And briefly skimming from one point to another, he told of the origin of the Boy Scout Movement far away in Africa during the defense of a besieged city, and of the great English general, the friend of boys, who had fathered that movement. Leon's eyes narrowed as he still gazed into the camp-fire: it was a long descent from the defense of a beleaguered city to the championship of a besieged chipmunk, but his quick mind grasped the principle of fiery chivalry underlying both--one and the same. "Can you sing some more of that U.S.A. song which you were shouting in the woods near the log camp?" Marcoo broke in, as the narrator dwelt on those good times spent in hiking, trailing, camping with the scoutmaster. "Perhaps I can--a verse or two! That's the latest for the Boy Scouts of America--the Scouts of the old U.S. Don't know whether I have a pinch of breath left, though!" And the flagging voice began, gathering gusto from the camp-fire, glee from the stars now winking through the pine-tops:-- "Mile after mile in rank or file, We tramp through field and wood: Or off we hike down path or pike, One glorious brotherhood. Hurrah for the woods, hurrah for the fields, Hurrah for the life that's free! With a body and mind both clean and kind, The Scout's is the life for me!" "Chorus, fellows!" he cried:-- We will fight, fight, fight, for the right, right, right, "Be prepared" both night and day; And we'll shout, shout, shout, For the Scout, Scout, Scout, For the Scouts of the U.S.A. The rolling music in the pine-trees, the reedy whistle of the breeze among beeches and birches, soft cluck of rocking branches, the bagpipe skirling of the flames leaping high, fluted and green-edged, all came in on that chorus; together with the four boyish voices and the bark of the dog as he bayed the blaze: the night woods rang for the Scouts of the U.S.A. "If when night comes down we are far from town, Both tired and happy too, Camp-fires we light and by embers bright We sleep the whole night through. Hurrah for the sun, hurrah for the storm, Hurrah for the stars above! We feel secure, safe, sane and sure, For we know that God is Love." "Why have you that knot in your tie?" asked Leon after the last note had died away in forest-echo, while the scout was wetting the bandages round his inflamed ankle before they crept into the cave to sleep. "To remind me to do one good turn to somebody every day." "Well, you can untie it now; I guess you've done good turns by the bunch to-day!" Lying presently upon the fragrant pine-tips with which they had strewn the interior of the cave, the scout's tired fingers fumbled for that knot and drowsily undid it. He had lost both way and temper in the woods. But he had tried, at least, to obey the scout law of kindness.