Life is
triumphant now; but who shall say that Death may not again prove
conqueror? If not immediately, Death may well be patient. He will
rule all this planet in the end.

[Illustration: A NATURAL BRIDGE.]

[Illustration: A PETRIFIED FOREST.]

No one can travel through the Yellowstone Park without imagining how
it looks in winter. The snowfall is enormous, some drifts in the
ravines being hundreds of feet deep, and, owing to the increased
supply of water, the geysers throw higher streams. No traveling is
possible then except on snowshoes; and it is with difficulty that
some of the Park hotels are reached as late as the middle of May. Of
course, in such a frigid atmosphere, the steam arising from the
geysers is almost instantly congealed; and eye-witnesses affirm that,
in a temperature of forty degrees below zero, the clouds of vapor
sent up by Old Faithful rose fully two thousand feet, and were seen
ten miles away.

[Illustration: THE PARK IN WINTER.]

It can be well imagined that to do much exploration here, in winter,
is not alone immensely difficult, but dangerous. In 1887 an
expedition was formed, headed by Lieutenant Frederick Schwatka; but,
though he was experienced as an Arctic traveler, in three days he
advanced only twenty miles, and finally gave out completely. Most of
the exploring party turned back with him; but four kept heroically
on, one of whom was the photographer, Mr. F.J. Haynes, of St. Paul.
Undismayed by Schwatka's failure, he and his comrades bravely
persisted in their undertaking. For thirty days the mercury never
rose higher than ten degrees below zero. Once it marked fifty-two
degrees below! Yet these men were obliged to camp out every night,
and carry on their shoulders provisions, sleeping-bags, and
photographic instruments. But, finally, they triumphed over every
obstacle, having in midwinter made a tour of two hundred miles
through the Park. Nevertheless, they almost lost their lives in the
attempt. At one point, ten thousand feet above the sea, a fearful
blizzard overtook them. The cold and wind seemed unendurable, even
for an hour, but they endured them for three days. A sharp sleet cut
their faces like a rain of needles, and made it perilous to look
ahead. Almost dead from sheer exhaustion, they were unable to lie
down for fear of freezing; chilled to the bone, they could make no
fire; and, although fainting, they had not a mouthful for
seventy-two hours. What a terrific chapter