"A Scout should be kind to animals," I said to myself. "A Scout is a friend to all." "A Scout should be useful."
"What's the use? This ain't any damsel-in-distress business, like Skinny is going to do. Besides, if I hurry maybe I'll get a chance to signal to Benny from the turn in the road on ahead."
"Come on and help me kill him," said he.
Just then the dog gave such a pitiful whine that I couldn't stand it, Benny or no Benny. So I took out my bandage.
"I think I can fix his leg, if you'll help me," I told him. "Get me a couple of sticks."
I told him what I wanted, and when he had brought them and I had whittled them into shape to use as splints, I fitted the broken bones in place and bandaged the leg, just as Mr. Norton had taught us, while the boy held the dog. The dog yelped a little, but seemed to know that I was doing it to help him.
"It will soon grow together," I said, when I had finished, "and then it will be almost as good as new."
It made me feel kind of queer and happy to see how glad he was. The dog licked my hand, too, and seemed to be trying to say something. I wish dogs could talk.
"How did you come to know so much?" he asked. "Is your father a doctor?"