of high ridges, and part of the time through fallen timber. The trail of
the Indians leads off to the left, to the brink of the Yellowstone,
which it follows up about three-fourths of a mile, and then crosses to
the east side. Hauser, Gillette, Stickney, Trumbull and myself rode out
to the summit of Mount Washburn, which is probably the highest peak on
the west side of the river. Having an aneroid barometer with us, we
ascertained the elevation of the mountain to be about 9,800 feet. The
summit is about 500 feet above the snow line.

Descending the mountain on the southwest side, we came upon the trail of
the pack train, which we followed to our camp at the head of a small
stream running into the Yellowstone, which is about five miles distant.
As we came into camp a black bear kindly vacated the premises. After
supper some of our party followed down the creek to its mouth. At about
one mile below our camp the creek runs through a bed of volcanic ashes,
which extends for a hundred yards on either side. Toiling on our course
down this creek to the river we came suddenly upon a basin of boiling
sulphur springs, exhibiting signs of activity and points of difference
so wonderful as to fully absorb our curiosity. The largest of these,
about twenty feet in diameter, is boiling like a cauldron, throwing
water and fearful volumes of sulphurous vapor higher than our heads. Its
color is a disagreeable greenish yellow. The central spring of the
group, of dark leaden hue, is in the most violent agitation, its
convulsive spasms frequently projecting large masses of water to the
height of seven or eight feet. The spring lying to the east of this,
more diabolical in appearance, filled with a hot brownish substance of
the consistency of mucilage, is in constant noisy ebullition, emitting
fumes of villainous odor. Its surface is covered with bubbles, which are
constantly rising and bursting, and emitting sulphurous gases from
various parts of its surface. Its appearance has suggested the name,