Aug. 9, ipo2.j 
FOREST AND STREAM 
lOS 
forced up into a sharp ridge, quite transparent, and the 
foaming edge of this ridge constantly fell over on itself in 
a lace-like fringe, ever changing, but never disappear- 
ing. This lace as the light passed through it looked like 
strung crystals, or the beautiful dew plant. 
After dinner at the Canon Hotel it was announced that 
numerous bears would be present in the gulch at the 
rear, and Mrs. *** and some other courageous amazons 
■went out to beard them ; but Mr. G., of the Chicagos, and 
I, held down a couple of chairs in the office, and left the 
more adventurous spirits to dally with danger in the 
immediate vicinity of wild bears. They returned after a 
short intervals with glowing accounts of numerous "sil- 
ver-tips," which were "almost as dangerous as grizzlies, 
and nearly as big." Mr. G. and 1 congratulated ourselves 
on having escaped such dangerous acquaintances, but the 
ladies with great satisfaction announced that so far on 
the trip they had seen twenty-one bears. This idea of 
having the bears come to the second table at the hotel 
is all very well, but at a camp near the Lake Hotel a 
bear did not wait for the second table, but presented him- 
.self at the first, and, the campers having, as it were, ab- 
sented themselves, ate up everything in sight, and broke 
n.ost ol what he couldn't eat. Therefore I maintain that 
a bear may become objectionable as a guest at a hotel, and 
unless something is done to dissuade him, may take pos- 
session of the establishment. 
Our stop for lunch the next day was at the Norris 
Geyser Basin, and as soon as we arrived, or very shortly 
thereafter, the Chicagos were informed that owing to 
press of business and orders from headqtiarters, our 
coaches would have to turn back from that point, and all 
passengers proceed to Mammoth Hot Springs on regular 
stages. T. and G. kicked vigorously; they took a long 
walk in the blazing sun to interview the local agent, but 
he was too smart for anything of that sort, and knew 
nothing beyond his orders, which had reached him that 
morning. I think the telegraph was not available. At 
any rate, after some demur the Chicagos had to recon- 
cile themselves. I was not particularly interested myself, 
as I had made no arrangement for a "private conveyance," 
and we had as it was fared much better than I ex- 
pected. From incidental conversation and remarks over- 
luard, L am of the opinion that this lunch station is the 
point of a general surrender of private rigs (so called), for 
unless I am mistaken, everybody who came had one, yet 
every one left on a regular stage. As it happened, it did 
not make the slightest difference to us, for the Chicagos, 
with whom we have to all intents and purposes been 
traveling since we entered the Park, and ourselves, just 
comfortably filled the stage alloted to us, and no stranger 
was added to the company. 
The change to a new stage was not without its advan- 
tages. We had four horses and rolled along very pleas- 
antly, the road perhaps not presenting any remarkable 
features, but shady and diversified and full of quiet in- 
terest. The first thing for which we stopped was to gather 
specimens from the foot of the Obsidian Cliff, a tall cliff 
of black volcanic glass towering at least 200 feet above 
tlie road. Fragments of all sizes have broken off and 
fallen from above, and a few of these we ventured to ap- 
propriate, there being no soldiers to prevent, and I think, 
by the way, though I am not sure, that this obsidian does 
not come under the prohibition. Anyhow, we got a piece, 
and this and a pebble from the lake shore, and a very small 
handful of "geyser eggs," are all we have t& show as 
souvenirs of travel. 
A mile or so further on we came to a turn in the road 
where it twists sharply pa.st and around the base of a big 
boulder, which bears the appropriate title of the "Devil's 
Elbow." At this point the road is very narrow, and just 
clear of the narrowest places of all a wood team was 
stalled. We slipped through without difficulty, but the 
other stages some distance behind were not so fortunate. 
I think they were obliged to help the team out of its 
predicament before they could get by, and then, when all 
had passd but one belated one, the team started up, went a 
little way, and stalled again, this time effectually blocking 
the road. The passengers got through somehow, but only 
after a long delay. This, of course, we did not know at 
the time, but went gaily on our way unconscious of the 
misfortunes of our fellows. 
Stopping for a few minutes at the Apollinaris Spring, 
we drove on to Ri:stic Fall, where Glen Creek crosses the 
road. Near this point the road has to be carried around 
a bluff on a series of concrete arches, making a view very 
much resembling scenes in the Tyrol. Soon after crossing 
these arches we passed between towering masses of rock 
sculptured by the elements in the prevailing "Yellowstone 
Order" through what is termed the Golden Gate, its 
brilliancy of color lending appropriateness to the name, 
and found ourselves in "Hoodoo Land." 
I don't think I have ever seen nature in a comical 
mood before. I have seen her grand, weird, terrible, mag- 
nificent, gentle, smiling, beautiful or repelling ; but never 
before did I experience as in Hoodoo Land, an irre- 
sistible impulse to smile, which grew and broadened into 
a hearty laugh. 
Imagine a section o£ about half a mile square (it may 
be very much more or very much less) itpon which a 
deposit of the "formation" has been laid to a depth of 
from ten to twenty feet. Imagine this crust blown up in 
its entire extent at one and the sam.e moment, into frag- 
ments of every conceivable size and shape. These frag- 
ments have been thrown just far enough to disturb their 
continuity without breaking them into small pieces, and 
when they fell they sim.ply placed themselves in the 
wildest, and at the same time most comical confusion. 
Fragm.ents of every imaginable eccentricity of outline lay 
jumbled together, big rocks on top of little rocks, with 
apparently an utter disregard of the laws of gravitation. 
It is impossible to give in words a realization of the irre- 
sistibly comic aspect of the whole scene; there is nothing 
to describe, for everything was as nearly formless as 
possible, and nature in this square half-mile or so seemed 
to have bidden defiance to all her rules and committed 
every vagary her fancy had ever suggested. We left this 
'"Witches' Playground" by what is called the Silver Gate, 
a portal similar to the one by which we had entered it. 
A short distance from this point the driver stopped the 
stage, and suggested that we get out and walk across the 
"Terraces" and on down to the hotel. All got out except 
G. and myself, for having learned that sections in the 
Pnllnian could be secured at the Mammouth Springs 
Hotel, we thought it would be the part of wisdom to do it 
before the crowd on the stages behind arrived. We there- 
fore stayed in and were driven to the hotel, passing on the 
way around the base of the finest of all the terraces, the 
Minerva, and getting a splendid view of it. 
The formation of the Terraces is similar to that of the 
"quiet geysers" (which is a contradiction of terms, but 
will have to pass); a supply of hot water charged with 
silica, etc., finds a number of outlets in a small plain on 
the summit of a declicity. The water boiling up through 
these openings first forms a series of very shallow basins 
of considerable extent, varying from six to a hundred 
feet in diameter, and the silica and other minerals are de- 
posited in lacelike patterns all over the bottom of these 
basins, while the margins are fluted in varied designs. 
These basins have in the course of time and by reason of 
the materials held in solution by the hot water, been 
formed all over the plain and at various levefs, and many 
of them have evidently died of old age, their outlets being 
choked and their waters obliged to find another channel. 
My theory of Hoodoo Land is that it was a somewhat 
similar tract where all the outlets became stopped, and in 
consequence the steam lifted the whole thing at once, the 
material giving way with comparative ease, so that the 
fragments were not pulverized nor hurled any distance. 
I have seen a skillfully graduated blast work in the same 
way. But to return to the Terraces. The water in most 
of the basins wells up just fast enough to keep a constant 
series of small streams flowing through the flutings of the 
rims, and these streams cooling the more rapidly for their 
diffusion, deposit their burden as they flow along, the re- 
sult being a scries of terraces something like pulpits or 
the boxes in some theaters, arranged one above the other 
and apparently supported by clusters of columns. The 
further the water has to travel the less material it retains, 
so in the latter part of its course it forms long, smooth 
slopes which groAV but slowly in comparison with the 
terraces above. 
I should judge Minerva Terrace to be about a hundred 
feet above the road, and to extend over an arc some 
thousand feet or more long. It probably extended some 
distance below the road, but a ditch has been cut here, and 
all the water which flows down the slopes is caught in this 
ditch and conveyed away through a channel instead of 
flooding the whole space as it otherwise would. It is still 
hot enough to steam, as it flows along in this ditch. On 
the upper level I found it too hot for comfort, but un- 
fortunately I had no means of testing the temperature 
accurately. 
I enjoyed this view of the Terraces immensely, and am 
only sorry that circumstances did not limit me to a sight 
of the slope and prevent my exploring the level above. 
We drove slowly along, G. vowing vigorously that he 
would come back from the hotel for a picture of it. I waa 
less enthusiastic on that score, for I knew that the lovely 
pearl hues, and the pinks, yellows and blues which made 
it so fascinating would fail utterly in the photograph, and 
I determined to refrain from perpetrating a caricature. G. 
did also, for circumstances so arranged themselves that 
he didn't go back there either. 
On arriving at the hotel we were met by a placard to 
the effect that the Pullman office opened at 4:30. The 
driver had told us 2 :30, so we had our hurry for our 
pains, and hadn't got a bit ahead of the people in the other 
stages, but we had seen the Minerva Terraces from the 
best point and to the best advantage. Finding that we 
had several hours on our hands, G. and I hadn't sense 
enough to sit down and keep quiet, but set out on what 
proved to be an extremely hot and rather uninteresting 
walk to rejoin the others of the party. On the way we 
passed the Pulpit and the Cleopatra Terraces, but they 
were by no means equal to the Minerva in size or color- 
ing, and beside we could get too close to them. 
The hotel at Mammoth Hot Springs is a tremendous 
wooden barrack, where we were treated very well, getting 
a very good dinner, but to my great disappointment they 
took away our tickets, instead of punching some more 
holes and leaving them with us as souvenirs, as I had 
hoped they would. 
A ride of an hour or so brought us to Cinnabar, where 
we got our Pullmans, and a ride of another hour in the 
train found us at Livingstone, where some of the cars 
went east and some others were cut in to the west-bound 
train; and after a- journey which carried us across the 
greater part of Montana, a little piece of Idaho, the 
length of Washington (or most of it), the breadth of 
Oregon, and half the length of California, we found our- 
selves at home once more without mishap. 
There were a great many interesting incidents of this 
part of the journey, but only such as befall nearly every 
traveler, and this chronicle is probably already too long. 
*** 
Two Glorious Fourths. — 11. 
The stars begin to pale above the eastei'n hills. There 
is a gentle rustling up in the pine tops. A faint chirp, 
here and there down the canon, indicates that the winged 
heralds of the day are awaking. Up here, at the boun- 
dary line between the highest ranch in the valley and 
the untamed forest, I watch the day break. Dawn may 
come 'early, but the sun comes late between these nar- 
row, steep, verdant walls. In the great valley eight 
miles distant, the sun has been shining for a couple of 
hours, and the busy farmers have stacked their first load 
of fragrant alfalfa, before the first bright ray glints upon 
my cabin roof. There is scarcely enough light to see 
what I am doing as I kindle my fire, put on the skillet 
and breakfast bacon and prepare the coffee. My noise 
has startled the little western house-Avren that is raising 
a querulous brood under the protection of my eaves. 
She scolds me roundly for disturbing her rest at such 
an unearthly hour, for this house-wren is a sluggard 
among birds, and then concludes that it is too early to 
get breakfast for the birdlings, and settles back for a 
morning nap. But if she sleeps, other birds do not. 
The western yellow warbler is sending up his song from 
the hedge-fence just below, and a thrush and mountain 
song sparrow are caroling a duet in the timber back of 
the cabin. There is other music, too, that blends with 
the drowsy hum of the tea kettle. It is the silvery tinkle 
of a stream, trickling between mossy logs and splashing 
over slippery rocks. It is the song of a stream that is 
born of the melting snows of the Wasatch, a stream 
where the trout hide. I wonder if they know to what 
perils they will be subjected to-day, for the sportsmen 
will all be in the canon. On the barley fields and in the 
hay stubble they will murder the innocent mourning dove. 
In the thickets by the brook, where the white blossoms 
are just beginning to turn into choke-cherries and serv- 
ice berries, they will unscrupulously break the law and 
. decimate the broods of half-growij grouse. By the water 
they will try to inveigle the wily spotted ones with flies 
of every size and description, with worms, grasshoppers 
and what not. And the wily ones will swim under some 
black arching bank, or amid the submerged branches of 
some fallen tree, and laugh a fishy laugh at the fisher- 
men, and only a few, young and foolish ones, will chal- 
lenge the responsive reel, and eventually find their way 
to basket and creel. There will be picnic parties, and 
sparking bees, lumbering farm wagons and rubber-tired 
buggies, cold ham, salads, cheese, beer and champagne 
in the cafion to-day. 
Thank the Lord, the good road ends at the ranch be- 
low, fourteen miles from the nearest settlement! Very 
few will come above that spot. The majority will halt 
miles below. The few who will coiue up to the nar- 
rows, to the mountains, will be sportsmen to the manor 
born. But, practically, the stream above the cabin will 
be my private preserve, and for to-day I shall make the 
best of it. I don't Avant to be at home if any straggling 
picnickers should happen to call. They would Avant to 
borrow the cook stove and the teakettle, to try my gun 
and bend my rod. More than all, they would drive away 
the songsters that, after a month's petting and feeding, I 
have coaxed into awakening me every morning. 
What shall be the impedimenta for the day's tramp? 
Lunch is out of the question. It takes both room and 
time. First will be the rod and fly-book, with the ac- 
companying creel. Next, and fully as essential for en- 
joyment as the tackle, a camera. Last of all the field 
glasses. The cabin has not been fastened since Jime i, 
but on this particular morning it is locked and pad- 
locked. The visitors will not bring letters of introduc- 
tion, nor will they leave cards. I start on the trail up 
creek. Already I can hear guns cracking in the valley. 
I want to get out of their sound, before commencing to 
fish. Where the cailon is Avide the path is arched with 
oak and maple. There are partridge tracks in the dust 
and chipmunks frisk about me in absolute indifference 
to my presence. Even the bushy-tailed ground squirrels 
sit up and watch me Avith much more curiosity than fear. 
The brook is fringed with Avillows, and as the sunlight 
comes down into the canon, green-tailed towhees hop 
amid the shimmering leaves, and scores of black-chinned 
hummmgbirds dart from flower to flower. The trail 
reminds me of a New England Avoodroad. It Avas built 
a generation ago, before the adA-ent of railroads, by the 
soldiers, as a military higliAvay from Fort Douglas to 
Fort Duchesne and the posts of Colorado. Now sheep 
herds, bands of cattle or a logging outfit are the only 
ones that make use of it. 
The mountain walls draw closer together. The creek 
bed- becomes more rocky. Pines take the place of oaks, 
and the little side canons shine Avith the brighter green 
of aspens. The water no longer wanders peacefully be- 
tAveen the willoAvs. It dashes in cascades through granite 
walls and rests in long, deep, dark pools, Avhere the 
trout lurk. Down the road toward me comes a coyote. 
We each respect the other's rights. He turns around 
and retraces his steps Avith as much dignity as he can 
command. I turn aside to an inviting pool and bring 
out my fly-book. For an hour it is enjoyable Avork— this 
casting and retrieving, this trial of cunning against the 
mherited instinct of ages. Sometimes the first cast over 
a pool or upon a rifiie will bring a rise. More often I see 
the little trout dash away before me. It may have been 
my shadoAV on the water, the violent motion of a bough, 
the reflection of the polished reel, something scares them, 
and as I am not fishing for numbers, but only for a Httle 
mess, I do not care how many get aAvay. There is a 
time in fishing when it takes one particular trout or 
salmon to put a sportsman on his mettle. These brook 
trout are little fellows, at best. They average scarcely 
a fourth of a pound dressed. 
Again the canon opens out and the water flows more 
gently. Here is the spot where I am to make the effort 
of the day. The creek is dammed bv a huge, moss- 
grown, pine log and in the artificial pool lives the mon- 
arch of the upland Avaters. ^ut willoAvs and underbrush 
press close upon the tranquil stream, making a constant, 
cooling shade, also making it impossible to cast a line. . 
Only the length of a leader can be dropped carefully over 
the log, and the plan of campaign must be well defined 
before commencing active operations. Day after day 
the experienced old fellow has eluded me. I have heard 
his splash, and once I had him hooked, but he knew 
enough to wrap the leader about a root and break away. 
Another time I was attracted by a magnificent clump of 
n-oss and liverAVorts that grcAv on the further side. In- 
cautiously I raised my head, only to see a dark outhne 
scurrying through the water to the protection of the 
cascade. Only one fly can be handled. The first trial is 
made Avith a cow-dung. Off comes my hat. I crouch 
beneath the shelter of the log and drop the fly, then care- 
fully push out the rod and let the lure float gently on the 
water. There is a splash, but the trout jiunped short. 
It is some satisfaction to know that he is still here. 
There will be no trouble with the small fry as they respect 
the king's domain. The coAV-dung is worked for all that 
it is worth for a fe-AV minutes, but there is no second rise. 
Hot day, water clear as crystal; black gnat on No. 12 
hook may fetch him! So I made the change. I did not 
hear the splash nor see the leap, but I did feel the sharp, 
nervous tug as the fly struck the water, and it was reflex 
action and no skill of mine that gave the Avrist the proper 
turn at the A-ery instant of fate. Glory! He was fairly 
hooked. Now to land him! No. need of further conceal- 
ment. I peer over the log and see the quarry struggling, 
fighting for liberty. He splashes the Avater, darts this 
Avay and that, and for a mere brook troiU seems a mon- 
ster. I can play the rod horizontally, but it is only six 
inches from ^the tip to the ' overhanging willoAvs and a 
foul at this juncture Avould mean irreparable loss. The 
only thing possible is to work him down, around the 
lower end of the log, into rapid water and net him among 
