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Willy Reynolds, indeed, was often referred to as an “odd stick.” He had a mind of marked mathematical bent, and had proved himself so proficient in algebra, geometry and trigonometry as to puzzle and amaze his comrades, toiling along paths of learning which appeared to offer him only entertainment. So they dubbed him the “Shark,” because he always seemed hungry for mathematics.

The door opened, and in came a thick-set, sturdily built chap.

“Hi there, Orkney! Glad to see you!” Sam sang out. It might have been noted, too, that the others gave the latest arrival a welcome, each in his own way, even the Shark thawing temporarily. One acquainted with boys and their ways would have understood that there was some reason why they wished Orkney to feel himself among friends.

The thick-set lad answered each in turn, his face lighting as he spoke. It was clear that he appreciated his reception, as well he might. Time had been—and not very long before—when Tom Orkney and the Safety First Club had been at swords’ points, and when each had woefully misjudged the other. A chapter of accidents had served first to increase the bitterness on both sides, and then to remove it by revealing how thoroughly it was due to mistakes and misunderstandings. And in the end, helped on by sharing common adventures and dangers, had come reconciliation and respect. In proof of its new and genuine regard the club had admitted Tom to its jealously guarded circle of membership.