CHAPTER XVIII
THE GIANT PAINT POT
IT was indeed a sight well calculated to make the boys stare, andrub their eyes in wonder, as though they half believed they must bedreaming. If these wonders of Yellowstone Park elicit cries of delightfrom tens of thousands of tourists in these modern times, imagine howremarkable they must have seemed to these pioneer lads more than ahundred years ago.
"When you called it a paint pot, Roger, I think you hit the bull's-eye,for it does look like that, with all those colors boiling up in such acrazy fashion!" Dick presently remarked, breaking the spell that seemedto bind them.
"But what is it made of, I'd like to know?" demanded the puzzled Roger.
"Colored clay, in the shape of mud, that is boiling all the time. Becareful how you put your hand to it. See how the steam keeps on rising.It must be pretty hot stuff!"
"But what makes it boil that way? There must be a fire of some kinddeep down in the earth?"
"Nothing else would make all these fountains of hot water, and even therocks in some places feel warm," admitted the other lad, who was hardlyless amazed than Roger himself.
"It must be some sort of volcano," Roger continued, thoughtfully. "Ithas no visible cone, like most of them do, and so the heat escapes inthis way through hundreds of little vents."
That is about the nearest explanation any scientist has ever been ableto give why this one region in all the world contains innumerablegeysers, hot springs, boiling colored mud pots, and various otherwonders of Nature. (Note 5.)
"All I can say is that I don't blame any poor Injun for believing theplace is Evil Ground," muttered Mayhew, as he stared at the strangespectacle of that blue and yellow and green mud boiling ceaselessly,and throwing off steam that had a peculiar odor, unlike anything theyhad ever smelled before.
He looked around him, and shrugged his shoulders. So many remarkablethings were to be seen, such as a frontiersman might well view withalarm, that it was no wonder Mayhew felt uneasy. Left to his owndevices he would have turned his back on this enchanted region, andconsidered himself a lucky man if only he might get away with his life.
"It strikes me," Dick observed, "that we need not hope to find Williamsanywhere about here, if, as we fear, he has been taken prisoner bythose Blackfoot Indians."
"No, because they would never come to a place like this, unless theirold medicine man was along to make a palaver with the Evil Spirit,"Roger suggested. "That is what I heard a Mandan brave say, and I guessit must be about so. We will have to go further, and look for Jasperelsewhere."
Mayhew seized upon this hint to make a start, and, noticing how anxiousthe scout seemed to be to shut out the strange spectacle of that everboiling pool of gayly tinted mud, the boys followed at his heels.
"I can hear other spouting fountains not far away!" declared Roger."Sometimes it is like a giant snake hissing, and then again I seem tocatch a distant but terrible roaring sound, reminding me of that fiercebear in the cave."
"Even if the winter is coming on here, there are plenty of birds stillto be met with," Dick remarked, as a flock of cawing crows started upfrom a tree-top near by, and flew away.
"Yes, there are hawks also, and I am sure I saw a pair of greatbald-headed eagles soaring away up in the sky, wheeling in circles asthey rose. Besides, we have stirred up many of those brush fowl thatare so much like our chickens at home, and make such fine eating."
"It would be a great place for a hunter or a trapper to spend thewinter," Mayhew commented, "if only he could get used to the awfulthings there are going on in this beautiful section of country. Yousee, the snow must soon melt where there is so much heat; and thatkeeps the grass green for the deer and the buffalo."
"Hark!" exclaimed Roger, stopping suddenly.
His face lighted up with eagerness, and Dick was filled with curiosity.
"What did you think you heard?" he asked, presently.
"The signal we want to catch more than anything else," came theconfident reply.
"Not the whistle Jasper Williams taught us to practice, Roger, andwhich he uses when he wants to communicate with friends?"
"That, and nothing else, Dick. I am sure I caught it, coming fromsomewhere over to the right."
"Then why not answer it?" Dick told him.
"Do you think it would be wise?" asked the other.
"We want to know if Jasper Williams is near by, and that is the bestway to find it out. You can give the whistle, Roger, for I have heardyou practice it many times."
For answer Roger puckered up his lips, and emitted a peculiar littletrill. Should any one not familiar with it hear this sound, he wouldnaturally imagine some bird was calling to its mate.
All of them stood there, eagerly waiting to discover if Roger's notecalled forth any response. Before ten seconds had passed there came afaint whistle, very like that which the boy had given.
"There, did you hear it, Dick?" gasped Roger, turning a flushed facetoward his cousin, while his eyes sparkled joyously.
"I heard a sound that might be just such a whistle as Jasper taughtus," replied cautious Dick; "but don't build too many castles in theair, Roger, or you may be disappointed. Try again!"
Roger was only too willing to do so, and there was an immediate replythis time, that all of them heard plainly.
"He's coming this way, I do believe, for that was closer than before.Shall I give him another call?"
"Yes, it can do no harm, and we must know the truth, at any rate."
When the next answer came back it was beyond all doubt nearer than anythat had preceded it.
"Oh! we shall soon see him!" cried Roger, fixing his eyes on the spot,as near as he could calculate, whence that last reply had come. "Now,keep watching, both of you, while I signal to him again that the coastis clear."
He added one more tremulous trill to his notes; to his astonishment theanswer was so plain and clear that it seemed to come straight out of apine tree not more than twenty-five yards away.
"Why, he must be back of that tree, I think!" stammered Roger,uneasily, for he realized that Jasper Williams could never have gainedsuch a Position without some of their eyes detecting his advance.
Just then a bird flew out of the pine and alighted in another at somedistance away in another quarter. Dick himself instantly gave thesignal whistle, and there came an immediate answer; but it was now fromthe quarter whither the bird had flown.
Roger gave a cry of disgust, while Dick laughed softly.
"Good-by to Jasper this time, I'm afraid, Roger!" he said.
"How mean that was for a silly little bird to have the same whistleJasper had made up as his signal," said Roger, looking downcast. "Come,there's no use in our staying here any longer. If that bird keeps onwhistling I might feel like using my gun to bring it down, for I'dthink it was mocking me."
"The poor thing thought a mate was calling," Dick assured him; "or elsesome other male bird that wanted to fight it. I warrant you, it is justas upset as you can be over the mistake."
They pushed on once more, and inside of two hours had come upon atleast seven more geysers, some of which were spouting, while otherswere quiet at the time the three pilgrims happened to find the craters.
Now and then the boys would converse in low tones, for Dick knew thatthis was the best way to keep his companion's spirits from drooping.
When other things failed, Dick could always interest him by referringto the wonderful luck that had befallen them, in giving them a chanceto stay all winter at the Mandan village with the exploring expedition,so as to go on into the Golden West when spring came around.
The uncertainty that lay ahead seemed to appeal to the spirit ofadventure that lay deep down in the hearts of the young pioneers.
"When we break camp in the spring and leave here," Dick went on, asthough he had mapped it out in his mind, "we will have to head into theNorthwest, Captain Lewis told me."
"Why go that way instead of straight into the West, or turn toward theSouthwest?" Ro
ger asked him, just as Dick knew he would be likely to do.
"It seems that the two captains have been picking up all theinformation they can from every source," Dick explained; "and this,when boiled down, causes them to believe there is a better opening overthe great Rocky Mountain chain up there than in any other quarter.Besides, I believe they have an idea there is a great river thatflows to the sea, the headwaters of which start in the land of theBlackfeet."
"He must have gotten some of that information from the Blackfootprisoner the Mandans have in their strong lodge?" suggested Roger,quickly.
"I believe he did," Dick told him. "I happen to know that both thecaptains and an interpreter spent many hours with the Blackfoot. And Ialso heard that they had promised to take the man back to his peoplewith them in the spring; for they were giving the Mandans some presentsto coax them to turn him over to them."
"Oh! just to think, Dick, what it will mean to us, if we are with themwhen they first set eyes on the big water! Our parents came from thefar East, where they knew the Atlantic Ocean; and, if we could onlysee the other, what a feather it would be in our caps when we got backhome."
Dick had accomplished his purpose, for his cousin showed his old-timeenthusiasm again. So they continued to converse as they followedMayhew, who strode along in advance, constantly on the alert for somenew and startling sight, and not at all pleased with his surroundings.
It was after noon had come and gone that he uttered a cry that theboys understood as a command to halt. Each clutched his gun in themanner of those who know the value of being ready.
"Look away off yonder, up on the low ridge!" said the guide, eagerly.
"Moving figures, and of men at that!" ejaculated Roger.
"Indians, I take it," said Dick; "for I can see the feathers in theirhair, and the sun seems to glisten from their painted bodies. They mustbe on the warpath, to have put the paint on, and the feathers, too."
"But look, Dick, there is one of them who wears clothes like a whitetrapper or borderman!" declared the excited Roger. "Do you see what Imean, Dick?"
"Yes, it certainly looks that way," answered the other boy, shadinghis eyes with his hand in order to see better. "It _is_ a white man,too, for he is wearing some kind of fur cap, and his hunting shirt isfringed like our own. There, he turned his face this way then, and heis no Indian, I am as certain as that my name is Dick Armstrong!"
The Pioneer Boys of the Yellowstone; or, Lost in the Land of Wonders Page 21