“Loan you my earmuffs if you say the word, Step Hen,” spoke up Bumpus.
“Well, now, that’s decent of you, Bumpus,” the other scout remarked; “but you see, this old corduroy cap of mine has earflaps that can be turned down. It’s just a bully thing for a cold, windy day. But after such a generous offer, Bumpus, why, I give you my full permission to turn over your badge. You’ve begun the day bright and early, by trying to do a generous deed for a comrade.”
Of course, what Step Hen referred to was the well-known rule by which the great body of members composing the Boy Scouts’ organization of America has been governed, in order to teach the units of each patrol and troop the benefits to be derived from making themselves useful to others.
In the morning every scout is supposed to pin his badge upside-down, on the lapel of his coat; and is not allowed to change its position until he has found an opportunity for helping some one, either by act, or advice that is really useful. It may only be a very simple thing; but it teaches the lad, first of all, the useful attribute of observation; and after that the still more precious one of service. Even though he but assist an old man across a street where vehicles are numerous; or take a market basket from the hands of a housewife, who is staggering homeward under the heavy burden, the effect is the same.
It makes his boyish heart thrill with a satisfaction that develops the trait of generosity; and gives every lad a more manly sensation; for he realizes that small though he may seem, he is of some value to the world.
“Oh!” said Bumpus, blushing, “I guess I hadn’t ought to take advantage of such a little thing as that, so’s to get my badge turned. I’ll find a chance to do something that’s more worth while, before the morning’s an hour old. And Step Hen, if you bring home the bacon in the shape of a noble six-pronged buck, you must let me take your picture, with your foot on the prize. Why, it will be the most valuable heirloom in your family, years from now. Your great grandchildren will point to it in pride, and tell how you slew the Jabberwock in the woods of Maine.”
“Well,” grinned Step Hen, “wait till I get the buck. I don’t count my chickens before they’re hatched. And I hope for one thing–that when we do come back, there’s going to be a little peace in the camp; and that our friend Giraffe here, will have solved the riddle that’s been worrying him so long. Them’s my sentiments.”
Giraffe made a mock bow, as he remarked in his most amiable way:
“Much obliged for making that wish, Step Hen; and from present indications I’ve got a sort of hunch that something is going to happen along them lines. Woke up in the night after having a dream, and it all came to me like a flash, where I’d been making a mistake. And as soon as I get through eating, I’m going to work trying to start things just like I saw in my dream. Oh! I’ll get there, sooner or later, by hook or by crook. You never saw me give a thing up yet.”
“Hey! what’s that?” remarked Davy Jones, quickly. “How about that time you got in old farmer Collins’ watermelon patch one night, and hooked a nice big melon he had doctored, so as to teach the boys a lesson. Oh! I know, because I was along with the crowd; and seems to me you gave up everything you owned, during that never-to-be-forgotten hour. I know I did; and I’ve never eaten a melon since without shivering.”