Matt Pratt and the Ghost of Baden Powell

It's time for another break from the usual boring contents--This is a campfire story I told in 2009 at a Webelos-A-Ree campout in October--This is an annual campout that allows Webelos to visit a number of scout troops in the district, and see if they can find a scout troop that they would like to join. 
We planned to have a campfire with skits and stories at our own campsite, but a hard, cold rain began in the afternoon.  We tied tarps to two sides of a camping shelter, and were gathered inside it, listening to the rain drumming on the tin roof.  Thunder and lightning echoed through the valley.  A campfire looked unlikely. 
"Who has a story?" someone asked.
"I do," I said.  "But I'm not entirely sure I _should_ tell this story."
Just then, lightning hit close to the campsite, and a very heavy burst of rain drummed on the tin roof.  I looked around the shelter slowly.
"Now I really don't know if this is a good idea.   But maybe it's time I told this to someone."    

Matt Pratt and the Ghost of Baden Powell

One of the younger Scouts asked me today, “Why does it always rain when we go camping?”

 Oddly enough I guess it all has to do with Matt Pratt. Now a lot of you are too young to remember Matt, but I bet a lot of the adults remember and maybe some of the older Scouts.

Some of the adults and a few of the older Scouts nodded and smiled.  

Matt Pratt was a really nice guy.  That’s the main thing I remember.  He always meant well and tried to do his best, but he was sort of accident prone. Accidents really never happened to him, but they happened to people around him through no fault of his own.

He taught Billy Parker how to handle an axe. That was about a month before Billy split his thumb open at Summer Camp.

He tied the canoes to the roof of Mr. Swenson van after we had the rafting trip. The wet slippery nylon rope he used let them loose half way home, and the canoes went flying and bouncing all over Interstate 81. 

Matt helped Collin build his first rocket stove.  Some of you remember that stove--It was the stove that shot a column of flame 12 feet in the air, and the smoke went even higher.  Flame  jumpers parachuted into the campsite, shovels at the ready, expecting to battle a forest fire.  It was hard to explain but at least we invited them for dinner.

Well, Matt is off at college now. I think we all wish him well. At this point, I don't think he'd mind me telling you what happened.

It was at a Webelos-a-Ree, much like this one, six years ago.  The scout troop had built a really nice campfire at our campsite, and only after it was going really well did we realize that it was time to go to the opening ceremony with the other troops and all the new Webelos. Someone had to stay behind to tend the fire. Matt Pratt volunteered to stay. 

Maybe he was trying to make up for the incident with Collin’s rocket stove, I don't know.  Anyway, the ground was cleared 10 feet around the fire, and there was a lot of wood in a pile on the side. Scoutmaster Roth’s last words to Matt before we went off to the ceremony were, "Don't leave the fire unattended." Everybody filed off to the opening ceremony, and Matt Pratt was left alone tending the fire.

At first everything was going great. The fire stayed right inside its ring of rocks, and Matt would add a piece of wood sometimes if he thought the flames were getting a bit low. It wasn't too long before he noticed that the wood was running out.

Matt knew he shouldn't leave the fire, but he thought to himself, "Well, I could go to the edge of the woods and it would probably be all right." Just about that time, he saw a great dead log about 10 feet into the woods. Matt thought he would just go over and drag that log back, and then have enough wood until everybody else got back. When he got up to the log he found that it was a good log, but it was too heavy and he couldn't move it. He looked back over his shoulder. The fire was okay, just where it should be.

Matt glanced up and saw an even better log! It was 20 feet into the woods, but Matt thought it would be okay if he grabbed that log and brought it right back. When he got to the log, he saw that it was just too rotten to make good firewood. Even if he dragged it back, it would not burn.  He looked over his shoulder at the fire, and it was okay, burning just where it should be.

Matt was about to give up and go back to the fire ring.  Just then he looked up and saw a marvelous log 40 into the woods. It was dry, and perfect, and not too big. When Matt got there, it was still partly attached to the stump and it took a while to break it off and start lugging it back.  Finally he wrestled the log free, and he was just starting back to the campfire when he heard a crackling sound.  The campfire had escaped its fire ring.

No one will ever know how it happened, but the fire caught at one edge of the forest. Flames were leaping from branch to branch, tree to tree, and it was working its way towards the opening ceremony. 

On any other campout, the best thing would be to sound the alarm for fire, call the Rangers and the fire department, and move everybody to a place of safety. But this was Webelos-a-Ree.  Every one of the Webelos at the opening ceremony, hundreds and hundreds of them, were carrying plastic bags full of marshmallows, chocolate bars, and graham crackers.

Webelos with s'mores my boys… It is a dangerous combination! When Webelos have the making of s'mores, they will grab sticks and run towards any fire they see. It's like a combination of stampeding buffaloes and lemmings going off a cliff. If those Webelos had any hint that there was a fire nearby, they would surely be burned to death with cracker crumbs, streaks of chocolate and melted marshmallow all around their mouths!  And if you've ever HAD real campfire s'mores, you know you can't blame them.

What was Matt going to do?  Well I'm about to tell you what he did, but if it's going to make any sense, I have to stop and tell you one of the most secret secrets in all of Scouting.  And to do THAT, I have to tell you some other things-- secret things about Lord Baden Powell himself, the founder of all Scouting, things that until right now were known only to Scoutmasters.  At least they WERE secret, until Matt Pratt came along.

You probably know a lot about Lord Baden Powell already. Baden Powell was British, a military man who fought in the Boer Wars. After his time at war in Africa, he returned to England where he founded the Boy Scouts, and after his death he was buried in South Africa.

Lord Baden Powell was an unusually honorable man, even in a time of honorable men. During his war years, he was well respected even by his enemies and had a reputation with everyone for fair dealing, a real upstanding guy. He was even well respected by the indigenous peoples of the regions through which he traveled.   He took time to get to know the ways of the African tribes. During his few leaves, he even went out of his way to visit Australia and become familiar with the aborigines.

It was on his third trip to Australia that he was called to a Council of Aboriginal Shamans. They told him that while they were spirit walking they had conferred with their  brothers in Africa. Together they consulted with the Great Spirit-- and Baden Powell's name had come up.

"The Great Spirit tells us you will found a great movement among the peoples. It will make good men out of boys. It will preserve the ways of the ancestors, yours and ours. Because of the help that you will give, many, many lives will be saved in future times of trouble, and all the world will be blessed because of the things that you will do.

"For this reason," the Chief Shaman continued, "the Great Spirit has decided, Oh Baden Powell, to allow you to help your followers even in the distant future. After you die, you will be given the power to help those that call you in a time of extreme peril. Each of your followers may call you only once.  Know that if they do call for your help, a price must be paid. You will be unable to speak of this until the day of your death. On your death bed, you may tell one soul the secret of how to call for your help, and he will pass it on to other trustworthy souls. Behold! It is done."

After these words, the Chief Shaman told Baden Powell the secret words that could be used to call for his help. Each of the shamans then threw a handful of dirt in the air, and a handful of dirt on the ground, and left the counsel in silence.

Lord Baden Powell felt very honored by this. Being a humble man, he did not really know what to think about the things that the Chief Shaman had told him. But in the following months and years, he found that he really was unable to tell anyone what the shaman said.

The rest of the history you know. Lord Baden Powell returned to England. He founded the Boy Scouts, and Scouting took off and began to spread around the world. No one enjoyed Scouting more than Lord Baden Powell, and he remained involved in it until the day that he died.

On a certain day, he realized that he did not have long to live. He found that he was able to tell a trusted Scoutmaster friend all the words given him by the shaman. After passing on the secret words, he told that Scoutmaster, "After I'm gone, test the words to see if they work. If they do work, tell only scoutmasters – for who knows what is meant by ‘the price that has to be paid’?"

With fear and trembling, his friend tried the words a few months later, and found that the words worked, and found that there WAS a price to be paid. But that is a story for another time.

One day, if any of you become Scoutmasters, the words of Baden Powell will be given to you.  Scoutmaster Roth knows what they are. Few people have ever dared to ask him, and in fact he has only ever told one other person what they are. Surprisingly, that person was Matt Pratt.

I don't know how it happened. Matt Pratt heard about the existence of the words and somehow, some way, he got Scoutmaster Roth to tell him what they were.  Roth knew it was a mistake as soon as he told Matt. But all he could do was sigh and tell himself, "What's done is done." Matt promised to become a Scoutmaster himself one day so that the wishes of Baden Powell might be honored.

So it was that, when Matt saw the flames leaping higher and higher into the trees, he gulped once and said the words to call Baden Powell. A rumbling tremor shook the ground. Then there was a tiny pop. An old man appeared, sitting on a log at the unburned edge of the campfire ring. He had white hair and a white mustache. He wore an ancient scout uniform with a broad rimmed hat and calf length leather boots, pants legs tucked into the tops of them. There were crinkle lines at the corners of his eyes and a pleasant smile graced his mouth. He looked at Matt with mild surprise. "Oh I say! You are a bit young for Scoutmaster. How can I help?"

Even though he was frightened out of his wits, Matt Pratt was always friendly, courteous, and kind. "Lord Baden Powell? It is a real pleasure to meet you sir," were the first words out of his mouth. Then he remembered the emergency.

“The Webelos will die if they meet with this fire! Help! Please! Put the fire out!”

Baden lifted his white eyebrows, peering quizzically under his hat brim. "Are you responsible for this fire?"

"Yes!" Responded Matt in anguish. The fire crackled menacingly.

"Are you sure you want to spend your one wish on this emergency?"

"Yes!  We must save the Webelos!"

Lord Baden Powell cocked his head to one side. "There will be a price paid you know…"

"Please save them now!" cried Matt.

Baden smiled slightly, gave a small nod, then said in a quiet voice that somehow carried above the roar of the flames, "Very well. It is done!"

There was a stroke of lightning in the camp. The brightness dazzled Matt’s eyes and he was knocked to the ground. He found out later that the lightning had melted his tent pole and vaporized the tent that he was planning to camp in. His sleeping bag was still there, but the lightning burned a hole in the place where his feet needed to be to keep warm at night.

Rain began bucketing down on the forest. It put out the forest fire, running in ashen rivulets around the rest of the troop’s tents, until the rivulets joined together to make a respectable stream that ran right through Matt's campsite. And that was very odd, because Matt had pitched his tent on a little hill.

There was no further sign of Baden Powell.

It rained for the rest of the Webelos-a-Ree Weekend.  Baden Powell had come through. The Webelos have been saved. As for the campsite – not so much.

At first, Matt thought that the vaporized  tent and ruined sleeping bag were the price he had to pay for Baden Powell's help. Maybe that was a part of it, but it was not the entire price.

Knowing Matt, the rest of the troop did not find it strange at all that he had accidentally caused a forest fire, had his tent vaporized by lightning and that the fire was put out by a flash flood that ran uphill through only Matt’s campsite.  After all, it was the sort of thing Matt was known for.

He tried to tell his friends what had really happened, but somehow the words just would not come out.  So far as I know, he was only ever able to tell Scoutmaster Roth.  Even then, it took a few months for the words to come.  Roth nodded his head sagely, and did not seem too surprised.  “Maybe it was not a mistake to tell you after all.  You have to become a scoutmaster now,” was all he said.  And Matt could not disagree.

In the coming year, we all found out the rest of the price.  It rained on every camping trip.  Every single one.  It rained on every campout while Matt was still in the troop, and it keeps raining on every camping trip we take.  This may be a permanent thing.

It’s not all bad.  This is why we started camping in the Summer, during droughts.  This is why we go to other counties and even other states that need rain.  As Scoutmaster Roth once said, "If the price we must pay can help others, then it’s a part of the Scouting way of life." 

That’s why it rains every time we go camping.  It’s all due to Matt Pratt.  And Lord Baden Powell, of course.

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Story Telling Notes

First of all, Baden Powell’s secret is completely made up and NOT TRUE.  A few of the other parts about Baden Powell are true.  He really fought in the Boer Wars, really is buried in South Africa, and really did found the Boy Scouts.

If you plan to tell this story at a campout—

Get confederates among the older scouts and adults to agree that they knew Matt Pratt.  It adds to the realism of the story.

Add features of the campout to the story.  For example, this one was told in 2009 at a Webelos-a-Ree when rain confined us to a tin-roofed camp shelter during a thunderstorm.  The thunder and lightning worked wonderfully well with the story.

Add troop history to the story.

The split thumb incident really happened in our troop, and the rocket stove is closer to a true story than you would believe.  The bouncing canoes also happened, but with a different group of campers.  Names were changed to protect the scouts involved, but you can use the real names of the guys that had real incidents in your troop. 

Bring in features of scouting.

Friendly, courteous, kind, and helpful are all there, and maybe some others as well.

Miscellaneous

This is kind of an unusual story.  It’s almost a creation myth, more than a folk story.  Hopefully spinning a tall tale around Baden Powell will not offend anyone.  Be careful of  how convincingly you tell it, and don’t wait too long to let the scouts know it’s just a story.  Just so you know, some of our scouts believed that it was a true story for as long as 3 weeks after I told it.  It was difficult to convince some of them that it was for entertainment only.  I hope you like it.