Maw's Vacation: The Story of a Human Being in the Yellowstone

Chapter 3

Chapter 31,369 wordsPublic domain

"We're making quite a stay here in the park--longer than what we allowed we would do, Paw and me. The girls seem to be having a sort of good time here, one thing with another. You can't leave a girl alone anywheres here, unless she's taken in by some perfessor or ranger or guide or cook or chauffeur or something, who comes along and carries her off to show her the bears or Old Faithful or Inspiration Point or something. Seems to me like we've heard them words before, too--and then there's Lovers' Leap and the Devil's Slide. We've even got them in Ioway, where the hills is rough.

"Set down on the log here," said Maw, "and rest yourself, and I'll build up the fire. Ain't it fine outdoors? I declare, I let out my corsets four inches above and below, I breathe that much deeper here in the mountains; and the air makes you feel so fine. What was I saying?--oh, about my knitting. You see at home, when I get my work done, I knit or crochet or embroider. Mary's baby is a right cute little thing, and I like to sew or knit things anyways. But Joseph said to me: 'Now, Maw! Now you forget it; we're going to have a vacation now, with no work at all for no one at all, and all strings off. We're just going to have one mighty good time,' says Joseph to me. At first, having nothing to do, I felt right strange, but I'm getting used to it now, though I do think I could knit comfortable while setting watching the geysers spout.

"I dunno how we happened to come out so far as this--we didn't allow to spend over two hundred dollars, but I allow we've spent over five hundred or six hundred dollars now. The funny thing is, Paw don't seem to care. He always was aggressive. He just driv right on West till we got here. He said his Paw traveled across all that country in a ox team, and he allowed he could in a automobile. So we done it, and here we are. I don't care if we don't get home till after harvest."

Many and many a talk I had with Maw, dear old Maw, some sixty thousand of her, this past summer. The best of all vacations is to see someone else having a vacation who never has had a vacation before in his or her life. The delight of Maw in this new phase of her existence has been my main delight for many a week in the months spent, not so much in watching geysers as in watching Maw. Sometimes I steal away from the pleadings of the saxophone, leaving even Stella O'Cleave with the slumberous eyes sitting alone at the log rail of Old Faithful Inn. I want to see Maw once more, and talk with her once again about the virtues of a vacation now and again; at least once in a lifetime spent in work for others.

I do not always find the girls at home in the camp. For some reason they seem of late to be out later and later of evenings. Paw has found a crony here and there about the camps, and swaps reminiscences of this sort or that. Sometimes I find Maw alone, sitting on the log, gazing into her little camp fire. Once, I recall, one of the girls was at home.

"Roweny!" called out Maw suddenly. "Roweny, where are you? Come and talk to the gentleman."

A voice replied from the other side of the car, where Rowena was sitting on the running board. I discovered her, chin in hand, looking out into the dark.

"I was afraid some perfessor had got her," explained Maw to me. "Come on out, Roweny, and set by the fire. This gentleman seems sort of nice, and he's old."

Rowena, seventeen years of age, uncrossed her long young limbs and came out of the darkness, seating herself on the running board on our side, where the firelight shone on her clean young features, her splendid young figure of an American girl. She was comely enough in her spiral putties and her tanned boots as she sat, her small round chin on the hand whose arm was supported by a knee. Rowena appeared downcast. While Maw was busy a moment later, I asked her why.

I think it must have been the mountain moon again; for Rowena, seventeen years of age, once more looked gloomily out into the night.

"If I thought I could ever find a man that would understand me I believe I would marry him!" said she, as has every young girl in her time.

"Tut, tut! Rowena!" I replied. "I believe that I understand you, simple as I am myself, and you need not marry me at all. I understand you perfectly. You are just a fine young girl, out on almost your first vacation, with your Maw. It is the moon, Rowena. It is youth, Rowena, and the air of the hills. Believe me, it will all come right when the cook has finished his Princeton; of that I am sure.

"And Rowena," I added, "you will grow up after a while--you will grow up to be a wholesome, useful American woman, precisely like your Maw."

"Precisely?" said Rowena, smiling.

But I saw how soft her eye was, after all, when I mentioned Maw--her Maw, who came out of another day; who has worked so hard she is uncomfortable now without her knitting when Old Faithful plays.

"Come, Rowena," said I, and held out my hand to her. "Let us go."

"Land sakes!" exclaimed Maw, just then emerging into the firelight of the sagebrush camp. "I almost got a turn. One of them two bears, Teddy and Eymogene, is always hanging round us begging for doughnuts, and here it was standing on its hind legs and mooching its nose, and I stepped right into it. I declare, I can't hardly get used to bears. There ain't none in Ioway. But if Eymogene gets into my bed again tonight I declare I'll bust her on the snoot, no matter what the park regulations is. People has got to sleep. Not that you girls seem to be troubled about sleeping. Where were you going?"

She spoke as Rowena and I stood hand in hand, after so brief an acquaintance as might not elsewhere have served us, except in these vacation hills.

"I was going," said I, "to take Rowena up past the camp and beyond the hotel and the electric light to the curio store. I was going to get something for Rowena to bring to you--a sort of present from a nice old man, you know."

"As which?" said Maw.

"I was going with Rowena, Maw," said I, "to get you a present."

"As which?"

"And it shall be a leather pillow; and on it shall be the word 'Mother.'"

You see, the moon on the sage makes a strange light.

It may even enable you to see into the hearts of other people.

Standard Books on the Yellowstone

HAYNES GUIDE. The Complete Handbook of Yellowstone Park; 1921 ed. 8 vo., 160 pp. Officially approved by The National Park Service, Washington, D. C., and The Yellowstone Trail Association. Illustrated, maps, diagrams, charts. Descriptive, Historical, Geological, and contains the Motorists' Complete Road Log; By J. E. Haynes, B. A. 83c postpaid

THE DISCOVERY OF YELLOWSTONE PARK. Diary of the Expedition to the Yellowstone and Firehole Rivers in 1870. 8 vo., board, 122 pp. Illustrated; Maps; Drawings; By Nathaniel P. Langford, first superintendent of the Park, who served for five years without pay to save the Park for the American people. $1.62 postpaid

YELLOWSTONE IN JINGLETONE, a De Luxe booklet of catchy jingles containing "Geysergrams," "Recollections of a Barn Dog," "The Buffalo Stampede," "Paintin' the Canyon," etc., in envelope suitable for mailing; By C. A. Brewer. 55c postpaid

_Published by_ J. E. HAYNES ST. PAUL