I was a 15-year-old Boy Scout when our troop was taken to Carter Caves State Park in

Eastern Kentucky for a week of primitive camping.

One evening, after a day of carousing around, swimming, hiking, cave exploring, and loving to be wild young

teenage boys, we finally had a very late supper. Afterward, we drove the chilly night away

around our campfires, a large one for the troops, and a second for the scoutmaster and his

assistant some 20 feet away.

Upon this scene, about 10 p.m. or so, arrived a park ranger on his nightly visit to our camp.

He usually just looked us over, asked if we had any needs, and then he left.

But this evening, he apparently had a couple of things on his mind.

Upon gathering up the scouts, the ranger said he was looking into an incident concerning

one enterprising scout. He said that he was told that this scout was going down to the

trading post at the bottom of the mountain, buying up all the nickel

candy bars during the day, coming back to camp and selling them after dark for a dime.

After being informed that doing such a dastardly thing to fellow scouts was wrong, the culprit,

who was me, was admonished for practicing my first try at free enterprise.

I thought it was fair. I spent two hours trudging up and down the mountain every day, and for the

past four days they'd bought every candy bar I had. But a snitch tried to blackmail me into giving

him a share of my profits.

I wouldn't do so so he reported me to the Ranger.

The guys really gave it to me good, razzing me and shoving me around in the circle.

The Ranger, on his part, put his hand on his hips and smiled at me and shook his head

and walked over and sat down at the scoutmaster's fire

...