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.