imagination, be sure that no knight of old was ever more chivalrous
towards women, more tender to children, and more resolved upon walking
cleanly through our difficult world.

Ask those who know him best what manner of man he is, and the
immediate answer, made with merry eyes and a deep chuckle, is this:
"He's the funniest beggar on earth." And then when you have listened
to many stories of B.-P.'s pranks, your informant will grow suddenly
serious and tell you what a "straight" fellow he is, what a loyal
friend, what an enthusiastic soldier. But it is ever his fun first.

One word more. Against such a work as this it is sometimes urged that
there is a certain indelicacy in revealing the virtues of a living man
to whomsoever has a shilling in his pocket to purchase a book. My
answer to such a charge may be given in a few lines. In writing about
Baden-Powell your humble servant has hardly considered the feelings of
Baden-Powell at all. B.-P. has outlived a goodly number of absurd
newspaper biographies, and he will survive this. Of you, and you
alone, most honoured sir, has the present historian thought, and so
long as you are pleased, it matters little to him if the
hypersensitive lift up lean hands, turn pale eyes to Heaven, and
squeak "Indecent!" till they are hoarse. And now, with as little
moralising as possible, and no more cautions, let us get along with
our story.




CHAPTER II