ee who could
keep that roar of welcome going the longest. And over and over again
did Baden-Powell apply for leave to shirk some great social function
in the palace because the hour of such entertainment clashed with the
time he spent among Tommy and Jack in the gymnasium or the club.

His opinion of the soldier is a high one, and that is the secret of
his success. He loves to recount instances which have come in his long
experience, showing the soldier in the best light, revealing his
pluck, his love of little children, his chivalrous championing of the
weak, his handiness, his humour, his cheerfulness in depressing
circumstances, his self-respect, and his honesty. What was it that
struck his attention most about the tempting work of searching
Prempeh's palace for treasure? That the work which was entrusted to a
company of British soldiers "was done most honestly and well, without
a single case of looting. Here was a man with an armful of gold-hilted
swords, there one with a box full of gold trinkets and rings, another
with a spirit-case full of bottles of brandy, yet in no instance was
there any attempt at looting." And, eating out his own heart, on that
bitter march back from Kumassi to Cape Coast Castle, he had eyes for
the splendid doggedness of the British soldier: "In truth, that march
down was in its way as fine an exhibition of British stamina and pluck
as any that has been seen of late years. For the casual reader in
England this is difficult to realise, but to one who has himself
wearily tramped that interminable path, heart-sick and foot-sore, the
sight of those dogged British 'Tommies,' heavily accoutred as they
were, still defying fever in the sweltering heat, and ever pressing
on, was one which opened one's eyes and one's heart as well. There was
no malingering _there_; each man went on until he dropped. It showed
more than any fight could have done, more than any investment in a
fort, or surprise in camp, what stern and sterling stuff our men are
made of, notwithstanding all that cavillers will say against our
modern army system and its soldiers." During that bitter march
Baden-Powell asked a young soldier, gripped by fever but manfully
plodding on with the rest, whether his kit was not too heavy for him,
whereat, says Baden-Powell, he replied, with tight-drawn smile and
quavering voice, "It ain't the kit, sir; it's only these extra rounds
that I feel the weight of." "These extra rounds" being those inte