In Which Willis Is Honored

“You’re always trying to get in a new fellow, Chuck. We never would have a new member if you didn’t do your scouting around. You know more about the fellows in this town than any half-dozen of the rest of us. How do you get next to them?”

These remarks came from Robert Dennis, the splendid captain of the High School Basket Ball Team. He had met a few of his companions at the Young Men’s Christian Association that evening.

The Association was a very handsome, four-story brick that stood some distance back from the street. Of all the places in the community for young fellows to “hang out” the Association was the most popular. At any hour after school, until closing time in the evening, small groups of fellows of every age might be found in the various departments, talking athletics, planning an all-day hike into the mountains, discussing an amateur theatrical, a debating club, a Bible study supper, or some other of the many activities carried on by these fellows with the Association as a basis of operations and a partner. It appealed to the best fellows in the school, and even in the entire community, for it had very early in its history made itself known as a clean, broad-minded, sympathetic, and constructive agency in the lives of boys and young men. It appealed to the fellows because they could have a hand in its operations and a voice in its government; because it stood for clean sport, clean bodies, clean minds, healthy spirits, and a type of social life that had all the appearances of being powerfully masculine, and yet clean and gentlemanly. It stood for a three-sided manhood spirit, mind, and body.

Chuck seated himself. “No, Dennis, not always getting a new member, but I’ll tell you one thing, I always do have an eye open for a first-class fellow for our bunch. You know as well as I do that if we are going to keep things right, here in our old Y.M., and give the ‘Chief’ the help he needs, we’ll have to keep adding every strong, clean, congenial fellow we can lay our hands on. You don’t need to worry about our getting too many. O.F.F. has been doing stunts for two years now, and in that time we have just taken in five new men. We have room for at least three more. I know sometimes I make a mistake, but I’ll bet my hat on this fellow. He’s no ordinary kid, I’ll tell you that. I saw him in the swimming tank with his uncle, Mr. Williams, yesterday, and a cleaner-cut, better-built fellow you never saw. Swim like a fish, and dive why, there’s nothing to it. If he takes a membership in this Department he’ll be in the Leaders’ Corps in less than a jiffy, and, what’s more, he’ll be a leader in everything else, too, when he gets acquainted.”

“Well, I’ll tell you,” said “Shorty” Wier, who had thus far kept silent, “Let’s all look him over and get better acquainted with him Wednesday night on the hike. The ‘Chief’ told me he had invited him to go along with the bunch.”

“What’s the bunch going to do on Wednesday night?” inquired “Sleepy” Smith, who was always preoccupied when anything of real importance was going on.

“Why, you ought to wake up occasionally and you wouldn’t be so far behind the times,” replied Chuck, rather dryly. “The class is going to Sweet Potato Gulch for a business meeting and wiener-bake. Be sure to be on hand, every man of you.”

“O well, I don’t like wieners, anyway,” replied Smith, and he returned to his own thoughts.

Wednesday night was perfect not a cloud in the sky, and a great half-moon to help them find their way. There was a spring breeze in the air, the kind that makes a great wood-fire of dry logs and pine needles about the most attractive thing on earth to a crowd of young savages. Far away to the westward Pike’s Peak’s hoary head was lifted into the sky, dimly lighted by the yellow rays of the moon. There was a faint odor of spring in the air, while the little mountain stream had not as yet given up its icy prattle. Little patches of snow still dotted the sides of the canyon, and here and there a crystal icicle sparkled from the end of a pine bough.

It was a night of wonders for Willis. He had never felt the “call of the wild” so strongly and irresistibly as on that night. Every mountain crag seemed to be calling him, and in his fancy he thought the fir trees reached their gently-waving branches, beckoning him to come into the darkness and solitude. In spite of himself, his thoughts would wander to the Michigan homeland. He wondered if the ice had broken on the lake yet, and if the blossoms had begun to come in the old orchard, and if his grandmother had filled the incubator. He felt queer with so many strangers, yet not at all ill-at-ease, for he had lived a wholesome life in the out-of-doors, and the meaning of fear was almost unknown to him. As the fire was lighted and the wieners set to bake on the end of long, green willow sticks, he began to enter more completely into the merriment of the crowd.

It was an exceptional group of older fellows the clean fun and wholesome chat was above the ordinary, yet was spontaneous and real. The “Chief,” whose name was Allen, stood at one side of the fire with a note-book in his hand, while the fellows were seated upon a dead log that had been dragged close to the fire. Allen was a young man of medium height, well-built, and clean-cut. His hair was black and his eyes were dark and very bright. A merry smile played over his features. Every fellow in the group knew that that smile meant “good will toward men.” His hiking trousers bagged about the tops of his high mountain boots, and his sweater bore the marks of many a camping trip. He always wore on such occasions as this an old felt hat, which had the initials of many a stanch, good, out-of-door companion printed on it. There was the color and vigor of health in his face, and his movements were swift and powerful. He was a splendid specimen of a clean, unselfish college man who loved God, His out-of-doors, and all his fellow-men. There was not a man in the community who had such an influence, or for whom the boys felt such profound respect, as Allen. He was a “square deal” personified. Many were the personal differences of the fellows that were submitted to him free-willed for arbitration. His Department was his kingdom, and these fellows his stanch and loyal supporters. Where he led they followed, always knowing it was for some good purpose. Meanness, like a wolf in the night, slunk away when he came upon it. Smut and slander knew they had no chance in his presence. To these fellows, and many more who knew him, he stood as a confidential friend and counselor, and was as a father to many a boy in the time of trouble. Many were the fathers who would have given a good deal to have held the place in their sons’ estimations that Mr. Allen did.

The trip that night did several things for Willis. It told him plainly that he was going to be an ardent lover of the mountains and life in them, just as he had dreamed and hoped he might.

Several weeks later, when Willis came home one evening, he found his mother waiting for him at the door with an envelope in her hand. Willis had told his mother all about his trip to the “Gulch,” and had confessed to her how proud he would be to become a member of “O.F.F.” A warm friendship had sprung up between Chuck and himself, and he was learning to be happy in the companionship of that crowd. He eagerly reached for the envelope, and, opening it, read aloud:

“Next Friday evening ‘O.F.F.’ will hold an outing meeting in Williams Canyon. We will first take you through Huccacode Cave, then we will have supper on Pinion Crag. We will hold our meeting about the council fire, at which time we will be very pleased to extend to you the right hand of fellowship, and make you a full-fledged member of ‘O.F.F.’

“Robt. Dennis,
President.”

“Isn’t that great, mother! I’m really to be a member of the very best Bible group at the Association. It’s a club, too, you know, and holds every member to a clean standard of life in work and play. Every Saturday night they meet at the Association for supper and a half-hour of Bible study. Mr. Allen is teacher, but they all do a lot of talking. O, it’s great! I’m tickled to death! I want you to know every one of those fellows, mother. Sleepy is the poorest man besides me, of course. I can’t say I like him so well. He’s a little sneaky, I think. Chuck told me they took him in because Mr. Allen wanted them to. The ‘Chief’ says he has a pile of good in him, if we can just get it out. He has been awfully nice to me, though. He talks camera to me almost every time I see him. I showed him the pictures I made last spring of the thrush’s nest, and he was crazy over them. I’m going to teach him how to photograph flowers and birds and nature. I’m glad I can do something that’s worth while, or I’d feel unhappy in that bunch. Sleepy has a wireless outfit and knows all about electricity. Shorty Wier works in the Strang Garage. He is a shark in school and a fiend at basket ball. He doesn’t say much, but he is a dandy. Chuck is interested in debates, and will represent the school in the interscholastic contest next fall. He can talk about anything, and has ‘pep,’ I tell you. And Mr. Allen is a nature student. Gee! won’t we have a circus talking bugs and flowers and birds. Fat draws and does lettering. O yes, and Ham I mustn’t leave out Ham he is the Billikin of the crowd. When you feel down in the mouth or blue, just look at Ham and it makes you laugh. He likes everybody except the girls, and everybody likes him. He knows more funny stories than all the rest put together. Ham’s the one that always gets the fire ready to light and passes the ‘eats,’ he’s

“Well, son, I think you are fortunate in being able to find such companions, and in having such a place as the Association to spend your leisure time. I think it is a great thing. I hope you will make the most of the opportunity. I have about decided we had better stay here through the winter, for I am very sure Aunt Lucy can not last until spring. I feel so sorry for Uncle.”

Friday came at last, and was one of those grand June evenings when everything seemed to be bursting with the love of life. The new green leaves danced in the breeze, as if saying, “See, I’m back again!” Here and there a fragrant fruit tree gave forth its odor from snowy blossoms, and innumerable spring insects flocked to the arc lights at the corners.

It was a happy, healthy crowd of boys that boarded the street car for Manitou. High-boots, sweaters, slouch hats, cameras, and a plentiful supply of good food. From the hip-pockets of the trousers tallow candles showed, and one fellow carried a good supply of mason’s cord, wound upon a paddle. Then there was the coffee-pot, which was really an honorary member of the club, and numerous packages done up in paper.

The fellows loved Williams just at twilight, for it was then that the fantastic shapes and high pinnacles of white limestone made their best impression. The long, irregular shadows that were thrown across the canyon by the setting sun, the cool pine-scented breeze that carried every sound down the narrow crevice, the echoing of every laugh and halloo added much to the enjoyment and comradeship of the little group. Who could be unhappy or unfriendly on such a night and in such a place?

The road led on and up, winding back and forth zigzag fashion on the south wall, until it reached that wonderful cavern of fairyland, the Grand Caverns. Thousands of tourists annually come to see its wonders, but to the boys there were other caves more magic in their spell, for they had not yet become “civilized,” as the fellows said, by being lighted with electricity and “engraved” by human hands.

As they passed through the Narrows they began to climb up the east wall, at a point where an immense pile of broken stone from the ledges above had collected. This is the doorway to Huccacode. The entrance to the cave is a mere crack in a mighty white wall that rises a hundred feet.

Bundles and boxes were placed on a convenient ledge, candles lighted, and all made ready. The end of the string was fastened to a shoot of sagebrush just outside the opening; and the group passed in, Shorty in the lead with an electric flashlight, and Phil bringing up the rear, trailing the string. Far back in this wonderful cave there is a joining of passages, and parties entering without a string have often become lost, and have traveled several times around in a great circle before finding the lead out.

The cave is a series of chambers connected by what appears to be an overlapping of rooms. The voices of the boys sounded hollow and far away, while the candles cast long, grotesque shadows on the walls. As the column advanced, the leader shouted back now and then to “watch out to the left” or “to be careful to the right” or “to mind your footing.” As the trail led off on the side of the Bottomless Pit they halted, and the usual ceremony was gone through. They twisted several newspapers together into a torch and, lighting them, dropped them into the pit. They watched as the torch went down and down and down, lighting the way for a fleeting instant into the very depths of the earth; past ugly, jagged rocks, past flat shelves of limestone, past straight, smooth walls of rock till, at last, it burned itself out, still going down into the vast, mysterious crevice.

“It’s a strange sight, to be sure,” remarked Mr. Allen. “I have seen it a good many times now, and I have no trouble in believing the old Indian legend about it.”

“I have never heard it,” said Willis. “Won’t you tell it to us? This would be such a good time. Let’s put out all the lights except mine; I’ll stick it here on this projection and we’ll sit in the end of this big room while you talk.”

The crowd suited the action to the word. Mr. Allen pulled his hat far down over his eyes, picked up several little white pebbles from the ground and put them into his mouth to disguise his voice, then began:

“Eagle-Foot had been for many years the mighty medicine man of the great Ute Indians, who were probably the strongest and most warlike of all the mountain tribes. Their home was in the Middle Park at the north base of Pike’s Peak, shut in from the other tribes in a fertile and absolutely safe valley, which could be guarded by a few men at a certain point. Here in this mountain valley the Utes grew into a strong Indian state. During the hunting season large parties of them would ride to the plains to hunt buffalo, returning after several weeks with immense supplies of jerked meat, which is the choice steaks sun-cured, and with a goodly number of buffalo hides. Now, Eagle-Foot was a great doctor. He knew all about the mountain herbs and the medicinal properties of certain mineral waters as well as of the ancient sweating of disease out of the body by mud baths a method used by the Indians of the South. He was so successful that the Indians began to believe him infallible as a doctor and medicine man.

“Well, one season, following a great buffalo hunt on the plains, a strange itching skin disease broke out among the hunters, causing a great number of them to die. Eagle-Foot could not find a satisfactory remedy, although he tried many mixtures. At last they held long fasts, and prayed the Great Spirit to remove the curse from them. But the next season it was worse than ever. The big Chief himself lost his favorite son, Megaleep, and Eagle-Foot began to lose his influence among the people.

“Some thought the Great Spirit was punishing them for stealing the buffalo from their brothers of the plains; others said that the Evil Spirit had come back from the great desert to haunt them with disease and famine. Eagle-Foot remained silent and downcast, spending much time alone in the mountains fasting. One day as the warriors returned from the burying ground they found Eagle-Foot awaiting them at the camp, decked in his full regalia, his face painted as if for a great occasion, all his feathers hanging from his belt. He told the chief that the Great Spirit had at last spoken to him, and that he was going on a long quest into the limestone canyons. There the Great Spirit would reveal to him a cure for the dread disease. He called for the swiftest runner to go with him. Huckween, the Night Voice, volunteered, and so they started, all the warriors accompanying them to Sentinel Point, chanting prayers to the Great Spirit.

“Several days later Huckween returned to camp, haggard and weak and hungry, bearing the medicine wand of Eagle-Foot. He took it straight to the Chief, and on bended knee told him the strange tale. How Eagle-Foot had left him in the morning at the entrance to a mighty cavern and told him to follow in at ‘high sun.’ This he did, and when he reached this spot, the Bottomless Pit, he found Eagle-Foot’s sacred medicine wand stuck in the mud, his belt of sacred feathers fastened to the end of it, dangling down into the mouth of the pit. From the depths he heard strange sounds, but Eagle-Foot was gone. As he lay looking into the blackness, he seemed to realize suddenly that the wand was the promised cure, and that Eagle-Foot had given his own life in the Bottomless Pit that the sacred feathers might become a saving potion for his people. It was the old idea of a blood sacrifice.

“Every season since that the great medicine man of the Utes came here to receive the mystic cure, bringing with him Eagle-Foot’s staff and belt. Long strips of cedar bark were bound together into a rope. This was soaked in deer’s grease, one end lighted, and dropped into the Pit, the other fastened to the staff, which was stuck into the ground near the edge. The spirit of Eagle-Foot thus returned, using the flaming bark rope as a ladder, to bless the feathers of his brother, the medicine man of the Utes.”

“Do you suppose there are really bodies there at the bottom?” asked Sleepy, as the candles were relighted and the group passed on into the depths of the cave.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” replied the Chief.

Finally the first flight of rickety wooden steps was reached, and the boys descended, one at a time. Then came the “Fat man’s misery,” where the ceiling of the cave almost met the floor, leaving only a small opening. There was much laughing as Fat squeezed his body through. In the “Bridal Chamber” every fellow traced his initials on the white stone with his smoking candle. Then came the “Auger Hole,” which is a round opening, not more than twenty inches in diameter and about fifteen feet long, through a solid wall of rock. About the middle of the passage there is a sharp turn, and the remainder of the passage slopes down into the next room. Each one stretched himself out at full length, taking hold of the leg of the man in front of him. In this way they worked themselves through, like a great serpent.

A very peculiar sensation came to Willis, who was second in the line, as he worked himself along the dark passage. “If the roof should cave in just a little, what a death!” He was busy with such thoughts when Chuck, who was just ahead of him, suddenly backed into him and whispered, “Look!” He looked ahead, and there, somewhere in the darkness he saw two small, yellow-green lights. Willis clutched Chuck by the arm and whispered hoarsely, “It’s an animal!” Word was passed from one to the other as they emerged from the Auger Hole that there was a wild-cat in the Mud Room.

Mr. Allen always carried a gun on these trips, unknown to the fellows. As he took in the situation he quietly drew the revolver from his pocket and took a few steps forward. He began to think what the possible results of shooting might be. He had often heard of mines caving in as the result of a loud report, and of the vibrations from shouts closing the entrance to caves. It would be unwise to shoot, but perhaps more unwise to go away and leave the animal there. Some unarmed party might fall upon it. Many things were suggested, many possibilities talked over; but there seemed to be some objection to all. The eyes seemed to go out now and then, and occasionally there was a sad, low whine that made the cold chills run up and down each fellow’s back. Sleepy had made sure of his safety by returning through the Auger Hole. Mr. Allen made no reply to their many inquiries he seemed to have lost his power of speech. He stood with muscles taut and gun ready. He despised indecision, yet what should he do? He thought of the mountain lion that had been killed on the carriage road to the Peak the spring before. Could this be its mate? He tried to think what the characteristics of a bob-cat were. He wondered if perhaps it had already attacked some one; perhaps killed him, and even now was guarding the dead body perhaps not dead yet. His arm twitched nervously. He was losing his self-control. There was absolute silence now except for the whine of the beast. Did a lion whine? He could not think.

They could not have told how long they stood there silent. Presently Shorty Wier pushed himself to the head of the group and, without a moment’s warning, flashed his electric spotlight and began advancing slowly toward the animal. Allen caught him by the sleeve and followed, gun in hand. The eyes seemed to dilate, and there was a low growl that seemed to be a warning. In an instant it flashed into Allen’s mind, “A mad dog!” A bobcat could not growl, and a lion did not sound like a dog. Shorty turned and looked Allen in the eye, “Don’t be a fool. Put up your gun and get out your pocket ax,” he said in a low, steady voice. Then he began talking in a coaxing tone.

“There, dog, there, poor fellow, no one will hurt you, nice pup; what’s the matter, dog.” His light he cast straight at the eyes. “Don’t strike till I say,” he whispered to Mr. Allen.

In a moment they were close enough to see that it was a dog, a Collie pup, wild-eyed and half-starved. Shorty stepped nearer and put his hand out to pat the dog’s head; but the animal only trembled and shrank back, then whined a pitiful whine. They could see now that the dog was fast in a steel trap, held securely by his hind leg. Shorty reached down and released the bruised and swollen leg from the trap, and as the dog felt himself free he gave a cry of relief. If ever a dog expressed his gratitude in actions it was that pup. When they reached the mouth of the cave the dog collar was carefully examined, bringing to light the fact that the dog belonged to a Beverly H. Pembroke. Shorty would have the reward. Their lunch boxes and coffee-pot were gathered up, and the climb to the cliff began. The great moon was just lifting her yellow head above a rift of clouds in the eastern sky. Soon the flat top of the crag was reached, and in a moment a roaring fire was kindled. They had filled the coffee-pot with water before leaving the stream in the canyon, and it was now swung on a cross-pole over the fire. Each fellow put his share of the steak to fry by fastening it to the forked end of a stick and holding it over the coals. The red-cedar sticks made an ideal cooking fire, and the odor from the burning wood was enough to make any one hungry. The dog lay upon Shorty’s sweater, against the side of the cliff, and watched the broiling meat with eager eyes. It is hardly necessary to say that he received a generous share of the meal.

Mr. Allen stood with his back to the fire, looking off over the tops of the mountains and down into the moonlit spots of the canyon below, absorbing as much as he could of its beauty and inspiration. Far away to the west was the same old peak that he had seen from every conceivable angle and he had learned to love so well. It was a scene like this that he loved better than anything else in the world, and it was at such times that he almost wished that he was one of God’s wild things living a care-free life, looking to Mother Earth and his own wits to care for all his needs.

Willis came around the fire and stood by his side, silently taking in the beauties of the picture. Mr. Allen turned, and placing his arm on the boy’s shoulder, said, “It’s great, isn’t it, boy? It takes a night like this to make a man realize what the psalmist meant when he said, ’I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills whence cometh my help.’ Do you ever think of it when you look at these old mountains?”

After supper was finished the group gathered about the fire, and the business meeting, for which the trip had been planned, began. More cedar sticks were piled upon the fire, while the fellows settled themselves comfortably.

“The meeting will please come to order.” Dennis had taken his place at the head of the little company. “The secretary will please read the minutes of the last meeting.” Chuck jumped to his feet and made his report.

“Any objections to these minutes? If not, they will stand approved as read. Mr. Allen, will you explain to Thornton what ‘O.F.F.’ means and give him the oath of membership?”

Mr. Allen stepped to the side of the fire.

“Fellows, it is with an ever-increasing satisfaction that I meet with ‘O.F.F.,’ and I think it would not be out of place to-night to say just a few words that have been in my mind these last few days. I am proud to be a member of such a club. I am proud to call every fellow gathered here my brother. I am proud to have a voice in so clean and democratic a government. I am proud to be able to find my social amusement and social fellowship in such ways as this club employs in hiking and tramping in the woods and learning Nature’s secrets. We will not always be together in this most happy and congenial group. Fate will soon separate us. Some will grow old; some will die before their time; some will perhaps be rich in this world’s goods; possibly some will experience poverty’s sting. Yet none of us, fellows, need ever want for real friendship; and, after all, it’s that which makes life glad and beautiful for us, or sad and unhappy if we do not have it. I have often warned my memory never to lose the picture of a single one of these simple meals, about the open fire together, so that in days to come I may go back and refresh myself at these springs of pure contentment. It’s a beautiful thing in a fellow’s life to just be living for the welfare of others, as we are trying to do. I’m wishing one thing to-night for you all, and that is, that there may never come a time in your busy lives when you will find it to your liking to follow any other standard than the one we have set for ourselves here in this little group. I am hoping that we will never find any type of social fellowship any more attractive to us than this clean, wholesome, out-of-door life that we have learned to love so well. The time will come, fellows did you ever think of it? the time must come when we will not be able to gather at these fires and chat together of our mutual interests and common woes. But I hope the time will never come when we can forget the good things for which we stand, day by day, in our living.

“Willis, stand up here by the fire. I want to say to you, my boy, that we are proud to have you as a brother and that we feel confident that you are a real addition to our number. We want you to be a real, live member to enter into the spirit of our organization. Our letters, O.F.F., stand for a very simple slogan, one that has meant great things in the lives of every one of us fellows, and one that will mean great things to you if you take it into your life and let it work. It means that from this night on you will be more interested in the welfare of others than of yourself. O.F.F. Other Fellow First. Give me your hand. Do you promise that you will live a clean life, physically, mentally, and morally? Do you promise that you will forget your own interests in helping others, that selfishness will have no place in your life? Do you promise that you will not give your support for any reason to anything that to your mind is beneath the honor of a gentleman? If so, say, ’I do.’”

Willis lifted his eyes to Mr. Allen’s, and, with a pressure of his hand, he answered in a clear voice, “I do!”

“I take great pleasure,” continued Mr. Allen, “in welcoming you as a brother.”

The other fellows arose, and there was a general handshaking, followed by cries of “Speech!” “Speech!”

“All I have to say, fellows, is that I, too, am proud of every one of you and of everything for which you stand, and that I’ll do my best to be a worthy member. Thank you for the honor you have shown me by asking me to be one of you.”

They sat a long time that evening, talking and exchanging ideas, for there was something nearly bewitching in the fire and the view and the friendship.