Honor Trail Speeches
This telling of the story is just an outline. The presenter should feel free to adapt it to
his own circumstance and experience. It
is key to keep the delivery short as the story is part of a longer program
touching on all “three” points of the Scout Oath.
Duty to God:
On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God.
Many years ago a young man set out to become a fur trapper
in the great American wilderness. It was
his goal to master the wilderness and to gain freedom and wealth. He was no fool, and sought out the best of
teachers to guide and instruct him. He
found an old Indian Chief who knew every secret of the forest and asked for his
help. The wise old man saw in the boy
the seeds of greatness and so consented to reveal the secrets of his wisdom.
All that summer and into the fall the Chief taught his craft
to the young man. He showed him how to
read the signs of the woods. He learned
all the animal signs, and came to understand their ways and to know their
haunts. The wise old Indian showed the
boy how to rig a hidden dead fall, and where to place the steel traps to catch
the most valuable furs. He also taught
the boy how to live off the land, to find good water and food and shelter, to
live safely among bears and lions and the other great beasts of the forest.
The youth was in awe of the wisdom of his master, but he
questioned one thing. Each day the old
Chief would find some high spot, he called it his Idaho. He would ascend, and there raise his arms in
worship to The Great Spirit. Finally,
the boy felt he had to question his teacher.
“Why,” he asked, “do you worship a Great Spirit?” Have you ever seen Him?” The old Chief, who was a man of many actions
but few words, did not answer the boy.
That night they went to bed as usual.
In the pre-dawn cold, the old man woke his pupil, and motioned to him to
follow him into the gray light of the forest before the coming of the sun.
Without a word, he led him to the edge of the nearby lake
and pointed to some deep marks in the soft sand of the beach. The boy knew the drill. “Those,” he said, “are the tracks of a moose. He must have come here during the night, for
I did not see these tracks yesterday. He
has waded into the lake here, feasted on water lilies and, no doubt moved off
down the shallows. If we follow the
shore, we will find where he came out.”
“How do you know all this?” asked the Indian. “You have not seen a moose.”
“Ah,” said the boy, “but I have seen his tracks, and reason
tells me the truth.”
The Chief left the lake and led the boy to the nearby stream
that raced down the mountain beside the lake.
Moving upstream along the noisy water, rimmed with thick mosses filled
with flowers, he came to a muddy bank.
There were more tracks. The old
man pointed.
Once again the boy was ready for the test. “These are the tracks of the mink,” he said
with excitement. These are the most
precious of the beasts we seek. If we
set our traps with care and cunning we will be richly rewarded. “
“How do you know there are mink?” asked his teacher. Have you seen them?
“I do not need to see them,” said the youth. “Their tracks are clear to see, I have seen
all I need to know.”
The last stars were fading and the sky was growing rose-colored
as the Indian Chief led his young friend up a steep slope overlooking the lake
filled valley. High on the ridge they
came to a great fir snag. Its rotting
bark was torn away and high above were deep gouges cut into the wood, just
below them the tree trunk seemed to have been polished. The Chief pointed at the test.
“This is easy,” said the boy. “A great grizzly bear has been here. He is marking his range so no other will dare
to enter his hunting ground. Here he has
shown his strength by pulling the bark from this great tree, high above he has
shown his reach and power by scaring the wood with the deep, broad furrows of
his claws, and there he has shown to all his height by standing, back against
the tree, and stretching back his nose to rub a marker of his stature.” The boy was pleased to show how well he had
learned his lessons. “He is over nine
feet tall,” he said with unwavering confidence.
“How do you know?” asked the Indian. “You have not seen this beast.”
“I have seen his tracks!
And here is a tuft of his hair.”
He held them up, brown with silver tips.
The wise old Indian Chief turned and continued to climb to
the top of the open ridge. The boy
followed. He came to stand next to his guide. They turned to look into the east as the sun
burst above the far horizon, its golden light flooding between the distant
mountain peaks. The glory of morning
filled the forest, illuminating a scene of indescribable beauty. The boy’s heart was touched, a gasp escaped
his lips. The Chief turned to his
friend. His eyes sparkled. Stretching out his arm, he gestured to the
forest with a sweep of his upturned palm.
“Behold,” he said, “the tracks of God!”
Scouts, here in this beautiful forest we can see the
truth. We can see the work of God’s hand
and the evidence of his power and love.
Let us always remember His loving gifts to us, and learn to read the
tracks of God.
On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God.
Duty to Country:
This is a story told by Elder Paul Dunn, a president of the
Quorum of the Seventy in the Mormon Church and a hero of World War Two. At the end of World War Two, a young solider
was among the Americans who liberated a Japanese prison camp. They literally shot the locks off the gates
and came in to find the prisoners, who had been abandoned to die. Deep in the jungle, it had been raining and
the ground was mud. Those of the
prisoners who could were cheering or crying with joy. The young solider saw a man crawling toward
him in the mud. This man had been a
Christian Missionary taken captive in the early days of the war, and who had
spent long years in this terrible place.
When captured, he had weighed 170 pounds; now he weighed less than 100 pounds. He could not stand and the strong young solider
lifted him into his arms and held his ear close to the prisoner’s lips, for he
was pleading for something in a hoarse whisper.
Scouts, what would you ask for after years of imprisonment,
starvation, neglect and brutal abuse? Would you ask for food, clean water,
medication, or clothing to cover your nakedness? What this minister was begging for was an
American flag. One was procured for him
off a nearby jeep. He took it in his
hands and wept. You see, that flag
represented to him everything he had been deprived of through the terrible
years of his imprisonment. It stood for prosperity,
power, safety, and, most of all for freedom.
Scouts, never forget what America gives to you, never forget
what the flag stands for to you and to the entire world, and never forget to do
your duty to America.
On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to my country.
Duty to others and self:
On my honor I will do my best to help other people at all
times, to keep myself physically strong, mentally wake and morally straight.
Many years ago, two young men set out on a journey across a
great desert; they rode their camels deep into the trackless wilderness. One night as darkness fell they gathered wood
and built a fire against the cold of the desert night. As the wood came to a blaze an angel took
shape in the flame. He told them that on
the morrow they would find their fortune, that a great treasure awaited them at
the end of the day’s journey. The angel
told them that in the morning they were to follow the track of the sun into the
west and there they would be rewarded with great treasure. The angel also instructed them that at first
light, before they started their day’s journey, they were to gather pebbles and
fill their saddle bags.
The boys hardly slept at all for anticipation and
excitement. They were up in the cold
dawn and prepared their camels for the journey.
Almost as an afterthought, they searched the dirt about their campsite
and gathered a few handfuls of pebbles and slipped them into their saddle bags
and as the sun rose in pink and purple they headed into the west.
All day they hurried on, constantly searching the distant
horizon. They expected the towers of
some great treasure city, forgotten to time, to rise before them over the curve
of the sand. They journeyed all day and
saw nothing but the wilderness, scrub and sand.
As night fell, they and their camels exhausted, they stopped to make
their camp. Their hearts were heavy with
disappointment, even bitterness.
As they kindled their fire, once more the angel rose with
the flames and bade them bring their saddle bags into the fire light. They obeyed, and at his command they dumped
the pebbles onto the ground. To their
surprise the rough stones had been transformed into jewels: diamonds, rubies,
sapphires, and emeralds. In that instant
they realized that they were richer than they had ever dreamed, and yet they
could not help but regret that, when they had had the chance, they had not
gathered more pebbles.
Our lives are thus.
We journey on toward the someday goal of greatness, while we fail to
gather the pebbles, the character traits and values, that will be the treasures
of our lives. Let us fill our lives with
service to others, with health and strength of body, stretch and grow our
minds, and live our lives according to the self-evident truths of moral
virtue.
On my honor I will do my best to help other people at all
times, to keep myself physically strong, mentally wake and morally straight.
As I read I am transported to the honor trail at dusk. Thanks for sharing these pebbles-turned-gems!
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