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.

CHAPTER IV

Willis Becomes Interested in Gold Mines