一个奇妙的墨水湖。

一个奇妙的墨水湖。

Nearly all of the 3500 Cocopah volcanoes in Arizona are situated near the east end of the volcanic area which they occupy. Several large mounds, once living volcanoes, are now quiet. Between the lulls of lava, rock and debris are a large number of living, active volcanoes. From the sides of the hills, fifty to 200 feet above the surrounding waters, come forth most beautiful springs of clear, warm water, some so sour, others so sweet, so bitter and so strongly alkaline, that no living being or animal can drink it. These waters course down the hillsides, laying a coat of white, pink, purple, blue or green, made by the mineral salts they contain, upon everything with which they come in contact. In the midst of these hills is the Lake of Ink. There run into it scores of streams of clear mineral hot water, others that are warm and two that are cold. The lake, one-fourth of a mile in length and oneeighth in width, lies like a gem set in these hills or these ancient volcanoes.

The hiil is alive with volcanoes, even down to the very edge of the lake. At low water in Lake Pasqualitas it is divided from the Lake of Ink by a narrow ridge of hard, sulphurous clay thrown up by the volcanoes, which have assisted in making this bank. No less than sixty volcanoes—mad, spiteful, noisy little ones—line this ridge. Here came the Indians for leagues and gathered the rich vermilion paint with which they decorated themselves in times of war in the ancient past, long, long ago. On the west the volcanoes stand as close together as they can be placed. For a space of a quarter of a mile by nearly one-half the tread of the lone footman rings the bell on the iragile crust till he stops through fear, balancing in his mind whether to advance or retreat, and while pondering as to what to do, the little “ kicker,” the liveliest, most wickeil and spiteful of all the groups of volcanoes, besmears him with its boiling hot black mud.