My Native Land Part 14

From Cinnabar the tourist is driven in large stages throughout the park.

If at all reminiscent by nature, he thinks about the experiences of Coulter, to whom we have already referred as the pioneer white man of Yellowstone. Early in the century the park was occupied by Indians, who had scarcely come in contact with white men, and who had not learned that in the unavoidable conflict between races, the weaker must inevitably succ.u.mb to the stronger. Around the limpid streams and at the borders of the virgin forests, containing untold wealth, tents made of skin drawn over boughs cut roughly from trees, could be seen in every direction. All around there were rough-looking, utterly uncivilized Indians, who were carrying out their usual occupation of doing nothing, and doing it with exceptional ability.

The women or squaws were more active, but frequently paused in their work to look at the unfortunate Coulter, who, deprived of his clothing and absolutely naked, was waiting, bound hand and foot, for the fate that he had every reason to believe awaited him. His only companion had been killed the day before, and he expected every minute to meet the same fate. According to his own description of what followed, strategy saved his life. An Indian, sent for the purpose, asked him if he could run fast. Knowing himself to be an athlete of no mean ability, but guessing the object of the question, he a.s.sured the Indian that he was not a speedy runner. The answer had the effect he antic.i.p.ated.

His thongs were almost immediately cut, and he was taken out on the open prairie, given a trifling start, and then told that he might save himself if he could. Coulter had run many a fast mile before, but he never ran as on this occasion. He knew that behind him there were, among the indolent young Indians, many who could run with great speed, and his only hope lay in getting to cover ahead of these. Every long stride meant that much s.p.a.ce between him and death, and every stride he took was the longest in his power. Again and again he looked around, only to discover to his astonishment that he had but just held his own. At last, however, all his pursuers except one were tired of the pursuit, and when he found this to be the case, he turned like a stag at bay and overpowered him.

Then seeing that others of the Indians were taking up the chase, after a brief rest, Coulter made another great run, plunged into the river in front of him, and finally entered the labyrinth of forests and craters now known to the world as Yellowstone Park. Here, if his story is to be believed, he succeeded in making for himself clothing of some character out of the skins of beasts that he shot, and finally he fell into the hands of less hostile red men.

So much of the early days of Yellowstone, and of the reminiscences which a first visit naturally conjure up. The park as it exists to-day is overcrowded with modern interests, and one only refers to these reminiscences by way of contrast. There are in the park at least 100 geysers, nearly 4,000 springs, and an immense number of miniature parks, large and small rivers, and other marvels.

The park is about equi-distant from the cities of Portland and St. Paul, and so many people have been attracted to it in recent years that a large number of very fine hotels have been built at a great expense. The hotels are open about four months a year, and the help to run them is brought from different States. The expenses are naturally heavy, and hence the hotel charges are not nominal, although the tourist can generally limit the expenses incurred to the bulk of his pocket-book, should he so desire. If he includes in his calculations the absolutely free sights that he witnesses, the expense of a trip is certainly moderate, and ought not to be taken into much consideration.

The Mammoth Hot Springs is one of the leading sources of attraction of the park, a tour of which is something no American of means can afford to miss. The springs are very hard to describe. They consist of a number of irregular terraces, some as large as five acres in extent, and others very small. Some are a few feet high, and others stand forty or sixty feet above the one next below. Few people really understand what these springs are, or how the terraces are formed. One authority of eminence says that the rocks underlying the particular point are calcareous in character, consisting mainly of carbonated lime, which is somewhat soluble in percolating earth water. The hot subterranean water dissolves a large amount of mineral matter in pa.s.sing through the earth, which it deposits on the surface in pa.s.sing through the air. By this process walls, embankments and terraces are built up, and as the minerals through which the water pa.s.ses are varying greatly in color, so the deposits left on the surface are some of them red, other pink and others black, with yellows, greens, blues, chocolates and mixed colors abounding in immense numbers, sometimes harmonizing beautifully and sometimes presenting the most astounding contrasts.

The water in the springs is not warm, but hot, and hence the name.

Frequently the temperature exceeds 160 degrees, in which case the coloring matter seems to be washed out, and the terraces present a white appearance. On other occasions, where the temperature is less severe, the varying hues already referred to abound on every side. Sometimes this whiteness, or bleached-out appearance, is astounding in its effects. The true artist will stand for hours gazing upon it, and wis.h.i.+ng that he could reproduce, ever so inaccurately, the intense beauties which surround him.

Behind the springs, and blocking up the view on the south, is the mountain known as Bunsen Peak, the highest within the range of the eye.

Just across the open s.p.a.ce, in front of the hotel at the springs, are the quarters of the National soldiers who patrol the park, and, to a certain extent at any rate, protect it from the vandal and the purloiner.

In an admirable description of this scene contained in "Indian Land and Wonderland," a very delightful story is told of the long, low, flat and lava-capped mountain known as Mount Everts, in honor of Mr. T. C. Everts of Helena. Few know the story upon which the mountain owes its name, which is given as follows:

Among the members of the first party that ever explored Yellowstone Park were Messrs. M. P. Langford, S. T. Hauser and T. C. Everts. There was also a military escort under Lieutenant Doane. The party proceeded up the Yellowstone River to the Grand Canon, thence across to Yellowstone Lake, around its eastern edge to the southern end, whence turning west they followed down the Firehole River through the Upper Geyser Basin to the Madison River. Following this river out from the park, they returned to Western civilization--all but one of them.

On the nineteenth day out, September 9th, when moving across the country bordering the southern sh.o.r.e of the lake, Mr. Everts became lost. The traveling here was difficult, owing to fallen timber, rugged heights and no trails, and he was not missed until camp was made at night. Mr.

Everts was not seen again for thirty-seven days, when he was found by two mountaineers on the verge of what is now known as Mount Everts, perfectly exhausted, and partly deranged through exposure and suffering.

On the very first day of his absence his horse, left standing and unfastened, with all the man's arms and camp equipments attached, became frightened and ran away. Everts was near-sighted, had not even a knife for use or defense, and only a field gla.s.s to a.s.sist him in escaping. He first managed to reach Heart Lake, the source of Snake River. Here he remained for twelve days, sleeping close by the Hot Springs to keep from freezing. His food was thistle roots, boiled in the springs. One night he was forced into a tree by a mountain lion, and kept there all night.

Finally, he bethought himself of the lenses of his field gla.s.ses, and thus was enabled to kindle fires. He wandered all along the western side of the lake and down the Yellowstone to where he was providentially found. He gave the story of his terrible experience in the old "Scribner's Magazine," since become "The Century," and a thrilling tale it makes. In a country filled with a network of streams, abundantly supplied with animal life for food, gorged with timber for fuel, the man nearly froze and starved and perished from thirst. Twice he was five days without food; once three days without water. It was late in the season, and the storms swept down on him and chilled him to the bone; the snows kept him prisoner in camp, or, when on his painful marches, blocked his progress.

Naturally, he lost strength, and became hourly in danger of succ.u.mbing to the vast difficulties which confronted him. His sufferings were increased by the fear which was created by a large mountain lion, which got on his trail and followed him, evidently with a view to making him a feature of the menu of his next meal. It seems incredible that Mr.

Everts should ever have escaped with his life. Fortune, however, came to his rescue at last. He was rescued and nursed back to life by good friends. To the plateau on which he was found, his name was given, although there are few who will remember the significance of the name.

Norris Geyser is another of the almost miraculous features of the park.

The basin of the geyser has been described as a weird, uncanny place, and the words seem well chosen. Of vegetation there is practically none, because the underground heat keeps the ground always warm, and steam breaks out into the atmosphere at several points. The general aspect is drear and desolate, gray and dull, and yet there is something about it beautiful as well as uncanny.

A geyser is always a source of wonder. The word is of Icelandic derivation, and signifies gus.h.i.+ng. As applied to phenomena such as we are now describing, its applicability is good, for, from the mouth of the geysers, there rushes from time to time an immense ma.s.s of boiling water and steam, creating a disturbance of no ordinary character. It is a.s.sumed that the water hurled into the air to a great height while at boiling point, has risen to the surface through ma.s.ses of lava, which are reminiscent of volcanic ages far beyond the memory of mankind. The mystery of geological formation is too great to be gone into in a work of this character, but the bare contemplation of geysers, such as are seen at Yellowstone Park, reminds one of the wonders deeply hidden in the bowels of the earth, unappreciated and unknown by and to 99 per cent. of the human race.

At the Norris Geyser basin the noise is extraordinary, and people who are superst.i.tiously inclined are awed at the rumblings and grumblings which seem to issue from the bowels of the earth. Eruptions of hot water and steam at irregular intervals burst forth, and the very road which crosses the adjoining plain has been bleached to almost perfect whiteness by the vapors. The crust of ground is very thin all around here, and indiscriminate exploring is dangerous. To slip through the crust into the boiling water beneath would inevitably involve being scalded to death, and the man who allows the guide to show him where to tread exhibits the greater wisdom.

In direct contrast to this basin is the Elk Park. Yellowstone is celebrated among other things for being the home of an immense number of the most remarkable specimens of North American animals. The Government herd of buffalo in the park is of countless value, because it is really the only complete representation at the present time of the practically extinct species of flesh and hide producing animals which used to graze by the million on the prairie. The buffalo are comparatively tame. Most of them were born within the confines of the park, and seem to have realized that the existence of their kind in perpetuity is one of the greatest desires of the Government. There are a number of bears around as well, but they have lost their viciousness, and enjoy life very hugely under somewhat changed conditions. They seldom hurt any one, but prowl around the hotels at night, and by eating up the sc.r.a.ps and leavings solve the garbage problem in a satisfactory manner.

Deer, elk, antelope and mountain sheep climb the mountains, and very frequently find their way into Elk Park or Gibbon Meadow. This is an exceptionally desirable wintering ground, because it is surrounded by hills and mountains which keep off the worst of the winds, and there is, moreover, a perpetual spring of pure water. The meadow is probably the prettiest spot in the entire park. There is less of the awful and more of the picturesque than can be found elsewhere, and it is, in many respects, an oasis in a vast and somewhat dreary expanse of land.

Golden Gate is another of the exquisite spots every visitor to Yellowstone Park seeks and finds. To reach the Golden Gate one must be a great climber, for it is high up, and the road to it is built along the edge of a cliff, which, in places, seems to be absolutely perpendicular.

The gate is, however, worth reaching, and one is not surprised to hear that as much as $14,000 were spent in cutting out a single mile of the road to it through the rock.

Leaving the Golden Gate, and continuing the tour of inspection, a valley of large dimensions is seen. The contrast between the rich green of almost faultless verdure, and the dreariness of the rocks left behind, is striking. It would seem as though nature had built up an immense barrier between the weird and the natural, so that the one could not affect the other. The Bible speaks of the intense comfort of the shade of a great rock in a dry and thirsty land. A sensation of equal, if not greater, relief is experienced in Yellowstone Park when one leaves the grand, death-like desolation around the Hot Springs, and encounters the exquisite beauty of shrub land and timber but a few paces away. The groves of trees are in themselves sources of great delight, and also of immense wealth. Fortunately, they will be preserved in perpetuity for the American people. The lumber king cannot get here. His ravages must be confined to other regions.

The valley into which the tourist has entered takes its name from the Swan Lake, a very delightful inland mountain scene. The lake is about two miles from Golden Gate. It is not a very large body of water, but its rippling surface extracts expressions of admiration from all who behold it. It has been described as a demure looking sheet of water, and there is something about the appearance of the lake which seems to justify the peculiar definition. The canon forming the valley is like everything else in Yellowstone Park--a little out of the ordinary. On the one side there are lofty mountains, with eminences and peaks of various formation and height, while in the distance the great Electric Peak can be easily seen. We have already spoken of Yellowstone Park as being about 10,000 feet above the sea level. Electric Peak, well described as the sentinel of the park, is more than 11,000 feet high.

Viewed from a distance, or along the line of the valley, it is calculated to excite both admiration and awe.

Willow Creek Park, or Willow Park, as it is sometimes called, lies due south. It takes its name from the immense growth of willow bushes which hide the ground from view, and monopolize the scenery and groundwork entirely. None of these bushes can claim the right to be called trees, as the average height is inconsiderable. But they make up in density what they lack in alt.i.tude. The peculiar green of the willow is the predominating color, without any variation of any kind. The idea conveyed to the mind is of a huge green carpet or rug, and when the wind blows freely across the valley, it divides up the bushes into little ridges or furrows, which add to the uniqueness of the scene. Springs of remarkably pure water, many of them possessed of medicinal power, abound in this neighborhood, and tourists slake an imaginary thirst with much interest at different ones of these.

The Obsidian Creek runs slowly through this valley. Obsidian Cliff is the next object of special interest which is witnessed. It is half a mile long and from 150 to 200 feet high. The southern end is formed of volcanic gla.s.s, or obsidian, as true a gla.s.s as any artificially produced. The roadway at its base is constructed across the talus, and is emphatically a gla.s.s road. Huge fragments of obsidian, black and s.h.i.+ning, some of it streaked with white seams, line the road. Small pieces are also plentiful. This flow of gla.s.s came from a high plateau to the east-northeast. Numerous vent pits, or apparent craters, have been discovered on this plateau. Mr. J. P. Iddings, of the Unites States Geological Survey, who has made a special study of Obsidian Cliff, contributes to the survey report for 1885-86 a paper that has in it much that is of interest to the unscientific mind.

The Lower Geyser Basin is in some respects more pleasing than the Norris, although the desolation is perhaps even more apparent. People who have seen districts in which salt is made out of brine extracted from wells, state that the appearance in the Lower Geyser Basin is very similar to what is seen around manufacturing districts of that character. This basin is in the valley of the Firehole River, a strangely named stream, of a very beautiful character. In the basin itself the branches of the Firehole unite, and with the Gibbon River form one of the three sources of the Missouri, called the Madison, after the President of that name. The Fountain Geyser is the largest in the neighborhood, and is one of the best in the park. It is very regular in its eruptions, and seldom fails to perform on time for the benefit of the onlooker. It sends an immense volume of water into the air, and resembles a fountain very closely. Its basin is very interesting, and gives a good example of the singular deposits left by a geyser.

When the fountain is busy throwing out its volumes of water, the appearance is very peculiar. Little notice is given of an eruption, which takes place suddenly, although at stated intervals. All at once the watcher is rewarded for his patience by having the stillness changed into activity of the most boisterous character. The water is hurled upwards in a ma.s.s of frothing, boiling and foaming crystals. The actual height varies, but frequently goes as far as thirty feet. In a moment the wall of water becomes compact, oblong and irregular. Crystal effects are produced, varying according to the time of day and the amount of light, but always delightful and peculiar.

Close at hand are the Mammoth Paint Pots, in the center of the Firehole Geyser. We can explain the appearance of the Paint Pot or Mud Bath much more easily than we can account for the phenomenon. It is well named, because it resembles a succession of paint pots of enormous size more than anything else that the imagination can liken it to. The basin measures forty by sixty feet, with a mud boundary three or four feet high on three sides of it. The contents of the basin have kept scientists wondering for years. The substance is white, looking very much like ordinary paint, but, unlike paint, it is constantly in motion, and the agitation is so persistent that an idea is given that the Paint Pot's basin is the bed of a crater. The continual bubbling and vibration is very interesting in its effects, and the noise it makes is quite peculiar, not unlike a subdued hiss or a badly executed stage-whisper.

Mixed among the white substance is a quant.i.ty of silicious clay of all sorts and conditions of color. This produces a variation in the appearance, but is merely in addition to what is otherwise marvelous in the extreme. Pearl gray, with terra cotta, red and green tints is the basic color of this boiling, seething ma.s.s, which seems to be continually at unrest and in a course of worry.

The Excelsior Geyser is the most conspicuous feature of the Midway Basin, a collection of hot springs and pools. They are situated in the Midway Basin, and were originally called Cliff Caldron. Excelsior Geyser is in a continual state of anarchy, without law, government or regulation. It does just as it likes and when it likes. It seldom performs when wanted to, but when it does break out into a condition of fermentation, the effect is very magnificent. As one writer puts it, the beauties and exhibitions of this geyser are as far superior to those of all the others as the light of the sun seems to that of the moon.

The geyser was for years regarded as the grandest spring in the park, before its exceptionally great features prevailed or became apparent. In the years 1881-82, the eruptions from this geyser became so terrific that it spouted water as high as 250 feet, and converted the generally inoffensive Firehole River into a torrent of storming water. Rocks of large size and heavy enough to be very dangerous were hurled headlong from within the mysterious confines of the earth, and were dashed around in all directions. For miles the terrific noise could be heard, and people who had been waiting for a phenomenon of this character, hurried across country to witness it. It is only now and again that a phenomenon of this kind is repeated, and the most skillful geologists are unable to give us any adequate forecasts as to when the next performance will take place.

Rehearsals seem always in progress. Vast ma.s.ses of steam rise from the crater or hole. Many people crowd to the edge of the basin and strive to penetrate into the mysteries of subterranean happenings. The day may come when some scientific method of seeing through smoke and steam and enduring scalding heat without difficulty may be devised. Until then the mystery must remain unsolved.

In exact contrast with the irregular and spasmodic action of the Excelsior, is the methodical, persevering action of Old Faithful. This is another of the great and popular geysers of Yellowstone Park. It is so uniform in its appearance that a man can keep his watch regulated by it. Every sixty-five minutes the well-named geyser gives forth a peculiar noise to warn the world that it is about to perform. Then for about five minutes a vast stream of water and steam is hurled into the air to the height of about 150 feet. The ma.s.s of boiling water measures six feet in diameter, and the volume discharged exceeds a hundred thousand gallons each hour. Day by day and hour, for nearly twenty years, this industrious geyser has regularly done its duty, and afforded entertainment for visitors. No one knows how long prior to that time it commenced operations, or for how long it will continue.

Leaving for the moment the consideration of geysers and hot springs and other wonders of this character, the sightseer gets a view of a very different nature. At Keppler's Cascades the stage coach generally stops to enable pa.s.sengers to walk to the edge of the cliff and watch the cascades and foaming river in the black canon below. Then the journey proceeds through the Firehole Valley, and through leafy forests and open glades, until the narrow and tortuous canon of Spring Creek is reached.

The scenery here is decidedly unconventional and wild.

We soon reach the summit of the Continental Divide. Now the outlook is much expanded, and it becomes more majestic and dignified. The mountains overhang the roadway on one side and drop far below on the other. Heavy, s.h.a.ggy forests cover the slopes and peaks, while tiny island parks, as it were, and cheerful openings are occasionally seen. The road winds about the mountain-flanks, now climbing up, now descending; the whole aspect of nature grows more grand, more austere; the air grows more rarified, and one becomes more and more exalted in spirit. Occasionally the mountains break away and you obtain a view far out beyond the narrow limits round about. Distant mountains are seen, and the feeling that there are nothing but mountain-walls about you impresses itself strongly upon one, and it is just about true. After several miles of such riding, and when you have begun to imagine that nothing finer can come, the road leads up to a point that, almost before you know it, simply drives from your thoughts all else seen on this ride.

It is a wonderful picture, and produces a state of exultation that to some must seem almost too strong to endure. The mountains, which rise high above, stretch also far below, and in every direction are at their very best. Proud and regal in their strength and bearing, they are still, from summit to the depths, heavily covered with the primeval forest. It would seem as if they really knew what a view was here unfolded, and to rejoice in the grandeur of the scene. Like a thread, you can trace the turns and lines of the road along which the stage has come. But that which adds the softer, more beautiful element to a picture otherwise almost overpowering in its grandeur, and withal stern and unyielding, is seen through a break or portal off to the south.

Far away, far below, lies a portion of Shoshone Lake. Like a sleeping babe in its mother's lap, nestles this tiny lakelet babe in the mountains. It s.h.i.+nes like a plate of silver or beautiful mirror. It is a gem worth crossing a continent to see, especially as there runs between the lake and the point of view a little valley dressed in bright, gra.s.sy green as a kind of foreground in the rear. There is thus a silvered lake, a lovely valley, with bright and warm green shades, and rich, dark-black forests in the rear. No one can gaze upon such a combination and contrast without being impressed, and without recognizing the sublime beauty and grandeur of the park and its surroundings.

Yellowstone Lake is another of the extraordinary attractions of our great National Park. It is described as the highest inland sea in the world, and more than 7,000 feet above the sea level. It is, really, nearly 8,000 feet above the sea, and its icy cold water covers an area some thirty miles in length and about half as wide or about 300 square miles. This glorious inland ocean is perched up at the summit of the Rocky Mountains, just where no one would expect to find it. Several islands of varying sizes are dotted over the surface of the water, which at times is as smooth as a little mill pond, and at others almost as turbulent as the sea. The sh.o.r.es are entirely irregular in their formation, and Promontory Point extends out into the water a great distance, forming one of the most peculiar inland peninsulas in the entire world. Along the southern sh.o.r.e, inlets and bays are very numerous, some of them natural in character, and others full of evidence of brisk, and even terrific, volcanic action.

From the peculiar rocks and eminences along the sh.o.r.e, reflections are cast into the water of an almost indescribable character. They are varied in nature and color, and, like the lake itself, differ from anything to be seen elsewhere. Another unique feature of this lake, and one that has to be seen to be understood, is the presence on the banks, and even out in the lake itself, of hot springs and geysers full of boiling water and steam. Some of these springs have wide and secure edges, or banks, on which a man can stand and fish. Then, on his right hand, he has the icy-cold water of the lake, from which he can obtain trout and other fish, until he begins to dream of a fisherman's paradise. Dr. Hayden, the explorer, already referred to, was the first man to take advantage of the opportunity and to cook his fish unhooked in the boiling water to his left, merely making a half turn in order to do so. When the Professor first mentioned this fact, he was good humoredly laughed at, but, as stated in an earlier part of this chapter, the possibility has been so clearly demonstrated, that people have long since admitted as a possibility what they had first denounced as an utter absurdity.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE HEROES OF THE IRON HORSE.

Honor to Whom Honor is Due--A Cla.s.s of Men Not Always Thoroughly Appreciated at their Worth--An Amateur's Ride on a Flying Locomotive--From Twelve Miles an Hour to Six Times that Speed--The Signal Tower and the Men who Work in it--Stealing a Train--A Race with Steam--Stones about Bewitched Locomotives and Providential Escapes.

No one who has not given the matter special consideration has the remotest idea of the magnitude and importance of the railroad system of the United States. Nor has any one who has not studied the statistics bearing on the question the faintest conception of the cost of the roads built and in operation. The cost in dollars and cents for a mile of track has been ascertained to a fractional point. Expert accountants have figured out to a hundredth part of a cent the cost of hauling a pa.s.senger or a ton of merchandise any given distance. There are even tables in existence showing the actual expense incurred in stopping a train, while such details as the necessary outlay in wages, fuel, repairs, etc., have received the attention which the magnitude of the interests involved deserves.