outside resources, is
hardly fair to all parties, and especially to "The Banker."

Sunday, August 28.--To-day being Sunday, we remained all day in our
camp, which Washburn and Everts have named "Camp Comfort," as we have an
abundance of venison and trout.

We visited the falls of the creek, the waters of which tumble over the
rocks and boulders for the distance of 200 yards from our camp, and then
fall a distance of 110 feet, as triangulated by Mr. Hauser. Stickney
ventured to the verge of the fall, and, with a stone attached to a
strong cord, measured its height, which he gives as 105 feet.

The stream, in its descent to the brink of the fall, is separated into
half a dozen distorted channels which have zig-zagged their passage
through the cement formation, working it into spires, pinnacles, towers
and many other capricious objects. Many of these are of faultless
symmetry, resembling the minaret of a mosque; others are so grotesque as
to provoke merriment as well as wonder. One of this latter character we
named "The Devil's Hoof," from its supposed similarity to the proverbial
foot of his Satanic majesty. The height of this rock from its base is
about fifty feet.

[Illustration: DEVIL'S HOOF.]

The friable rock forming the spires and towers and pinnacles crumbles
away under a slight pressure. I climbed one of these tall spires on the
brink of the chasm overlooking the fall, and from the top had a
beautiful view, though it was one not unmixed with terror. Directly
beneath my feet, but probably about one hundred feet below me, was the
verge of the fall, and still below that the deep gorge through which the
creek went bounding and roaring over the boulders to its union with the
Yellowstone. The scenery here cannot be called grand or magnificent, but
it is most beautiful and picturesque. The spires are from 75 to 100 feet
in height. The volume of water is about six or eight times that of
Minnehaha fall, and I think that a month ago, while the snows were still
melting, the creek could not easily have been forded. The route to the
foot of the fall is by a well worn Indian trail running to the mouth of
the creek over boulders and fallen pines, and through thickets of
raspberry bushes.

At the mouth of the creek on the Yellowstone is a hot sulphur spring,
the odor from which is perceptible in our camp to-day. At the base of
the fall we found a large petrifaction of wood imbedded in the debris of
the falling cement an