CAMPING WITH THE PRESIDENT 47 



Surely, I thought (and barely had time to think), he 

 will avoid these. But he did not, and as we passed over 

 them I was nearly thrown through the top of the 

 ambulance. "This is a lively send-off," I said, rub- 

 bing my bruises with one hand, while I clung to the 

 seat with the other. Presently I saw the cowboys 

 scrambling up the bank as if to get out of our way; 

 then the President on his fine gray stallion scrambling 

 up the bank with his escort, and looking ominously 

 in my direction, as we thundered by. 



"Well," I said, "this is indeed a novel ride; for 

 once in my life I have sidetracked the President of 

 the United States! I am given the right of way over 

 all." On we tore, along the smooth, hard road, and 

 did not slacken our pace till, at the end of a mile or 

 two, we began to mount the hill toward Fort Yellow- 

 stone. And not till we reached the fort did I learn that 

 our mules had run away. They had been excited 

 beyond control by the presidential cavalcade, and the 

 driver, finding he could not hold them, had aimed 

 only to keep them in the road, and we very soon had 

 the road all to ourselves. 



Fort Yellowstone is at Mammoth Hot Springs, where 

 one gets his first view, of the characteristic scenery of 

 the Park, huge, boiling springs with their columns 

 of vapor, and the first characteristic odors which sug- 

 gest the traditional infernal regions quite as much as 

 the boiling and steaming water does. One also gets a 

 taste of a much more rarefied air than he has been used 

 to, and finds himself panting for breath on a very 

 slight exertion. The Mammoth Hot Springs have built 

 themselves up an enormous mound that stands there 

 above the village on the side of the mountain, terraced 



