An Irishman on a scaffolding four stories high heard the noon whistle. But when he would have descended, he found that the ladder had been removed. One of his fellow workmen on the pavement below, to whom he called, explained that the foreman had carried off the ladder for another job.
“But how’ll I get down?” Pat demanded. Mike, on the pavement, suggested jumping as the only means. Pat’s lunch was below, he was hungry, and he accepted the suggestion seriously.

“Will yez kitch me?” he demanded.

“Sure, an’ I’ll do that,” Mike agreed.

Pat clapped his arms in imitation of a rooster, and crowed, to bolster up his courage, and leaped. He regained consciousness after a short interval, and feebly sat up on the pavement. He regarded Mike reproachfully.

“For why did yez not kitch me?” he asked, the pain in his bones sounding in his voice.

“Begorry,” Mike replied sympathetically, “I was waiting for yez to bounce!”