It was a fierce afternoon, with the leaves flying and the rain coming down in a squally sort of way, and Travers minor and I went for a drill, and after the drill we scouted a bit on rather a lonely road where nothing was in the habit of happening. But, as Travers truly said, the essence of scouting is surprise, and because a road is a lonely and uneventful sort of road, it doesn’t follow something may not happen unexpectedly upon it.
"No doubt the roads in the valley of the river Aisne, in France, have been pretty lonely in their time, but think of them last September!"
So we went, and one motor passed us in two miles; and two dogs poaching together also passed, and in a field was a sheep which had got on its back and couldn’t get up again, being too fat to do so. We pulled it up. In another field was a bull, and we tried to attract it, and scouted down a hedge within fifty yards of it, to see if it was dangerous, and warn people if it was; and I went to within forty yards of it, being a good twelve yards from the hedge at the time, but it paid no attention. Then, just at the end of the road, we came across an old woman sitting by the roadside in a very ragged and forlorn condition, with a basket of watercresses and also about twelve mushrooms.
Thinking she might be lame, or otherwise in difficulties, Travers minor went up to her and said:
"Yes, a plucky lot of things, but none of your cheek."
"It wasn’t meant for cheek. I’m a Scout," said Travers minor.
"Oh, run along home and ask mother to let out your knickers, else you’ll bust ’em!"
Travers turned white with indignation, but such was his great idea of discipline, that he didn’t tell her she was a drunken old beast, which she was, but just marched off. But he was fearfully upset, all the same, and, instead of pouring out his rage on the horrid old woman, he poured it out on me. He’d been a bit queer all day, owing to a row with Brown over a history lesson, in which Travers minor messed up the story of Charles II; and now, what with one thing and another, he lost his usual self-control and got very nasty.
He said scouting with another person was no good--not with me, anyway.
"You’re such a fathead--nothing ever happens when you’re about!"