on a waste of
white where green-grey, black-yellow, and pink pools roared, shouted,
bubbled, or hissed as their wicked fancies prompted. By the look of the
eye the place should have been frozen over. By the feel of the feet it
was warm. I ventured out among the pools, carefully following tracks,
but one unwary foot began to sink, a squirt of water followed, and
having no desire to descend quick into Tophet I returned to the shore
where the mud and the sulphur and the nameless fat ooze-vegetation of
Lethe lay. But the very road rang as though built over a gulf; and
besides, how was I to tell when the raving blast of steam would find its
vent insufficient and blow the whole affair into Nirvana? There was a
potent stench of stale eggs everywhere, and crystals of sulphur crumbled
under the foot, and the glare of the sun on the white stuff was
blinding. Sitting under a bank, to me appeared a young trooper--ex-Cape
mounted Rifles, this man: the real American seems to object to his
army--mounted on a horse half-maddened by the noise and steam and smell.
He carried only the six-shooter and cartridge-belt. On service the
Springfield carbine (which is clumsy) and a cartridge-belt slung
diagonally complete equipment. The sword is no earthly use for Border
warfare and, except at state parades, is never worn. The saddle is the
McClellan tree over a four-folded blanket. Sweat-leathers you must pay
for yourself. And the beauty of the tree is that it necessitates first
very careful girthing and a thorough knowledge of tricks with the
blanket to suit the varying conditions of the horse--a broncho will
bloat in a night if he can get at a bellyful--and, secondly, even more
careful riding to prevent galling. Crupper and breast-band do not seem
to be used,--but they are casual about their accoutrements,--and the bit
is the single, jaw-breaking curb which American war-pictures show us.
That young man was very handsome, and the grey service hat--most like
the under half of a seedy terai--shaded his strong face admirably as his
horse backed and shivered and sidled and plunged all over the road, and
he lectured from his saddle, one foot out of the heavy-hooded stirrup,
one hand on the sweating neck. "He's not used to the Park, this brute,
and he's a confirmed bolter on parade; but we understand each other."
_Whoosh!_ went the steam-blast down the road with a dry roar. Round spun
the troop horse prepared to bolt, and, his momentum being suddenly