“I certainly did,” answered Mr. Trevor. “And it was a mighty fine lot of boys, every one of them looking like a gentleman.” Guilty looks showed here and there about the table. “But I’ll come to that in a minute. I want to tell you a story first. How many of you ever heard of Baden-Powell?”
Dead silence followed. Then Alex Conyers said:
“It sounds like a health resort in Germany. Were you there?”
“It isn’t a health resort,” laughed Mr. Trevor. “It’s a man’s name. But, in a way he might be called a health reviser, for it is this man who is making so many strong vigorous gentlemen out of thousands—hundreds of thousands—of English boys. And it is this man who has set all young England camping out and learning the country and the ways of outdoor-things and playing games that injure no one. He has even made it unpopular and even unnecessary for boys to fight each other to find fun.”
This shot went home. Thirteen boys looked at their plates or at the ceiling in silence.
“Then he’s the Boy Scout man, isn’t he?” finally ventured Alex Conyers.
“He is. And that’s what I want to talk about. While I was in London I met a friend, a grown man like me, who has taken a great deal of interest in Boy Scouts and their work. On a Saturday he took me where an encampment of Scouts was being held. Never,” went on Mr. Trevor, leaning forward in his enthusiasm, “have I so much wanted to be a boy again. Boys, it was great. The encampment was in a valley near a heavy forest. There was a stream with rushes and swimming pools and a tall white staff with the Scout flag fluttering—a flag that went up at sunrise with salute and came down at sundown with the Scouts at ‘present arms.’ There were tents in the valley and among the trees; company cook-houses and dining tents and shelters for Scouts by twos and fours. Not even in the army are things neater or more in order.”
“What’d they do?” asked Colly Craighead impulsively.
“Obey orders like soldiers,” replied Mr. Trevor, “and play all day. And in their play they learn how to do a hundred things a boy can’t learn in school: how to track and capture an animal; how to trail a man like the Indians and old scouts used to do; how to take care of themselves in the woods—make camp with nothing; how to make a fire and cook; how to help persons in trouble, to dress a wound, to revive the drowning, to act promptly and effectively in all moments of danger; how to give a helping hand to old and young; and how, above all, to help themselves. In short, how to form good habits while at play—to be patriotic, honest and generous from choice.”
“Were you in a regular Boy Scout camp?” asked Art at the first chance.