Clark thirty pounds also?

2. Sugar-cane grows in a moist tropical region. If you were a farmer in Kansas, would you plant most of your farm with sugar-cane?

3. All the boys and girls of the Sixth Grade belong to the School Library. Marie is in the Sixth Grade. Is she a member of the Library?

4. John is older than Robert. I am younger than John. Do you know that Robert is older than I am?

5. I have been saving since last vacation in order to buy a bicycle.

It will cost me $19.50, but I have already saved more than half of this. If my father gives me ten dollars for my birthday shall I be able to get the bicycle?

6. All the boys in the Sixth Grade have enlisted in the United States School Garden Army. Robert is a member of the United States School Garden Army. Does that prove that he is a member of the Sixth Grade?

7. Hawaii has a warm moist climate. From what you read in the second problem, would you expect to find sugar-cane growing there?

8. John is three years younger than Robert. I am one year older than John. Is Robert the oldest?

WHAT IS A BOY SCOUT?

Perhaps you are a Boy Scout already, though not a very big one.

Perhaps you intend to be one some day. In this description of the best kind of Scout, find reasons why you would like to be one.

A Scout enjoys a hike through the woods more than he does a walk in the city streets. He can tell north or south or east or west by the "signs." He can tie a knot that will hold; he can climb a tree which seems impossible to others; he can swim a river; he can pitch a tent; he can mend a tear in his trousers; he can tell you which fruits and seeds are poisonous and which are not; he can sight nut-bearing trees from a distance. If he lives near the ocean or a lake he can reef a sail or take his trick at the wheel, and, if near any body of water at all he can pull an oar or use paddles and sculls; in the woods he knows the names of birds and animals; in the water he tells you the different varieties of fish.

A Scout walks through the woods with silent tread. No dry twigs snap under his feet, and no loose stones turn over and throw him off his balance. His eyes are keen and he sees many things that others do not see. He sees tracks and signs which reveal to him the nature and habits of the creatures that made them. He knows how to stalk birds and animals and how to study them in their natural haunts. He sees much, but is little seen.

A Scout, like an old frontiersman, does not shout his wisdom from the housetops. He possesses the quiet power that comes from knowledge. He speaks softly and answers questions modestly. He knows a braggart but he does not challenge him, allowing the boaster to expose his ignorance by his own loose-wagging tongue.

A Scout can kindle a fire in the forest on the wettest day, and he seldom uses more than one match. When no matches can be had, he can still have a fire, for he knows the secret of the rubbing sticks used by the Indians, and he knows how to start a blaze with only his knife blade and a piece of flint. He knows, also, the danger of forest fires; so he kindles a blaze that will not spread. The fire once started, what a meal he can prepare out there in the open! Just watch him and compare his appet.i.te with that of a boy who lounges at a lunch counter in a crowded city. He knows the unwritten rules of the campfire, and he contributes his share to the pleasures of the council. He also knows when to sit silent before the ruddy embers and give his mind free play.

A Scout holds his honor to be his most precious possession, and he would rather die than have it stained. He knows what is his duty, and all obligations imposed by duty he fulfills of his own free will. His sense of honor is his only task-master, and his honor he guards as jealously as did the knights of old. In this manner a Scout wins the confidence and respect of all people.

A Scout practices self-control, for he knows that men who master problems in the world must first master themselves. He keeps a close guard on his tongue, for he knows that loud speech is often a cloak to ignorance, that swearing is a sign of weakness, and that untruthfulness shatters the confidence of others. He keeps a close guard on his appet.i.te and eats moderately of food which will make him strong; he never uses alcoholic liquors because he does not wish to poison his body; he desires a clear, active brain, so he avoids tobacco.

A Scout never flinches in the face of danger; for he knows that at such a time every faculty must be alert to preserve his safety and that of others. He knows what to do in case of fire, or panic, or shipwreck; he trains his mind to direct and his body to act. In all emergencies he sets an example of resourcefulness, coolness and courage, and considers the safety of others before that of himself. He is especially considerate of the helpless and weak.

A Scout can make himself known to a brother Scout wherever he may be by a method which only Scouts can know. He has brothers in every city in the land and in every country in the world. Wherever he goes he can give his signs and be a.s.sured of a friendly welcome. He can talk with a brother Scout without making a sound or he can make known his message by imitating the click of a telegraph key.

--_From "The Boy Scouts' Year Book", Courtesy of D. Appleton and Company._

QUESTIONS

1. Why would you like a Boy Scout as a companion if you were lost in the woods?

2. What is meant by, "His sense of honor is his only task-master"?

3. Why would you trust a Boy Scout who lived up to the teachings of the Boy Scouts?

THE SCOUT AND THE KNIGHT

Some of the pledges which the knights of King Arthur's Round Table had to take were not unlike the code of the Boy Scouts. Find the points of likeness in these lines from Tennyson's version of the vows:

"To honor his own word as if his G.o.d's; To ride abroad redressing human wrongs; To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it."

THE FIRE SPIRIT

Here is a splendid story that makes the discovery of fire real to us because it shows us how a man might have felt.

This is a story to read and enjoy. No questions will be asked about it, but you may ask your teacher to explain anything you do not understand. Perhaps you would like to tell the story to your parents or friends or to some cla.s.s below yours in the school.

Before the years were counted or the circuit of the seasons reckoned, man lived where it was always summer, and summer heat ruled the Northland, now ruled by winter cold. As the scepter of the Frost King reached farther and farther south, men slowly and reluctantly retreated from the old homes. But some lingered through the fireless winters for the love of the familiar places and the beauty of the northern spring and summer.

Among those who lingered was Ang, the mighty hunter. His home was in a cave at the edge of the great forest. It faced the south so that it could catch all the scant rays of the winter's sun. The mouth of the cave was partly closed by a screen of fir boughs, while a bark slab, torn from a big tree, formed a rude door. Inside the cave were bunks piled high with dry moss and leaves, with the skins of animals which Ang had slain thrown over them.

It was not yet midwinter, but it was cold, bitter cold. As Ang sat in front of his cave, chipping knife blades and arrow points from flint, he moved from time to time to keep in the feeble light of the sun, but it seemed to have little warmth, and he shivered and grumbled to himself: "Every year the cold grows stronger. The old men tell of a time when it came late and went soon, but that must have been long ago. Ugh! but it is cold! It gets under my bearskin; it nips my ears and numbs my hands. I wish I had taken the long journey to the Southland, but it was far for the woman and the child, and I hoped that the Ice Giant would grow old and lose his strength--and I was born here; my father and my father's father hunted in these woods and fished in this river, and men, like trees, take root."

The sun sank into a cold gray cloud in the west. The bite of the wind grew sharper. The hoa.r.s.e cough of a child echoed from the cave behind him, and the dull crooning song of the mother, as she tried to warm the sick child at her breast, could be heard as the wind was lulled for a moment.

Colder and more cold it grew, but Ang would not enter the cave. He could not bear to hear the troubled breathing of the child or see the face of the mother. He dreaded the coming of the grim White Spirit for this, his last child. Sometimes he fancied he could hear him rushing through the woods above the cliff, and feel the chill of his breath on his face. Had he no other food but children, this dread hunter?

Colder and more cold it grew, but Ang still lingered. He piled dry moss about his feet and tried to bring warmth to his numb hands by hammering off flakes of flint which he would later shape into rough weapons and tools. He struck two flints together in a kind of dumb fury. It was a glancing blow, and one of the flints dropped into the dry moss at his feet with a flicker of sparks. A coil of gray smoke crept out of the moss like a serpent coming out of his hole. A bright spot at its heart grew brighter and brighter, and then red flames lapped hungrily.

Ang leaped to his feet in astonishment. At the smiting of the flint the Fire Spirit had been born. Its breath was the breath of summer. He stretched out his hands over the flames, and the cold loosened its grip. He touched the flame, and it stung him like an angry bee.

Clearly the Spirit must not be handled. Awe and wonder filled the mind of Ang. He fell on his knees and prayed to the Fire Spirit: "Spirit of light and heat, Thou hast come in our hour of need--I know not whence.

Stay and keep away the terrible cold Spirit with thy red arrows. Stay!

I will deny thee nothing. If Thou art hungry, I will feed thee."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FIRE SPIRIT]

As Ang watched the fire, it hungrily ate up the dry moss, and lapped the dry sticks. He brought more and fed them to the reaching flames.

The northern darkness had shut in the rest of the world, light lingered at the door of the cave of Ang, and the warm breath of the fire brought back the heat of summer in the midst of winter. Joy filled the heart of Ang, and he called to the mother and the child: "Oma, Om, come! The Great One has heard. Come, come, come quickly."

The bark door opened, and the mother came out holding the child to her breast. A cry of wonder broke from her as she saw the fire, but wonder gave way to the mother instinct. The All-Father had heard. Here were warmth and light. The gray huntsman should not have her child. She crouched by the fire, holding the babe in her arms so that she sheltered it from the encircling cold while the glowing fire warmed and healed it. With grat.i.tude and awe she watched the color come back to the child's face, and then she looked with eager questioning at the face of Ang, as it shone with a light brighter than that of the fire.

Finally he spoke: "I sat at the going in of the cave. Fear gripped me; the cold smote me. I said, Odin has forgotten. It may be that he has gone to the Southland because the cold was stronger than he. I heard the barking of the child. The dread of the great robber was on me. I tried to forget. I smote the flints together. Star-flies seemed to leap from the stone, and the fire was born in the heart of the moss."

Then Ang stood by the mother and the child and placed his left hand on the head of the mother and raised his right hand to the sky to which the leaping flames pointed and said: "Great Father, now I know that none is greater than Thou; not even the giants of the North. Thy shining arrows have driven the huntsman back. And I know that Thine eyes see farther than the eagle floating in the sky, for thou hast seen us alone in the great woods, and Thine ear is quicker to hear than that of the mother listening for the cry of her first-born, for thou hast heard the cry that did not rise to our lips. Henceforth the fire shall be the sign of Thee. As the flames leap up the sky, so shall our thoughts leap to Thee, Our Father."