“I’ll join ’em,” said Danny, wriggling about in the straw in his excitement.
Dick laughed and aimed a gooseberry at a big rat who happened to be passing.
“Look here, youngster,” he said, “don’t you get the idea that Scouting is all play, all ragging about, and dressing up, and paper-chasing—’cos it’s not.”
“Isn’t it?” said Danny.
“No,” answered the Patrol-Leader, lying back till his head was half-smothered in his stalky pillow.
“It means doing good turns to other people every chance you get. And it puts the lid on telling lies or sneaking or pinching things or swearing. It means making a solemn promise and doing anything rather than break it. It means jolly well bucking up all round. And it means sticking to it.”
“Oh!” said Danny, and he pondered in silence for quite a long time.
Dick looked at his small friend.
“Cheer up, kid,” he said. “You’ll make a top-hole Cub if you try. The Cub motto is, ‘Do Your Best.’ D’you think you can live up to that?”
“Not half!” said Danny, and from that time he decided to be a Cub—a real Cub, inside as well as out.