the opening; and, with the crust slowly bending and sinking beneath me,
hurriedly secured the coveted prize of black sulphur, and rolled back to
a place of safety.

[Illustration: SECURING A SPECIMEN AT HELL-BROTH SPRINGS.]

From the springs to the mouth of the creek we followed along the bank,
the bed or bottom being too rough and precipitous for us to travel in
it, the total fall in the creek for the three miles being about fifteen
hundred feet. Standing upon the high point at the junction of the creek
with the Yellowstone, one first gets some idea of the depth of the cañon
through which the river runs. From this height the sound of the waters
of the Yellowstone, tumbling over tremendous rocks and boulders, could
not be heard. Everything around us--mountains, valleys, cañon and trees,
heights and depths--all are in such keeping and proportion that all our
estimates of distances are far below the real truth. To-day we passed
the mouth of Hell-Roaring river on the opposite side of the Yellowstone.

It was again Jake Smith's turn for guard duty last night, but this
morning Jake's countenance wore a peculiar expression, which indicated
that he possessed some knowledge not shared by the rest of the party. He
spoke never a word, and was as serene as a Methodist minister behind
four aces. My interpretation of this self-satisfied serenity is that his
guard duty did not deprive him of much sleep. When it comes to
considering the question of danger in this Indian country, Jake thinks
that he knows more than the veteran Jim Stuart, whom we expected to join
us on this trip, and who has given us some salutary words of caution. In
a matter in which the safety of our whole party is involved, it is
unfortunate that there are no "articles of war" to aid in the
enforcement of discipline, in faithful guard duty.