-
tion. But although the feat was
apparently without risk, Duncan
did not like to 60 down into that
stack unless some one else was
present. So he started painting
again, hoping that the fireman
would return before he had COM
pleted his job.
When he reached the bottom of
the stack, it was five o'clock. The
train left in an hour. He must
change his clothes and tramp more
than a mile to the station-and still
there were no signs of the fireman!
As he stood beside the cement
base on which the stack was built,
the wallet was only few inches
from his hand, inside the curving
metal sheet. Food, shelter, rail-
way fare lay just beyond that iron
plate.
Duncan looked at his watch un-
easily. He strained his eyes down
the white, dusty road, but it was