"I see you've got the idea exactly, Fleming," said a new voice,
breaking into the conversation. The two scouts looked up to see
the smiling face of their scoutmaster, John Grenfel. He was a
big, bronzed Englishman, sturdy and typical of the fine class
to which he belonged -- public school and university man, first-
class cricketer and a football international who had helped to win
many a hard fought game for England from Wales or Scotland or
Ireland. The scouts were returning from a picnic on Wimbledon
Common, in the suburbs of London, and Grenfel was following his
usual custom of dropping into step now with one group, now with
another. He favored the idea of splitting up into groups of two
or three on the homeward way, because it was his idea that one of
the great functions of the Scout movement was to foster enduring
friendships among the boys. He liked to know, without listening
or trying to overhear, what the boys talked about; often he would
give a directing word or two, that, without his purpose becoming
apparent, shaped the ideas of the boys.

"Yes," he repeated. "You understand what we're trying to do in
this country, Fleming. We don't want to fight -- we pray to God
that we shall never have to. But, if we are attacked, or if the
necessity arises, we'll be ready, as we have been ready before.
We want peace -- we want it so much and so earnestly that we'll
fight for it if we must."

Neither of the boys laughed at what sounded like a paradox. His
voice was too earnest.

"Do you think England is likely to have to go to war soon --
within a year or so, sir?" asked Harry.