About three hundred yards from the spot on which he and his frightened companion stood, was something that looked like a long, natural ridge. It arose to the height of thirty feet or more, and was bare of vegetation. Beyond this ridge, extending the whole length of it, and gradually rising into view above the top of it, was an immense body of water, which was broken into innumerable cone-shaped billows, with broad, flat bases, and smooth, round tops.
These billows, which were of enormous size, were violently agitated, and, although they were tossed about in every direction, they did not change their positions, lose their shape, nor run together, each one, apparently, being independent of its neighbor, and owing its existence to a different power.
Slowly and majestically the billows grew in size and height, and still the boys gazed as if they were fascinated. Suddenly, there was another deafening report, which made the ground tremble beneath them, and up from the midst of the troubled mass arose a single column of water about as large around as a hogshead, smooth as glass, and as clear as crystal, and shot toward the clouds.
It went up to an almost incredible height, and stood as motionless as if it were carved out of stone. Then, the power which created and sustained it ceasing to act, it crumbled to pieces, like a column of sand, and fell back among the billows, which, broken by its weight, rolled from one end of the ridge to the other, dashing the spray high in the air.
This continued for two or three minutes, after which the water subsided as suddenly as it had arisen, its disappearance being accompanied by a low, rumbling noise, which sounded like the muttering of distant thunder, and when that died away all was still.
The two boys drew a long breath, looked at each other in silence, and then they seated themselves on the ground again.
“Old fellow,” said Bob, who was the first to recover his power of speech, “we have solved the mystery of Lost River Canyon. That’s a geyser, and it's the grandest sight I ever saw. I have been through the Yellowstone Park with my father—you can count geysers up there by hundreds, you know—but that famed place can’t show anything to compare with this. It was my good fortune to see all the big ones in operation, but none of them equalled this in grandeur, although the ‘Giant’ beat it in duration. I saw it play for three hours, and throw a column of water to the height of two hundred feet.”
“Did they all make such a terrific noise as this one does?” inquired George.
“Some of them did, and some didn’t. The ‘Castle,’ which not unfrequently plays for an hour at a time, and sends up a jet of water two hundred and fifty feet high, shakes the ground like an earthquake, and makes a noise louder than this one. When it gets ready to go to work, it begins to pulsate and throb at the rate of seventy beats a minute, which grow stronger and stronger all the while, and finally culminate in a blast that is almost deafening.”
“Do you suppose that the explosions made by this geyser during its eruptions were the sounds we used to hear so regularly while we were at the ranch?”