On top of the load, with the stock projecting well forward, I quite
often was able to recognize old Suse, the ancient firearm of geyserlike
proclivities. Maw said she always felt more comfortable when there was a
gun round, because she never could get used to bears, no matter how
afraid they was of folks.
"When we come out here we didn't know but what we could get a shot on
the quiet at a buffalo, Paw never having killed one in his life. Plenty
people believes the same till they get here. When we was at the ranger
station we seen one Arkansas car come in with six shooting irons, and
they all made a kick about having their guns locked up. Then there was a
deputy sheriff from Arizony, with woolly pants on, and he made a holler
about them locking up his six-shooter. 'This here may cost me my life,'
said he to the ranger. 'I dunno for sure that Bud Cottrell is in this
here park, but he might be; and if I should run across him I serve
notice on you right now I'm going to bust this seal.'
"'My!' says the ranger to this Arizony man, 'you look to me like a sort
of ferocious person. Have you killed many people?'
"That sort of quieted him down. 'Well, no,' says he, 'I ain't never
killed nobody, but I've saw it did, and if I ever meet Bud Cottrell I
shore am going to bust this seal.' I ain't ever heard whether he busted
it or not."
"Funniest thing to me about this here park," commented Paw, "is that
they call me a sagebrusher and the people at the hotels dudes. And the
girls in the hotel dining rooms they call savages, though some of them
wears specs, and most of them is school-teachers, with a few
stenographers throwed in. Why they should call them people savages is
what I can't understand. And what do they mean by dude wrangling,
mister?"
I explained to Paw that this was a new industry recently sprung up in
the West, among those residents of adjacent states who take out camping
and hunting parties, or even such persons as desire to see mountain
scenery and the footprints of large game, formerly embedded in the soil
and now protected by log parapets.
"So that's what it is," nodded Maw as I gave this information. "I
suppose it's just part of the funny things that happens back here. Such
things as a person does see on a vacation! Don't it beat all? Now I
caught Hattie walking off towards the electric light last night with a
young man that had specs and leather leggins like the officers has, and
I declare if she didn't tell me he was a perfessor of geology down at
Salt Lake or Omaha. Once I give a quarter for a tip to a man that
brought me some gasoline, and I declare if I didn't find out he teaches
law in a university somewheres! Then, they tell me that the young man
who peels potatoes in the kitchen back of our camp has only one more
year to get through Princeton--whoever Princeton is. I wish he was
through now, because he sings things.
"We're making quite a stay here in the park--longer than what we allowed
we would do, Paw and me. The girls seem to be having a sort of good time
here, one thing with another. You can't leave a girl alone anywheres
here, unless she's taken in by some perfessor or ranger or guide or cook
or chauffeur or something, who comes along and carries her off to show
her the bears or Old Faithful or Inspiration Point or something. Seems
to me like we've heard them words before, too--and then there's Lovers'
Leap and the Devil's Slide. We've even got them in Ioway, where the
hills is rough.
"Set down on the log here," said Maw, "and rest yourself, and I'll build
up the fire. Ain't it fine outdoors? I declare, I let out my corsets
four inches above and below, I breathe that much deeper here in the
mountains; and the air makes you feel so fine. What was I saying?--oh,
about my knitting. You see at home, when I get my work done, I knit or
crochet or embroider. Mary's baby is a right cute little thing, and I
like to sew or knit things anyways. But Joseph said to me: 'Now, Maw!
Now you forget it; we're going to have a vacation now, with no work at
all for no one at all, and all strings off. We're just going to have one
mighty good time,' says Joseph to me. At first, having nothing to do, I
felt right strange, but I'm getting used to it now, though I do think I
could knit comfortable while setting watching the geysers spout.
"I dunno how we happened to come out so far as this--we didn't allow to
spend over two hundred dollars, but I allow we've spent over five
hundred or six hundred dollars now. The funny thing is, Paw don't seem
to care. He always was aggressive. He just driv right on West till we
got here. He said his Paw traveled across all that country in a ox team,
and he allowed he could in a automobile. So we done it, and here we are.
I don't care if we don't get home till after harvest."
Many and many a talk I had with Maw, dear old Maw, some sixty thousand
of her, this past summer. The best of all vacations is to see someone
else having a vacation who never has had a vacation before in his or her
life. The delight of Maw in this new phase of her existence has been my
main delight for many a week in the months spent, not so much in
watching geysers as in watching Maw. Sometimes I steal away from the
pleadings of the saxophone, leaving even Stella O'Cleave with the
slumberous eyes sitting alone at the log rail of Old Faithful Inn. I
want to see Maw once more, and talk with her once again about the
virtues of a vacation now and again; at least once in a lifetime spent
in work for others.
I do not always find the girls at home in the camp. For some reason they
seem of late to be out later and later of evenings. Paw has found a
crony here and there about the camps, and swaps reminiscences of this
sort or that. Sometimes I find Maw alone, sitting on the log, gazing
into her little camp fire. Once, I recall, one of the girls was at home.
"Roweny!" called out Maw suddenly. "Roweny, where are you? Come and talk
to the gentleman."
A voice replied from the other side of the car, where Rowena was sitting
on the running board. I discovered her, chin in hand, looking out into
the dark.
"I was afraid some perfessor had got her," explained Maw to me. "Come on
out, Roweny, and set by the fire. This gentleman seems sort of nice, and
he's old."
Rowena, seventeen years of age, uncrossed her long young limbs and came
out of the darkness, seating herself on the running board on our side,
where the firelight shone on her clean young features, her splendid
young figure of an American girl. She was comely enough in her spiral
putties and her tanned boots as she sat, her small round chin on the
hand whose arm was supported by a knee. Rowena appeared downcast. While
Maw was busy a moment later, I asked her why.
I think it must have been the mountain moon again; for Rowena, seventeen
years of age, once more looked gloomily out into the night.
"If I thought I could ever find a man that would understand me I believe
I would marry him!" said she, as has every young girl in her time.
"Tut, tut! Rowena!" I replied. "I believe that I understand you, simple
as I am myself, and you need not marry me at all. I understand you
perfectly. You are just a fine young girl, out on almost your first
vacation, with your Maw. It is the moon, Rowena. It is youth, Rowena,
and the air of the hills. Believe me, it will all come right when the
cook has finished his Princeton; of that I am sure.
"And Rowena," I added, "you will grow up after a while--you will grow up
to be a wholesome, useful American woman, precisely like your Maw."
"Precisely?" said Rowena, smiling.
But I saw how soft her eye was, after all, when I mentioned Maw--her
Maw, who came out of another day; who has worked so hard she is
uncomfortable now without her knitting when Old Faithful plays.
"Come, Rowena," said I, and held out my hand to her. "Let us go."
"Land sakes!" exclaimed Maw, just then emerging into the firelight of
the sagebrush camp. "I almost got a turn. One of them two bears, Teddy
and Eymogene, is always hanging round us begging for doughnuts, and here
it was standing on its hind legs and mooching its nose, and I stepped
right into it. I declare, I can't hardly get used to bears. There ain't
none in Ioway. But if Eymogene gets into my bed again tonight I declare
I'll bust her on the snoot, no matter what the park regulations is.
People has got to sleep. Not that you girls seem to be troubled about
sleeping. Where were you going?"
She spoke as Rowena and I stood hand in hand, after so brief an
acquaintance as might not elsewhere have served us, except in these
vacation hills.
"I was going," said I, "to take Rowena up past the camp and beyond the
hotel and the electric light to the curio store. I was going to get
something for Rowena to bring to you--a sort of present from a nice old
man, you know."
"As which?" said Maw.
"I was going with Rowena, Maw," said I, "to get you a present."
"As which?"
"And it shall be a leather pillow; and on it shall be the word
'Mother.'"
You see, the moon on the sage makes a strange light.
It may even enable you to see into the hearts of other people.
Standard Books
on the
Yellowstone
HAYNES GUIDE. The Complete Handbook of Yellowstone
Park; 1921 ed. 8 vo., 160 pp. Officially approved by
The National Park Service, Washington, D. C., and
The Yellowstone Trail Association. Illustrated, maps,
diagrams, charts. Descriptive, Historical, Geological,
and contains the Motorists' Complete Road Log; By
J. E. Haynes, B. A. 83c postpaid
THE DISCOVERY OF YELLOWSTONE PARK. Diary of the
Expedition to the Yellowstone and Firehole Rivers
in 1870. 8 vo., board, 122 pp. Illustrated; Maps;
Drawings; By Nathaniel P. Langford, first
superintendent of the Park, who served for five years
without pay to save the Park for the American people.
$1.62 postpaid
YELLOWSTONE IN JINGLETONE, a De Luxe booklet of catchy
jingles containing "Geysergrams," "Recollections of a
Barn Dog," "The Buffalo Stampede," "Paintin' the
Canyon," etc., in envelope suitable for mailing; By
C. A. Brewer. 55c postpaid
_Published by_
J. E. HAYNES
ST. PAUL
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