We had been so entertained with the splendor of the winter scene, that we had overlooked its grandest feature, until our fretful horses, which had caught sight of it before we had, became restless and impatient to bathe their icy hoofs in the beautiful valley at our feet, and refused longer to wait for us to paint on our memory the panorama.
Dismounting, we, too, caught sight of one of nature’s wonderful freaks. Down below us, in the immense amphitheatre, we discovered columns of steam rising from the smooth prairie hill-side, ascending in fantastic puffs, and mixing with the atmosphere; sometimes cut off, by sudden gusts of cold winds, into minute clouds, that swing out and lose themselves in strange company of fiercer breath from the mountains covered with snow and ice.
Look again to the right, and see the constant steam vapor that comes with hot breath from the boiling spring, where it runs in grandeur, and gradually warms the soil and shrubbery that surrounds its channel. Following the curve of this stream, see the clouds of steam decrease as it flows out on the plain, until, at last, its warm breath is lost to sight in the
high tule grass of Lower Klamath lake. Come back along the line and see the fringe of grass and flowers that exult in life, despite the winter’s cold; and other of nature’s children, too, are standing with feet in the soft banks, and inhaling the warm breath. See the long line of sleek cattle and horses that have driven away the mule, deer and antlered elk, and now claim mastership of what God has done for this strange valley. Even dumb brutes enjoy this refuge from the cold storms of the plains; thus cheating old winter out of the privilege of punishing them.
Yielding to the importunity of our restless steed, we remount, and, giving rein, are carried rapidly down the mountain side, at a pace that would be dangerous on clumsy eastern ponies, until reaching the valley, and feeling the soft turf beneath us, we improve the invitation to warm our hands at this gentle outlet to one of nature’s seething caldrons.
Gathering a bouquet of wild flowers from this fairy garden, surrounded by snows and ice, we resume our journey, for we are now bound for the home of Captain Jack.
CHAPTER XIX.
MODOC BLOOD UNDER A FLAG OF TRUCE—SEED SOWN TWENTY YEARS BEFORE A HARVEST.