What he never thought to remind her was that the great outdoors, the woods, the rough life, and even the dangerous ledges, are what make one big and broad. And that if one is big and broad and wholesome, why then he has a fine character and if he has a fine character he is a good citizen. And that’s all there is to it. Poor Tom, with all his wholesome, adventurous life, could not see this because pretty and clever Audry Ferris got in the path of his vision and dazzled him. She was not superior to him, she was only smarter. “It isn’t strength of body that makes a soldier,” she said. “It’s strength of character. To have the strength to do something unpleasant because it’s right. That was what won the war. That was what triumphed over militarism—bodily strength.” “You—bet—your—sweet—life,” said Tom. “I wish some of those kids at Temple Camp could hear you talk. They seem to think scouting is just a game. Why you never see any of them studying. We have laws, good ones, but do you suppose they ever read them? Not much.” “As I understand it,” said Audry, “it isn’t just building bonfires and sending signals and all that. It’s the idea of service—” “Why sure it is,” Tom vociferated. “You see right through it.” “Service for the common good,” she said. “_Absolutely_,” said Tom. She had read the phrase in a book but poor Tom did not know that. “That’s the trouble with these men up here,” Audry said. “They have strength enough, goodness knows. But they’re all failures. They’re not assets to their country.” This imposing phrase she had likewise derived from a book. “That’s how you are different from them—you have character.” Tom gazed delightedly at her. “You can efface yourself,” she said complacently. Tom did not want to efface himself. He felt that he was just beginning to live. He felt rough and crude in her presence, and a little ashamed that he had made such a god of the woods. He had not understood scouting in its finer sense. “Trouble with me I’ve been mixed up with a crew of wild Indians,” he said. “I was in service and I saw fellows die for the cause, too. But I never sat down and thought about these things as you have.” “If your scouting is any good at all,” Audry said, “it isn’t because it teaches you to cook. Mirandy can do that.” “Sure she can,” laughed Tom in admiration of her lucid wit. “If it doesn’t teach you service, what use is it?” Audry persisted, looking at him with her big, brown eyes. “You said it,” said Tom. “God and country, that’s what the scout handbook says.” “That’s why I wasn’t so carried away by what Mr. Whalen did,” said Audry. “A great many men are strong and even brave. It’s character that counts. These men are all deficient in some way. None of them will ever really amount to anything because they can’t lay a course and follow it.” Tom was speechless with admiration. “But you have character—purpose,” she said.