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Show Yellowstone's Old Faithful required-the column of water would jet up again. We estimated that the spurts shot skyward 75 to 125 feet. On a quiet frosty morning the steamy plume rose three times as high and could be seen all up and down the desert. Father's knowledge about the Springs was again in demand, at the store, on picnics. We youths were joyful. We thought the geyser more wonderful than Yellowstone's. The grownups responded too. That ridge around the geyser hosted hundreds of sightseers and a whole new series of picnics. The trails grew deep in dust. People drove from Milford, Minersville, Beaver, even farther away. Around the gusher the story was told-with increasing embroidery-of the well-driller 's perilous time getting himself and his gear out of the boiling water and live steam. Peeling our hard-boiled eggs, we old hands flattered ourselves by telling a new story about some Minersvillians who didn't know the first thing about Springs cookery. We were too smart to attempt to boil eggs in a water-spout. We chose a quietly bubbling witches' kettle some distance away. We put the eggs in an old cloth floursack, tied the bag shut with baling wire, leaving a length of wire to lower the eggs into the pool. Thus we could lift them out without losing them or scalding our hands. But those tenderfeet from Minersville-they laid a couple dozen eggs in a flat cake pan. As soon as an eruption of the geyser had ended they hurried up and placed the pan over the very hole from which the roaring surge would emerge. |
