THE INFANT GEYSER GETS BUSY

“I am going to visit the terraces,” announced Grace after breakfast next morning. “Who is coming with me?”

“The entire party, I reckon,” answered Elfreda. “Ponies or on foot?”

“Ponies, of course,” spoke up Hippy. “Walking is most tiresome exercise. That’s why I took up flying when we entered the World War,” he added amid laughter.

An early start was made that morning, and shortly after sun-up the Overlanders dismounted at the base of the terraces, tethered their horses, and, led by the guide, began the upward climb, Stacy Brown, as usual, straggling some distance behind his companions. The party’s first halt was made at the “Infant Geyser,” and much merriment followed when the guide told them what it was.

“What’s all the row about?” demanded Stacy as he came puffing up and saw a column of water, about the size of a lead pencil, squirting a few inches above the ground. “What is that thing?”

“Perhaps it is ‘Old Faithful,’” answered Emma teasingly.

“You don’t say?” Stacy drew near, eyeing the “Infant” appraisingly.

“This is the ‘Infant Geyser,’” Grace informed him. “‘Old Faithful’ throws a column of water one hundred and fifty feet high.”

“You don’t say?” repeated the fat boy. “How often?”

“About once every hour, I believe, Come! The others are getting ahead of us,” urged Grace, moving on up the mountain-side.

Stacy glanced up the terraces, then down at the ponies, and concluding that his party would have to pass the “Infant” on their return, decided to remain where he was and “wait for the explosion” of the little geyser. The Overlanders, however, apprehensive that the boy might get into fresh difficulties, cast frequent glances in his direction. Finally, Jim Badger became suddenly interested too.

“What’s he doin’?” demanded the guide.

Stacy appeared to be hammering at something, and was so busy at his task that he probably had forgotten the very existence of his companions. After a few moments of activity on his part, they saw him get up and begin to jump up and down.

“I reckon we’d better find out what that boy is up to,” suggested Tom Gray. “After this we mustn’t let him get away from us. We had better make haste.” Tom started sprinting down the terraces, followed by the others of the party, running, sliding, stumbling and laughing at their frequent mishaps.

“Oh, look!” cried Emma Dean.

There was no need for her warning shout, for every member of the Overland party had seen Stacy Brown suddenly fade out of sight, as a dull report assailed their ears, and a volume of steam and water showered over the immediate vicinity of the “Infant.” The fat boy was now nowhere to be seen.

“He’s done it! He’s done it!” wailed Nora.

“What’s happened?” shouted Lieutenant Wingate, the first to reach the “Infant.”

“I’m boiled alive!” groaned Stacy, who was found lying flat on his back, the picture of misery. “Put me on a chunk of ice. Oh, wow!”

“What is it?” called Tom Gray, running up red of face and out of breath.

“The geezer blew up,” moaned Chunky.

“Stop your nonsense!” commanded Hippy, giving his fat nephew a vigorous shake. “Did the geyser erupt?”

“Did it erupt? Look at me!”

“He’s been doin’ somethin’ to that spouter,” declared the guide, who had been examining the exploded “Infant.” “I reckon we’d better be git-tin’ out of here before one of them Park guards comes nosin’ ’round.”

“I can’t walk or ride. I’m all scalded,” complained Stacy. “I can’t even sit down, and I know I’ll have to sleep standing up, like a horse.”

“All right, stay where you are,” retorted Tom Gray. “When the guards come along I reckon you will move.”

This warning had the desired effect, and Chunky got up without assistance, starting at a limping run for his pony. He appeared to be stiff in every joint, and used his legs as if they were a pair of wooden pegs stuck into his body at the hips. It was a funny sight, but only Emma Dean laughed.

The Overlanders quickly mounted and rode away, finally pulling up under a thick growth of slender pines.

“Why should we run away like this? We have done nothing,” protested Miss Briggs.

“Mebby we have,” answered Badger enigmatically. “If you folks want to, we can go back soon. Then everythin’ will be all right, but don’t you let anybody know you was near that spouter when it went off, Brown.”

“I want to examine that geyser further,” announced Tom after the party had rested for a few moments. “Now that the excitement is over we will ride back and have a look at it.”

The Overlanders followed Tom, and as they finally came on a level with the “Infant” they discovered two Park guards intently gazing into the hole in the ground left by the explosion.

“What’s the matter?” called Jim Badger.

“I reckon the baby had the colic,” answered a guard.

“Ho, ho; ha, ha!” laughed Chunky. “That’s a good joke.”

“Something must have stopped the vent,” said the guard.

Stacy suggested that perhaps a rock may have got jammed in the hole.

“No harm done. So long,” called the troopers as they started away.

“Now tell us about it,” urged Elfreda, gently tugging at Stacy’s sleeve. “What did you do to that geyser?”

“I? Why, noth—”

“Never mind, Stacy. We don’t care to know I anything about it,” interrupted Grace. “If we do not know, we surely cannot answer questions, should any be asked. Are we all agreed on that?”

All except Hippy said they were. He said he would talk with his nephew later. The Overland Riders then returned to their ponies and rode on in search of further sights.

“We’re comin’ to the Devil’s Frying Pan,” finally announced Badger, pointing to a circular opening in the earth, about eight feet in diameter.

“I don’t like the name. It sounds shivery,” objected Emma.

“That’s his thumb over yonder,” continued the guide, nodding to Stacy.

“I’m not interested,” returned Chunky. “Show me an angel trail, a cherub geyser or even a bit of angel cake and I’ll look at it. When do we eat?”

The guide said they would halt for luncheon when they reached the “Black Geyser.” The roar of this, the first of the big geysers, was soon in their ears and, as they came in sight of the clouds of steam it belched forth, exclamations of amazement rose to every lip. As they neared the great spouter, a strong odor of sulphur assailed their nostrils.

“Stacy, this is the place that you have been looking for,” cried Emma, sniffing the air suspiciously.

“That is better than having the place looking for me,” retorted Chunky.

After luncheon the afternoon was spent in visiting other wonders of the Park, and shortly before sundown the Overlanders turned their horses homeward. As they passed the Springs Hotel, Stacy called out that he was going to stop there to buy a package of gum.

“Look sharp that you don’t get into trouble,” warned Lieutenant Wingate. “If you do, remember you will have to get out of it as best you can.”

“I reckon I know how to take care of myself without any of your assistance,” flung back the fat boy as he headed his pony around the rear of the hotel and passed out of sight of his companions.

That was the last the Overland Riders saw of Stacy Brown that night. Stacy purchased his gum and stood about chewing it for some time. It did not occur to him that he would be too late for dinner at the camp until darkness had settled over the Park. When thus reminded, Stacy started at a trot for his pony.

In the meantime the Overlanders were wondering what had become of him. They delayed dinner for an hour before they sat down to eat. Dinner finally finished and still no Chunky, his companions wondered still more.

“Perhaps Chunky decided to take dinner at the hotel,” suggested Miss Briggs.

“Not unless someone invited him to dinner,” spoke up Nora. “Chunky never spends any money unless he has to.”

“I cannot permit you to so disparage that boy, Nora Wingate,” rebuked Emma. “Did he not leave us to buy five cents’ worth of gum at the hotel?”

“You win,” laughed Grace. “Tom, should Stacy not return soon, do you not think it would be advisable for someone to go to the hotel in search of him?”

“Stacy is all right. Why worry?” answered Tom.

The Overland Riders did worry, however, and, though they discussed other things than the missing boy, he was constantly on the mind of each member of the outfit. Nora was the first to voice her worry.

“Hippy Wingate, I want you to go and find Stacy at once,” she exclaimed. “I can’t stand this worry another minute.”

“Very well. I suppose there will be no sleep in this outfit until I solve the mystery,” answered Lieutenant Wingate, getting up and stretching himself. “I’d a heap sight rather go to bed.”

“Hippy!” admonished Nora.

“All right. I’ll go.” Hippy stalked from camp grumbling under his breath, determined, once he laid hands on his trouble-breeding nephew, to punish him severely.

Reaching the hotel, Lieutenant Wingate went directly to the night clerk and made inquiries. The clerk had neither seen nor heard of Stacy Brown—in fact he did not know who the boy was.

Hippy went out wondering what next to do. Observing a sentry, one of the Park guards, pacing up and down before the army headquarters, the Overland Rider approached and hailed the sentry.

“Have you seen anything of a fat boy named Brown ’round here this evening, Buddy?” he questioned.

The sentry said that he had not.

“May I see Colonel Appleby?” asked the Overlander after a moment’s reflection.

“The colonel is away to-night and will not return until some time to-morrow.”

“Who is in charge?”

“Lieutenant Chambers.”

“May I see him?”

The sentry said that the acting commanding officer was asleep and could not be disturbed.

“Oh, very well.” Hippy started away, then halting, called back to the sentry to ask if a prisoner had been brought in that evening.

“No. Not since I went on duty.”

That was all Lieutenant Wingate could think of at the moment. He did not know what to do next, then all at once he bethought him of Stacy’s pony, and immediately began searching for the little animal. That quest also failed. He found no trace of the Overland pony, so Hippy reluctantly turned towards camp. Reaching there, he reported his failure to find Stacy.

The Overland Riders were now fully aroused. Nora insisted that the entire party should go out and make a thorough search for the missing boy, but Tom said that this was not practicable, that the wise plan would be to turn in and wait for daylight; then, should the boy still be missing, to have the Park guards assist in the search for him. It was decided to follow Tom’s suggestion, whereupon the Overlanders began to prepare for bed. Some of them already had turned in when a shout aroused the camp.

“Hello the camp!” shouted a voice.

“It’s Stacy!” cried Nora. “Oh, I’m so glad.”

“No. It is not Stacy,” answered Grace. “It is a strange voice.”

“What is it?” called the guide.

“I got a message for you. Is there a feller named Wingate—Lieutenant Wingate—here?” answered a voice from the darkness.

“Yes. Come in,” answered Hippy. “Hurry up!”

A boy, who proved to be an employee of the Springs Hotel, entered the circle of light cast by the campfire. Hippy strode forward to meet him.

A brief note, scribbled on a soiled piece of wrapping paper, was handed to the Overland Rider.

“The feller who gave this to me said as you was to pay me a dollar for delivering it,” announced the messenger.

Hippy, without replying, scanned the note. What he read out loud to the eager Overlanders was as follows: