"I should think it would," muttered Billy.

Phil changed legs, as he termed it; then, grasping the eaves with
both hands, he pulled himself along, the slip-noose over the
cupola turning about on its pivot without a hitch.

This done Phil called for more paper, which was put up in
short order. Thus he continued with his work until he had put
a plaster, as Bill Conley characterized it, all the way around
the farmer's silo. It might have been seen nearly ten miles
away in all directions. No such billing had ever before been
done in that part of the country, nor perhaps anywhere else.

"There! I'd like to see the Ringlings, or Hagenbecks or
Barnum and Bailey or any of the other big ones, beat that.
They're welcome to cover this paper if they can, eh, Billy?"
laughed Phil, pushing himself away from the side of the silo
and leaning far back to get a better view of it. "I call
that pretty fine. How about it?"

"The greatest ever," agreed Billy. His vocabulary was too
limited to express his thoughts fully, but he did fairly well
with what he had.

Having satisfied himself that his work was well done, Phil let
himself down slowly, not using his hands at all, in doing so,
but taking a spiral course downward.

"H-u-m-m, I'm a little stiff," he said when his feet touched