A few minutes later we arrived at YELLOWSTONE CAMP, near the Upper and Lower Falls. After we had registered and were shown the way to our tents, the evening meal was served in a large, spacious dining-room. In the office of the camp we found a log fire burning. A score or more of tourists seated around it were engaged in conversation; and the new arrivals received a cordial welcome. Everything presented so homelike an appearance, it made me feel as if I should like to spend a week here. The greatest courtesy was manifested on the part of the managers and those who rendered us service, and I felt that they had a real heart interest in our welfare. The accommodations in the tents were all that one could ask. The tents had floors, were boarded up the sides, and furnished with all the conveniences necessary. In each one there was a stove that was lighted both morning and evening, as it was late in the season and sometimes the temperature was almost at freezing point. When a fire was needed, one of the attendants at the camp came to light it. [Illustration: WILLOW PARK CAMP, YELLOWSTONE PARK © _Haynes, St. Paul_] CHAPTER III UPPER AND LOWER FALLS After dinner was served on the evening of our arrival, my brother and his wife took a trip down UNCLE TOM'S TRAIL to the base of the Lower Yellowstone Fall. They returned later, excited not a little, to tell of their adventure and what they had seen. I regretted that they did not wait until morning so that I could go with them, but I was so elated with the description of the fall that I was determined to go down the trail, if I had to go alone. The next morning when I saw how hazardous the undertaking would be, there was nothing that could have induced me to descend the rocky steep over which they had traveled. Sister Lillian and I got a good view of the fall from a prominence near the edge of the canyon, and this satisfied me. Just before the water makes its tremendous leap, it is compressed within a width of about 100 feet, where it seems to slow down to prepare for the shock before it dashes 308 feet over the rocks. Here from the foaming mass of spray, gorgeous rainbows may be seen. The eye is then inclined to follow the little stream that dwindles away between the rocky sides of the great chasm, foaming and dashing as it goes, until it looks like a silver thread in the distance. The rainbow colors at the fall, blending with the various tints and hues reflected from the mineral formations on the sides of the canyon, presented a picture that no artist could paint.