His Big Opportunity

His Big Opportunity, by Amy Le
Feuvre

The Project Gutenberg EBook of His Big Opportunity, by Amy Le
Feuvre This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and
with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: His Big Opportunity
Author: Amy Le Feuvre
Release Date: March 6, 2004 [EBook #11470]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS BIG
OPPORTUNITY ***

Produced by Joel Erickson, Michael Ciesielski, Amy Petri and PG
Distributed Proofreaders

[Illustration: "Quite a little party of friends to see him off." (p. 155)]

HIS BIG OPPORTUNITY
BY AMY LE FEUVRE
Author of "Probable Sons," "The Odd One," "Teddy's Button," etc, etc.
1898

Contents
Chapters
I. On the Garden Wall
II. A Song
III. Making An Opportunity
IV. An Awkward Visit
V. A Lost Donkey
VI. Rob
VII. A Walnut Story
VIII. The Bertrams' Leap
IX. Making His Leap
X. A Cripple
XI. A Gift to the Queen
XII. Letters
XIII. Old Principle

XIV. Heroes
XV. An Unwelcome Proposal
XVI. David and Jonathan
XVII. Boy's Big Opportunity

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Quite a Little Party of Friends to See Him Off
Old Principle Laughed at Dudley's Notion
"Now Then, You Rascals, What Are You Doing to My Donkey?"
"He's Dead, Ben--He's Dead!"

I
ON THE GARDEN WALL
They were sitting astride on the top of the old garden wall. Below them
on the one side stretched a sweet old-fashioned English garden lying in
the blaze of an August sun. In the distance, peeping from behind a
wealth of creepers and ivy was the old stone house. It was at an hour in
the afternoon when everything seemed to be at a standstill: two or three
dogs lay on the soft green lawn fast asleep, an old gardener smoking his
pipe and sitting on the edge of a wheelbarrow seemed following their
example; and birds and insects only kept up a monotonous and drowsy
dirge.
But the two little figures clad in white cricketting flannels, were full of
life and motion as they kept up an eager and animated conversation on

their lofty seat.
"You see, Dudley, if nothing happens, we will make it happen!"
"Then it isn't an opportunity."
"Yes it is. Why if those old fellows in olden times hadn't ridden off to
look for adventures they would never have found them at home."
"But an opportunity isn't an adventure."
"Yes, it is, you stupid! An adventure is something that happens, and so
is an opportunity."
The little speaker who announced this logic so dogmatically, was a slim
delicate boy with white face, and large brown eyes, and a crop of dark
unruly curls that had a trick of defying the hair cutter's skill, and of
growing so erratically that "Master Roy's head," was pronounced quite
unmanageable.
He was not a pretty boy, and was in delicate health, constantly subject
to attacks of bronchitis and asthma, yet his spirit was undaunted, and as
his old nurse often said, "his soul was too strong for his body."
Dudley, his little cousin, who sat facing him, on the contrary, was a
true specimen of a handsome English boy. Chestnut hair and bright
blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and an upright sturdy carriage, did much to
commend him to every one's favor: yet for force of character and
intellect he came far behind Roy.
He sat now pondering Roy's words, and kicking his heels against the
wall, whilst his eyes roved over the road on the outside of the garden
and away to a dark pine wood opposite.
"Here's one coming then," he said, suddenly; "now you'll have to use
it."
"Who? What? Where?"

"It's a man; a tramp, a traveller or a highwayman, and he may be all the
lot together! It's an opportunity, isn't it?"
Roy looked down the narrow lane outside the wall, and saw the figure
of a man approaching. His face lit up with eager resolve.
"He's a stranger, Dudley; he doesn't belong to the village; we'll ask him
who he is."
"Hulloo, you fellow," shouted Dudley in his shrill boyish treble; "where
do you come from? You don't belong to this part."
The man looked up at the boys curiously.
"And who may ye be, a-wall climbin' and a breakin' over in folks'
gardens to steal their fruit?"
"Don't you cheek us," said Roy, throwing his head up, and putting on
his most autocratic air; "this is our garden and our wall, and the road
you're walking on is our private road!"
"Then don't you take to insulting passers-by, or it will be the worse for
ye!" retorted the