Thursday, September 15.—This forenoon the weather moderated, and one-half the snow has melted, so that it is but about ten inches deep to-night. Still, our horses are becoming restless for want of sufficient food. The patches of grass which may be found under the snow are very limited in extent, and as the animals are confined to the length of their lariats, foraging is much more difficult than if they were running loose. We have seen no signs of Indians following us since we made our first camp upon the lake, and but little evidence that they have ever been here, except some few logs piled so as to conceal from view a hunter who may be attempting to bring down some of the game swimming on the lake. We feel convinced that Jake Smith drew upon both his imagination and his fears three days ago, when he reported that he had seen Indians on the beach of the lake.
Each night that we have been camped here we have heard the shrill cries of the mountain lions, and under a momentary illusion I have each time been half convinced that it was a human being in distress. Because of the mountain lions we are keeping close watch upon our horses. They are very fond of horse flesh, and oftentimes will follow a horseman a long distance, more to make a meal upon the flesh of the horse than for the purpose of attacking the rider.
During the three days we have spent in this camp, I have been enabled to complete my diary for September 8th, 9th and 10th, which were red letter days—days of great anxiety.
I had a good nap this afternoon while my diary was being used for Lieutenant Doane, and I feel greatly refreshed. My first thought on awakening was for poor Everts. I wonder where he can be throughout all this fierce storm and deep snow! Perhaps the snow did not reach him, for I noticed to-night that the ground was quite bare on the opposite side of this arm of the lake, while the snow is eight or ten inches deep here at our camp. Hauser is not feeling very well to-night.
Friday, September 16.—We this morning resolved to move over to the vicinity of the hot springs on the opposite side of this arm of the lake, from which point we will leave the Yellowstone for the Madison river or some one of its branches. We followed up the beach for half a mile, and then journeyed along the bank of the lake through the woods for a mile to avoid the quicksands on the lake shore; then, taking the beach again, we followed it to the springs where we are now camped.[[U]]
These springs surpass in extent, variety and beauty any which we have heretofore seen. They extend for the distance of nearly a mile along the shore of the lake, and back from the beach about one hundred yards. They number between ninety and one hundred springs, of all imaginable varieties. Farthest from the beach are the springs of boiling mud, in some of which the mud is very thin, in others of such a consistency that it is heaped up as it boils over, gradually spreading under its own weight until it covers quite a large surface. The mud or clay is of different colors. That in some of the springs is nearly as white as white marble; in others it is of a lavender color; in others it is of a rich pink, of different shades. I have taken specimens of each, which I will have analyzed on my return home.[[V]] In close proximity to these are springs discharging water nearly clear and apparently odorless, the bottoms and sides of which, as well as of the channels of the streams running from them, are covered with soft deposits of some substance they contain in solution. These deposits and the hard incrustations around the edges of the springs are of various colors, in some cases being dark red, in others scarlet, in others yellow, and in still others green.