Apkte 21, 1887.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



271 



road back and forth, ten or fifteen times, traveling like 

 the letter S. Just lief ore getting to the Basin, another 

 son of Mr, Eoake came to us, Bert, a boy 14 yeais old, 

 and a good snowshoer. 



Mr. Eoake and his family were living in the log-house 

 in front of the hotel, which they had fixed up for the 

 winter. We soon came in sight of a stove-pipe above a 

 bank of snow which showed where the cabin was. "We 

 could just see the top of the house when we got on the 

 same level with it. The snow through this section had 

 settled considerably, as was shown by little mounds 

 2ft. high around every tree, bush and stump; still, on a 

 level, there was 7ft. of snow. Soon an object came up 

 out of the snow which proved to be another son of Mr. 

 Roake, Harry, a little fellow seven years old, and soon a 

 little girl four years old popped up out of the entrance to 

 the cabin to tell us that the telephone was all right. We 

 soon descended into the cabin, and were surrounded 

 by these children, whose nearest neighbors were ten miles 

 away — too far for a call except over the telephone, which 

 they all use. Sending to Mr. and Mrs. Dean word of 

 our arrival, we were soon sitting down to a gOod meal, 

 and, as this was to be our last stopping place before strik- 

 ing out for the forests and streams, and lakes and rivers 

 of the Shoshone and Yellowstone country, we made the 

 most of it. 



We built a fire in a tent which had been standing here 

 ever since the old Y. P. I. Co. started. This we made 

 comfortable for our sleeping room. 



Before dark we saw a fine display by the Beehive and 

 Old .Faithful geysers. The evening we spent with Mr. 

 and Mrs. Roake's happy family. All the children know 

 how to play chess, an unusual thing in the mountains. 

 Even the four-year-old Topsy played two games. I left 

 my king exposed to see if she would notice it, which she 

 did, mating me at once. 



The morning of the 21st, in company with Mr. R. and 

 son, I visited the whole of the Upper Geyser Basin, going 

 out past the Castle to Iron Creek, which was open, cross- 

 ing it twice on a snow bridge without getting off our 

 shoes. Along this stream down to the Specimen Lake 

 and Black Sand Geyser there were many bare spots with 

 bright green grasses, and several water plants growing 

 in the warm water and earth, some even showing flower 

 buds. The bright green mosses and plants looked doubly 

 green beside the white snow. All along this creek was 

 to be seen the usual number of ice forms. One in partic- 

 ular was very fife-like. It looked like an Esquimau, 

 dressed in white bear robes, with a bundle of sticks in his 

 arms. He had a woe-begone expression on his face, as 

 though in trouble because he had so little wood. 



We passed across Specimen Lake on snowshoes and by 

 the Black Sand Geyser, the Devil's Punch Bowl to the 

 Splendid Geyser. This went off very soon after we had 

 reached it, giving us one of the finest displays I have 

 ever seen it make. I was under the impression that the 

 geyser action would not be as attractive in winter as in 

 summer, owing to the great amount of steam thrown off 

 in cold weather, but I find that I was mistaken. The steam 

 only adds to the general effect, the jets of hot water 

 shooting up through the clouds leaving a trail of steam 

 behind, turning in the air and descending like a comet 

 with the tail of steam following them until lost in the 

 rolling masses of vapor lower down. This geyser I be- 

 lieve to have increased in action since last summer. 

 Crossing the Fire Hole River on a snow bridge we saw all 

 the great geysers. Near the Giantess was the usual dis- 

 play of ice-covered trees. This geyser has been in erup- 

 tion all winter with intervals of nine to fourteen days. 

 We returned by Old Faitkftil, which has been regular all 

 winter in its hourly eraptions. 



On the 22d, with Mr. Roake and his son Bert, I went 

 out to the Lone Star Geyser. We traveled among the 

 snow-laden pine timber, zigzagging up a long hill until we 

 had reached the summit of the ridge. Keeping along 

 this for a mile we then went down the open meadow on 

 the Fire Hole, and turning to our left around a point of 

 timber we came out to the geyser, which was not in 

 action. We thus had an opportunity to examine the 

 most beautiful cone in the whole Park. For 10ft. around 

 the cone there was no ice or snow, but to the east there 

 was a great mound of ice, a dome-shaped pile loft. high. 

 While we were on top of this looking at the "pepper box" 

 like top of the cone, the geyser suddenly began to play, 

 sending showers of water on us. We soon got away from 

 there. A strong wind was blowing from the west, quite 

 cold, although a bright sun was shining from a clear sky. 

 Going around to the north side we had a fine view of the 

 geyser in eruption as it shot its hot waters 60ft. above the 

 cone. The clear waters and the white steam clouds 

 showed finely against the bright blue of the sky for a 

 background. Several little holes in the top of the cone 

 were shooting little jets of hot water that, descending, 

 left a trail of steam behind them as they fell over the 

 sides of the cone and added very much to the beauty of 

 the display. This lasted twenty minutes. 



Off to our left on the side of the hill across the river, in 

 a sheltered gulch, were some ice-laden trees over 60ft. 

 high, looking like huge giants standing guard over some 

 steam vents in the hillside. The sun just touched the 

 tops of the trees, giving the figures the appearance of 



wearing burnished silver helmets. As we were leaving 

 this place, I noticed a sort of opening through a screen of 

 icicles in the northeast side of the ice mound mentioned. 

 Going to it we broke away some of the screen and saw a 

 cave-like tunnel into which we walked some distance. It 

 soon became dark and I lit a candle, with which we went 

 on for 50ft., though often obliged to stoop. The passage 

 continued 25ft. further to where we could see a pale, blue 

 light, made by the sunshine on the ice where it was get- 

 ting thin on top. After getting out of here we noticed 

 that our hats and coats were covered with a white, pasty 

 substance, rubbed off the roof of the cave. This I pre- 

 sume was silica, thrown out with the geyser water and 

 deposited with the ice. As the ice gradually melted from 

 beneath, the silica was left on the surface in a pasty form. 

 I had, noticed the same thing as sediment around all the 

 active geysers on this trip, something I have not seen in 

 summer. 



We decided to return by following the Fire Hole down 

 to the Basin. This we did, keeping to the river, first on 

 one side then the other, crossing the open waters on snow- 

 covered trees which had fallen across the stream. Over 

 these bridges we walked on our snowshoes. We passed 

 Kepler's Falls and Cascades, but the effect of these was 

 spoiled by the depth of the snow which hid them from 

 view. The canon below was very pretty with its tall, 

 dark firs laden with snow, the points of rock in the canon 

 covered with masses out of all proportion to their support 

 hanging over the edges ready to diop with the slightest 

 touch. 



Before reaching the Basin we came to a small open 

 stream on the east side of the Fire Hole. Here is the home 

 of several beaver, and as we were crossing on a snow r 

 bridge one of them swam out to see what was going on 

 overhead. We had but a glimpse of him. Along here in 

 this stream and the Fire Hole some twenty beaver live in 

 the banks, and as they increase very fast, the stream will 

 soon be restocked. Now and then a tourist sees one. 



As we passed the hotel on our return we went up to the 

 second story verandah for a slide down the hill. Off the 

 roof we went, getting headway enough to take us to the 

 cabin door. Before the snow had settled around here 

 the cabin was completely buried. One morning Mr. R. 

 had to crawl up through a small hole dug from the in- 

 side of the house with a fire shovel, to get out, and then 

 to work for a long time to clear the snow away from the 

 only door the family could use. From the record Mr. 

 Roake has, he makes the snowfall at the Upper Basin 

 from Oct. 1 to date, Feb. 22, 15ft. lOin. From all the in- 

 dications I think that is not far from correct, as there 

 appears to be more snow here than at the other basins. 



The last part of the day was devoted to preparing for 

 our trip around the lakes. Mrs. Roake had baked for us 

 a lot of oatmeal biscuits. With 81bs. of them for bread, 

 51bs. of fresh beef, 21bs. of bacon and 21bs. of boiled 

 corned beef, a few cookies and the provisions we had with 

 us, we made up our packs, which weighed about 2olbs. 

 each. Elwood Hofer. 



SAM LOVEL'S BEE HUNTING. 



A SEQUEL TO SAM LOVEL'S THANKSGIVING. 



"/I OOD Lord o' massy ! if I haint jest abaout clean 

 \JT tuckered aout !" Mrs. Purington gasped, exhal- 

 ing a long-drawn sigh as she dropped her portly person 

 into a creaking splint-bottom chair in her own kitchen, 

 then flopped her sun-bonnet into her short lap, and stroked 

 the hair back with both hands from her heated brow. 

 "Whew! 'f 't aint hot, jest a roastin', bilin' hot! Huldy, 

 reach me a dipper o'. water, won't ye; I'm e'en a'most 

 choked. I sot that ere pitcher o' emptin's on the winder 

 stool; you ta' keer on em, won't ye." Huldah brought 

 her mother a quart dipper fully of cool water from the 

 pump, that w r ith its dolorous squeaks and hollow groans 

 always reminded her now of last year's Thanksgiving 

 day. 



"Lord o' massy! I b'lieve I be roasted," Mrs. Purington 

 exclaimed, regarding her scarlet reflection in the bright 

 interior of the tin dipper, after she had taken a long 

 draught. "Wal," she said, after resting the dipper on her 

 knee, and wiping her face with a corner of her apron. 

 " I've ben all 'raound Robin Hood's barn tu bony them 

 emptin's. Fust I went tu Joel's, though I might h'a 

 knowned better 'n tu, for Jemimy she allers uses milk 

 risin'; mis'able flat-tasted bread it makes tu. Ketch me 

 a makin' bread wi' milk risin'! Then arter I'd sot an' 

 talked wi' Jemimy a spell — Joel, he's got a 'consorti 

 a workin' on his mind, an' he's a goin' off on a preachin' 

 taower jes' 's soon 's they get through hayin'. Shouldn't 

 wonder a mite 'f he did afore if the weather happens tu 

 come on ketchin'; n' like 's not 't will, for dog days haint 

 over yit, an' nob'dy never knows what the weather 's a 

 goin' t' be in dog days. The idear o' goin' shoolin' off 'wi 

 one o' his 'comarns 1 leavin' 'n' her an them child'n an' the 

 farm tu 'tend tu' ! Ketch me a marryin' a Quaker, 'at's 

 alius lierble tu be took with a 'consarrt! Arter I sot an' 

 talked wi' Jemimy a spell I went ontuBriggses; but Miss' 

 Briggs she haint got nothin' but yeast-cakes, an' I haint 

 uster usin' them. So arter I'd sot an' rested me a spell — 

 she's got a new quilt on the frames — pretty time o' year 

 tu be a quiltin — sunflower patch work it is, an' '11 look 

 c'nsid'able scrumptious when 't 's done. I went on tu 

 Hillses' an' Miss' Hill she'd jest sot a mess tu workin' 'n' 

 so she hedn't got none. Jozeff he's a hayin' on 't, arter 

 his fashion! Then I went along over to Uncle Lisher's, 

 an' there I made aout tu git me some einptin's. Uncle 

 Lisher he's jes' fairly got tu hayin' on 't, haint ben. begun 

 more'n tew three days. Tom Hamilton he 's a helpin' on 

 him — payin' up his shoemakin' like 's not. They've just 

 hed a letter f'm George aout tu the 'Hio.' Says crops 

 is looking well in the 'Hio, an' he's a duin' well, 

 an' wants 'em both to come aout there an' live 'long 



wi' him. I don't ecasely b'lieve they ever will, but I do' 

 know. They're a getting 'long in years, an' it's a turribla 

 ways off. Why, that letter was wrote the last o' June 

 or fo'part o' July, an' here it is the middle of August! 

 Wal," taking another draught from the dipper, and mak- 

 ing slow preparations to rise, "we've got us some emptin's 

 to start with, an' naow we've got tu settu work an' make 

 some. Hope yer father won't tip over the pot agin, 

 pokin' raound in the suller. You've skum the milk, I 

 s'pose, an' got the pans washed an' scalded?" 



"Yes," Huldah answered from the sink, where she 

 stood washing and peeling potatoes. 



"You be di-effle munipin' this summer," said her 

 mother after waiting a little for her to speak further. 

 "It's jest yis an' no with ye, an' ye never laugh ner sing 

 a mite 's ye uster. I b'lieve I'd orter steep up some bone- 

 set an' hev ye take some; /b'lieve yer stomerk 's aouten 

 order." 



"Why, mother, I'm jest as tough as a bear," Huldah 

 declared, blushing and making a brave effort to laugh; 

 she could not help smiling at the thought of boneset as a 

 remedy for her ill— heartsease would be more to the pur- 

 pose it seemed to her. 



"It is a tumble job tu fix them ol' pertaters fit for 

 cookin'," said Mrs. Purington, now apparently just notic- 

 ing her daughter's occupation. "Seem 's 'ough we'd ort 

 tu hev some new ones by this time. Wonder 'f yer father 

 's dug int' any hills tu see? Where 's Sis?" she asked after 

 looking thoughtfully at Huldah and the potatoes as she 

 went to hang the dipper and sunbonnet on then respec- 

 tive nails, "I haint seen ner heain nothin' on her sen I 

 come in." It was indeed noticeable that the six-year-old 

 pet of the household had not even in so short a time in a 

 wakeful forenoon in some way made her whereabouts 

 known, and her mother wondered now with a maternal 

 qualm of conscience that she had not sooner remarked 

 the absence of the child's voice, talking to herself or ask- 

 ing endless unanswerable questions, or singing her rag 

 doll to imaginary sleep. She suddenly realized how still 

 it was, that there was no sound in the kitchen but the 

 buzzing of the flies, the ticking of the clock and the 

 fluttering splash and chip, chip of the potato washing and 

 paring, and that from outdoors came no sound but the 

 lazy "crating" of the hens, the dolorous mixture of peep 

 and cluck wherewith the half -grown chickens expressed 

 their contentment, the dry clap of a locust's wings fol- 

 lowed by his long, shrill cry when he had lighted in the 

 chip-littered yard, and from further off the faint ringing 

 of the mower's whetted scythes. 



"Why," said Huldah, coming with a start out of a maze 

 of troubled thoughts, "she was a tewin' 'raound an' apes- 

 terin' me half tu death 'baout this an' that she wanted t' 

 du, an' at last I gi' 'n her her little baskit 'at— 'at she 

 thinks so much on, an' tol' her she might gwup in the 

 stump lot a blackbaryin' a spell. I tol' her she mustn't 

 gwaout o' sight o' the haouse." 



"Wal," Mrs. Purington said, looking out toward the 

 hills, "I guess you hedn't orter let her. I d' know 's she'd 

 orter gwup there 'lone. She'd better ben a watchin' the 

 ol' hen turkey an' her young uns. If they git up tu the 

 aidge of the woods the foxes 11 ketch every identical one 

 on 'em. O dear me suz! Seems 's 'ough the pleggid foxes 

 hed ort tu git some scaser, wi' Sam Lovel an' mongst 'em 

 a huntin' an' a haounin' on 'em half the year; but they 

 don't. Seems 's 'ough that young un ort tu be some'eres 

 in sight er a comin' hum by this time. Haow long's she 

 ben gone?" 



"Sue's ben gone," Huldah answered, looking at the 

 clock — "why, it's most an hour an' a half! Mother, ? f 

 you'll put the pertaters in the kittle, I'll go an' git her. 

 5 F I don't git back soon 'nough, the pork 's all cut an' in 

 the fryin' pan ready for fresh'nin'. So putting on her 

 sun bonnet she went out, her mother following to the 

 door to say, "jes' 's like 's not she's over in the medder 

 'long wi' yer father 'n' the rest on 'em." With this hope 

 Huldah went out toward the meadow till she could see 

 her father and the two hired men swinging their scythes 

 with even strokes, but there was no little sister there, and 

 she went on quickly, crossing the brook where its sum- 

 mer-shrunken current wimpled among the stones in the 

 shade of a thicket of young firs. She saw a print of a 

 small shoe in the soft gravel, half filled, and pointing 

 toward the berry lot. Surely, she thought, she must 

 soon find her now, and listened a moment with the ex- 

 pectation of hearing the child prattling to herself or rustl- 

 ing among the bushes. But she heard nothing but the 

 hum of insects, the chirp of crickets and an occasional 

 bird note, and calling, got no answer. But she must see 

 her presently, for it was impossible to keep out of sight 

 in the field that the axe had swept all tree growth from 

 only two years ago. But when she entered it after beat- 

 ing along its lower edge for a while, she was surprised to 

 see how tall the sprouts and bushes had grown since she 

 had last been there. It now seemed hopeless enough to 

 look here for one grown to full stature, much more so to 

 find a child whose head woidd be overtopped by the low- 

 est of the blackberry brambles that reared themselves 

 with rampant growth about every blackened stump and 

 log heap. 



Perhaps Polly had fallen asleep on some inviting bed of 

 moss by the brook. Nothing was likelier, and it was 

 strange she had not sooner thought of it. Returning, 

 she followed all the tans of the little watercourse along 

 the border of the stump lot, but saw no living thing she 

 cared to now; nothing but a scared trout flashing across 

 the shadows of a pool; heard nothing but the warning- 

 cry of a mother partridge" and the startling whir of wing 

 when the old bird and her well-grown brood burst away 

 in brief flight, and then the lisping call that gathered the 

 scattered family. Why would not her little chick of a 

 sister hear and answer her call? Huldah went back into 

 the brush and swiftly threaded the maze of cowpaths, 

 and with laborious climbing gained the tops of the tallest 

 stumps, whose height showed how deep the snow was 

 when the trees were felled, and scanned all the thickets 

 she could overlook, always hoping to see somewhere among 

 the tangle of stalks and leafage the little pink sun-bcnnet 

 moving about. Once she thought she had surely caught 

 sight of it, but on approach it proved to be only 'the full- 

 flowered spike of a willow-herb nodding to the breeze or 

 bending under the shifting weight of the bees. She 

 called loudly and often, but was answered only by the 

 mewing of a catbird that flitted near yet unseen in the 

 thickets, and by the sudden jangle of a cowbell as its 

 startled wearer crashed away through the brush. Some- 

 times the mysterious murmurs of the forest would fool 

 her ear for a moment; then when she listened they seemed 



