that," said Larry, "if he won't shuffle off this
seat," Pointing to my companion. Larry asked me: "What is that
gintleman's business?"

"He is a teacher of singing," I answered.

[Illustration: LARRY'S LUNCH-STATION.]

"Faith," said Larry, "I'd like to have him try my voice. There is
something very strange about my vocal chords. Whenever I sing, the
Black Growler stops. One tourist told me it was a case of
professional jealousy, and said the Black Growler was envious of my
_forte_ tones. 'I have not forty tones,' I said, 'I've only one
tone,' 'Well,' says he, 'make a note of it!'"

[Illustration: THE BISCUIT BASIN.]

Only once in his life has Larry been put to silence. Two years ago, a
gentleman remarked to him: "Well, Larry, good-by; come and visit me
next winter in the East. In my house you shall have a nice room, and,
if you are ill, shall enjoy a doctor's services free of all expense."

"Thank you," said Larry, "plaze give me your card."

The tourist handed it to him; and Larry, with astonishment and
horror, read beneath the gentleman's name these words:
"Superintendent of the Insane Asylum, Utica, New York."

Some hours after leaving Larry's lunch-station, we reached another
area of volcanic action. Our nerves were steadier now. The close
proximity to Hades was less evident; yet here hot mineral water had
spread broadcast innumerable little mounds of silica, which look so
much like biscuits grouped in a colossal pan that this is called the
Biscuit Basin; but they are not the kind that "mother used to make."
If a tourist asked for bread here, he would receive a stone; since
all these so-called biscuits are as hard as flint. We walked upon
their crusts with perfect safety; yet, in so doing, our boots grew
warm beneath our feet, for the water in this miniature archipelago is
heated to the boiling point.

[Illustration: A GEYSER POOL.]

"Show me a geyser!" I at last exclaimed impatiently, "I want to see a
genuine geyser." Accordingly our guide conducted us to what he
announced as "The Fountain." I looked around me with surprise. I saw
no fountain, but merely a pool of boiling water, from which the light
breeze bore away a thin, transparent cloud of steam. It is true,
around this was a pavement as delicately fashioned as any piece of
coral ever taken from the sea. Nevertheless, while I admired that, I
could not understand why this comparatively tranquil pool was called
a geyser, and frankly said I was disa