A QUEER COUNTRY
An eastward ride of several days carried us to the neighbourhood of
the Grand Teton, a splendid mountain, whose height, isolation, and
conspicuous outline have made it a landmark and guide to the trapper
and the explorer ever since the days when Lewis and Clark first
struggled across the continent; and thence, diverging to the left, we
took a northward course along the foothills.
Our progress through this thickly timbered country was extremely slow,
for we felt it necessary to test for gold every one of the numberless
little streams which cut across our path, sometimes making a stop of
two or three days for the purpose.
A common obstacle to a rapid advance, too, was the frequent occurrence
of swamps,--the work of the beavers. The cleverness of these little
engineers is matter for admiration, but the result of their labours
is apt to be annoying to the traveller. They would build a dam across
a stream, backing up the water until it overflowed its banks on either
side; then they would go a little farther up-stream and build another,
and another, and another, until the valley for several miles of its
length would be converted into an impassable morass.
These oft-recurring impediments, as I have said, rendered our
northward progress very slow. At length, however, sometime early in
August as we supposed--for we had but a very indefinite idea of the
progress of time--we were forced out of our course by a great series
of beaver-dams, and going a long way to the left in the attempt to
circumvent them, we came upon a good-sized river flowing swiftly toward
the south. On consulting our map we decided that this must be the
Henry, or North Fork of the Snake; but our map-maker, though he had
knowledge of the existence of such a stream, evidently did not know
many particulars concerning it, for he failed altogether to take notice
of the fact that it had its source in a beautiful lake, upon whose
shore we unexpectedly found ourselves one day. It was the lake that our
friend Tracker Jim had mentioned.
By this time Percy and I had begun to understand what was meant by the
name “Rocky Mountains.” Previously, I, at least, had taken my idea of
this great “system” from the maps in common use in English schools,
where the backbone of the continent was represented by an object which
might be taken for a long, hairy caterpillar crawling up from Mexico to
the Arctic Ocean; sometimes with little caterpillars crawling beside
it. It had never occurred to me (or to Percy either, I believe) that
one might travel from east to west for seven hundred miles or more and
be surrounded by mountains all the way. In common with most schoolboys
(begging their pardons if I do them an injustice) I vaguely supposed
that I should find a long string of peaks, rough and sharp-pointed like
the Grand Teton, with depressions between them, over which one might
climb with difficulty; but that anybody could pass over the main range
of the Rocky Mountains and not know it, would have seemed to me too
absurd to be thought of for a moment. Nevertheless, that is precisely
what we did, impossible as it may seem.
Leaving the lake on our left hands, we rode up a gentle acclivity and
down the other side,--as we had done a hundred times before,--and
presently found ourselves on the bank of a fine creek running toward
the north. Without suspecting it, we had passed from the Pacific to the
Atlantic side of the great continental watershed; we were standing by
a stream which was flowing to join the Missouri, a tributary of that
mighty river upon whose bank we had stepped from an ocean-going vessel
so many weeks before.
It may appear strange that none of us should have had any inkling of
the truth, but, as to Percy and me, how were we to guess that the great
river upon whose left bank we had landed when coming from the east
should have any connection with a stream upon whose left bank, again,
we found ourselves when coming from the south-west? We did not take
into account the immense bend that the Missouri makes before it enters
upon its southerly course.
Even Jack, with his greater knowledge and his far greater experience,
was deceived by the ease with which we had traversed the pass. He did,
indeed, express some surprise at finding so large a stream on the other
side, and wondered if, and how, it found its way into the lake we had
just left, but he was as far as ourselves from suspecting that he had
crossed the main range.
“Well,” said he, as we stopped to let the horses drink, “I’m rather
puzzled which way to go: up, down, or across this stream. The country
to the right looks most promising for a gold-hunter, but we shall be
getting a pretty long way from the settlements in Montana if we go in
that direction; besides which Tracker Jim told us that we must bear to
the left after passing the lake. What do you think about it?”
“We have a fair supply of flour and sugar left,” said Percy; “so, as
far as provisions are concerned, there is no need of going near any
settlement at present. I should be inclined to say ‘up.’”
“So should I,” was my contribution to the debate. “The country in front
of us does not look very promising, and as gold-hunting is the main
object of this excursion I think we should go where we are most likely
to find it,--which seems to me to be up-stream; so I say ‘up’ too.”
“Suppose we go into camp at once,” said Jack. “And then we can talk it
over after supper. Here’s a pretty good place for camp, now, in the
shelter of this clump of pines.”
As we rode round the end of the group of trees in order to get upon its
leeward side, I caught sight at a great distance of a long string of
animals walking in procession across the valley.
“Jack!” I cried. “Look! What are those?”
Jack’s glass was out in an instant.
“Elk,” said he. “A whole band of them. There must be fifty. Tom, will
you make camp by yourself? Percy and I will go after them at once.”
Accordingly away they rode; while I unpacked the mules--tethering them
to prevent their running off in pursuit of Toby--and made preparations
for the night. This occupied me for about an hour, and then, taking
the shotgun, I wandered off up the pine-clad spur of the mountain to
see if I could get a few grouse. These birds were very plentiful, and,
either from natural foolishness or because they had not yet learned
from experience how destructive an animal is man, they were very easy
to shoot. On being disturbed they would fly up into the nearest tree,
and one might shoot three or four of them before it would occur to the
survivors that it might be dangerous to remain there.
On this particular occasion, however, my hunt for grouse came to
nothing. I was about to walk across a little open space in the woods,
when, from among the trees on the opposite side, about thirty steps
away, there suddenly appeared two little woolly animals which, though
I had never seen such a thing before, I knew must be young bears.
They were evidently out for a spree. They chased each other over the
grass; bit, buffeted, and tumbled over each other, growling all the
time with a great show of ferocity. I was so interested in watching
them that I forgot for the moment the fact that the old bear must be
somewhere close by. As soon as that thought did occur to me, however, I
prepared to slip away, but just as I was about to do so the gambols of
the little bears brought them over to my side of the open space, when,
catching sight of me, they stopped, and, with their heads cocked on one
side, stood thoughtfully staring me out of countenance. As I remained
perfectly still they gained courage to advance near enough to sniff
at my ankles, and finding that nothing alarming followed this act of
temerity they next proceeded to worry the legs of my overalls, just as
two young puppies would do. It was great fun for them, and it would
have been great fun for me, too, had it not been for my fear that the
old bear might come and spoil it all.
I had about decided that it would be an act of wisdom on my part
to kick the little bears and send them off home, when, happening
to look across the open, I saw something which sent my heart into
my mouth,--her Ladyship had arrived. From her great size and her
grey colour I guessed she must be a grizzly, and remembering with
thankfulness that the grizzly is no climber, I cast my eyes from side
to side in search of a tree to ascend, the one which sheltered me
being too big. Fortunately I was not reduced to this necessity. The
old bear, as soon as she saw where her cubs were, uttered a sound
which was evidently a note of recall, for the young ones at once
ceased to worry my trousers, and ran across to her. The old lady did
not appear to be in the best of tempers, for she saluted each of her
children with a cuff on the side of the head which sent him rolling
over and over,--it seemed to me to be hard enough to knock their heads
off altogether,--and turning about, walked off; my two little friends
following demurely behind.
As for myself, as soon as they were out of sight, I departed from the
neighbourhood with undignified celerity.
Coming down to the camp again, I was surprised to observe that Ulysses,
who had been left in charge, was standing guard over the baggage with
his bristles all erect, growling away to himself at a great rate. I
observed, too, that the mules were standing with their heads held high,
gazing intently in the direction of the pass we had traversed that
morning, though they could not see it on account of the intervening
strip of woods. Thinking that possibly another bear might be prowling
about, I ran down to the camp in order to exchange my shotgun for a
rifle, but as I was slipping a cartridge into the latter I paused
for an instant, for I had heard a sound I had not heard for a long
time,--the sound of a strange human voice.
Calling Ulysses to heel, I crept in among the trees and peered out on
the other side. There, coming down the pass, was a bunch of horses, and
behind them two men; the whole cavalcade looking very dusty and very
weary. They made their way straight to the river, where horses and men
at once proceeded to quench their thirst. While the horses were still
drinking the two men rose from their knees and began to talk; I could
hear them, but they were too far off for me to distinguish more than an
occasional word.
They appeared to be disputing. The shorter man gesticulated vigorously,
and pointing across the river to some high hills whose rocky tops
showed above the trees, he made some remark loudly enough for me to
catch the word “to-night.” The other, who leaned against his horse as
though he were extremely tired, appeared to be remonstrating; whereupon
his companion shouted at him:
“You young fool, do you want to be hung?”
It had seemed to me that there was something familiar in the voices,
but when the man shouted in that manner I knew in a moment who he was;
for at the word “fool,” his voice went off like a whistle-pipe.
As if to confirm my suspicion, one of the herd, more lively than the
rest, broke away, and came galloping in my direction, closely pursued
by the taller of the two men. When within about fifty yards of my
hiding-place it swerved round, and I then obtained a good sight of the
rider’s face. As I had supposed, it was Bates.
“So,” thought I, “you have gone into the horse-stealing business now,
have you, you unfortunate chap?”
All this time I had been on pins and needles lest our mules should
bray and thus betray my presence, and in consequence it was with very
sincere pleasure that I saw the party splash across the stream and make
off in the direction of the rocky hilltops; the men pausing to look
back toward the pass ere they plunged into the woods. In about half
an hour I caught sight of them again, crossing an open space upon the
hillside, and again I observed that they paused to look back. Evidently
they were in fear of pursuit.
Our hunters presently returning to camp, I at once related to them the
event of the afternoon.
“Well, that settles the question for us,” said Jack. “As they have gone
off toward the left, we will go off toward the right,--up-stream. They
won’t interfere any more with us, I expect, for it is pretty plain that
they have given up looking for us, and have taken to horse-stealing
as the next best thing to boy-stealing. All they are thinking of just
now is to make their way to some place where they can dispose of the
horses before they are overtaken. We might even follow in their tracks
with safety, for if they saw us coming, they would probably run away
from us. On the other hand, as we are only three, they might ambuscade
us,--which would not be pleasant. And so, I think, the wisest thing we
can do will be to give them as wide a berth as possible by going off in
the opposite direction.”
“Decidedly,” said Percy. “The farther we keep away from them the
better.”
“That is what I think,” I chimed in. “Let us give them all the start
they like; I don’t want to catch up with them. Up-stream for me.”
“And me,” echoed Percy. “Do you suppose, Jack,” he went on, “that if
they were caught they would be hung?”
“Undoubtedly,” replied Jack; “unless they were shot first.”
“Poor old Bates,” said Percy, reflectively. “To think that the trick he
played upon us, which made us run away for fear of being hung, should
have worked round so that now he is running away for the same reason.
Upon my word I’m sorry for him.”
But however sorry we might be for Bates, we were none the less
determined to avoid his company, at least as long as he should choose
to consort with his present ally, and accordingly we set off next
morning up the stream, following along its left bank until we arrived
at the point where its feeders became small and rapid. Passing from one
to the other of these little creeks, and working always towards the
left, we tested each one as we came to it; always without success, but
always hopeful for better fortune next time. Under Jack’s supervision
we two novices had taken many lessons in the art of gold-washing,--or,
rather, in the art of washing for gold,--and we were now fairly expert
in manipulating the pan, but however expert we might be our labour
produced nothing; either the country was barren of the precious metal,
or we had not found the right places. It was very disappointing,--to
Jack especially,--but the hopefulness of youth was on our side, and
every failure only determined us the more to persevere.
On one of these occasions of our moving camp from one creek to the next
we found that the distance between creeks was much greater than we had
expected, and as a consequence the darkness overtook us before we could
find a suitable camping-ground. Emerging at length from the woods
upon a little grassy plateau which would serve our purpose, we quickly
unpacked and turned loose the animals, which, having first enjoyed
their preliminary roll, walked off according to custom to take a drink
from the creek. To our surprise, they did not seem to like the water;
they walked along the bank, tasting the stream in different places, and
snorting in a dissatisfied manner. Going over to find out the reason,
we discovered that the water was strongly impregnated with iron and
sulphur. Presumably some mineral springs ran into it from up above
somewhere. However, the horses presently came to the conclusion that
they must drink there or go without, and having satisfied their thirst
they wandered off and soon were comfortably cropping the grass.
Meanwhile we had lighted a fire, and having cooked and eaten our supper
were thinking of going to bed, when the moon rose, and by its light we
noticed for the first time that the ground not far removed from where
we were was all covered with some white substance, presenting a very
strange appearance in the midst of the black woods.
“What is that?” I asked, shading my eyes from the glare of the fire,
and peering into the darkness. “It can’t be snow.”
“I should say it was egg-shells,” remarked Percy. “There’s an
uncommonly strong smell of bad eggs about here.”
“I don’t think your egg-shell theory will pass, Percy,” said
Jack, laughing; “the smell of bad eggs probably comes from some
sulphur-springs in the neighbourhood. I expect that white stuff is
deposit from the springs; though I never saw so much in one place
before. Let us go down that way and have a look.”
We had advanced some distance along the gloomy alley of trees, Ulysses
trotting behind, when Percy stopped, holding up his finger.
“Hark!” he exclaimed. “What is that sizzling noise?”
We stood still to listen. Sure enough there was a sizzling noise
going on somewhere near; a noise like the frying of a beefsteak. We
went poking forward in the dark with our noses near the ground, and
presently Jack, who was on the left, said:
“It’s just here, whatever it is. Have you a match, Tom?”
I struck a match and held it low down where the sound came from. To my
great surprise--for there was not a breath of air stirring--the match
was instantly blown out. I struck another. The same thing happened.
“That’s curious,” said Jack. “Wait a moment; I’ll go back to the fire
and bring a lighted stick.”
He had hardly spoken when a most astounding incident occurred. There
was a dull thud like the explosion of loose gunpowder; a shower of mud
bespattered us all over, and a cloud of steam puffed into our faces.
To say that we were frightened would be to put it altogether too
mildly. Ulysses, giving vent to a howl of dismay, clapped his tail
between his legs and disappeared into the woods; and as for us, we
staggered back, and stood for a moment trembling and speechless. One
does not, as a rule, care to confess having been afraid, but I own
with perfect readiness that I was on this occasion very much afraid,
and Jack and Percy I know will own as much. If anybody shall choose
to scoff at us he is welcome; but I should like to see the hero who
would preserve his equanimity under such circumstances. An unexpected
explosion at any time or in any place is a terrifying thing. How much
more terrifying must it be then in the darkness and silence of an
untrodden wilderness?
As Percy afterwards said, it was enough to scare anybody to have the
solid earth all of a sudden get up and fly at you like that.
As soon as we could collect our senses we ran back to the fire, and
there again we stood still for a short time gazing apprehensively into
the darkness; wondering what was to happen next, and what it was that
had happened already. Our captain was the first to recover the use of
his tongue.
“I wonder what that was,” said he. “I never was half so scared in my
life. It seems to be all quiet now. Shall we go back and look?”
It was not easy to screw up one’s courage to go near the place again,
but anything was better than uncertainty. Making, therefore, a couple
of torches, we walked back to the scene of the explosion.
For a space about fifteen feet square we found the turf all broken into
pieces and much of it turned upside down, while between the fragments
there issued a light cloud of steam. The turf itself was damp and warm.
“Well,” said Jack, “I expect no three fellows ever had such a
surprising thing happen to them before. I think I can account for it,
though. There must be a good many hot springs about here--there’s the
irony taste of that creek, and the white stuff down below, and the
smell of bad eggs--and I expect the steam from one of them has found
its way under the turf to this spot, and as soon as there was enough of
it it blew up.”
“That’s it, I’ve no doubt,” said I. “But look here, Jack; how are we to
know that it won’t blow up under our beds to-night? That would be worse
than this was.”
“I expect we are all right as far as that goes,” replied Jack. “You see
there was no sizzling noise about the camp, and the one we heard was
caused, I suppose, by the steam squeezing its way out from under the
turf. I don’t suppose such a thing happens once in a thousand years.”
“I hope it doesn’t,” Percy put in. “Two or three more of them would
turn my hair grey. Come. Let us go to bed. What’s become of old Lyss, I
wonder? Oh, there he is by the fire. Here, Lyss!”--whistling.
But Ulysses was not to be persuaded. He stood by the fire wagging his
tail when we called to him, but no blandishments could induce him again
to approach the place where he had been so nearly scared out of his
wits. Scientific explanations were wasted on him.
After sitting around the fire for some time, discussing this strange
phenomenon, we retired to bed, not feeling any too sure that we might
not be pitched out and parboiled before morning; and though nothing so
serious as this occurred, the night was not destined to pass without
disturbance. We had been asleep some time when Jack was awakened by
Ulysses’ whining and trying to crawl into his bed. This extraordinary
behaviour on the part of the usually discreet old dog naturally
disturbed Jack’s slumbers, and rousing himself to see what was the
cause of it, he heard a strange noise going on somewhere, which caused
him to call out:
“Tom! Percy! wake up!”
As we had gone to sleep with our nerves set with a hair-trigger we
awoke in a second, and, sitting up on our beds, listened.
From the valley below there came a mixed sound of thumping, roaring,
and splashing; and presently in the bright moonlight we saw a great
cloud, like a bolster five hundred feet high standing on end, go
sailing up the valley, soon to be followed by others, a dozen or two,
one behind the other.
It was a strange country indeed that we had come into.
Suddenly Jack startled us by clapping his hands together and shouting
out:
“I know! I know what’s the matter. We have crossed the range without
knowing it,--it must have been the day we left the lake,--and we have
wandered into the geyser basins of the Yellowstone region. That’s
what’s the matter.”
“Wandered where?” asked Percy and I together.
“Into the geyser region.”
“What’s that?”
“What! Haven’t you heard of the geysers of the Yellowstone that were
discovered a year or two ago?”
“No.”
“Well, then, go to sleep, my unsophisticated infants,” said Captain
Jack, with a patronising air, as he lay down again; “and if I’m not
mistaken you shall see to-morrow some of the most wonderful sights that
are to be found in all the wide world.”
[Illustration]