The Story of Baden-Powell / 'The Wolf That Never Sleeps'

walking towards some hills about five miles distant, where we believed the enemy to be hiding. Then we saw a leaf lying about ten yards off the track—there were no trees for miles, but there were, we knew, trees of this kind at a village 15 miles distant, in the direction from which the tracks led. Probably, then, these women had come from that village, bringing the leaf with them, and had gone to the hills. On picking up the leaf, it was damp and smelled of native beer. So we guessed that according to the custom of these people they had been carrying pots of native beer on their heads, the mouths of the pots being stopped with bunches of leaves. One of these leaves had fallen out; but we found it ten yards off the track, which showed that at the time it fell a wind had been blowing. There was no wind now, but there had been about five A.M., and it was now nearly seven. So we read from these signs that a party of women had brought beer during the night from the village 15 miles distant, and had taken it to the enemy on the hills, arriving there about six o'clock. The men would probably start to drink the beer at once (as it goes sour if kept for long), and would, by the time we could get there, be getting sleepy from it, so we should have a favourable chance of reconnoitring their position. We accordingly followed the women's tracks, found the enemy, made our observations, and got away with our information without any difficulty.'

In the chapters referring to his work as Sir Frederick Carrington's Chief of the Staff in the Matabele campaign of 1896, we shall see what great service Baden-Powell has rendered the army by his tireless scouting. Here I can hardly do better than quote from his Aids, for in this book he unlocks his heart as a scout, and in order to encourage non-commissioned officers and men to interest themselves in the more intelligent side of soldiering (not for self-advertisement) tells us innumerable instances of his own interesting experiences. The chief charm of scouting, of course, is in actual warfare, when a man goes out, sometimes alone and unattended, to find out what a well-armed enemy is doing and how many fighting men are to be expected in the morrow's battle. But just as Cervantes could 'engender' the ingenious Don Quixote in a miserable prison, so Baden-Powell in the arid times of peace finds means of enjoying the fascinations of scouting. When out in India he used to spend many an early morning in practising, and he gives the result of one of these mornings in his little book on Scouting, which I would have you read in its entirety. It is a book which has many of the virtues of a novel, and is written in plain English.

The following instance will show you how assiduously B.-P. practises scouting, and will also give you an idea as to beguiling your next country walk.

Ground: A well-frequented road in an Indian hill-station—dry—gravel, grit, and sand.

Atmosphere: Bright and dry, no wind.

Time: 6 A.M. to 8 A.M.

Signs: Fresh Wheelmarks. [Fresh because the tracks were clearly defined with sharp edges in the sand; they overrode all other tracks.]

[This must mean a 'rickshaw' (hand-carriage) had passed this morning—no other carriages are used at this station.]

Going Forward. [Because there are tracks of bare feet, some ridden over, others overriding the wheel track, but always keeping along it, i.e. two men pulling in front, two pushing behind.]

[Had they been independent wayfarers they would have walked on the smooth, beaten part of the road.]

The men were going at a walk. (Because the impression of the fore part of the foot is no deeper than that of the heel, and the length of pace not long enough for running.)

One man wore shoes, the remaining three were barefooted.

One wheel was a little wobbly.

Deduction

The track was that of a rickshaw conveying an invalid in comparatively humble circumstances, for a constitutional.

Because it went at a slow pace, along a circular road which led nowhere in particular (it had passed the cemetery and the only house along that road), at an early hour of the morning, the rickshaw being in a groggy state and the men not uniformly dressed.

Note.—This deduction proved correct. On returning from my walk I struck the same track (i.e. the wobbly wheel and the one shod man) on another road, going ahead of me. I soon overtook them, and found an old invalid lady being driven in a hired bazaar rickshaw.

While following the tracks of the rickshaw, I noticed fresh tracks of two horses coming towards me, followed by a big dog.

They had passed since the rickshaw (overriding its tracks).

They were cantering (two single hoof-prints, and then two near together).

A quarter of a mile farther on they were walking for a quarter of a mile. (Hoof-prints in pairs a yard apart.) Here the dog dropped behind, and had to make up lost ground by galloping up to them. (Deep impression of his claws, and dirt kicked up.)

They had finished the walk about a quarter of an hour before I came there. (Because the horse's droppings at this point were quite fresh; covered with flies; not dried outside by the sun.)

They had been cantering up to the point where they began the walk, but one horse had shied violently on passing the invalid in the rickshaw. (Because there was a great kick up of gravel and divergence from its track just where the rickshaw track bent into the side of the road, and afterwards overrode the horse's tracks.)

Note.—I might have inferred from this that the invalid was carrying an umbrella which frightened the horse, and was, therefore, a lady. But I did not think of it at the time and had rather supposed from the earliness of the hour that the invalid was a man. Invalid ladies don't, as a rule, get up so early.

Deduction

The tracks were those of a lady and gentleman out for a ride, followed by her dog.

Because had the horses been only out exercising with syces they would have been going at a walk in single file (or possibly at a tearing gallop).

They were therefore ridden by white people, one of whom was a lady; because, 1st, a man would not take a big, heavy dog to pound along after his horse (it had pounded along long after the horses were walking); 2nd, a man would not pull up to walk because his horse had shied at a rickshaw; but a lady might, especially if urged to do so by a man who was anxious about her safety, and that is why I put them down as a man and a lady. Had they been two ladies, the one who had been shied with would have continued to canter out of bravado. And the man, probably, either a very affectionate husband or no husband at all.