Back Aa

His Big Opportunity

Close

<h2>II</h2> A SONG "Come here, boys. I have had some new music from town, and here is a song that you will like to listen to, I expect." It was Miss Bertram who spoke, and her appearance in the nursery just saved a free fight. Wet afternoons were always a sore trial to the boys: their mornings were generally spent at the Rectory under Mr. Selby's tuition, but their afternoons were their own, and it was hard to be kept within four walls, and expected to make no sound to disturb their grandmother's afternoon nap. The old nurse was nodding in her chair, and her charges with jackets off and rolled up shirt sleeves were advancing toward each other on tiptoe, and muttering their threats in wrathful whispers. "I'll show you I'm no coddle!" "And I'll show you I'm no lazy lubber!" At the sound of their aunt's voice they stopped; and each picked up his jacket with some confusion, Dudley saying contentedly, "All right, old fellow, pax now, and we'll finish it up to-morrow." "Aunt Judy, do let us come into the drawing-room then, and hear you sing; we're sick of this old nursery, we're too big to be kept here." Roy spoke scornfully, but his aunt shook her head at him: "Do you know this is the room I love best in the house? Your father and I used it till we were double your age, and no place ever came up to it in our estimation. Don't be little prigs and think yourselves men before you're boys!" "Why, Aunt Judy, we've been boys ever since we were born!" "I look upon you as infants now," retorted Miss Bertram, laughing. "Come along—tiptoe past granny's room, please, and no racing downstairs." "We'll slide down the rails instead, we always do when granny is asleep." "Not when I am with you, thank you." A few minutes afterward, and the boys were standing on either side of the piano listening with delight to the song that has stirred so many boyish hearts: "'Tis a story, what a story, tho' it never made a noise Of cherub-headed Jake and Jim, two little drummer boys Of all the wildest scamps that e'er provoked a sergeant's eye, They were first in every wickedness, but one thing could not lie, And they longed to face the music, when the tidings from afar Brought the news of wild disaster in a wild and savage war. Said the Colonel, 'How can babies of battle bear the brunt?' Said the little orphan rascals, 'please Sir, take us to the front! And we'll play to the men in the far-off land, When their eyes for home are dim; If the Indians come, they shall hear our drum In the van where the fight is grim. Our lads we know, to the death will go, If they're led by Jake and Jim.' "In the battle, 'mid the rattle, and the deadly hail of lead, The two were in their glory—What did they know of dread? And fierce the heathen cry arose across the Indian plain, And 'twas Home, for the bravest there would never be again, The raw recruits were restless, and they counted not the cost, And the Colonel shouted, 'Steady lads, stand fast, or else we're lost.' A rush! 'twas like an avalanche! a clash of steel and red! A shock like mountain thunder, then the reg'ment turned and fled. 'Give me the drum, take the fife,' said Jake, 'And with all your might and main, Play the old step now, for the reg'ment's sake As they scatter along the plain. We'll play them up to the front once more, Tho' we never come back again.' "Then might the world have seen two little dots in red, Facing the foe, when the rest had turned and fled! So young, so brave and gay, while others held their breath, They played ev'ry inch of the way to meet their death; And then at last the reg'ment turned, for vengeance ev'ry man To save the lads they turned and fought as only demons can; They swept the foe before them across the mountain rim, But victory that day could never bring back Jake or Jim. And they silently stood where the children fell, Not a word of triumph said, For they knew who had led as they bowed each head, And looked at the quiet dead; That the fight was won, and the reg'ment saved, By those two little dots in red." Miss Bertram stole a glance at the boys' faces as she finished singing. With a wriggle and a twist Dudley turned his back upon her; but not before she had seen the blue eyes swimming with tears, and heard a choking sob being hastily swallowed. Roy stood erect, his little face quivering with emotion, and his usually pale cheek flushed a deep crimson, whilst his small determined mouth and chin looked more resolute and daring than ever. His hands thrust deep in the pockets of his knickerbockers he looked straight before him and repeated with emphasis, "They played every inch of the way to meet their death!" "Regular little heroes, weren't they?" said Miss Bertram. "Rather," came from Roy's lips, and then without another word he ran out of the room. "Do you like it, David?" Miss Bertram asked, touching Dudley lightly on the shoulder. "No—I—don't—it makes a fellow in a blue funk." And two fists were hastily brushed across the eyes. "Shall I sing you something more cheerful?" "No, thanks, not to-night, I think I'll go to Roy." And Dudley, too, made his exit, leaving his aunt touched and amused at the effect of the song. An hour after the rain had ceased, and the sun was shining out. Down the village street walked the two boys enjoying their freedom more soberly than was their wont. "We must, we must, we must be heroes, Dudley!" "Yes, if we get a chance." "But why shouldn't we have it as well as those two boys. I wonder sometimes what God meant us to do when He made us! And I'm not going to be in the dumps because I'm not very strong. For look at Nelson: old Selby told us he was always very seedy and shaky, always ill; and not being big in body doesn't matter, for Nelson was a little man and so was Napoleon, and lots of the great men have been short and stumpy and hideous! I mean to do something before I die, if only an opportunity will come! Do you remember the story of the little chap in Holland, who put his hand in the hole in the sand bank, and kept the whole ocean from coming in and washing away hundreds of towns and villages? If I could only do a thing like that, something that would do good to millions of people; something that would be worth living for! If I could save somebody's life from fire, or drowning, or some kind of danger! Don't you long for something of that sort, eh?" "I don't know that I do," was the slow response; "but I should like you to get a chance of it if you want it so much." "Oh, wasn't it splendid of those two little chaps—a whole regiment! And only those two who didn't run away! I think I could stand fire like that, couldn't you?" "I would with you." "But I don't expect I'll ever go into the army." This in sorrowful tones. "Why not?" "Oh, they'd never have me. I'm too thin round the chest; nurse says I'm like a bag of bones, and I wouldn't make a smart soldier. Now you'd be a splendid one, no one could be ashamed of you." "Well, I won't go without you." "But I'll do something worth living for," repeated Roy, tossing up his head and giving a stamp as he spoke; "and I'll seize the first opportunity that comes." Dudley was silent. They had now reached the low stone bridge over the river, a favorite resort amongst all the village boys for fishing; and quite a little group of them were collected there. Roy and Dudley were welcomed eagerly as though perhaps at times they were inclined to assume patronizing and masterful airs; yet their extreme generosity and love for all country sport made them general favorites with the villagers. Roy was soon in the midst of an eager discussion about the best bait for trout; and was presently startled by a heavy splash over the bridge. Looking up, to his amazement, he saw Dudley struggling in the water. "Help, Roy, I'm drowning!" Both boys were capital swimmers, but Roy saw that Dudley seemed incapable of keeping himself up, and in one second he threw off his jacket, and dived head foremost off the bridge to the rescue. The current of the river was strong here, for a mill wheel was only a short distance off; and it was hard work to swim safely ashore. Roy accomplished it successfully amidst the cheers of the admiring group on the bridge; and when once on dry ground again, neither of the boys seemed the worse for the wetting. In the hubbub that ensued Dubley was not questioned as to the cause of the accident; but it appeared that his feet had got entangled in some string and netting that one of the boys had brought with him to the bridge, and it was this that had prevented him from swimming. "It's awfully nice that I had the chance of helping you," said Roy, as the two boys were running home as fast as they could to change their wet clothes; "I didn't hurt you in the water, did I? I believe I gave a pretty good tug to your hair, I was awfully glad you hadn't had your hair cut lately." "You've saved my life," said Dudley, staring at Roy with a peculiar gravity; "if you hadn't dashed over to me, I should have been sucked down by that old wheel, and should have been a dead man by this time. You've done to-day what you were longing to do." "Yes, but I tell you I felt awfully squeamish when I saw you in the water and thought I might be too late." As they neared the house, Roy's pace slackened. "Go on, Dudley, and leave me, I can't get on, I believe that horrid old asthma is coming on, I'll follow slowly." "I'm not quite such a cad," was Dudley's retort, and then hoisting Roy up on his back, as if that mode of proceeding was quite a usual occurrence, he made his way into the house. They crept up to their bedrooms and changed their wet clothes before they showed themselves to any one. Then Dudley waxed eloquent for the occasion, and the story was told in drawing-room and servants' hall, till every one was loud in their praises of the little rescuer. "He looks too small to have done it," said Miss Bertram, smiling; for though Roy was Dudley's senior by two months, he was a good head shorter. Roy got rather impatient under this adulation. "Oh, shut up, Dudley, don't be such an ass, as if I could have done anything else!" An hour after, and Roy was sitting up in bed speechless and panting, with the bronchitis kettle in full play, and nurse trying vainly to battle with one of his worst bronchial attacks. "I say "—he gasped at last; "do you think—I'm going to die—this time?" "Surely no, my pet. It's more asthma than bronchitis; I'll pull you round, please God." Midnight came, and when nurse left the room for a minute she found a small figure crouched down outside the door. It was Dudley. "Oh, nurse, he's very bad, isn't he? Is he going to die? What shall I do! I shall be his murderer, I've killed him!" Dudley's eyes were wild with terror, and nurse tried to soothe him. "Don't talk nonsense, but go to bed; he'll be better in the morning, I hope. It's just the wet, and the strain of it that's done it. There's none to blame. You couldn't help it, and he's been as bad as this before and pulled through. Go to bed, laddie, and ask God to make him better." Dudley crept back to bed, and flung himself down on his pillows with a fit of bitter weeping. "She says I couldn't help it; oh, God, make him better, make him better, do forgive me! I never thought of this!" <hr style="width: 65%;"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2