A Spotlight for Harry by Eric A. Kimmel Page A

ground far below was a thin rope. Would he keep his balance? Or would one slip plunge him to his death? How could a herd of horses be as exciting as that?
    Now, as the ringmaster announced the next performer, Harry was about to see itactually happening before his eyes. The circus band fell silent. Every eye in the circus tent looked up. Monsieur Jean Weitzman, the tightrope walker, stepped out onto the high wire. Harry reached for Dash’s hand. He squeezed it tight.
    Monsieur Weitzman, carrying a long pole in his hands, walked across the wire. He stopped in the middle and turned around in midair. Then he walked back the way he had come. That was just the beginning.
    Harry had never seen anything like it in his life. Monsieur Weitzman didn’t just walk across the rope. He danced on it. He sat on a chair in the middle and pretended to read a newspaper. He carried a young woman across and back again on his shoulders while she juggled five red balls at once.
    The act ended too soon. Monsieur Weitzman slid down a long rope to theground and took his bow. The audience exploded with cheers and applause while the circus band played a lively march. Monsieur Weitzman walked around the arena, waving to the audience.
    “Harry, let go! You’re crushing my fingers!” Dash said.
    Only then did Harry realize he was still gripping his brother’s hand. Leopold’s eyes were wide open. Gladys had fallen asleep in her mother’s arms. Rabbi Weiss was still clapping.
    “What do you think, Papa?” Harry said. “Wasn’t that better than horses?”
    Rabbi Weiss had to agree. “That certainly was fine,” he admitted. “Still, I wish I could take you to see the circus in Budapest someday. Our performers in Hungary are the best in the world.”
    “I give up,” Harry whispered to Dash inEnglish. “Everything’s better in Hungary, according to Papa.”
    “And it gets better every time he tells us about it,” Dash replied with a wink. “If it was so great over there, why did Mama and Papa come here?”
    A sudden drumroll called the audience to attention. Everyone fell silent as the ringmaster strode into the center of the ring.
    “Ladies and gentlemen …,” he began in a powerful voice. It could be heard in every corner of the circus tent. “Monsieur Jean Weitzman will now present a feat that, until this day, he has only performed before the crowned heads of Europe. Using only the power of his jaws, he will allow himself to be suspended from the highest point of the big top. Ladies and gentlemen, I do not have to remind you how dangerous this is. We must have total silence so that MonsieurWeitzman can focus completely on what he must do.”
    Harry sat on the edge of his seat. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles cracked. Gladys began to whimper.
    “Hush, child. You must be quiet,” Harry heard his mother say. Her voice seemed to come from a distance, even though she was only one seat away. He heard his father whispering prayers for the performer’s safety.
    Monsieur Weitzman stepped to the center of the arena. He saluted the audience. A drum rolled. A rope came down from the top of the circus tent. Monsieur Weitzman took the end of the rope in his teeth. He threw back his head, holding his arms out wide.
    Harry gasped as Monsieur Weitzman rose into the air as if he were a bird flying up from the floor of the circus. Up, up he went,spinning round and round, holding on to the rope with only his teeth. Seeing such bravery left Harry breathless. How could a man find the courage to perform a feat like that? A sudden slip, an unexpected moment of weakness, would send him hurtling to his doom!

    Time had never seemed so long. Minutes had never passed so slowly. Harry could not pull his eyes away from the top of the circus tent, where Monsieur Weitzman slowly turned round and round, first one way, then another, like a fish caught on a line.
    At last, it was over. The rope lowered. The band began to play. Monsieur Weitzman