A Spotlight for Harry (4 page)

“I hope so,” said Dash. “Let’s not put it up too high, in case it breaks.” He glanced over the edge of the hayloft to the barn floor. “That’s a long way to fall.”

“Who’s going to fall?” said Harry. “Not you. Not me. It’s a challenge. We can do this.”

Harry looped the coil of rope around his shoulder. He and Dash climbed back down the ladder. “Where shall we put our tightrope?” he asked Dash.

“How about right here?” Dash said. He pointed to the two sturdy timbers at the end of the aisle between the stalls. “We can string it between these big posts. It looks like they hold up the whole barn. They should be able to hold us.”

Harry and Dash set to work. Each boy took one end of the rope. They pulled it tight around the posts. They tied each end with several knots. Their tightrope crossed the barn floor at shoulder height. It was high enough to be a challenge, but not high enough for them to be seriously hurt if they fell.

“I’ve fallen off fences that were taller than that,” said Harry. He sounded disappointed. “Can’t we raise it higher?”

“Sure,” said Dash. “After we get the hang of tightrope walking. Remember what Papa says. You have to learn to crawl before you can walk.”

Harry laughed. “Who needs to walk? I’m ready to run!”

But Dash was right. Harry had to agree. It wouldn’t hurt to take a few practice walks before raising the rope. Dash climbed back
up to the loft. He opened a few of the bales of old hay that were up there. He kicked the hay down from the loft. Then he climbed back down the ladder and spread the hay on the barn floor underneath the rope.

“That’s to soften our landing,” Dash told Harry.

“
Your
landing,” Harry replied. “I’m not going to fall.”

“We’ll see,” said Dash. “Who’s going first?”

“Me, of course! I’m the older brother,” Harry answered.

Dash crouched down with his hands braced on his knees. Harry climbed up on Dash’s back to reach the rope. He placed his left foot on the rope. Holding on to the post, he slowly stood up until he could put his right foot on the rope, too.

Harry stood on the tightrope. He kept
his hands on the post to steady himself.

“Let go of the post,” said Dash.

“I will in just a minute,” said Harry. “I’m still a little wobbly. Ready? Here I go!”

Harry let go of the post. He held out his arms, waiting for Dash to clap. Suddenly, the rope went one way and Harry went the other. The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back in the hay under the rope.

Dash ran to see if his brother was all right. “You should have seen yourself. You went flying through the air backward,” Dash said. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” said Harry. “One minute I was standing on the rope. The next, I was here!”

“Try it again,” said Dash.

Harry and Dash kept trying to walk the tightrope. They took turns. First Harry went flying, then Dash. Again and again they
climbed up. But as soon as they let go of the post, down they fell.

“We must be doing something wrong,” Dash suggested. He and Harry had fallen off the rope about ten times each.

“How did Monsieur Weitzman do it?” Harry asked. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself back at the circus, watching the show. He suddenly heard Dash say, “I’ve got it!”

“What?” Harry asked.

“I figured out our mistake,” Dash said. He pointed to his feet. “Look! We’re wearing shoes. Monsieur Weitzman wasn’t wearing shoes. He had on a pair of slippers. They matched his tights, so you hardly noticed them. He certainly wasn’t wearing high-button street shoes.”

“You’re right!” Harry exclaimed. He felt slightly annoyed that his younger brother
had remembered that detail before he did.

Harry and Dash removed their shoes and their socks. Dash went first. After all, it was his idea. He climbed up on Harry’s back, steadied himself against the post, and grasped the rope between his big toe and his other toes. Then he slowly eased himself out onto the rope, an inch at a time. At last, he was holding on to the post with only his fingertips.

Harry jumped up and down with excitement. “You’re doing it, Dash! We discovered the secret! Nothing can stop us now! We’ll be the greatest tightrope walkers in history!”

“I’m letting go!” Dash announced. He let go of the post. He stood on the rope for a moment, balancing all by himself. Harry cheered. The rope lurched. Dash struggled to find his balance. Over he went to land facedown in the hay.

Harry helped Dash sit up. “What a tumble! Are you all right?” he asked.

Dash spit out a mouthful of hay. “I’m glad we used hay from the loft and not from the stalls,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d have to eat it.”

“Well, that didn’t work,” said Harry.

“It almost did,” Dash replied. “I’m not ready to give up. We’re making progress. I felt better on the rope with my bare feet than I ever did with shoes. Staying up there is hard because the rope moves every time you do. The more you try to keep your balance, the more unbalanced you become. Then off you go, flying.”

“We’re still missing something important,” Harry decided. “What was Monsieur Weitzman doing that we’re not? Think, Dash! Close your eyes. Pretend we’re back at the circus. We’re looking up at the tightrope. We’re watching Monsieur Weitzman and he’s—”

“I got it!” Dash suddenly yelled. “He wasn’t trying to balance with his hands. He was holding something.”

“That’s it!” Harry exclaimed. “He was
carrying a long pole. He held it low, down by his waist, as he walked across the rope.”

“What’s special about a pole? Why should it make a difference?” Dash asked.

“I don’t know,” said Harry. “What do we have to lose? We can only fall off again. Let’s try walking the rope with a pole and see what happens.”

Harry and Dash searched all over the barn. At last, they found what they needed. Several long poles stood in a barrel near the door. Some were notched at one end for holding up a clothesline so the clothes wouldn’t drag on the ground. The longest pole was different. It was five feet long and heavy.

“That looks like a curtain rod,” said Dash.

“It must be,” said Harry. “It’s about as long as the one Monsieur Weitzman was
carrying. Maybe it will work for us. Want to go first?”

Dash shook his head. “No, it’s your turn, Harry. You should be the first to try it out.”

Harry climbed up on Dash’s back to the rope. Gripping the rope between his toes the way Dash had done, he steadied himself against the post.

“Ready,” he told Dash.

Dash handed the curtain rod up to Harry. Harry grasped it in his left hand. He found his balance. Then, slowly, he let go of the post and took the pole in his right hand.

“You’re doing it!” Dash cried. Harry was standing on the tightrope all by himself!

“It’s the pole,” Harry exclaimed. “I don’t know why, but it helps me feel more steady. I’m going to try walking across.”

“Do you think you can do it?” Dash asked.

“I know I can,” said Harry.

Slowly, putting one foot carefully before the other, Harry began walking across the tightrope. He felt his heart pounding inside his chest. He hardly dared breathe. But he was doing it. Harry Weiss was walking across a tightrope!

The rope was only a few feet off the ground, but that didn’t matter. What counted was that he’d unlocked the secret. Once he knew that, Harry realized, it didn’t matter if the rope was three or three hundred feet high. He could walk any rope, any height, anywhere. All he needed was the courage to do it and the confidence to try.

Harry crossed to the other end. He turned around and began walking back. He had discovered another important secret. This one was even more important than holding a long pole. He
believed
that he could do it.
Monsieur Weitzman was right
, Harry thought.
If you believe you can do something, it’s only a matter of time before you figure out how.

Harry walked back across the rope. He stood perfectly still, then leaped off the rope to the ground while holding the pole in his hands. Every muscle in his body ached. His legs felt like jelly. His clothes were drenched with sweat. But he had done it! He had walked the tightrope from one end to the other and back again.

“My turn next,” said Dash. He took the pole from Harry.

Harry bent low to let Dash climb onto his back. “I know you can do it,” he said. “It’s easy. And after you’re done, I want you to help me try something else.”

“What?” Dash asked, steadying himself on the rope as Harry handed him the pole.

“You’ll see,” Harry said. “It’s a secret.”

“
I
did it!” Dash exclaimed. Harry clapped him on the back.

“I knew you could!” Harry said. “All we had to do was figure out the secret. The rest was easy.”

“I don’t know that I’d call it easy,” Dash replied. His words came in short gasps. He struggled to catch his breath. “We did it. That’s … what counts. If we can … walk a tightrope … we can do anything!”

“Anything!” Harry said. “That’s why I need your help. There’s something else that I want to try.”

“What is it?” Dash asked. He breathed more easily now.

“Remember that part of the show when Monsieur Weitzman hung from the rope by his teeth? I want to try that. I think I can do it.”

“Harry, have you gone cuckoo?” Dash cried. “No. I’m not going to help you break your neck. What if something goes wrong? How could I explain it to Mama and Papa? Especially if I helped you!”

“What could go wrong, Dash?” Harry insisted. “Think about it. Can holding on to a rope with your teeth be any harder than walking a tightrope? You bite into a rope and hold on while somebody else hoists you into the air. You swing for a few minutes.
Then they lower you down. I’m telling you, Dash, we can do this.”

“Leave me out of this stunt,” Dash said. “Hanging by your teeth is just plain dumb. That’s asking for trouble.”

“If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to,” Harry replied. “You can be my assistant. I’ll hang. You pull. All you have to do is haul on the rope.”

“I’m not pulling you higher than this.” Dash held his arm above his head. He drew an imaginary line in the air with his hand.

“Fine,” said Harry. “All that matters is getting my feet off the ground. I’m going to see how long I can hang from the rope before I have to let go.”

Harry jumped up. He took hold of the end of the rope hanging down from the pulley in front of the hayloft. “Climb up there and hold the other end,” he told Dash. “Start
pulling me up when you hear me yell, ‘Pull!’ ”

Grumbling all the while, Dash climbed the ladder to the hayloft. The dust floating in the air under the barn roof made him sneeze.

“Gesundheit!” said Harry. He shaded his eyes as he looked up into the shadows.

“Thanks,” said Dash. The end of the rope was tied around a peg in the wall of the barn. Dash loosened it. He took the rope in both hands and gave it a tug.

“I don’t know. This rope looks really old, Harry,” he called down to his brother. “It probably came to Appleton in a covered wagon. Do you really want to take the chance?”

“Sure,” Harry said with a grin. “You hold on to the rope to make sure it doesn’t come through the pulley. I’ll tie a knot in this end.”

Dash held the rope while Harry wrapped the other end over his hand. He pulled it through and around to make a loop.

“What kind of knot is that?” Dash asked.

“It’s called a bowline,” Harry explained. “Sailors use it. It’s a slipknot that stays in place. Mr. Hanauer showed me how to tie it. He knows a lot about knots. Knots are just as interesting as locks, Dash. Do you know how many different kinds of knots there are? Hundreds! Maybe thousands. I’m going to learn to tie them all.”

“Just make sure you tied this one right,” Dash replied. He wrapped the rope around his arm, grasping it with both hands. “Are you ready?”

“Start pulling,” Harry answered. “When I get high enough, I’m going to try to hang by my teeth. You just hold on to the rope until I give you the signal to let me down.”

“Okay,” said Dash. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t I always?” said Harry. “Let’s go.”

Dash began pulling on the rope. Harry held tight to the loop in the bowline as if he were chinning himself up. Higher and higher he rose, until he was four feet off the ground. His toes were level with the tops of the stalls.