A Spotlight for Harry Read Online Free PDF Page A

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. “Startpulling 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.
    “Hold me right here!” Harry called to Dash. While Dash held the rope in place, Harry raised himself with both arms until his mouth was level with the loop. He leaned forward and took the rope between his teeth.
    Ugh! Harry hadn’t thought about what it might mean to take that old rope into his mouth. The bristles felt like sandpaper. They scratched his tongue and lips. He tasted dust, moldy hay, and mice. Disgusting!
    But Harry held on. He was determined to prove he could do whatever Monsieur Weitzman could do. A bad-tasting rope wouldn’t stop him.
    Harry sank his teeth into the bristles. His mouth filled with spit. It dribbled down his chin until his neck and the whole front of his shirt were wet. This was the moment. Harry was ready. He braced himself, took a deep breath. He let go with his hands.
    Harry swung in midair, suspended only by the grip of his teeth. His body turned first to the right, then to the left. He felt as if he were trying to hold on to a moving train. His body bent backward to balance the pull, as if he were a bow that an invisible archer was using to shoot an arrow. His teeth ached. His eyes teared. Buckets of spit ran down his chin, but his mouth felt dry and dusty.
    This was horrible, much worse than hehad ever imagined. And yet, he’d been hanging for less than a minute. How had Monsieur Weitzman hung for so long? How had he made it seem so easy?
    Harry couldn’t answer those questions. But he did know the answer to the most important one. How long was he going to hang here?
    Until I count to a hundred
, Harry told himself. He began counting. He couldn’t speak, but he could say the words in his mind.
One … two … three … four …
At the same time, he focused on one single idea. Hold on!
    “Harry! That’s enough. How long are you going to do this?” Dash called.
    Harry ignored