Hotspot

By William James Stoness

The strong earthquakes that disrupted the flow of Old Faithful sent scientists scurrying to find the cause. Little did they expect to find magma flowing into the old magma chamber of one of Earth's largest dormant volcanoes. The story follows the chaotic events on the Yellowstone Plateau as the surface rises and an eruption of gargantuan size appears to be imminent.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William James Stoness
• Release date: Nov 19, 2010
• ISBN: 9780973629583

William James Stoness

William James Stoness grew up on a farm in Eastern Ontario. After graduating from Queen's University he started into a career teaching Chemistry. A youthful interest in geography and geology encouraged him to travel by RV across Canada and the United States where he photographed scenery and geological phenomena. It was this travel which developed an interest in the Old West, an interest which has led him to write several novels about the never ending fight between the 'good cowboys and the bad hombres'. In his westerns, Mr. Stoness writes with an exciting descriptive style, emphasizing the beauty of the southwest, and matching the stories to the terrain to create a feel of reality. In his novel 'The Yellowstone Hotspot', the author fashions his tale around the geologically active volcanic hotspot that exists under the famous park. Mr. Stoness is also working on a scenic driving series "Tour North America". Each travel guide consists of several driving tours that interconnect so that the reader can link together driving tours which interest him to create longer scenic drives, all of which list things to see and do. Each book is packed with photos and maps. Geological interesting facts help explain the marvelous scenery of this continent. Over his lifetime the author has had many varied experiences. He has been a pilot, a teacher, and a farmer and is a skilled carpenter using lumber from his own sawmill. As well, he has been involved in conservation, is an advanced ham operator, and spent time as head of council in municipal politics. Mr. Stoness creates his travel guides using Adobe InDesign.

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HOTSPOT

William James Stoness

Published by Stoness Publications at Smashwords

Copyright 2001 James Stoness

ISBN-13: 978-0-9736295-8-3

Acknowledgments

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

All characters in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to any person living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Cast

John Gimli the chairman of the President’s Special Advisory Committee

George Curtis - a Professor of Volcanology at the University

Professor Seward associate of Dr. Curtis

Park Ranger Ken Allan

Harold McDougal, an expert in earthquakes.

Marci Tamworth is our chemist

David Brown is her analyst friend

Floyd Tupper is from the Vice-President’s National Emergency Committee

Charlie Whitelaw, chairman of the National Park Commission

John Allport from the US Geological Service

Roger Abanger experienced in the field of geysers

Deborah Cavannagh is a graduating student of Dr. Curtis’s class

Bill Hauch Troop leader - kept the forty boy scouts

Ellis Clark - Red headed 20 yrs old troop leader

Don Koss- good friend of Ellis and also a troop leader

Frank Delany was nineteen years old. Tall, slim, and rugged and also a troop leader of the scouts

HOTSPOT

Chapter 1: Monday, July 18 Park Ranger Gets Startling Call

Yellowstone National Park lay slumbering in the summer night. Although there was a night chill in the air, the thermal features of the park functioned much as they had for thousands of years. Hot springs gurgled and surged, throwing their super-heated water into the air to fall unnoticed on white slippery banks. The geysers erupted on a schedule that was predetermined by rules of nature yet unknown. The mud pots, surely one of the most interesting features in the park, sputtered and spat hot gobs of mud in random directions, but mostly unseen, at least by humans. Life went on as usual, but change was in the air. A rumble like a freight train on a metal bridge passed through the park, followed by a mild shaking, and then it was as it was before.

The harsh jangling of the telephone roused Park Ranger Ken Allan from a sound sleep. As chief ranger he was accustomed to being pulled from his comfortable bed to attend an emergency situation. Accustomed perhaps, but definitely not inured to the rude awakening that always accompanies a middle of the night phone call.

Fumbling the receiver to his ear his tired voice rasped out, Allan here!

Ranger Allan? This is John Allport of the US Geological Service. Sorry to wake you sir, but I have some information about last night’s earthquakes. I wouldn’t have phoned so early but I thought that you would be up already because of the quakes.

Is this supposed to be a joke? He paused, and then spoke angrily, "Who is this?

Damn! Is that you Paul? If it is, I’ll tell you that I’m not one bit amused. You know very well we worked late last night. There hasn’t been any earthquake here, I’m going back to bed, Allan fumed preparing to hang up the receiver.

Uh, uh.... wait sir, don’t hang up. This isn’t Paul. It’s John Allport from the Geological Service. I’m sorry I awoke you, but I have to inform you that there have been two medium tremors early this morning. You must have slept right through them, managed Allport, trying to think of the correct words to mollify the unhappy Ranger.

Who did you say you were? Allan said into the mouthpiece, the cobwebs of sleep slowly vaporizing from his brain.

Allport, sir, John Allport. I work with the Earthquake Centre here in Boise. I thought that you should be informed about the shocks.

Ranger Allan swung his feet over the side of the bed. Go ahead. I think I’m awake now.

The metallic voice in his ear went on. Yes sir. This morning, at 2:12 a.m., a 4.3 magnitude shock hit western Wyoming. A second tremor, 3.8 magnitude followed at 3.20 a.m.

I don’t think I understand why you are calling. Don’t we have earthquakes like that from time to time, why call me about this one?

He could hear the concern in the man’s voice. This one was different. The magnitude was considerably larger than the usual background tremors that we are accustomed to seeing coming from Yellowstone Park. The next point I would like to make is that the tremors were not associated with any of the major better-known faults. They came from inside the Park, in fact just a short distance right below you at your headquarters.

John Allport could hear the new silence on the line.

And you think that this is a new trend?

We don’t know. We’ll be following it closely, and I thought you should hear it from me before the media blow it all out of proportion.

Ranger Allan shuddered involuntarily at the thought. He pictured scare tactic headlines.

OLD FAITHFUL SHAKEN, GREATER QUAKES EXPECTED

Allan realized that many news outlets used alarmist tactics. It was a great way to sell news, and was ever the way of some of the large newspapers. But, it wouldn’t be fair to the park. Anyone who knew anything about the geology of the park realized just how frail the line between having exciting geysers like Old Faithful or the Riverside, and having them become feeble springs of hot water.

Turning back to the phone he thanked John Allport for the report and returned the receiver to the cradle. He rose from the side of the bed and walked to the window. Raindrops chattered against the glass making him shiver. The wind stirred the branches of a nearby pine so they scratched at the roof with clawing fingers. Still dark. He went back to the phone and began dialing, then abruptly hung up before the call went through. No point getting anybody else up, he muttered. Again he shivered from the coolness of the air in the cabin and crawled back into bed. At least he was comfortable.

He wanted to sleep but his mind raced, conjuring up endless thoughts, all involving the new earthquakes under Old Faithful. Earthquakes were nothing new to the Yellowstone Plateau, the plateau having been the child of the fire and fury of a cataclysmic explosion that rent a massive hole into the earth and sent out waves of dust and ash that created the surrounding mountains. This dust circled the earth to become part of the geologic history stored in the sedimentary rocks of many countries. Certainly the huge collection of some 10,000 hot springs, geysers and fumaroles was ample evidence that a great deal of hot rock still lurked not too far below the surface of the park. But had it not been ever so? he mused as he tried to turn off the mental flow of data that kept him awake. So, he wondered, why should we be concerned about a minor change in the characteristics of a few errant earthquakes?

He listened to his old mantle clock ticking away the long sleepless minutes. He had purchased the clock at an auction sale somewhere in Ohio. It had been a whim, stopping there at the auction. He still didn’t know why he had done it. Maybe he was tired of the driving. He remembered that it was necessary to slow down because of the cars parked on both sides of the road. People were walking carelessly along the road, so he had decided to stop. Maybe it was because he was hungry and knew that it was the custom for local country groups to provide the food at rural sales, and the food would be tasty and abundant. Whatever the reason, he did stop and wandered through the yard where they were holding the auction. And on one of the tables he saw an old mantle clock. He had a passion for these ‘companion’ clocks, for that is what they are. Always there to keep you company, to help you pass the time, day or night, speaking out on the hour and the quarter hour with a loud voice, and muttering in soft tick tocks the whole of the day and night.

He knew right then he would own this clock. He spent over two hours waiting for it to go on the block, severely affecting his schedule, for even then he was heading west to interview for a job in the Park Service, and had no time to spare. Now he’d better be prepared to be late and suffer whatever consequences would go with such a rash act.

As it turned out he was in competition with two antique dealers who knew a good thing, and they wanted the clock too. When the bidding was over, he owned the clock, but at a cost he would never have believed. For a student, just out of college, it was a fortune. And the clock, well, it was scratched, faded and no beauty, but there was something about it that drew him on. As time went on he began to feel it had been a good luck charm, for it seemed that his life changed for the better after his outlandish purchase.

Up until now there had been misfortunes and disasters in his youthful life. At the age of ten he was orphaned when a drunken truck driver killed his parents, running them off the road on a curve in the mountains. He went to live with a loving aunt and enjoyed a couple of years of happiness before she too died. He was devastated. So he found himself orphaned for the second time and he was at the tender age of twelve. The next few years he bounced from relative to relative. Since he was in the obnoxious teen years, no one, it seemed, wanted to keep him around too long. In spite of this he remained true to his studies, a faith that at times was certainly hard to keep up. Just when a school became familiar to him he would find himself uprooted, and torn away from a comfortable set of friends and dropped into a new school with no friends. They were difficult years for him. But he kept going and one day he enrolled in college. It was during this time that he developed a lifelong interest in nature, environment, call it whatever you like, and decided he wanted to work with nature.

He arrived late for the interview, but it turned out all right. They fit him in at the end. After a long day of interviewing the interview team intended to hear him quickly, and then go home for the weekend. They were pleasantly surprised to find they were talking to a spirited young man with plenty of vision. They hired him on the spot. They took him out to supper, and one of the team took him home for the weekend. It was a tremendous start for the young man.

The clock called out the half hour and although Park Ranger Ken Allan was snug and warm under the blankets, but couldn’t get to sleep, so at 5:30 a.m. he slipped from his bed and dressed slowly. He was now feeling the effects of the last few sleepless hours. Feeling groggy he stumbled to the refrigerator and poured a glass of grapefruit juice. He sipped it slowly, grimacing with the bittersweet taste. Slowly, life returned to his system. He prepared a meagre breakfast of cereal, ate it slowly, and took the dishes to the sink where he washed them. It was not a task he enjoyed, but he hated much more to return to the cabin and see the dirty dishes waiting for him.

When he walked outside, the sun was sloping through the trees creating a warm pattern on the grass. The air had early morning clarity to it. Somewhere a car roared to life. A petulant child’s voice said, Ma, I wanna see Old Faithful. Come on, ma, we’ll be late.

The beginning of a normal day, he thought. The tourists are already awake and eager to see the best that this old Park has to offer. A soft movement caught his eye, and he noticed the gentle brown eyes of a female deer watching him. She stared for a moment, leaned down and cropped another morsel of grass from beside his cabin, and turning, vanished in a single bound.

What a beautiful creature, he said aloud, as he gazed at her escape into the trees. Man! That’s why you’re here. That’s what those years in school brought you, the goal you searched for when you didn’t even realize you were looking.

He climbed into his official car and started the engine. Accelerating slowly he left his driveway and followed the service road to the main parking lot. He parked in front of the Visitor Centre and stared at the wisp of steam rising from the pit that was Old Faithful’s lair. If everything went right, she would soon hurl herself from the depths of the earth sending thousands of gallons of steaming water skyward. No doubt about it. This geyser was a star, a legend, and the park’s star attraction. It had been seen by millions of people who had thrilled at its spectacular display. And he knew that just as many more people hoped to someday come to Yellowstone Park to see the geyser with its clock like regularity. Of course, that part was a myth. While the eruptions were close to an hour apart they varied several minutes each way, and the established pattern had changed after the big earthquake of 1983.

That one had been centred near the Big Lost River Range in Idaho, and it had been a bad one, 7.3 on the Richter scale of magnitude. Very bad, he mused. A lot of unfortunate campers were still buried beneath a mountain slide just west of the park’s boundary. Massive loss of life would have occurred if it had happened near some large city instead of in such a remote area. Although it occurred in a remote area, those unlucky campers were sleeping at the base of the only mountain that fell in the earthquake. How, he wondered, can you protect yourself from that sort of fate?

That quake raised the entire range a foot while the valley fell close to four feet. Even though it had been centred more than one hundred miles away, Old Faithful had been affected. For several days it did not erupt with such vigour or regularity as was normal. In time it recovered from the shock.

He knew it was unlikely that these latest tremors had damaged the underground plumbing. Small quakes were always present in the park, most of them emanating within the area of the old caldera. If you viewed a list of earthquakes you would find that small ones under magnitude two came almost hourly, strong evidence of the changes within the hot rock and magma below the surface in the caldera.

Ranger Allan looked at the eruption schedule bulletin board and registered surprise and annoyance when he saw that it had not yet been updated. He picked up the microphone and called Park Headquarters.

The dispatcher sent his call through to the administration desk in the Visitor Centre. Good morning, sir, responded a cheerful voice.

Good morning. Kate, can you tell me why the eruption schedule for Old Faithful is not up this morning?

Oh, oh! I’ll find out, sir. That’s the job of one of the summer recruits. It will be done, sir, immediately.

Thanks, Kate. Another thing, can you give me the time for the next eruption? I want to check it.

He could hear her consulting someone. It’s expected to be about five after seven. You’ve got about ten minutes, came back her response.

Thanks. I’ll talk to you later. He signed off, started the car, and drove towards the parking lot. There were still lots of spaces although this would not be true once the campers started coming in. It filled up fast then. Too bad, he mused, that there was no campground at Old Faithful. It seems to me that if campers could walk from a campground to the geysers here, it would relieve a lot of the traffic congestion.

The fact that earlier administrations had pushed for the removal of the popular campground was a sore point with Ranger Allan. Dammit, you have room for everything else, he fumed. Room for the bypass, room for the hotels, but no room for the campers. What do you mean, there’s no room? Old Faithful is the place for camping families so that the parents and the kids can walk the trails among the geysers at leisure, and return often. Why not get rid of some of the hotel rooms? He knew the reason, of course. Influential people controlled them. People whose money talked! His thoughts were well known. He had antagonized more than a few bigwigs. There were places where it had made him very unpopular.

He walked onto the boardwalk and looked towards the low mound that was Old Faithful. The geyser was located on a slight hill. Around it there was nothing but grass and geyserite, a rock that is formed when hot water emerges from the ground, cools and deposits the mineral load that it had dissolved deep in the earth. The buildings, as well as the boardwalk were well back from the geyser to make sure that the scalding water and steam would not injure the spectators.

The only problem is, he thought, that no one really gets to see the tremendous fountain of Old Faithful from up close. It looks spectacular from the walk, to be sure, but when you are up close, it’s immense. You can see the supremacy of nature, hear the roar and the hiss of the water, and you can feel the power of it. He could sense his emotions rising as he thought of it. The secret powers of the earth are immeasurable, and this geyser shows us what insignificant creatures we are. His thoughts were so intense that he looked around to see if anyone was watching him... to see if anyone had read his mind... so fiercely had he been thinking.

The early arrivals were eagerly looking towards the mound. He could hear muttered voices. Well it must be about time, what’s keeping it, dear? It was such a clearly spoken voice that he looked over the crowd to see. In the middle of the group a woman stood, leaning over the protective rail. Her eye was glued to a video camera, while her elbows tried to keep back her clothing that kept falling loosely across her camera. Her husband, he presumed, turned and said, Relax, when it’s ready, you’ll see it.

Ten minutes passed, and the mutterings got louder. People were beginning to stare at him. Suddenly everyone was looking back towards the geyser. A few oohs and aahs came from the crowd. A mother spoke to her child. Look, Janet, there goes Old Faithful.

But it wasn’t to be. At least it wasn’t to be for a few more minutes. Experienced viewers know that there should be a preliminary surge. Some water would surge out of the hole, and then retreat back inside. Sometimes there could be several small attempts that look like the start of an eruption. These early water movements are important to the operation of the geyser. The water that escapes relieves some of the pressure on the superheated water, far below. This allows some of the water to flash into steam, and begin to expand. The bubbles rise, pushing the column of water ahead of them, which relieves more pressure, creating more bubbles, until the steam throws the water out of the hole in a fantastic show of spray and steam.

Ranger Allan looked at his watch and noted that the geyser was erupting 15 minutes late. He looked over at the geyser and was shocked to see that when it finally erupted, it was thin and weak, a shadow of its regular performance.

A child’s voice broke into his thoughts. Hey, Mr. Ranger, what’s wrong with Old Faithful? A young girl was at his side, tugging at him.

I’m afraid I can’t tell you, young lady. I just don’t know. I certainly hope it’s nothing serious. Maybe if you can come back later, it will be all right again, he said to her, as he looked at the dwindling display.

Promise, Mister Ranger? Will you have it fixed when I get back? He looked at the child. In her innocence she was portraying him, or his uniform, with god-like powers. In her eyes he should be able to make everything right.

He looked at the crowd watching, listening. They were looking to him to make an explanation. He had to say something, but what could he say?

He began to speak to the crowd. Folks, I’m Park Ranger Ken Allan. Last night there were two small earthquakes whose epicentres were located right below this spot. There is a possibility that some damage may have occurred to the underground plumbing of the geyser. Geysers sometimes change their habits for a few days after earthquakes, and usually they return pretty much to their old habits after a while. Let’s hope that this is the case. If you are still in the Park tomorrow, I suggest you ask any ranger what the status of Old Faithful is. Maybe you can still see it functioning as usual before you leave for home. Take care and enjoy the rest of your vacation here in the Park.

His task was completed here, but it was going to be a busy day, he just had that feeling. He turned towards his car. There would be several problems needing his attention today, and he decided that he’d better be getting at them.

Roadwork One Month Before the Quakes

On the highest branch of the old spruce sat a large eagle. Its sharp eyes peering this way and that, searched carefully. It knew from experience that somewhere there was a small mouse or squirrel that would make a tasty breakfast for her nest of hungry eaglets. A mother grizzly bear, leading three cubs, ambled down the side of the mountain. Occasionally, she would rip at an old stump showing her brood the white grubs hiding inside. It was going to be another perfect day in Yellowstone National Park.

The early morning sun cast long shadows across the forest floor as Lou Grinnell, field supervisor for the Redrock Construction Company, jolted along a section of new road construction near Tower Junction. After being besieged by thousands of letters and phone calls, the government had finally given in to the complaints about the deplorable roads in the Park, and set out a twenty-year programme to rebuild roads. It was long overdue! The existing roads were built in the early 1900’s for small, narrow vehicles. Now they were in grim shape, mostly consisting of many miles of rough pavement with broken edges, and far too constricted for some of the behemoth buses, motorhomes and trailers using it.

Lou Grinnell, in spite of his concerns about the job, was in high spirits. The weather was excellent. Lou rolled down the window as he drove. He loved the smell of the forest, its scented evergreen needles filling the air, making every breath a pleasurable experience. The dusky groves, the rustling aspen, and the flower-cloaked mountains, were just a few of the reasons Lou enjoyed his job.

There was a darker side to the job too. Lou grimaced at the challenges set in his way. One of the worst was the condition set out in the contract that the work be done so as to not impede the normal vehicular flow of the campers any more than necessary. The company’s interpretation of what was necessary often differed from that of park officials. This frequently meant working at night in order to keep on schedule. Even under the best of times crazed tourists, ogling a park animal feeding near the highway, were known to jam on their brakes, totally oblivious to other drivers, and snarl Yellowstone’s traffic by stopping dead in the middle of the highway. The fact that they created a dangerous traffic problem did not faze them in the least. Construction added another element of confusion to the already disorganized motorists.

Lou Grinnell had to work with the requirement for minimal environmental damage. Several clauses in the contract laid out the requirements to be met by the construction company. The government also created a committee to study unforeseen difficulties, and suggest corrective, or alternative measures.

Lou felt that the conditions were too strict. At times it seemed that progress was impossible. He felt that either you smoothed out the mountainous terrain, and made a highway, or you didn’t. At any rate, Yellowstone National Park officials too frequently stopped his work until some point of disagreement was straightened out. There was also a citizen’s committee that had a representative on the Park’s decision-making committee. Most of the citizens were down to earth members who noted that there was a problem, and that it needed solving in a straightforward way. Others among them were dedicated tree huggers who, if they had their way, would turn the park back as it had been before humans arrived there. At times he wondered if they would ever reach a consensus as to the way the work should be accomplished.

As he drove along, he occasionally had to turn out for the big earthmovers lumbering over the newly constructed road. He thought that it was amazing that when they were carving into the resisting earth they projected an image of being clumsy, awkward machines, and yet they could be speedy and nimble as they hurried back to their dumping sites. He knew that the poor devils in charge of the monsters had a rough time of it. Many a man suffered from back pain, and no wonder. It didn’t seem possible that any human body could stand up to the wrenching that a driver was subjected to as he hurried over the bumpy construction sites. Occasionally a pusher bulldozer would ram too hard against the earthmover, and severely jolt the driver. Tempers often flared at the end of the day, especially back in camp when the two men would meet.

Grinnell recalled his rise to field supervisor for the Redrock Construction Company. He had grown up with the company, hiring on at the age of sixteen as a stake boy, charged with the responsibility of placing the wooden stakes marking the various stages of road construction. He had moved up the ladder, and now at the age of thirty eight, he had full charge of the project in the field.

He acknowledged the friendly wave from the driver of an oncoming earthmover. He recognized the man as Joe Feeny, a congenial young Irishman who worked hard, and played harder. The thought passed through his mind, that if the entire crew was as dependable as Joe, he himself, might not be needed on the job. It would look after itself. But that would never happen. On every construction job there were a few slackers, and unfortunately, a couple of troublemakers. When he could pin them down, they were fired.

He slowed as he approached the end of the road. Ahead, the surveyors had already set the stakes marking the desired grade and alignment. The construction men could soon begin their phase of the job. The construction of the road was being done in short segments so as to avoid upsetting the flow of tourist traffic too badly. This was another point of contention with Lou and the Park personnel. Creating smaller segments of construction was an inefficient use of time and machinery. They wanted the job done quickly, but threw every kind of roadblock at the job.

Lou pulled alongside another pickup truck painted in the company’s distinctive yellow and blue, parked on the shoulder of the road. A man stood at the side with several construction blueprints spread out on the hood. Lou reached for his sunglasses, clipped them to his regular glasses, and stepped out into the bright sunlight.

Good Morning, Lou, came a cheery voice. It was Nick Wireton, the man in charge of the surface construction. He was a tall, lanky man in his late 40’s. Nick was a bit of a character, easy going, and well liked. Between his teeth he clamped a long stemmed pipe whose bowl gave forth wisps of smoke, the fragrant aroma writhing above his head.

Hello, Nick, Lou responded, as he absentmindedly waved at an insect that persisted in flying in and out of his open window. How long before you will start the surface work on this section?

I expect that we will start here tomorrow. I think today we can smooth that section that you just came across so it will be suitable for the touristy boys to drive on tomorrow morning. On this next piece we’ve already got most of the ditch work finished.

Lou inhaled the still cool, fresh mountain air. No need for me to remind you, this is one of the worst sections for congestion. What with Tower Falls Campground, and the store, to say nothing of the hiking trail to the falls, it will be difficult to avoid causing a lot of inconvenience. Just do your best. Lou spoke more seriously. If I get a rocket over it, I’ll be back to you.

You said it all, Lou, and that’s a fact. Working at night will disturb the campground but it can’t be helped. They don’t want us to work in the daytime because it upsets the tourists, so what can we do? Nick replied.

Lou turned his gaze into the distance where the Yellowstone River had carved its way deeply into the plateau creating what had become known as the ‘Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River’. Often, when he was working on this side of the park, he pulled into one of the overlooks to eat his lunch. He marveled at the vastness of the canyon, and the beauty of the brightly coloured rock exposed on the canyon walls. The rock was tuff, volcanic ash, laid there by violent volcanoes that once had existed nearby. Later, continued heat from the rock below sent superheated steam through the tuff, altering its composition, and colour. The softness of the rock gave the river the opportunity to erode, deeply, which it had, creating a fantastic, vee-shaped valley. Visitors looking down to the river would see a beautiful emerald coloured stream, which contrasted perfectly with the yellowish cliffs.

He turned back to Nick. How is the work at Overhanging Cliff coming?

Nick looked pleased, as he scratched his ear. We’ll be done just in time to see your graders driving up to work on the approaches.

I always like your optimism, Nick, Lou said. But be careful!

Nick looked down at his plans on the hood of the truck, and then gazed up the valley. Oh, I’ll be careful all right. Lou, I hate that place. It sort of rubs me the wrong way. He paused, staring into the distance before continuing. Oh, I can’t really say why. There’s nothing I can put my finger on. But I don’t like it. Again he looked up the road towards the canyon as if he expected to see something. When he didn’t he knocked the cold ashes from his pipe and began to fill it with fresh tobacco.

Lou had followed his gaze. He could tell by Nick’s fidgety efforts that he made as he filled his pipe that the man was bothered by something. I can’t say that we really expect any problems out of the ordinary, Lou said. It’s a tough place to build a road, but we’ve been in tough places before.

Nick said, Why don’t you take a look at it? They’re pouring more concrete today.

Lou turned towards the truck. I'll do that. I wanted to take a look at it anyhow. See yu later, Nick. And stop worrying.

Ranger Allan Seeks Help

Chief Ranger Allan went inside the Administrative Building and headed straight to his office. He looked at the clock and saw that it was still only 7:30 a.m. Drumming his fingers on the desk he pondered his next move. Slowly he reached out to the phone and dialed the office of the Park Warden. After the third ring it was answered by the secretary.

Yes, it’s Ken Allan here. Has Mike arrived yet? While he waited for her response, he tucked the phone under his chin and reached for a pad and a pen.

I’m sorry, Mr. Allan, but the Warden had a heart attack last night. He was flown out by helicopter to the hospital in Billings.

Allen asked quickly, Is there any word on his condition?

Yes, she replied, I phoned the hospital before I left home. He is in the intensive care unit. Apparently they are sending him to a special clinic, but I don’t know where, yet. I guess the doctors are really good there, from what I hear, she added.

Allen thanked her and hung up. He now was in charge of the park. That was his role as 2nd in command. Well, now what? he said to the empty room, Now what?

He reached into his desk and hauled out the procedurals handbook. Under ‘Emergencies’ he found a list of names of people to phone for a large variety of contingencies. However, no one seemed to be in charge of, nor could he even find, a heading called ‘geyser quits working’. There was a number for the Chairman of the National Park Committee. It listed his home and work number. It’s 10:30 a.m. there, he thought. What if this fellow isn’t available? He looked further into the book but found nothing more that could help him.

He dialed the number and waited impatiently as it rang five times. He wondered if he should hang up, He reached out to return the receiver when a woman answered.

Good morning, Charlie Whitelaw’s office.

Good morning, this is Yellowstone Park Chief Ranger Ken Allen. Would it be possible to speak to Mr. Whitelaw?

Why yes, sir, just a moment and I will see if he is still busy.

A few moments passed, and he heard a click, and a man’s voice. His voice was firm and authoritative. Whitelaw was an aging figure around the Whitehouse and had made a reputation for himself as a man who could achieve the impossible.

Charlie Whitelaw here. How can I help you?

Good morning, sir. I’m Yellowstone Park Chief Ranger Ken Allen. I don’t know if I should have called you about this or not. Last night we had a couple of medium earthquakes at Old Faithful. They may have damaged some of the plumbing of Old Faithful because the geyser is not functioning correctly this morning. I felt you might want to know before the press got to you. That was always a safe thing to say, he mused. Usually no one in authority likes to be caught in a situation where they have to say that they haven’t heard about something that is under their responsibility.

You were right... yes... definitely. It’s a good thing that you did... Tell me again about the geyser, will you?

Ken Allan repeated the message.

Oh, that’s very bad, very bad indeed. Mr. Allen, I realize the situation you were in. Yes, you did the right thing.

After a pause he continued. Old Faithful is one of our country’s best known icons. It would be terrible if something happened to it. Give me a few minutes and I’ll get back. Should I phone you or the Warden?

Allan explained about the Warden. Oh, that’s unfortunate, very unfortunate. Good, then, I’ll be in touch later this morning. Goodbye.

Replacing the phone, Allan rose and headed to the receptionist. He explained to the girl, Kate, what had been happening, left instructions where he could be reached, and headed for the truck.

Chapter 2: Grinnell Experiences Trouble With The Roadwork

Nick waved, and returned to his blueprints. Lou started the truck, and when a break appeared in the traffic, pulled onto the main road to Tower Falls. As he expected, he found the traffic at Tower Fall very heavy. As he drove past the parking area at the head of the trail he noted a large tour bus whose driver had parked so that it blocked access to several parking spots.

Lou grumbled out loud. Damned typical behaviour. Now, at least a half dozen motorists are left without a decent place to park, so they’ll squeeze in somewhere, and block traffic themselves. All that bus driver had to do was back up to the bus parking zone, and save everyone’s temper. He reached for his microphone and called the office. Tina, it’s Lou. Will you call the ranger station and tell them there is a bus blocking parking at the Tower Fall Parking Area?

Sure, Lou, no problem, was the