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