“And the trembling of the rocks under our feet, too! That must have been caused by something like this. The hot spring where we said we could have cooked an egg, or made our tea, that may have been the overflow from here, or another fountain like it.”
“All we know is that those stories told by the Indians had a foundation in fact. And yet, most people will believe we have simply imagined these things when we tell them what we have seen and heard.”
“Yes,” sighed Roger, “I only wish there was some way to show them. Seeing is believing, mother always says.”
But unfortunately this all happened early in the nineteenth century, and the camera, by which those amazing geysers might have been caught in action, and displayed to people at the other side of the world, had not even taken form in the brain of the most advanced inventor.
Slowly the lads walked back to where the guide awaited their coming. Mayhew looked relieved when they rejoined him. Apparently he had been dubious as to whether they would be allowed to return; he may even have suspected that the angry gods who sent that gushing fountain soaring two hundred feet into the air might stretch out their arms and drag the lads into the yawning crater, to be served as a sacrifice.
Which way to head now was rather a difficult question to answer. If it were left entirely to the discretion of Mayhew, Dick feared the guide might take it into his head to veer around and start back toward the camp, believing that in so doing he would be serving the interests of the boys best by possibly saving their lives.
Consequently Dick meant to keep his hand on the helm, and do most of the directing. Captain Clark had instructed the guide to put himself entirely at the disposal of the boys, so that in reality it was Dick’s place to do the ordering.
Looking around them, it was hard to tell which way they had better go. Everything was so strange that although, of course, they knew the points of the compass, and in a general way could understand that they must have come in from the east, still who could say whether the beckoning west was their wisest goal, or some other direction?
“We had better try to keep on, and find that valley toward which Jasper Williams was headed,” urged Dick, after they had consulted. “He is a stubborn man in his way, and, even though deserted by both his companions, I believe he would push straight on, so that he might boast of having reached the place he started for.”
“And if the Blackfeet have failed to capture or kill him,” ventured Roger, “we may find him there—of course granting that we reach that Happy Valley ourselves.”