A solemn expression came over Fred's face as he said, "Yes,
once."
"What did you go into?"
"I tried to walk the greased pole. There was a silver cup on the
end of it and the fellow who could walk out and take it could
claim it."
"Did you get the cup?"
"I did not," replied Fred shortly.
"I'm surprised, Peewee. I don't know a fellow in all my
acquaintance that I think could walk better on a greased pole
than you."
"Huh," muttered Fred. "You ought to have seen me. That pole was a
part of a telegraph pole. It stuck out from the dock about
fifteen feet. It was covered with grease and the grease had been
rubbed in."
"How many times were you allowed to try?" asked George.
"Five."
"And you couldn't go in five trials?"
"I didn't go. The first time I stepped on the pole my feet flew
out from under me and I sat down on the river about six or seven
feet below. I sat down hard too."
"Did you enjoy it?" laughed John.
"I did not," replied Fred slowly, "but the people on the docks
and along the banks seemed to have a fine time."
"What did you do next?" laughed George.
"I tied some old sacking on my feet and tried to wipe up the
grease as I went along. "
"And didn't that work?"
"Nay, verily it didn't work. I took my seat that time on the pole
and then when I slipped, I tried to throw my arms around it. But
for some good reason I didn't delay very long, before I dropped
with a splash into the St.
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