The mirror., 1919-11-06

that the tourist may not chip the
fretted tracery of the forma ions
or, walking where the crust is too
thin, foolishly cook himself.
Straight up the mountaiu runs a
whiplash-like trail across which
the tub-ended rock-dog and rab-
bits and chipmunks scamper. On
one side of the road is rock and
shale; on the other a sheer drop
and a fool of a noisy river below.
Above one comes to q vast upland
adorned with lake and hills
choked with timber that has never
known an ak. Thereabouts one
comes to the uplands of hell. They
call it Norris Geyser Basin on
earth. 1t looks as though the tide
of dissolution that had gone out
would presently return across in
Vulnerable acres of dazzling white
geyser formation. Not ten yards
from the road a blast of steam
shoots up roaring, a mud volcano
spits filth to heaven. streams of hot
water rumble under foot, plunge
through the dead pines in stream
ing cataracts and die on waste OF
white where green-gray, black
yellow and link pools roar, shout,
bubble, or hiss as their wicked
fancy prompts. By the look of the
eye the place should be frozen
over. By the feel of the feet it is
warm. Beside the road the mud
and the sulphur and the nameless
fat ooze-vegetation of Lethe lies.
For miles beyond lies primeval
forest, with only the voice of an
angry river to break the silence.
Here one finds stream called
Firehole river. 1t is fed by the
overflow from the various geysers
and basins-a warm and deadly
river wherein no fish breeds.
Down in the valley is Hell's
Half-Acre, which is about 80 acres.
1t is a plain. blistered, pulled and
abominable, and is given over to
the sportings and spoutings of
devils who throw mud and steam
and dirt at each other with whoops
and halloos and believing curses.
The place smells of the refuse of
the Pit. Beyond one passes hot
streams boiling in the forest; sees
whiffs of steam beyond these, and
yet other whiffs breaking through
the misty green hills in the far
distance. Imagine mighty green
fields splattered with lime beds;
all the flowers of the summer
growing up to the very edge OF
the lime. There always is trouble
in that place-moaning, splashing,
groaning and the clank of ma.
chinery. Then a squirt of boiling
water jumps into the air and a
| wash of water follows. They call
it Riverside Geyser. 1t is like the
burning mari on which Satan lies.
On either side up the miraculous
valley and hills from 1000 to
$4,000 feet high and wooded from
heel to crest. As far as the eye
can range are columns Of steam in
the air; misshapen Jumps of lime,
like preadamite monsters; still
pools of turquoise blue, stretches
of blue cornfowers, a river that
coils on itself 20 times, boulders OF
strange colors, and ridges of glar.
ing white.
One stops beside an innocent
looking little puddle, and almost
Immediately there rises from it a
2O-foot column of water and steam
From right and left come the
trumpetings of elephants at play.
You step into pool of old dried
blood trimmed with nodding corn
flowers; the blood changes to ink.
and the ink and blood are washed
away in squirt of boiling sulphur
GUS water spat out from the lee OF
a bank of flowers. Beyond one
comes out upon a field of aching
snowy lime. rolled in sheets twisted
into knots, riven with rents and
diamonds and stars, stretching fol
more than half a mile in every
d;rootion Tn thio ,,locn 0f dnanoi,