Not long after _that_ (said old Jim Beckwourth, beginning a new story)
there was a party of about a dozen of us down in the Powder River
country, after buffalo. It was the _worst_ place! Just think of the
most barren and sterile spot you ever saw, or ever will see. Now take
that spot and double it: that is where _we_ were. One day, about noon,
we halted near a sickly little _arroyo_, that was just damp enough to
have deluded some feeble bunches of bonnet-wire into setting up as
grass along its banks. After picketing the horses and pack-mules we
took luncheon, and then, while the others smoked and played cards for
half-dollars, I took my rifle and strolled off into the hills to see
if I could find a blind rabbit, or a lame antelope, that had been
unable to leave the country. As I went on I heard, at intervals of
about a quarter of an hour, a strange throbbing sound, as of smothered
thunder, which grew more distinct as I advanced. Presently I came upon
a lake of near a mile in diameter, and almost circular. It was as calm
and even as a mirror, but I could see by a light steamy haze above it
that the water was nearly at boiling heat--a not very uncommon
circumstance in that region. While I looked, big bubbles began to rise
to the surface, chase one another about, and burst; and suddenly,
without any other preliminary movement, there occurred the most awful
and astounding event that (with a single exception) it has ever been
my lot to witness! I stood rooted to the spot with horror, and when it
was all over, and again the lake lay smiling placidly before me, I
silently thanked Heaven I had been standing at some distance from the
deceitful pool. In a quarter of an hour the frightful scene was
repeated, preceded as before by the rising and bursting of bubbles,
and producing in me the utmost terror; but after seeing it three or
four times I became calm. Then I went back to camp, and told the boys
there was a tolerably interesting pond near by, if they cared for such
things.
At first they did not, but when I had thrown in a few lies about the
brilliant hues of the water, and the great number of swans, they laid
down their cards, left Lame Dave to look after the horses, and
followed me back to see. Just before we crossed the last range of
hills we heard a thundering sound ahead, which somewhat astonished the
boys, but I said nothing till we stood on a low knoll overlooking the
lake. There it lay, as peaceful as a dead Indian, of a dull grey
colour, and as innocent of water-fowl as a new-born babe.
"There!" said I, triumphantly, pointing to it.
"Well," said Bill Buckster, leaning on his rifle and surveying it
critically, "what's the matter with the pond? I don't see nothin' in
_that_ puddle."
"Whar's yer swans?" asked Gus Jamison.
"And yer prismatic warter?" added Stumpy Jack.
"Well, I like _this!_" drawled Frenchwoman Pete. "What 'n thunder d'
ye mean, you derned saddle-coloured fraud?"
I was a little nettled at all this, particularly as the lake seemed to
have buried the hatchet for that day; but I thought I would "cheek it
through."
"Just you wait!" I replied, significantly.
"O yes!" exclaimed Stumpy, derisively; "'course, boys, you mus'
_wait_. 'Tain't no use a-hurryin' up the cattle; yer mustn't rush the
buck. Jest wait till some feller comes along with a melted rainbow,
and lays on the war-paint! and another feller fetches the swans' eggs,
and sets on 'em, and hatches 'em out!--and me a-holding both bowers
an' the ace!" he added, regretfully, thinking of the certainty he had
left, to follow a delusive hope.
Then I pointed out to them a wide margin of wet and steaming clay
surrounding the water on all sides, asking them if _that_ wasn't worth
coming to see.
"_That_!" exclaimed Gus. "I've seen the same thing a thousand million
times! It's the reg'lar thing in Idaho. Clay soaks up the water and
sweats it out."
To verify his theory he started away, down to the shore. I was
concerned for Gus, but I did not dare call him back for fear of
betraying my secret in some way. Besides, I knew he would not come;
and he ought not to have been so sceptical, anyhow.
Just then two or three big bubbles rose to the surface, and silently
exploded. Quick as lightning I dropped on my knees and raised my arms.
"Now may Heaven grant my prayer," I began with awful solemnity, "and
send the great Ranunculus to loose the binding chain of concupiscence,
heaving the multitudinous aquacity upon the heads of this wicked and
sententious generation, whelming these diametrical scoffers in a
supercilious Constantinople!"
I knew the long words would impress their simple souls with a belief
that I was actually praying; and I was right, for every man of them
pulled his hat off, and stood staring at me with a mixed look of
reverence, incredulity, and astonishment--but not for long. For before
I could say amen, yours truly, or anything, that entire body of water
shot upward five hundred feet into the air, as smooth as a column of
crystal, curled over in broad green cataracts, falling outward with a
jar and thunder like the explosion of a thousand subterranean cannon,
then surging and swirling back to the centre, one steaming, writhing
mass of snowy foam!
As I rose to my feet to put my hand in my pocket for a chew of
tobacco, I looked complacently about upon my comrades. Stumpy Jack
stood paralysed, his head thrown back at an alarming angle, precisely
as he had tilted it to watch the ascending column, and his neck
somehow out of joint, holding it there. All the others were down upon
their marrow-bones, white with terror, praying with extraordinary
fervency, each trying his best to master the ridiculous jargon they
had heard me use, but employing it with an even greater disregard of
sense and fitness than I did. Away over on the next range of hills,
toward camp, was something that looked like a giant spider, scrambling
up the steep side of the sand-hill, and sliding down a trifle faster
than it got up. It was Lame Dave, who had abandoned his equine trust,
to come up at the eleventh hour and see the swans. He had seen enough,
and was now trying, in his weak way, to get back to camp.
In a few minutes I had got Stumpy's head back into the position
assigned it by Nature, had crowded his eyes in, and was going about
with a reassuring smile, helping the pious upon their feet. Not a word
was spoken; I took the lead, and we strode solemnly to camp, picking
up Lame Dave at the foot of his acclivity, played a little game for
Gus Jamison's horse and "calamities," then mounted our steeds,
departing thence. Three or four days afterward I ventured cautiously
upon a covert allusion to peculiar lakes, but the simultaneous
clicking of ten revolvers convinced me that I need not trouble myself
to pursue the subject.
* * * * *