Read Online Surviving Summer Vacation by Willo Davis Roberts - Free Book Online Page B

area:
    DANGEROUS THERMAL AREAS:
    Boiling water—thin crusts. Always stay on constructed walkways. Drive carefully in steamy areas.
    It is unlawful to throw objects into pools, take pets into thermal areas, feed or molest animals, deface or remove specimens from thermal areas, litter or smoke in thermal areas.
    â€œUh, Billy, you’d better leave the cat behind,” I suggested.
    His lower lip jutted out. “I want to take him,” he said. “He’ll get lonesome by himself.”
    â€œHang on to him tight,” Mr. Rupe said.“If he falls into one of these hot pots, it’ll cook him.”
    Alison and I seemed to be exchanging glances pretty often. The Rupes didn’t appear to think the signs and warnings referred to them, and after what Mr. Rupe had said, I didn’t see how I could insist on leaving ­William behind.
    Because Billy needed both arms to hold the cat, it wasn’t even possible to hold his hand while we walked, the way Alison was doing with Ariadne. And we hadn’t gone very far along the wooden walkway before it began to make me very nervous.
    The land around us looked like alkali desert in the old Zane Grey novels my grandpa stored in his attic, except that in a lot of places steam was coming out of the ground. And then we were in the middle of the paint pots.
    Even Harry was a little bit impressed by them. “Hey, weird!” he commented. “Pink mud!”
    It was not only pale pink, it was boiling hot. The mud was thick and made bubbles that sort of burped and sent globs up in the air and even onto the edge of the walkway. I couldn’t hold onto Billy’s hand, but I felt safer resting a hand on his shoulder. At least he didn’t resist that.
    The paint pots were mostly sunk into pits in the ground, but the contents bubbled hard enough to bring them splattering out of the tops of the holes. There was pale orange, and a sort of yellowish tan, and a grayish blue. I wondered what the first explorers who saw them had thought. All over the whole area there was steam in the air, drifting and blowing enough to carry its warmth to us.
    Alison grinned at me. “Neat, aren’t they?” she said.
    We went on around the paint pots, and ­circled back to rejoin the main walkway to the parking lot. Right after we’d passed a sign that cautioned STAY ON THE WALKS, Harry suddenly stepped off into a little trickle of a stream and dipped his hand into the water.
    â€œIt’s warm enough to take a bath in,” he marveled.
    An older couple stared at him disapprovingly, but it didn’t bother Harry. “No problem getting off there,” he said loud enough for the couple to hear him. “There’s no boiling water.”
    I muttered under my breath to Alison. “Let’s pretend we don’t know him.”
    â€œFor sure,” she murmured back. And then, looking ahead, she frowned a little. “Lewis, isn’t that the car that’s been right behind us practically all the way here?”
    â€œThe blue Crown Victoria?” I said before I got so much as a glance at it.
    â€œYes. Do you . . . think it’s kind of suspicious?”
    Harry overheard that and turned to speak to us. “What’s to be suspicious about? Half the cars from Missoula on were coming to Yellowstone, weren’t they?”
    â€œThey stayed in an RV park with no RV,” I said slowly. “And then they got a trailer and kept on behind us. I think it’s the same car. I remember the license number. Let’s check it out.”
    â€œIt’s the same car where that guy was who said he lost his keys near our motor home. The ones Lewis found in our coach,” Alison said, and now it was out in the open, not just in my own mind.
    â€œLike Ma said, Billy probably found them and took them inside,” Harry pointed out.
    Billy, with William draped over his shoulder, scowled and said, “I