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THE
SCOUTMASTER
by
John Tilley
| BUFFALOES
. . . buffaloes . . . buffaloes. Rally . . . rally . . . rally.
To me, boys ... to me. Boys . . . rally ... to me. Extraordinary,
no buffaloes. Rally . . . rally . . . rally. Boys . . . buffaloes.
Ladies and gentlemen, I am very sorry, but I am afraid I have
lost my scoop of trouts. My trout scoop seems to have entirely
disappeared. That's the worst of a Hyde Park Rally—once you
give the dismiss you never know where the little devils will
get to. They're such capital little chaps, you know—hot as mustard
and keen as cress. I'm so afraid they may have run into Hitler
and got dissolved. After all, the Nazis have been so awfully
unkind to we scouts —you wouldn't really think so, because,
after all, the Nazis' salute is more of a request than a threat—isn't
it? I'll just give them one more call. Buffaloes . . . Rally
... to me . . . boys . . . rally . . . Not a sign of them. It
is so awkward—we were going to give a little display in woodcraft
and knotting. I don't know what to do now. The only thing I
can suggest is that I carry on with the woodcraft and knotting
myself. It is so confusing for you—I am so awfully sorry. I'll
just give one more call. Buffaloes . . . buffaloes . . . rally
. . . Not a sign of them. Of course, the great thing about wood-craft
is to learn to be crafty on going into a wood. That is the great
thing. You see, the average person just enters the wood in the
ordinary way and they find trees all round them; they then say,
" Oh, here we are in a wood." Not so the Scout. No. The Scout
always enters the wood heavily disguised. Then he proceeds in
a series of short rushes from tree to tree. Like this. Thus
he avoids being peeped at. If there is one thing I hate it is
being peeped at. Of course, Lady Godiva suffered awfully from
that sort of thing in Coventry, and people get sent to Coventry
on the slightest pretext. And they may be, they may be ... and
the may be—of course the May bee actually comes out of the hive
in April. That's Mother Nature's way of telling us that it takes
more than one early worm to make a summer. Of course, the May
bee is different from the ordinary sort of bee, because the
May bee doesn't store honey in the hive at all. No ... it stores
jam. According to what it feeds on so the jam. If it feeds on
onions you have onion jam . . . Bananas, you have banana jam
. . . Cotton wool and train oil, and you have the full fruit
standard. But that's rather more expensive, and apiarists generally
. . . Oh, and talking of apes and aping, I had a most painful
experience the other day. I was out on a little private tracking
walk on my own, I was tracking down a country lane quite quietly—just
tracking here and tracking there, when an old gentleman came
up to me and said, " Are you a Scout ? " and I said, "Yes,"
and he said, "Fancy that." And then he said, " Are you interested
in birds ? " So I said, " I told you I was a Scout." So he said,
" Would you like to see the biggest swallow in England?" Of
course, I was frightfully keen in a minute, and he rushed me
over to the local inn . . . Do you know it cost me eighteen
pints before I realized I was being mocked. Oh, and talking
of mocking, I had a very painful experience only yesterday.
I went over a mock turtle factory. I don't know whether you
have ever been over a mock turtle factory, but it's a big factory
with a huge room with the turtles seated comfortably all round
the room. Then in came the chief mocker—and the things he said
to those turtles. I mean cruel things, personal things. Oh,
I was livid. There was one awfully nice little turtle, a very
shy, retiring little turtle. He was very sensitive about his
shell, he had some malformation of the shell, and this brute
of a chief mocker came up and cracked all the petrol jokes over
it, sort of, " That is a good shell, that was." Of course, the
poor thing was almost soup before I left. You see, that is what
they do. That is the way they make their soup. Oh, I was so
annoyed. Well, I must just see where my troop has got to. I
must find them if I can. Buffaloes . . . buffaloes. Rally .
. . rally . . . rally . . . Boys . . . rally . . . Not a sign
. . . Ah, there they are . . . Boys . . . come here. Boys .
. . where have you been ? Where have you been ? . . . Oh, I
see! |
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