Men who knew him and lived with him in those days remember him, perhaps, more distinctly than any other boy of their time, and at the merest mention of his name their eyes twinkle with delight.

"Oh, old Bathing Towel.

George! what a funny beggar he was.
Remember him?
I should think I did.

Stories about him?
Well, I don't remember any just now, but dear old Bathing Towel----!" and off they go into another roar of laughter.

All they can tell you is how he used to act and recite, and play all manner of musical instruments, or, if you drag them away from the stage, how he used to rend the air with his terrible war-whoop at the critical moment in a football match.
But although this is how it strikes a contemporary, Baden-Powell was in deadly earnest when it was a matter of books and ink-pots.