It was feeble “stuff” at the moment, and in danger of melting into an open attempt at flight; for Harold’s eyes had turned from the benignant flag to the figure of Leon Chase.
But Leon had little opportunity, and less desire, to harass him to-night.
For, as the kernel of the initiatory proceedings was reached, the first of the seven new recruits to hold up the three fingers of his right hand and take the scout oath was Starrie Chase:—
“On my honor I will do my best, to do my duty
to God and my country, and to obey the scout law:
To help other people at all times, to keep myself physically
strong, mentally awake and morally straight.”
Captain Andy cleared his throat as he listened, and the doctor wiped his glasses.
Then, as corporal or second in command of the new patrol, Leon stood holding aloft the brand-new flag of that patrol—a great, horned hoot-owl, the Grand Duke of the neighboring woods, embroidered on a blue ground by Colin’s mother—while his brother recruits, having each passed the tenderfoot test, took the oath and were enrolled as duly fledged Owls.
Harold, the timid fledgling, came last. Supported on either side by his sponsors, Nixon and Coombsie, he distinguished himself by tying the four knots which formed part of the test with swiftness and skill, and by “muddling” through the rest of the examination, consent having been obtained from headquarters that some leniency in the matter of answers might be shown to this handicapped boy who had never been to school and for whom—as for Leon—the Boy Scout Movement might prove The Thing.
Captain Andy declared it to be “The Thing” when later that night he was called upon for a speech.
“Boys!” he said, heaving his massive figure erect, the sky-blue rift of his eye twinkling under the cloudy lid. “Boys! it’s an able craft, this new movement, if you’ll only buckle to an’ work it well. And it’s a hearty motto you have: Be Prepared. Prepared to help yourselves, so that you can stand by to help others! Lads,”—the voice of the old sea-fighter boomed blustrously,—”there comes a time to ’most every one who isn’t a poor-hearted lubber, when he wants to help somebody else more than he ever wanted to help himself; and if he hasn’t made the most o’ what powers he has, why! when that Big Minute comes he won’t be ‘in it.’ Belay that! Make it fast here!” tapping his forehead. “Live up to your able motto an’ pretty soon you’ll find yourselves going ahead under all the sail you can carry; an’ you won’t be trying to get a corner on the breeze either, or to blanket any other fellow’s sails! Rather, you’ll show him the road an’ give him a tow when he needs it. God bless you! So long!”
And when the wisdom of the grand old sea-scout had been cheered to the echo, the eight members of the new patrol, rallying round their Owl flag, broke into the first verse of their song, a part of which Nixon had sung to them by the camp-fire in the woods:—