A gaunt skeleton of steel, the towers of the Sky Ride where, in the days of wild joy at the Century of Progress three million thrill seekers had shot upward to go gliding and bumping across the sky! And, yes, there at the very top of the left-hand tower a pale yellow light shone. "The Whisperer!" Johnny's voice was husky with emotion. "We've found him." "But that place--" There was doubt in Spider's tone. "That place has been locked for months. Electric current is probably turned off. How'd he get up there? Six hundred feet and more!" There was awe in his tone. He was a climber, was Spider--none better, so he had supposed. Had he come upon the tracks of one more skillful than he? "I could do it," he muttered beneath his breath. "I could climb that tower. Six hundred feet. Bah! What's the diff? Two hundred, three hundred, or six, it's all the same. "But that man?" He turned to Johnny. "He can't just pucker up his lips and whisper a mile, can he? Takes machines, instruments, whatever you may call it, don't it?" "Yes, I'm sure it does," Johnny agreed. "I don't know a lot about it myself. It's all like magic to me. But it must take a lot of mechanisms and a strong electric current. "Of course," he added thoughtfully, as they walked slowly forward, "the Sky Ride's in somebody's care. Bound to be. The managers of next year's Fair are going to operate it. And if someone had some sort of a pull he could get permission to turn on the current and set an elevator running. He could get up and down that way. And what a place he'd have for whispering! Whisper all over the world, I'd say. I'd like to have a picture of that man--if it _is_ a man." "If it is?" Spider laughed. "You don't think he's an ape, or something?" "Might be a woman," said Johnny seriously. "Yeah, a woman! Fine chance!" Spider scoffed. "Tell you what!" he exclaimed suddenly. "I'll take that dare!" "What dare?" Johnny stopped short in his tracks. "I'll get you his picture, and if it's a lady, I'll take two pictures." "You mean you'll climb that tower? Six hundred feet! You--you've not been drinking, Spider?" "Drinking, Johnny?" There was a deep note of reproach in Spider's voice. "Whatever else I am, Johnny, I'm not a fool. Only a fool drinks. And a fellow who climbs is a double fool if he drinks. Drink, Johnny, makes you feel as if you could fly. And that's a fatal feeling when you're up in the air. "No, Johnny, I'm sober. You want to know what that man looks like, what he's doing up there. So do I. The elevator may be working. Who knows? If not--up I go." "All right," Johnny agreed reluctantly. Full well he knew how futile it is to argue with a person of Spider's nature. "You'll know when you've had enough, won't you? You'll give it up if it's sort of getting the best of you?" The Spider's reply was a guttural mutter. "All the same, you promise!" Johnny insisted.