strange to see the cars running directly back of the company quarters.
The long tunnel--it is to be called the Bozeman tunnel--that has been
cut through a large mountain is not quite finished, and the cars are
still run up over the mountain upon a track that was laid only for
temporary use. It requires two engines to pull even the passenger trains
up, and when the divide is reached the "pilot" is uncoupled and run down
ahead, sometimes at terrific speed. One day, since we came, the engineer
lost control, and the big black thing seemed almost to drop down the
grade, and the shrieking of the continuous whistle was awful to listen
to; it seemed as if it was the wailing of the souls of the two men being
rushed on--perhaps to their death. The thing came on and went screaming
through the post and on through Bozeman, and how much farther we do
not know. Some of the enlisted men got a glimpse of the engineer as he
passed and say that his face was like chalk. We will not be settled for
some time, as Faye is to take a set of vacant quarters on the hill until
one of the officers goes on leave, when we will move to that house, as
it is nicer and nearer the offices. He could have taken it when we came
had he been willing to turn anyone out. It seems to me that I am waiting
for a house about half the time, yet when anyone wants our house it is
taken at once!
For a few days we are with Lieutenant and Mrs. Fiske. They gave us an
elegant dinner last evening. Miss Burt and her brother came up from
Bozeman. This evening we dine with Major and Mrs. Gillespie of the
cavalry. He is in command of the post--and tomorrow we will dine with
Captain and Mrs. Spencer. And so it will go on, probably, until everyone
has entertained us in some delightful manner, as this is the custom in
the Army when there are newcomers in the garrison. I am so sorry that
these courtesies cannot be returned for a long time--until we get really
settled, and then how I shall miss Hang! How I am to do without him I do
not quite see.
FORT ELLIS, MONTANA TERRITORY, July, 1884.
THIS post is in a most dilapidated condition, and it--also the country
about--looks as though it had been the scene of a fierce bombardment.
And bombarded we certainly have been--by a terrific hailstorm that made
us feel for a time that our very lives were in danger. The day had been
excessively warm, with brilliant sunshine until about three o'clock,
when dark clouds were seen to be coming up over the Bozeman Valley, and
everyone said that perhaps at last we would have the rain that was so
much needed, I have been in so many frightful storms that came from
innocent-looking clouds, that now I am suspicious of anything of the
kind that looks at all threatening. Consequently, I was about the first
person to notice the peculiar unbroken gray that had replaced the black
of a few minutes before, and the first, too, to hear the ominous roar
that sounded like the fall of an immense body of water, and which could
be distinctly heard fifteen minutes before the storm reached us.
While I stood at the door listening and watching, I saw several people
walking about in the garrison, each one intent upon his own business and
not giving the storm a thought. Still, it seemed to me that it would be
just as well to have the house closed tight, and calling Hulda we soon
had windows and doors closed--not one minute too soon, either, for the
storm came across the mountains with hurricane speed and struck us with
such force that the thick-walled log houses fairly trembled. With the
wind came the hail at the very beginning, changing the hot, sultry air
into the coldness of icebergs. Most of the hailstones were the size of
a hen's egg, and crashed through windows and pounded against the house,
making a noise that was not only deafening but paralyzing. The sounds of
breaking glass came from every direction and Hulda and I rushed from
one room to the other, not knowing what to do, for it was the same scene
everyplace--floors covered with broken glass and hail pouring in through
the openings.
The ground upon which the officers' quarters are built is a little
sloping, therefore it had to be cut away, back of the kitchen, to make
the floor level for a large shed where ice chest and such things are
kept, and there are two or three steps at the door leading from the shed
up to the ground outside. This gradual rise continues far back to the
mountains, so by the time the hail and water reached us from above they
had become one broad, sweeping torrent, ever increasing in volume. In
one of the boards of our shed close to the steps, and just above the
ground, there happened to be a large "knot" which the pressure of the
water soon forced out, and the water and hailstones shot through and
straight across the shed as if from a fire hose, striking the wall of
the main building! The sight was most laughable--that is, at first it
was; but we soon saw that the awful rush of water that was coming in
through the broken sash and the remarkable hose arrangement back of the
kitchen was rapidly flooding us.
So I ran to the front door, and seeing a soldier at one of he barrack
windows, I waved and waved my hand until he saw me. He understood at
once and came running over, followed by three more men, who brought
spades and other things. In a short time sods had been banked up at
every door, and then the water ceased to come in. By that time the
heaviest of the storm had passed over, and the men, who were most
willing and kind, began to shovel out the enormous quantity of
hailstones from the shed. They found by actual measurement that they
were eight inches deep--solid hail, and over the entire floor. Much
of the water had run into the kitchen and on through to the butler's
pantry, and was fast making its way to the dining room when it was cut
off. The scenes around the little house were awful. More or less water
was in each room, and there was not one unbroken pane of glass to be
found, and that was not all---there was not one unbroken pane of glass
in the whole post. That night Faye telegraphed to St. Paul for glass to
replace nine hundred panes that had been broken.
Faye was at the quartermaster's office when the storm came up, and while
it was still hailing I happened to look across the parade that way, and
in the door I saw Faye standing. He had left the house not long before,
dressed in a suit of immaculate white linen, and it was that suit that
enabled me to recognize him through the veil of rain and hail. Sorry as
I was, I had to laugh, for the picture was so ludicrous--Faye in those
chilling white clothes, broken windows each side of him, and the ground
covered with inches of hailstones and ice water! He ran over soon after
the men got here, but as he had to come a greater distance his pelting
was in proportion. Many of the stones were so large it was really
dangerous to be hit by them.
When the storm was over the ground was white, as if covered with
snow, and the high board fences that are around the yards back of the
officers' quarters looked as though they had been used for targets and
peppered with big bullets. Mount Bridger is several miles distant, yet
we can distinctly see from here the furrows that were made down its
sides. It looks as if deep ravines had been cut straight down from peak
to base. The gardens are wholly ruined--not one thing was left in them.
The poor little gophers were forced out of their holes by the water,
to be killed by the hail, and hundreds of them are lying around dead. I
wondered and wondered why Dryas did not come to our assistance, but he
told us afterward that when the storm first came he went to the stable
to fasten the horses up snug, and was then afraid to come away, first
because of the immense hailstones, and later because both horses were so
terrified by the crashing in of their windows, and the awful cannonade
of hail on the roof. A new cook had come to us just the day before the
storm, and I fully expected that she would start back to Bozeman that
night, but she is still here, and was most patient over the awful
condition of things all over the house. She is a Pole and a good cook,
so there is a prospect of some enjoyment in life after the house gets
straightened out. There was one thing peculiar about that storm. Bozeman
is only three miles from here, yet not one hailstone, not one drop of
rain did they get there. They saw the moving wall of gray and heard the
roar, and feared that something terrible was happening up here.
The storm has probably ruined the mushrooms that we have found so
delicious lately. At one time, just out of the post, there was a long,
log stable for cavalry horses which was removed two or three years
ago, and all around, wherever the decayed logs had been, mushrooms have
sprung up. When it rains is the time to get the freshest, and many a
time Mrs. Fiske and I have put on long storm coats and gone out in the
rain for them, each bringing in a large basket heaping full of the most
delicate buttons. The quantity is no exaggeration whatever--and to be
very exact, I would say that we invariably left about as many as we
gathered. Usually we found the buttons massed together under the soft
dirt, and when we came to an umbrella-shaped mound with little cracks
on top, we would carefully lift the dirt with a stick and uncover big
clusters of buttons of all sizes. We always broke the large buttons off
with the greatest care and settled the spawn back in the loose dirt for
a future harvest. We often found large mushrooms above ground, and these
were delicious baked with cream sauce. They would be about the size of
an ordinary saucer, but tender and full of rich flavor--and the buttons
would vary in size from a twenty-five-cent piece to a silver dollar,
each one of a beautiful shell pink underneath. They were so very
superior to mushrooms we had eaten before--with a deliciousness all
their own.
We are wondering if the storm passed over the Yellowstone Park, where
just now are many tents and considerable transportation. The party
consists of the general of the Army, the department commander, members
of their staffs, and two justices of the supreme court. From the park
they are to go across country to Fort Missoula, and as there is only a
narrow trail over the mountains they will have to depend entirely upon
pack mules. These were sent up from Fort Custer for Faye to fit out for
the entire trip. I went down to the corral to see them start out, and
it was a sight well worth going to see. It was wonderful, and laughable,
too, to see what one mule could carry upon his back and two sides.
The pack saddles are queer looking things that are strapped carefully
and firmly to the mules, and then the tents, sacks, boxes, even stoves
are roped to the saddle. One poor mule was carrying a cooking stove.
There were forty pack mules and one "bell horse" and ten packers--for of
course it requires an expert packer to put the things on the saddle so
they are perfectly balanced and will not injure the animal's back. The
bell horse leads, and wherever it goes the mules will follow.
At present Faye is busy with preparations for two more parties of
exceedingly distinguished personnel. One of these will arrive in a day
or two, and is called the "Indian Commission," and consists of senator
Dawes and fourteen congressmen. The other party for whom an elaborate
camp outfit is being put in readiness consists of the President of
the United States, the lieutenant general of the Army, the governor of
Montana, and others of lesser magnitude. A troop of cavalry will escort
the President through the park. Now that the park can be reached by
railroad, all of the generals, congressmen, and judges are seized with a
desire to inspect it--in other words, it gives them a fine excuse for an
outing at Uncle Sam's expense.
CAMP ON YELLOWSTONE RIVER, YELLOWSTONE PARK, August, 1884.
OUR camp is in a beautiful pine grove, just above the Upper Falls and
close to the rapids; from out tent we can look out on the foaming river
as it rushes from one big rock to another. Far from the bank on an
immense boulder that is almost surrounded by water is perched my tent
companion, Miss Hayes. She says the view from there is grand, but how
she can have the nerve to go over the wet, slippery rocks is a mystery
to all of us, for by one little misstep she would be swept over the
falls and to eternity.
Our party consists of Captain and Mrs. Spencer, their little niece, Miss
Hayes, and myself--oh, yes, Lottie, the colored cook, and six or
eight soldiers. We have part of the transportation that Major General
Schofield used for this same trip two weeks ago, and which we found
waiting for us at Mammoth Hot Springs. We also have two saddle horses.
By having tents and our own transportation we can remain as long as we
wish at any one place, and can go to many out-of-the-way spots that the
regular tourist does not even hear of. But I do not intend to weary
you with long descriptions of the park, the wonderful geysers, or the
exquisitely tinted water in many of the springs, but to tell you of
our trip, that has been most enjoyable from the very minute we left
Livingstone.
We camped one night by the Fire-Hole River, where there is a spring I
would like to carry home with me! The water is very hot--boils up a foot
or so all the year round, and is so buoyant that in a porcelain tub of
ordinary depth we found it difficult to do otherwise than float, and its
softening effect upon the skin is delightful. A pipe has been laid
from the spring to the little hotel, where it is used for all sorts of
household purposes. Just fancy having a stream of water that a furnace
somewhere below has brought to boiling heat, running through your
house at any and all times. They told us that during the winter when
everything is frozen, all kinds of wild animals come to drink at the
overflow of the spring. There are hundreds of hot springs in the park, I
presume, but that one at Marshall's is remarkable for the purity of its
water.
Captain Spencer sent to the hotel for fresh meat and was amazed when the
soldier brought back, instead of meat, a list from which he was asked to
select. At that little log hotel of ten or twelve rooms there were seven
kinds of meat--black-tail deer, white-tail deer, bear, grouse, prairie
chicken, squirrels, and domestic fowl--the latter still in possession
of their heads. Hunting in the park is prohibited, and the proprietor
of that fine game market was most careful to explain to the soldier that
everything had been brought from the other side of the mountain. That
was probably true, but nevertheless, just as we were leaving the
woods by "Hell's Half Acre," and were coming out on a beautiful meadow
surrounded by a thick forest, we saw for one instant a deer standing on
the bank of a little stream at our right, and then it disappeared in the
forest. Captain Spencer was on horseback, and happening to look to the
left saw a man skulking to the woods with a rifle in his hand. The poor
deer would undoubtedly have been shot if we had been a minute or two
later.
For two nights our camp was in the pine forest back of "Old Faithful,"
and that gave us one whole day and afternoon with the geysers. Our
colored cook was simply wild over them, and would spend hours looking
down in the craters of those that were not playing. Those seemed to
fascinate her above all things there, and at times she looked like a
wild African when she returned to camp from one of them. Not far from
the tents of the enlisted men was a small hot spring that boiled lazily
in a shallow basin. It occurred to one of the men that it would make a
fine laundry, so he tied a few articles of clothing securely to a stick
and swished them up and down in the hot sulphur water and then hung
them up to dry. Another soldier, taking notice of the success of that
washing, decided to do even better, so he gathered all the underwear,
he had with him, except those he had on, and dropped them down in the
basin. He used the stick, but only to push them about with, and alas!
did not fasten them to it. They swirled about for a time, and then
all at once every article disappeared, leaving the poor man in dumb
amazement. He sat on the edge of the spring until dark, watching and
waiting for his clothes to return to him; but come back they did not.
Some of the men watched with him, but most of them teased him cruelly.
Such a loss on a trip like this was great.
When we got to Obsidian Mountain, Miss Hayes and I decided that we would
like to go up a little distance and get a few specimens to carry home
with us. Our camp for the night was supposed to be only one mile farther
on, and the enlisted men and two wagons were back of us, so we thought
we could safely stay there by ourselves. The so-called mountain is
really only a foothill to a large mountain, but is most interesting from
the fact that it is covered with pieces of obsidian, mostly smoke-color,
and that long ago Indians came there for arrowheads.
A very narrow road has been cut out of the rocks at the base of the
mountain, and about four feet above a small stream. It has two very
sharp turns, and all around, as far as we could see, it would be
exceedingly dangerous, if not impossible, for large wagons to pass. Miss
Hayes and I went on up, gathering and rejecting pieces of obsidian that
had probably been gathered and rejected by hundreds of tourists before
us, and we were laughing and having a beautiful time when, for some
reason, I looked back, and down on the point where the road almost
doubles on itself I saw an old wagon with two horses, and standing
by the wagon were two men. They were looking at us, and very soon one
beckoned. I looked all around, thinking that some of their friends must
certainly be near us, but no one was in sight. By that time one man
was waving his hat to us, and then they actually called, "Come on down
here--come down, it is all right!"
Miss Hayes is quite deaf, and I was obliged to go around rocks before
I could get near enough to tell her of the wagon below, and the men not
hear me. She gave the men and wagon an indifferent glance, and then went
on searching for specimens. I was so vexed I could have shaken her. She
will scream over a worm or spider, and almost faint at the sight of a
snake, but those two men, who were apparently real tramps, she did not
mind. The situation was critical, and for just one instant I thought
hard. If we were to go over the small mountain we would probably be
lost, and might encounter all sorts of wild beasts, and if those men
were really vicious they could easily overtake us. Besides, it would
never do to let them suspect that we were afraid. So I decided to go
down--and slowly down I went, almost dragging Miss Hayes with me. She
did not understand my tactics, and I did not stop to explain.
I went right to the men, taking care to get between them and the road
to camp. I asked them if they were in trouble of any kind, and they said
"No." I could hardly control my voice, but it seemed important that I
should give them to understand at once who we were. So I said, "Did
you meet our friends in the army ambulance just down the road?" The two
looked at each other and then one said "Yes!" I continued with, "There
are two very large and heavily loaded army wagons, and a number of
soldiers coming down the other road that should be here right now." They
smiled again, and said something to each other, but I interrupted with,
"I do not see how those big wagons and four mules can pass you here, and
it seems to me you had better get out of their way, for soldiers can be
awfully cross if things are not just to suit them."
Well, those two men got in the old wagon without saying one word and
started on, and we watched them until they had disappeared from sight
around a bend, and then I said to Miss Hayes, "Come!" and lifting my
skirts, I started on the fastest run I ever made in my life, and I kept
it up until I actually staggered. Then I sat upon a rock back of some
bushes and waited for Miss Hayes, who appeared after a few minutes. We
rested for a short time and then went on and on, and still there was
nothing to be seen of the meadow where the camp was supposed to be.
Finally, after we had walked miles, it seemed to us, we saw an opening
far ahead, and the sharp silhouette of a man under the arch of trees,
and when we reached the end of the wooded road we found Captain
Spencer waiting for us. He at once started off on a fine inspection-day
reprimand, but I was tired and cross and reminded him that it was he who
had told us that the camp would be only one mile from us, and if we
had not listened to him we would not have stopped at all. Then we all
laughed!
Captain and Mrs. Spencer had become worried, and the ambulance was just
starting back for us when fortunately we appeared. Miss Hayes cannot
understand yet why I went down to that wagon. The child does not fear
tramps and desperadoes, simply because she has never encountered them.
Whether my move was wise or unwise, I knew that down on the road
we could run--up among the rocks we could not. Besides, I have the
satisfaction of knowing that once in my life I outgeneraled a man--two
men--and whether they were friends or foes I care not now. I was wearing
an officer's white cork helmet at the time, and possibly that helped
matters a little. But why did they call to us--why beckon for us to
come down? It was my birthday too. That evening Mrs. Spencer made some
delicious punch and brought out the last of the huge fruit cake she made
for the trip. We had bemoaned the fact of its having all been eaten,
and all the time she had a piece hidden away for my birthday, as a great
surprise.
We have had one very stormy day. It began to rain soon after we broke
camp in the morning, not hard, but in a cold, penetrating drizzle.
Captain and Mrs. Spencer were riding that day and continued to ride
until luncheon, and by that time they were wet to the skin and shaking
from the cold. We were nearing the falls, the elevation was becoming
greater and the air more chilling every minute. We had expected to reach
the Yellowstone River that day, but it was so wet and disagreeable that
Captain Spencer decided to go into camp at a little spring we came to in
the early afternoon, and which was about four miles from here. The tents
were pitched just above the base of a hill--you would call it a mountain
in the East--and in a small grove of trees. The ground was thickly
carpeted with dead leaves, and everything looked most attractive from
the ambulance.
When Miss Hayes and I went to our tent, however, to arrange it, we
found that underneath that thick covering of leaves a sheet of water
was running down the side of the hill, and with every step our feet sank
down almost ankle deep in the wet leaves and water. Each has a little
iron cot, and the two had been set up and the bedding put upon them by
the soldiers, and they looked so inviting we decided to rest a while and
get warm also. But much to our disgust we found that our mattresses were
wet and all of our blankets more or less wet, too. It was impossible to
dry one thing in the awful dampness, so we folded the blankets with the
dry part on top as well as we could, and then "crawled in." We hated to
get up for dinner, but as we were guests, we felt that we must do
so, but for that meal we waited in vain--not one morsel of dinner was
prepared that night, and Miss Hayes and I envied the enlisted men when
we got sniffs of their boiling coffee. Only a soldier could have found
dry wood and a place for making coffee that night.
When it is at all wet Faye always has our tents "ditched," that is, the
sod turned up on the canvas all around the bottom. So just before dark
I asked Captain Spencer if the men could not do that to our tent, and it
was done without delay. It made a great difference in our comfort, for
at once the incoming of the water was stopped. We all retired early that
night, and notwithstanding our hunger, and the wet below and above us,
our sleep was sound. In the morning we found several inches of snow on
the ground and the whole country was white. The snow was so moist and
clinging, that the small branches of trees were bent down with its
weight, and the effect of the pure white on the brilliant greens was
enchanting. Over all was the glorious sunshine that made the whole
grand scene glisten and sparkle like fairyland. And that day was the
twenty-sixth of August!
It was wretchedly cold, and our heaviest wraps seemed thin and light.
Lottie gave us a nice hot breakfast, and after that things looked much
more cheerful. By noon most of the snow had disappeared, and after
an early luncheon we came on to these dry, piney woods, that claim an
elevation of nine thousand feet. The rarefied air affects people so
differently. Some breathe laboriously and have great difficulty in
walking at all, while to others it is most exhilarating, and gives them
strength to walk great distances. Fortunately, our whole party is of the
latter class.