“Now tell us about it,” urged Elfreda, gently tugging at Stacy’s sleeve. “What did you do to that geyser?”
“I? Why, noth—”
“Never mind, Stacy. We don’t care to know I anything about it,” interrupted Grace. “If we do not know, we surely cannot answer questions, should any be asked. Are we all agreed on that?”
All except Hippy said they were. He said he would talk with his nephew later. The Overland Riders then returned to their ponies and rode on in search of further sights.
“We’re comin’ to the Devil’s Frying Pan,” finally announced Badger, pointing to a circular opening in the earth, about eight feet in diameter.
“I don’t like the name. It sounds shivery,” objected Emma.
“That’s his thumb over yonder,” continued the guide, nodding to Stacy.
“I’m not interested,” returned Chunky. “Show me an angel trail, a cherub geyser or even a bit of angel cake and I’ll look at it. When do we eat?”
The guide said they would halt for luncheon when they reached the “Black Geyser.” The roar of this, the first of the big geysers, was soon in their ears and, as they came in sight of the clouds of steam it belched forth, exclamations of amazement rose to every lip. As they neared the great spouter, a strong odor of sulphur assailed their nostrils.
“Stacy, this is the place that you have been looking for,” cried Emma, sniffing the air suspiciously.