A snake wriggled across the sand in front. Wahb crushed it with a blow
that made the near trees shiver and sent a balanced boulder toppling
down, and he growled a growl that rumbled up the valley like distant
thunder. Then he came to the foggy hole. It was full of water that moved
gently and steamed. Wahb put in his foot, and found it was quite warm
and that it felt pleasantly on his skin. He put in both feet, and little
by little went in farther, causing the pool to overflow on all
sides, till he was lying at full length in the warm, almost hot,
sulphur-spring, and sweltering in the greenish water, while the wind
drifted the steam about overhead.

There are plenty of these sulphur-springs in the Rockies, but this
chanced to be the only one on Wahb's range. He lay in it for over an
hour; then, feeling that he had had enough, he heaved his huge bulk
up on the bank, and realized that he was feeling remarkably well and
supple. The stiffness of his hind leg was gone.

He shook the water from his shaggy coat. A broad ledge in full sun-heat
invited him to stretch himself out and dry. But first he reared against
the nearest tree and left a mark that none could mistake. True, there
were plenty of signs of other animals using the sulphur-bath for their
ills; but what of it? Thenceforth that tree bore this inscription, in
a language of mud, hair, and smell, that every mountain creature could
read:


My bath. Keep away!

(Signed) WAHB.