But Danny had changed the subject. He showed them how to carve sticks. He told them all sorts of things about birds and squirrels and rats. But first of all he made them each a bow and some arrows, with pheasants’ and pigeons’ feathers, which they found in the woods, to make them go straight.
“I wish we could always stay with you,” said Nipper suddenly, “and live out in the woods, and learn to talk to the birds, and shoot with our bows, and be always happy, with no more rows and jawings and punishments.”
“Yes!” said David and Bill together. “And could you make us Scouts? We’d win lots of badges.”
Danny laughed. “You’re too young to be Scouts,” he said, “but you might be Wolf Cubs. Who are you?”
“We live up at the Hall,” said David. “Mr. Ogden is our grandfather.”
“Oho!” said Danny. “So you’re the little terrors I’ve heard so much about!”
The boys hung their heads.
“My word! you’re not the sort of chaps they have in the Cubs!” he continued. “From all I hear, you seem to be regular little Bolsheviks! Do you know, Cubs have to do a good turn for somebody every day, but you seem to do a bad turn to somebody every day—and more than one, too.”
The boys were silent.
“Squat down,” said Danny, “and I’ll tell you a bit about Cubs. It’s not all play, you know. Chaps who join the Cubs have to behave decently, whether they’re in uniform or not. Once you’ve taken the Cub Promise, you’re a Cub all the time, day and night. The Cubs have two laws they’ve got to keep. One is obedience—they promise to obey the grown-ups. Could you do that?”