"Well, what do you think of eagles now?" Tom asked, in his dull way.
"Decline to be interviewed," Hervey said, with irrepressible buoyancy.
"What kind of a crazy bird is this that lives upside down in a house
that looks like a bat. It reminds me of a plum pudding, hanging in the
pantry. What's that streak of red, anyway? His patrol colors? You'd
think he'd get seasick, wouldn't you?"
"You've got the bird badge," Tom said, smiling a little; "can't you
guess?"
What Tom did not realize was that this merry, reckless, impulsive young
dare-devil, whose very talk, as he jumped from one theme to another,
made him smile in spite of himself, could not be expected to bear in
mind the record of his whole remarkable accomplishment. He was no
handbook scout.
There is the scout who learns a thing so that he may know it. But there
is the scout who learns a thing so that he may do it. And having done
it, he forgets it. Perhaps there is the scout who learns, does, and
remembers. But Hervey was not of that order. He had made a plunge for
each merit badge, won it and, presto, his nervous mind was on another.
It takes all kinds of scouts to make a world.
Perhaps Hervey was not the ideal scout, but there was something very
fascinating about his blithe way of going after a thing, getting it, and
burdening his mind with it no more. He lived for the present. His naive
manner of asking Tom for a tip as to a trail had greatly amused the more
experienced scout, who now could not understand how Hervey had used the
handbook so much and knew it so imperfectly.
Pages:
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43