The American Spectator

“Alright, you guys, let’s go. Time to get up,” shouted Newman, beating his walking stick against the tents as he rounded the circle surrounding the campfire.

There was very little response from inside.

“Come on, you guys, let’s go. We’re going on a hike today. Get yourselves up and have breakfast. We want to be out of here by 10 o’clock.”

There were sullen stirrings behind the nylon walls. “Do we have to, Mr. Newman?” “Can’t we sleep another half hour?”

“Come on, guys, it’s already 8:30. We want to get started before it gets too hot. I’m going to take you around the other side of the mountain. There’s some beautiful views over there. You can sleep tonight when we get back. You’ll be dead tired anyway.”

Slowly, one by one, tent flaps began to unzip and the boys struggled out, shielding their eyes against the morning light. “Hey, it’s nice out here.” “Wow, look at that bird.”

“See, you don’t want to spend the whole day in a tent. Now come on, who’s got cooking duty this morning? Get with your patrols.”

The troop was divided into two patrols, the muskrats and the jaguars. The idea was for the boys to organize themselves and take turns in leadership. For the most part it worked, although Newman had to intervene constantly intervene.

“Mr. Newman, none of these guys will do what I say.”

“That’s what leadership is about, Darien. You can’t just order them around. You’ve got to make them want to do things. There’s an old saying about Indian tribes, ‘One word from the chief and every brave does whatever he feels like doing.’ Leadership is always difficult.”

The shuffling around the fireplace picked up as the cooking began and soon the usual arguments arose.

“Squirrel! You just knocked over my water. Now I get to have some of yours.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have left it there. I couldn’t help it.”

“Jared, how come you get to tend the fire? You did it last night. It’s my turn.”

“Well, I’m patrol leader. I get to do it whenever I want.”