WONDERLAND.
"Hurrah!" cried Tom, who had now fully recovered from his recent
unpleasantness with the silver-tip. "Hurrah! Here we are in Cinnabar."
He had jumped from the car, and was tapping at Kittie's curtained
window.
Kittie waved her hand to signify assent and keep him quiet, and before
long all the passengers were hurrying through their breakfast and
preparing for the long coach journey through the park. While this is
going on, in the now motionless Northern Pacific train, we have time
for a few words regarding the great reservation itself.
About one thirtieth of the new State of Wyoming--the extreme
northwest corner--is reserved by the United States Government for
the "Yellowstone National Park." Nearly the whole area thus set
apart remains a virgin wilderness, traversed only by rough and narrow
carriage roads, and hardly affording shelter to the increasing number
of tourists each summer in its hastily erected hotels. The whole park
is about the size of Rhode Island and Delaware combined.
The Government, through the Secretary of the Interior, has issued
certain regulations regarding the conduct of travelers in the park.
These relate chiefly to camping, destroying trees, etc. One of the most
stringent rules forbids the discharge of firearms within the limits of
the Reservation. Mounted soldiers of the regular United States Army
are scattered all through the park, doing police duty; and if you are
caught firing a gun, or even having one (unsealed) in your possession,
good-by to your fowling-piece and good-by to the park. The former is
at once confiscated, and you are marched out of the latter without
ceremony. Those travelers who wish to take firearms are obliged to have
the lock sealed by a Government official, at the entrance of the park.
The result of this wholesome regulation is that wild game of all sorts
is on the rapid increase, in this favored spot. About one hundred and
fifty buffalo, the remnant of the immense herds that once roamed the
Western prairies, are peacefully quartered somewhere among these wild
hills--nobody knows exactly where.
Most of these facts Tom hastily repeated to his companions in
the "Broadwater," as the dining-car was called. The ride over to
Mammoth Hot Springs was full of interest, the road following a wild
mountain-stream, and finding its way farther and farther into the
wilderness.
At one point an exclamation from Randolph called the attention of the
rest to an eagle's nest on a jutting cliff that almost overhung the
road. The heads of the young eagles could be plainly seen over the edge
of the nest, and far overhead soared the parent birds.
On making up the wagon parties at the hotel, the Percivals found to
their delight that all could go in one team, including Mr. and Miss
Selborne. Off they went with shouts and cheers, leaving the wonders of
the "Mammoth" district for their return trip.
Up and up, along the edge of frightful precipices, where the road was
built of planking, with great props, sheer out around promontories of
rock; up and up, to the high tablelands of the park; through evergreen
forests, along silent lakes, haunted by beavers and strange water-fowl;
beside black cliffs of volcanic glass, or "obsidian"; across unbridged
streams where the horses plunged into the swift-running waters, and the
wagon lurched from side to side, hub-deep in the flood. So onward until
they had covered twenty-two miles, and reached the Norris Geyser Basin,
where dinner was served in a long, shed-like structure called a hotel.
As soon as the meal was over, the young people hurried ahead on foot,
to see their first geysers. A quarter of a mile walk, and a sudden turn
of the road brought them into view. Strange, uncanny things they were,
bursting upward at intervals through the treacherous and chalk-like
"formation," and throwing their jets of steaming water into the air
with hollow gurgles and growls from their hot throats.
The atmosphere was charged with sulphurous odors, and while the
travelers were fascinated with the novelty and mystery of the scene,
they were glad to enter their wagons once more and press forward on
their journey. They all felt the rarity of the air, being about a
thousand feet higher than the summit of Mt. Washington, above the level
of the sea. It became very cold, too, as the sun went down. The girls
were glad to don their sealskin capes, and the boys turned up their
coat-collars.
Eighteen miles over the wildest country they had yet seen, brought them
to the Lower Geyser Basin.
That night the hotel was so crowded that each room was shared by three
or four occupants. Tom, Randolph, Fred and Rossiter were allotted to a
chamber in an outbuilding. They had to reach it by an outside stairway,
and I grieve to state that all four--not excepting the Reverend
Rossiter Selborne--told stories and laughed over them until very nearly
midnight.
Next morning Rossiter left the room before the boys were up, and walked
out in the clear, cold air. He had not taken a dozen steps when he saw
Bess and Kittie emerging from the main building, which was dignified
by the term "hotel." Hailing them merrily, he was soon at their
side, and the three walked down to the Firehole River, from whose
sulphurous waters there arose a warm, faint odor, as it foamed along
its white-and-yellow-streaked bed.
Over they went, one by one, on a narrow log bridge to the further bank,
which they followed down to a little fir grove. There they had a tiny
camp-fire, taking great precautions to keep the blaze down and use only
dry twigs, so as not to make a smoke.
After breakfast the teams were ready again, and the journey was
resumed. For twelve miles they rode among geysers and springs, through
low fir woods, over chalky formation, to the Upper Basin, where they
were to spend the night.
On the way, it should be mentioned, they stopped to view a singular
mud spring, called the "Mammoth Paint Pot." There was a bowl-shaped
crater nearly filled with gray, pasty mud, through the surface of
which great bubbles slowly forced themselves, as in a boiling kettle
of molasses candy, nearly done. As one of the guide-books said, there
was "a continuous bubbling up of mud, producing sounds like a hoarsely
whispered 'plop, plop.'" Travelers were further informed that these
bubbling circlets of mud fell into beautiful floral forms; but Kittie
could find in them no resemblance to anything but electric bell knobs;
while her mother plaintively declared they looked like nothing so much
as old-fashioned doughnuts.
That evening Tom caused great merriment at the supper-table by gravely
asking Mrs. Percival to "pass the plops," he having previously ordered
doughnuts for that purpose.
But if I were to tell you of all the wonders the Percivals visited
and heard with their ears and saw with their eyes, I might be accused
of writing a guide-book myself. I can only add that during the next
forty-eight hours our friends became intimately acquainted with a dozen
or more great geysers, knowing their names and the times for their
appearance to the hour, if not the minute.
There was the "Excelsior" (this was passed on the right between the
Lower and Upper Basins), the largest geyser in the world; the "Giant,"
throwing a huge volume of scalding water high into the air every eight
days; the "Grotto," with a crater of strange, irregular walls as if
built by gnomes; the "Castle," to the brink of which two of the girls
climbed and gazed fearlessly down into the terrible throat; and "Old
Faithful" which spouts a hundred feet once every sixty-five minutes,
and has probably been as prompt as a clock, scientific men tell us, for
the last twenty thousand years.
A comical incident occurred as the party were standing near the
last-named geyser waiting for it to "erupt." Tom had timed it by his
watch, and had given out word that it would begin to play in just three
minutes and a half.
While the words were on his lips, a man was seen approaching from a
camp near by, carrying a bucket and some clothes which he evidently
intended to wash in warm water from one of the many pools near the
crater's mouth. It was then merely a hole, some four or five feet in
diameter, from which came occasional wreaths of steam, and an ominous
gurgling growl which the new-comer disregarded altogether.
"You wait!" cried Tom to the rest. "He isn't near enough to get hurt,
but he'll be about the most astonished man in Wyoming in just one
minute and three quarters."
The camper proceeded to dip up a bucket full of water with great
coolness, and, having taken a comfortable seat on a ridge of
"formation," was just proceeding to immerse his wash, when up
came "Old Faithful's" head. In less time than it takes to tell it,
the great, roaring, boiling jet was hurling itself far aloft, and
descending in floods of hot, sulphurous water. The man had given
one startled look over his shoulder at the first outbreak, and then
fled like a deer, leaving his property to be reclaimed later in the
day. The sight of his ludicrously startled face and flying heels was
irresistible, and the boys screamed with laughter.
Beside the great, active geysers, there were multitudes of hot springs,
some of them many feet wide and deep, with treacherous, overhanging
banks and exquisitely tinted depths of turquoise and sapphire, through
which arose a continuous train of silvery bubbles. There was a story
told, that summer, of a lady who had neglected the precautions which
others took, and straying carelessly among these springs, broke through
the thin crust of sulphurous deposit. She was instantly drawn out, but
not before she was terribly scalded.
While the Percivals were at the "Upper Geyser Basin," they were invited
to witness a queer sight in the edge of the woods about a quarter of
a mile from the hotel, just at dusk. One of the men employed about the
place began to call coaxingly, "Barney! Barney!" And now a dark form
appeared among the pines, and out came a huge black bear. He approached
timidly within a few feet of the silent group, now advancing, now
bounding lightly away at the cracking of a twig, and took several
pieces of raw meat from a stump near by. When his silent meal was
finished, he gave the spectators one inquiring look, and wheeling
round, disappeared in the shadow of the forest.
All this time it was very cold, especially at night when, although it
was in August, ice formed over pools about the hotel.
Reluctantly the tourists left the wonders of the "Upper Basin" behind,
and drove on toward the next point of interest, Yellowstone Lake.
"Give us the points, Tom," Randolph sings out, as the driver cracks his
whip and the wagon rattles down the road. "Tell us about the Lake."
"Nearly eight thousand feet above the sea," rejoins Tom. He is so ready
with his figures that skeptical Kittie declares he makes them up,
whenever his memory fails him.
"Perhaps you think," rejoins Thomas, with dignity, "that the Lake
doesn't cover one hundred and thirty-nine square miles, and hasn't a
hundred miles of shore line, and isn't chock-full of splendid trout,
and hasn't a beautiful beach of obsidian five miles long, 'reflecting
the sun's rays like brilliant gems,' and doesn't"--
"Oh! stop, stop, Davy; I'll come down," cried Kittie; while Fred
strikes up "Annie Rooney" at the top of his voice. It was afternoon
when they drove down into a pretty valley where were clustered three or
four large white tents.
"What's this--a circus?" shouted Tom.
"It's Larry Matthews' hotel," replied the driver.
Out came Larry himself, as the teams drew up with a flourish, before
the door of the principal tent.
"Glad to see yez, ladies an' gintlemen!" he cried, with broad, rich
brogue. "Step right into me parlor, but be careful of the carpet, av ye
plase!"
As the tent knew no floor but turf, this raised a laugh, and this was
followed by another and another at Larry's quaint observations, which
he showered without stint on his guests.
When they were all seated at long tables, he was everywhere at once.
"Milk, sor? Milk it is. Eggs? there's wan the little speckled hin laid
for you, mem! Coffee? Do take another cup! There's plenty more to be
had--the geyser's playin' right along."
The meal was eaten in a gale of merriment, and all hands declared that
sandwiches, boiled eggs and coffee--for of these viands it largely
consisted--had never tasted so good.
After dinner there was an hour or two of leisure, during which the
travelers strolled about on the hillside overlooking "Trout Creek" (for
which this little encampment was named), securing kodak views, and
enjoying life generally.
"Good-by, sor! Good-by, mem!" shouted Larry to his guests, as they at
length clambered to their seats and rode off. "Long life to yez all!
Come ag'in!"
They now had a dozen miles of beautiful prairie, river and mountain
scenery before reaching the Lake. The ride was not without attractions
also, that bordered on the perilous.
At one point they were told by the driver that only three weeks before,
a huge buffalo had suddenly emerged from the woods, and with lowered
head galloped across the road. The six horses of the team immediately
in front had been thrown into wild panic, and wheeling about, had
dashed off, dragging a broken wagon after them.
"So I had to dodge a buffalo and a runaway team," concluded John grimly.
The wheel-tracks showed plainly in the turf where he had lashed his own
horses out of the road. He added that one of the passengers, a lady
from the East, was quite severely injured in jumping from the forward
wagon.
They saw deer feeding quietly beside the road. Great white pelicans
floated on the calm surface of the river; eagles flew overhead in full
view. There are many pumas, or "mountain lions," as they are called
there, in the lonelier tracts of the park, and bears, brown, black and
grizzly, roam to and fro unmolested.
But the great feature of the ride was presented about five miles
further on--when they were driving close to the banks of a clear
flowing stream.
"What's that creature down by the water?" asked Adelaide carelessly. "A
calf?"
They all glanced toward the river, when Tom--who was unquestionably
authority on the subject--sung out, "A bear! A bear!"
The driver pulled up his horses with a jerk, and none too soon. Up
scrambled a huge brown, or "cinnamon" bear from the bank of the river,
not a hundred yards ahead of them. She jumped a log which lay along the
embankment, and crossing the road, began to climb the steep, wooded
hill on their left.
Presently a woolly cub, about the size of a half-grown Newfoundland
dog, came hurrying after her. He tried to climb the log as she had
done, but after straining to get over, exactly like a boy endeavoring
to mount a horizontal bar, tumbled backward into the brush.
Fred and Tom cheered him on, and the second attempt succeeded. Down
he went, head over heels, into the dusty road, and then how he did
scramble up hill after his mother! The boys laughed and shouted to him
until both bears were out of sight among the pines, far up the mountain
slope.
The horses had acted bravely during this scene, merely standing with
quivering limbs and alert ears until little Bruin and his mother had
passed.
At Yellowstone Lake the boys hastily organized a fishing excursion, and
came back with a fine string of trout, averaging a pound to a pound and
a half apiece. In the evening they took the girls out on the lake for a
moonlight row. The songs they sang were of a gentler and more plaintive
character than usual; for they realized that the beautiful journey over
gulf and glacier, and through Wonderland, was fast drawing to a close.
"Row, brothers, row!" rang out Pet's sweet soprano; and even Fred's
"Jolly boating weather" had an undertone of sadness, as the chorus came
in, full and strong, at the end of each verse. Ah! how far ahead a
"good-by" casts its shadow. How will it seem to reach a land where the
word is not known!
"The rapids are near, and the daylight's past," sang Pet; while the
moonlight quivered on the waters of the strange, wild mountain lake.
I must hurry on, myself, in my story of those fair, sweet days and
silvery nights; for I find myself lingering only too long among the
hills--dreading perhaps, as I trust some of you do, my boy and girl
readers, the parting from the glad young lives that, in the course of
these six volumes, have become a part of my very own. Yes, my manly
Randolph, impulsive, good-hearted Tom, merry Kittie, golden-haired Pet,
and sweet, gentle "Captain Bess," I must leave you all too soon, in the
fair morning-land where hearts beat warmly and young faces glow with
mirth and noble resolve; whither in very truth, I have tried, poorly
and feebly but most earnestly, to take the real, living boys and girls
who have gathered around the pine-cone fires and many a time have sent
me words of cheer from their own far-away firesides, year after year.
God bless them, every one!
* * * * *
Randolph and Fred were loath to leave the fine fishing-grounds of
the Lake, but the word was "Onward!" and another day's ride took the
party away from those picturesque shores to the Grand Cañon of the
Yellowstone.
On horseback they rode slowly along the banks of this mighty ravine,
whose tawny flanks have given the river its name. One moment the girls
were speechless with laughter over Tom's dismay as his horse began
to slide down a steep descent; the next they caught their breath with
wonder and awe, as they came out on the brink of the mighty cañon, and,
making their way on foot to the very edge of a jutting promontory,
gazed downward into the fearful depths of a sheer thousand feet below.
A few rods from their narrow perch was an eagle's nest, and it made the
head giddy and the pulse beat fast to see the great birds float out
over the abyss. Coiling along the very base of the precipices was the
river, a silken thread of twisted white and emerald.
But oh! the Falls. Here the Yellowstone gathered itself, at the head of
the Cañon, and leaped abroad into the air, falling three hundred feet
before it knitted together its torn threads on the rocks below.
"In His hands are the deep places of the earth," murmured Mr. Percival,
half to himself.
"The strength of the hills is His also!" finished the young clergyman,
involuntarily baring his head, as if in the visible presence of the
Creator.
"How can He--how can He think of our little every-day-nesses, and of
that!" said Bess, not turning to the last speaker, but knowing that he
heard.
Rossiter stooped, picked a single blade of grass from the brink of
the awful cataract, and handed it to her without a word. And she
understood, and was grateful.