Again a few starts and stops, and as if turned into view by machinery, came the northwest quarter of the Park, with all the country they had traversed--Electric Peak, in whose shadow they had entered upon their journey, Sepulcher Mountain, with its grave and the monuments at head and foot no longer to be made out, the valley of Carnelian Creek at their feet, and beyond it the jagged range, of which Prospect, Folsom and Storm Peaks are the culminations. "That's something you don't always see," said Aconite, pointing to something away off to the northwest. "That thing is the Devil's Slide." "And we saw his Inkstand yesterday," said the Hired Man. "He seems to've preëmpted a lot of this here region." "Well," remarked the Colonel sardonically, "isn't the Park dedicated to the enjoyment, as well as the benefit of the people?" "It started as 'Colter's Hell,'" suggested the Groom. "In Old Jim Bridger's time," said Aconite, "it rained fire up here in these hills one year." "I don't doubt it," assented the Artist. "And we've either seen or are promised a view of Hell Roaring Creek, Hell Broth Springs, Hell's Half Acre, Satan's Arbor, and a lot of other infernal real estate." "It's heavenly up _here_!" said the Bride. Once at the summit the Park lay under their eyes like a map--all these and a thousand other features to be taken in by merely turning about. The land was sown with every variety of all that is wild and beautiful and strange; the sky was filled with peaks. Here they had mountains to spare. They looked, and looked, and grew tired of looking--and then gazed again. The wind blew up and whipped their faces; and the sun was far past the meridian, passing south through the silvery splotch of Yellowstone Lake, when Aconite literally loaded them into the surrey, and drove down the mighty flanks of Washburn, northwardly, until he found a place where a fire could be builded and luncheon prepared. "You folks mustn't fergit," said he, "that scenery ain't so fillin' f'r them as looks it every little while, as it is f'r the tenderfoot." * * * * * The Professor was evidently pleased when his name came from the Stetson for the second time. He seemed to have something on his mind. Fully a mile short of Tower Falls, which they planned to visit in the early morning, they camped in dense forest, with a party of sight-seers just so far away as to seem neighborly without intrenching on privacy. "This is the best camp we've had," said the Bride, hooking her hands over her knee, and gazing into the fire. "Sure," said Billy. "Every camp is the best in life, for me, honey! Listen to the Professor, now--nobody heard!" THE FEDERAL IMP COMPANY THE PROFESSOR'S SECOND TALE