The four Alden children posed for a picture in front of a log sign. The sign was tall, even taller than Henry, the oldest of the children.
The youngest Alden, six-year-old Benny, sandwiched himself between his two older sisters, Jessie and Violet. He smiled for his grandfather’s camera. “Cheese and crackers,” Benny said, breaking into a grin.
“Hold those smiles,” Mr. Alden called out. “I just ran out of film. Stay for a minute while I reload.”
Jessie said to Henry, Violet, and Benny, “Let’s move aside so these other tourists can take pictures in front of the sign, too.”
Benny asked Jessie, “Why does everybody stop here to get pictures taken?”
Jessie was always full of information. “Well, Benny,” she began, “we’re standing on the Continental Divide. It runs along the top of the Rocky Mountains. On one side of the Divide, streams and rivers flow west to the Pacific Ocean. On the other side, they go east toward the Atlantic Ocean. The Continental Divide is famous. That’s why people have their pictures taken here.”
Benny squinted at the log sign. “I get it. If I pour my water bottle out right here, half the water will go one way, and the other half will go the other way.”
“Why don’t you try it and find out,” Henry suggested.
Benny poured his water bottle onto the dry ground. “Hey, all my water disappeared into the ground!” he complained. “Which ocean would I go to if I rolled down this mountain?”
“I wouldn’t try that, Benny,” Violet said. “This mountain is pretty steep. My ears have been popping ever since we got off the plane.”
Mr. Alden noticed that Benny was getting restless. He knew his grandson always wanted to get wherever they were going. “Hang on, Benny. We’ll be in Yellowstone National Park shortly. Mrs. McGregor said she wants us to bring back plenty of snapshots from our trip. Let’s stretch our legs a bit until it’s our turn for pictures again.”
The Aldens strolled to the edge of the lookout where they were parked. In front of them, the Rocky Mountains stretched in every direction.
Violet took a deep breath of air. “I love the smell of all these trees. I never saw such tall, skinny ones before.”
Benny wanted to be walking through the trees, not sniffing them. “I wish we could try out our new hiking boots right now on this big mountain.”
Henry gave Benny a friendly punch in the arm. “No chance of that. There’s a chain across the trail. See the sign?”
“Lost Cabin Trails Closed,” Benny said, proud that he could read every word.
Mr. Alden came over to see what Benny was talking about. “What do you know! This is the end of a trail I hiked with my own grandfather when I visited Yellowstone as a boy. We never made it this far, though. I wonder why the trails are closed.”
“Maybe they’re not.” Henry pointed down the dirt path. “Look below. There’s a backpacker climbing up this way. See? He’s wearing a bright orange hat.”
The Aldens peeked over the edge to see who Henry was talking about.
Mr. Alden removed his sunglasses to get a better look. “I’d like to have a chat with the fellow and find out what’s going on with these trails. I’d give anything to go down a ways. I wonder if we’re anywhere near the famous lost cabin.”
Violet was curious, too. “What lost cabin, Grandfather?”
“Well, Violet, years ago, when I was about your age, I heard all kinds of stories about some California gold miners,” said Grandfather. “They got stuck in Yellowstone because of an early snowstorm and had to spend the winter here. The story goes that they built a log hut for themselves, but no one ever found it. There were all sorts of tales about how they may have left behind a bag of gold nuggets.”
The children wanted to know more, but Mr. Alden had nothing else to share. “Maybe that hiker knows about the lost cabin,” Benny whispered when the man finally reached the lookout area.
“Did you ever find the cabin, Grandfather?” Violet asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Mr. Alden answered in a disappointed voice. “We never had the right maps or enough time. But looking for it was a fine summer adventure. Maybe this hiker can tell us something.”
The Aldens greeted the man in the orange hat with friendly smiles.
The hiker seemed annoyed by the attention. “Tourists all over the place!” he muttered when he saw the children with their grandfather. He grew even grumpier when he had to squeeze by them to get to his truck. “This isn’t a shopping mall, you know,” he said to no one in particular.
Mr. Alden heard this but spoke to the man anyway. “How do you do, sir? I notice you just came up from one of the Lost Cabin Trails. But there’s a sign saying they’re closed. Do you have any idea why?”
The man stared at Mr. Alden, then turned away without answering.
“Sir! Sir!” Mr. Alden continued. “I’m just curious. You see, I hiked some of these trails when I was a boy. I’m hoping my grandchildren here can do the same. Is there a problem?”
This time the man stopped. “Bears everywhere,” he said.
Benny shivered at the thought of bears. “But what about the lost cabin?” he asked. “The one with the gold in it.”
For a few seconds, the man was silent. Finally he spoke directly to Benny. “Never was any such thing as a lost cabin. Just a lot of silly stories and fool hikers looking for something that never existed.”
With that, the man threw his backpack into his pickup truck and drove off.
“That’s strange,” Henry said. “If the trails are closed, why was he was hiking on them? He said there were bears, but he was hiking alone, something hikers should never do around Yellowstone.”
“And he wasn’t wearing any bear bells, either,” Jessie added. “The guidebooks say it’s a good idea for hikers to wear bells or make a lot of noise to keep bears away. Bears don’t like noise.”
Mr. Alden put his hat back on. “That’s good advice, Jessie. Well, this isn’t where the Lost Cabin Trails start anyway. The trailhead is inside Yellowstone.”
Benny looked disappointed. “But that hiker says there wasn’t any cabin or anything.”
Mr. Alden patted Benny’s head. “That’s one man’s opinion. Some of the rest of us have a different one.”
“Right,” Benny said, perking up again. “They couldn’t call the trails Lost Cabin Trails if there wasn’t a lost cabin, right?”
Mr. Alden smiled. “Good point, Benny. Now, everyone, line up again. I’ll get a picture for Mrs. McGregor.”
The four children scurried back to the big log sign.
“Say cheese and crackers,” Mr. Alden teased.
“Cheese and crackers,” everyone said.
“And bears,” Benny added, shivering just a little.
Mr. Alden snapped several pictures, then waved Benny over. “Okay, okay. Now we really can go, Benny. Hop in the car.”
“Grandfather, do you really think there are any bears in Yellowstone National Park?” Benny asked.
“I don’t think there are bears in Yellowstone, Benny, I know there are,” Mr. Alden answered as he drove up and up the twisting mountain road. “When I was a young boy trout fishing out here, I saw a grizzly bear or two. And plenty of moose and elk and buffalo, too. You’ll see some wild animals in Yellowstone, no doubt about it. But bears don’t usually bother people in groups, especially noisy people. So I don’t think you’ll have a bear problem, Benny!”
Benny’s eyes were round and bright. “Look! There’s a sign that says ‘Watch Out for Buffalo.’ I’m watching, but I don’t see any. Where are they?”
Mr. Alden chuckled. “Be patient. We’re not in Yellowstone National Park just yet. First we have to stop off in the little town up ahead. It’s the last good place to stock up on our hiking and fishing supplies.”
“And bear bells,” Benny added. “We can’t forget those.” |