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