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Tommy Atkins' rifle was by no means the first inanimate or dumb
thing to prove human and to deserve human treatment. Animals of all
sorts have been given this quality. Jack London's dog, in The Call
of the Wild, has human interest. So has the immortal Black Beauty.
At Temple Camp you may hear the story told of how Llewellyn, scout
of the first class, and Orestes, winner of the merit badges for
architecture and for music, were by their scouting skill and lore
instrumental in solving a mystery and performing a great good turn.
Maybe you fellows will remember about how I was telling you that
our troop had a house-boat that was loaned to us for the summer, by
a man that lives out our way. He said we could fix it up and use it
to go to Temple Camp in. It was a peach of a boat and took the
hills fine-that's what we said just to jolly Pee-wee Harris, who is
in our troop. He's awfully easy to jolly, but he doesn't stay mad
long, that's one good thing about him.
Rejected by a large majority-I mean, elected by a large majority.
Roy Blakeley gathered up the ballots in his two hands, dropped them
into the shoe box and pushed the box across the table to Mr.
Ellsworth as if the matter were finally settled. "Honorable Roy
Blakeley," he added, "didn't even carry his own patrol."
Well, here I am at last, ready to tell you the adventures of our
young lives. Right away I have trouble with Pee-wee Harris. He's
about as easy to keep down as a balloon full of gas. We call him
the young dirigible because he's always going up in the air. Even
at the start he must stick in his chapter heading about a conclave.
When Pee-wee Harris returned from Temple Camp in the fall, he found
himself a scout without a patrol. He had indulged in a colossal
speculation and lost out. Forsaking the Raving Ravens, he had set
forth to mobilize all the small, unattached boys at camp into the
Pollywog Patrol, but the Pollywog Patrol had proved about as
substantial as the shifting sand.
The night was bleak and cold. All through the melancholy, cheerless
day, the first chill of autumn had been in the air. Toward evening
the clouds had parted, showing a steel-colored sky in which the sun
went down a great red ball, tinting the foliage across the river
with a glow of crimson. A sun full of rich light but no heat.
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