“Indeed they have. It is growing rapidly under some very competent instruction. My daughter thought she would have to drop her music when she left home, but she can carry it right through her entire course. She’s interested in both piano and violin.” Out on the campus once more, Father found Tom and the Boy with a dozen or more students in military uniforms hurrying along from the direction of the Gymnasium. “Oh, dad, you should have seen the military work!” the Boy sang out across the campus. “Tom here says he doesn’t like it much, but it looks good to me.” Tom shrugged his shoulders with the superior manner of one who knows. “They have a unit of the R. O. T. C. here—the Reserve Officers’ Training Corps, you know. Every fellow has to take military his first two years, and then if he wants to keep it up, he may become an officer when he graduates. And he has a uniform furnished him, and gets sent to summer camps, and shoots in the rifle range—I think it’s bully! And you just ought to hear the military band!” “It is a mighty good department,” Tom confessed. “One of the best in the West, the War Department says. And the Colonel and all the officers are mighty good scouts. We’ll have to get to these other buildings now.” [Illustration: _The University Gymnasium_] Father owned a farm, and soon found his way to the College of Agriculture. “You represent the state’s biggest business,” he assured the Dean. “I’m always telling the boy so.” “Yes,” was the reply, “and if your son expects to make scientific agriculture his life work, as teacher, experimental expert, extension worker, or as operator and manager of a farm of his own, this University is the place for him. Farming conditions in Idaho are distinctive, and he can best prepare to meet them in the Agricultural College of his own state, where they are made a special study.” Father enjoyed every minute of the hour that followed, during which he was personally conducted through the agricultural buildings and over the farm. Model dairy barns, chicken pens, up-to-date crop demonstrations crowded upon each other. The tractor school then in session particularly interested Father. “I have been a farmer all my life,” he said, “but I would enter this Agricultural College right now if my son were not ahead of me.” There was a ringing of gongs throughout the buildings and students came hurrying out as fast as they had entered in the morning. “Lunch time,” said Tom. “If you go with Stubby to Lindley, you will need to be on time. They’re mighty prompt about their meals.” Father expressed disappointment that he had not visited all departments. [Illustration: _One of the Best in the West_] “You can take in the others this afternoon, even if it is Saturday,” Tom assured him. “Classes do not meet, but there are always people working in these shops and laboratories.”