Page 13 - Save the Last Dance for Me

I tried not to smile. To our rough-and-tumble

farm boys, ropes only meant one thing—something
to tie something up with, or more drastically,

something to tie someone up with.

“I started explaining some of the standard
knots,” Harry fumed. “They said they knew how to

tie knots and ‘didn’t need no stupid lesson on it.’

So, I told them to show me. Oh, sure, they tied
knots, some of the ugliest knots I have ever seen.

None of them seemed to know what a standard

knot was. I told them, ‘Those knots would come

undone at the first tug.’”
That was his first mistake.

I swallowed hard to not smile as he said,

“They dared me to show them that I could get

untied. I decided to take their challenge.” That
was his second mistake.

A farm boy may not know how to tie a scout

handbook type of knot, but he knows how to tie a
knot that will not come undone. Thus, Harry found

himself pretty much hogtied as the boys wrapped

him with rope and pulled the knots tight. Having a
little too much pride to beg to be untied, he worked

his way into the scout closet to find a nail or

something he could hook a piece of the knot on to
undo the rope.

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