frontispiece: mr. w. w. bass with his old indian friend. mr. bass has written the tradition and history of the havasupai indians and taught them our language.] adventures in the canyons of the colorado by two of its earliest explorers, james white and w. w. hawkins with introduction and notes by william wallace bass the grand canyon guide 1920 published at grand canyon, arizona by the authors copyright, 1920 by william wallace bass grand canyon, ariz. foreword by george wharton james author of "in and around the grand canyon," "arizona the wonderland," "the grand canyon of arizona," "new mexico, the land of the delightmakers," etc., etc. the more the people of the united states know of their scenic wonderlands the more interest will there be aroused as to "who first saw" this or the other of them. the arousement of this especial interest in regard to the grand canyon and its tributaries is growingly apparent. a hundred thousand americans see the grand canyon today where one saw it at the time of my first visit, nearly forty years ago. among the hordes of people attracted to the grand canyon by curiosity, scenic allurement, business, pleasure or what not, but two have gained any fame as _guides_ to its wondrous depths and rim revelations. these two are john hance and william wallace bass. i knew hance long before he had dreamed that the canyon would help make him famous; i ate venison stew with him when he was but a cowboy in the employ of the proprietor of the hull ranch; i wrote the first account of those peculiar and exaggerated yarns of his that gained him his fame as the "munchausen of the west." it was on these yarns alone that his fame reposed. he was never a guide. he knew nothing of the canyon, east or west, twenty miles from the trail that unfortunately was named after him. he never read a line of its history, and never cared to know who first discovered it. he got lost years after the canyon was being visited by great numbers of whites, when he attempted to guide a party to the home of the havasupai indians, whose ancestors made the trail which he discovered and claimed as his own. on the other hand, william wallace bass, who came to the canyon some years ahead of hance, felt its peculiar allurements from the first moment he saw it. there is no man living who has been more deeply interested in studying its geological history, in searching the tomes of the past for stories of its discovery, and in promoting the intelligent interests of literary men, artists, photographers, poets, geologists, students and tourists who have come to visit it than has he. his library upon the subject is exhaustive and complete, and he is so well versed in some features of its local geology, that he has changed many a scientist's opinions as to the secret of its formation and development. john c. van dyke wrote truly of him when he said in his recent book on the grand canyon, he "has been 'the guide, philosopher and friend' of almost every geologist at the canyon. unquestionably he knows the geology of the region." born in shelbyville, indiana, in 1848, he came to arizona, by way of an hospital for incurables in new york, to die. life in the open gave him a new hope, and at 72 he is still hale, hearty, vigorous and capable of more work than many a city-bred youth of 25. his life in arizona has been a romance throughout, and in much of it i have either shared or been an interested spectator. my first meeting with mr. bass was at flagstaff in 1888, under the following circumstances: i had gone out to the canyon, from flagstaff, with the rev. stewart conrad wright, a methodist minister, and several women. the methodist church at flagstaff had just been built, and on my return the minister invited me to give a lecture on what i had seen. at the close of the talk--which undoubtedly was a pretty crude though enthusiastic attempt--mr. t. g. norris, a lawyer with whom i had become acquainted, brought up to me a man dressed in typical cowboy fashion, evidently just off from a roundup, and introduced him as mr. w. w. bass, who wished to talk to me about the canyon. he expressed his opinion of my knowledge of the great abyss in no qualified terms, and wound up by extending to me an invitation to go with him as his guest to the havasupai indian village, in company with a special representative, s. m. mcgowan, sent out to investigate the condition of these indians. afterwards he would take me to another, and he claimed more wonderful and scenic portion of the canyon. gladly the invitation was accepted, and the following week saw me at williams, starting out in a wagon driven by mr. bass, with mr. mcgowan as my vis-a-vis. this trip was my introduction to the havasupai indians and the wonders of their romantically located home. but of greater importance than this was the fact that this trip firmly established a friendship with mr. bass that nothing has ever even momentarily shaken, and the years have rendered but more firm and secure. mr. bass and i are both very human, have many of the frailities and weaknesses common to mankind, but regardless of them all, or of their magnification by officious meddlers and mischief-makers, we still preserve that unbroken serenity and confidence of friendship vouchsafed but to the most favored of men. we differ on a thousand subjects; we argue about men, measures and history; we read geology, ethnology and archaeology from different standpoints; he is aggressively argumentative, i am conciliatory acquiescent, yet in one thing we are steadily united, viz., in our devotion and love to the great canyon in or near which he has spent so great a part of his life. this devotion on his part has led to the following of many faint clues that suggested the possibility of adding something of value to its history. the results of his investigations in two cases are herein recorded. their value is unquestionable. the narrative of mr. hawkins bears throughout the stamp of truth, and while i was one of the first to express disbelief in the story of james white, i am now free to confess that the evidence of his truthfulness is growing powerfully within me. mr. bass has done good service to those who are interested in canyon history by securing these stories and i am confident they will meet with a cordial reception. george wharton james. pasadena, calif., april, 1920. introduction by w. w. bass my interest in the grand canyon dates from soon after my arrival, in july, 1883, at williams, arizona. i had come west for my health on the still uncompleted line of the santa fe route, then known as the "atlantic & pacific." williams was a railroad construction town and vied with kingman in its "wild and woolly" reputation, but i located there and soon began to improve in health. in one of my exploring trips (the story of which is fully told in my life history, soon to be published), i found it necessary to refer to the available maps in order to secure what information was possible as to water locations and the general contour of the country i desired to explore. i succeeded in securing a government map, and, as it was one with the name of j. w. powell as director of the geological survey, i supposed it was correct and reliable. but, to my dismay, after four days' journey following the dry washes and valleys i found myself farther away from the walls of the grand canyon than when i started. the water-holes and tanks were a myth and my animals nearly famished before i could retrace my steps to where i knew i could save them. in a word, the drainage system as shown on his map was a delusion and a snare and nearly resulted in my disaster. naturally, this incident made me suspicious ever after of anything powell claimed to have done in this particular region, but it remained for me to have some very positive evidence as to the reliability of his claims in another direction. up to this time i had never met him and when in 1887 he employed me as guide in some triangulation work on the bill williams mountain i was thoroughly convinced as to the doubtful character of certain statements he made to me regarding other work of the same nature he claimed to have done some years previous. one in particular was as to a station he said i would find on "red butte," which lies about forty-five miles northeast of williams and is a prominent feature on the landscape, as it is the only one to be seen anywhere along the south wall of the grand canyon for a distance of over fifty miles. it lies in the plain about twelve miles from the canyon wall. as i had spent considerable time there only a few days previous in looking for a silver prospect reported to be there, i knew there was no such pile of rocks as he described and never had been within the knowledge of the oldest inhabitant in this region. i could not find enough rocks on the top of that mountain to build a respectable mining location. i also knew of others who had been there on the same mission and they can verify this statement. in addition to this the later geological work in this section failed to locate any such station as was claimed by him to me. these incidents will explain, in great measure, my suspicions and questions as to anything related by major powell. accordingly, when i secured a copy of the government publication entitled: "exploration of the colorado river of the west and its tributaries, explored in 1869, 1870, 1871 and 1872, under the direction of the secretary of the smithsonian institution," and found it was written by powell, it did not have the same weight with me that it would have done had i not had these personal experiences with him. it will be recalled by many of my readers that powell made two trips through the canyons of the colorado. yet in this government-published volume he makes scant reference to the second trip, and utterly fails to do credit to the members of his party. why he should have failed to include his experiences and record the names of the men who constituted his force on this second trip has always been a mystery to various explorers of the canyon, and especially to the members of the party, one of whom was f. s. dellenbaugh. in his account of this trip in his book, "the romance of the colorado river," published in 1906, he states that perhaps this omission was for the sake of dramatic unity. be this as it may, it has always seemed as if for some reason powell did not care to do full justice to the brave men who accompanied him on this trip. when, therefore, a monument was erected to powell on the south rim of the grand canyon, with money appropriated by the congress of the united states, and a full list of the men who accompanied him on _both_ expeditions was presumably given on the bronze tablet placed on that monument, it was with considerable astonishment that i noted that the names of three men who accompanied the first expedition were omitted. [illustration: inscription of powell monument, grand canyon national park] these men were o. g. rowland, seneca rowland and william dunn. in seeking to find the cause for this strange omission, i turned to powell's own report. on page 96, under date of august 27, he tells of the great difficulties they were beset with: this morning the river takes a more southerly direction. the dip of the rocks is to the north, and we are rapidly running into lower formations. unless our course changes, we shall very soon run again into the granite. this gives us some anxiety. now and then the river turns to the west and excites hope that are soon destroyed by another turn to the south. about nine o'clock we come to the dreaded rock. it is with no little misgiving that we see the river enter these black, hard walls. at its very entrance we have to make a portage; then we have to let down with lines past some ugly rocks. then we run a mile or two farther, and then the rapids below can be seen. at eleven o'clock we come to a place in the river where it seems much worse than any we have yet met in all its course. a little creek comes down from the left. we land first on the right, and clamber up over the granite pinnacles for a mile or two, but can see no way by which we can let down, and to run it would be sure destruction. after another page devoted to discussing the dangers and difficulties ahead of them, powell continues, on page 98: after supper captain (o. g.) rowland asked to have a talk with me. we walk up the little creek a short distance, and i soon find that his object is to remonstrate against my determination to proceed. he thinks that we had better abandon the river here. talking with him, i learn that his brother, william dunn, and himself have determined to go no farther in the boats. so we return to camp. nothing is said to the other men. for the last two days our course has not been plotted. i sit down and do this now, .... as soon as i determined all this, i spread my plot on the sand, and wake rowland, who is sleeping down by the river, and show him where i suppose we are and where several mormon settlements are situated. we have another short talk about the morrow and he lies down again; but for me there is no sleep. all night long i pace up and down a little path, on a few yards of sand beach, along the river. is it wise to go on? .... for years i have been contemplating this trip. to leave the exploration unfinished, to say that there is a part of the canyon which i cannot explore, having already almost accomplished it, is more than i am willing to acknowledge, and i determine to go on. i wake my brother and tell him of rowland's determination, and he promises to stay with me; then i call up hawkins, the cook, and he makes a like promise; then sumner, and bradley, and hall, and they all agree to go on. august 28. at last daylight comes, and we have breakfast, without a word being said as to the future. the meal is as solemn as a funeral. after breakfast, i ask the three men if they still think it best to leave us. the elder howland thinks it is, and dunn agrees with him. the younger howland tries to persuade them to go on with the party, failing in which, he decides to go with his brother.... two rifles and a shotgun are given to the men who are going out. i ask them to help themselves to the rations, and take what they think to be a fair share. this they refuse to do, saying they have no fear but that they can get something to eat, but billy, the cook, has a pan of biscuits prepared for dinner, and these he leaves on a rock. .... the last thing before leaving, i write a letter to my wife, and give it to howland. sumner gives him his watch, directing that it be sent to his sister should he not be heard from again. the records of the expedition have been kept in duplicate. one set of these is given to howland, and now we are ready. for the last time they entreat us not to go on, and tell us that it is madness to set out in this place; that we can never go safely through it; and, further, that the river turns again to the south into the granite, and a few miles of such rapids and falls will exhaust our entire stock of rations and then it will be too late to climb out. some tears are shed; it is rather a solemn parting; each party thinks the other is taking the dangerous course. thus they part; powell and the men who had determined to remain with him to go on and finally leave the exploration incomplete at a point a little further down. the three men who left the party--the two rowlands and dunn--were never seen again alive. on the following expedition powell spent some time with the shivwit indians, in company with jacob hamblin, a mormon pioneer and missionary. from them he learned of the death of the men who left him. on pages 130-131, he thus recounts the story. after he had talked with the indians, one of them made a reply, and in his speech said: last year we killed three white men. bad men said they were our enemies. they told great lies. we thought them true. we were mad; it make us big fools. we are very sorry. after the council had broken up, so powell says: mr. hamblin fell into conversation with one of the indians and held him until the others had left, and then learned more particulars of the death of the three men. they came upon the indian village almost starved and exhausted with fatigue. they were supplied with food, and put on their way to the [mormon] settlements. shortly after they had left, an indian from the east side of the colorado arrived at the village and told them about a number of miners having killed a squaw in a drunken brawl, and no doubt these were the men. no person had ever come down the canyon; that was impossible; they were trying to hide their guilt. in this way he worked them into a great rage. they followed, surrounded the men in ambush, and filled them full of arrows. this is practically the whole story as told by powell. for years it has been accepted as the truth. science is truth focalized, and there is no real science without truth. i have always wondered whether this narrative gave us the whole truth, and when i saw the powell monument and noted the omission of the three names of the two rowlands and dunn, i wondered still more. why should the names of these three men be left off after having traveled over four hundred miles on the maiden trip, and thus having proven their valor and courage? [illustration: w. w. hawkins] but now comes another witness on the scene. some time ago i learned that william w. hawkins, the cook referred to by powell, was still alive. powell died in 1902 at the age of 69 years. hawkins was then living, and thus became the sole survivor (i believe) of the first powell trip. after the expedition he settled in pine valley, utah, but later moved to gila valley, arizona, and thence to graham county, where he resided for thirty-five years. he was justice of the peace for many years and resided at eden in that county. he also was a prominent rancher and at his death had six sons living, two of whom reside near mesa, arizona. he was highly respected by all who knew him and no one of his large circle of friends and acquaintances will question the truth of this account as given to me for publication. he died in september, 1919, at the st. joseph's hospital, phoenix, arizona. the following account was written by him, in his own handwriting, a few months before his death, at my solicitation, with the understanding that i was to publish it, if it was deemed desirable. hence i now give it to the world. the following is hawkins' own brief introduction to his narrative: [illustration: fac-simile of page 1 of w. w. hawkins manuscript account of the first powell expedition.] [illustration: fac-simile of page 3 of w. w. hawkins manuscript account of the first powell expedition.] [illustration: fac-simile of last page of w. w. hawkins manuscript account of the first powell expedition.] introduction i will write this as it comes to me and you can then take what portion you may see fit. i will state it just as it happened, at the time it did happen. it seems that you have the two expeditions mixed that powell made down the colorado river, and in order to straighten this out it will be necessary for me to give you a brief account of our first expedition from start to finish, then you will have a clear idea of the matter and i can give you a better understanding by commencing at the first. of course this will be some that has already been published by powell himself, and some that happened that was not well to put into powell's report, but they are true. but as i am the only one that remains of the first expedition i could not prove just how things were and how they happened. in the fall of 1868, myself, j. c. sumner, william dunn, o. g. rowland and seneca rowland, brothers, were camped at the hot springs in middle park, colorado, about one hundred miles west of denver, colorado. we were trapping and prospecting, both in that section and on white river, some seventy-five miles further west. while our party, j. c. sumner in charge, was in camp at this place, major powell and party pulled in with their pack animals, twenty-five animals and twelve or eighteen men. after they stopped and unpacked we all went over to see what they were going to do in this wild country, and they all seemed to be equally interested in our party. our mode of dress was somewhat different to what they had been used to seeing, as we were all dressed in buckskin, and our hair came down on our shoulders. i was the youngest one in the crowd. we soon found out each other's business. powell told us he intended to make his winter camp over on white river and in the spring he was going to explore the colorado river from start to finish.. we told him that we intended to do the same thing, only on a small scale. he said that only one of his crowd was going with him down the liver, that was his brother, walter powell. he said he would like to have our party join him and go with him flown the river. we had most of our provisions on white river at that time. this was powell's first trip with his pack animals and it would be necessary for him to make another trip, as most of his party would winter with him. after we both got over on white river where our cabins were, he said he would buy our provisions, horses and mules and our traps, and that we could become members of his party and that he would pay us reasonable wages to come with him. so we all agreed on prices for different articles. i had four head of animals, sumner five head, dunn two, and the rowland brothers had three head. i owned all the traps. these he was to replace when we got through at cottonwood island. so we went to work building more cabins and put up ten or twelve, and fixed up for the winter by dragging up wood, which was plentiful there. then we laid in a fine supply of venison. before the snow got too deep, powell took the most of his party that came from the east with him out to green river station and he with them went east, leaving his wife and brother in camp. in april we all broke camp and went to green river station and made camp about one-half mile below the u. p. r. r. bridge, and waited for powell to return with our boats, which he did the latter part of april. he sent all the horses to echo canyon and sold them. he drew his rations from fort bridger. we all then went to calking up and painting our boats, which was no small job for us, for we knew nothing about a boat. powell got a man discharged out of the army at fort bridger to come and show us how to calk the boats. this man's name was george bradley, a man of nerve and staying qualities, as he proved later on. mrs. powell went to salt lake city before going east. we were all anxious to get started, but little did we know what was in store for us in the way of experience and danger. we had four boats, three of them were 22 feet long, 4 feet wide and 3 feet deep. each end was decked over 4 feet at each end, air tight. these three were supposed to carry the provisions for ten men for eighteen months, that being the time powell was going to take to make the trip. he was going to winter somewhere in the canyon. his boat was sixteen feet long, made of pine; the others were oak. they were of the whitehall pattern. the men were assigned to their boats and then the loads were placed in them. the major's boat was used for a guide boat. it was manned by j. c. sumner and william dunn and the major; next was walter powell and bradley; the next was the howland brothers and frank goodman; the next was the cook boat, manned by myself and andy hall. each boat was loaded so as to have a nearly equal distribution, so that in case of an accident to one of them the others would still have an assortment of the provisions. after each boat had received its load we were ready to start. but where, none of us knew, only that we were going to go down through the grand canyon of the colorado river. we had been told that in places the water ran under the ground. there was a great many people on the bank of the river to see us start. we were all green at the business, bradley was the only one that had any experience. but he acknowledged afterwards that this was a little rough. we had very good water for some twenty miles, but, of course, had to watch out for the small boat, as it was supposed to go where the other boats that were loaded could not go. i remember our first camp that evening for the night and as i was steering the boat with one oar behind and standing up i could see what was in front of us. i saw that they were all landing and i told andy they were camping at this point. the river was straight and the water smooth and powell signaled to me and we tried to land, and did finally get to shore some four hundred yards below and the other boats dropped down to where we were and the rest of the boys had the laugh on us. andy and i told the major that we were too heavily loaded, the water only lacking four inches from running over the sides of our boat, and as andy said the next day, we were seven inches nearer the bottom of the river than the other two large boats, as they were nine inches above water, and that we better unload some of the bacon and take chances of replacing it with venison and mountain sheep later on. so we unloaded five hundred pounds of bacon in the river. we soon found out that was better. we now passed through brown's park, some forty miles from where we started. at the lower end of this park the river now runs into a bad canyon of red sandstone. this was our first canyon and powell named it the flaming gorge, and it was well named. we made many portages and it was twenty-five miles long. it required ten days to go that distance, as we had to make a trail and carry our provisions and instruments from one place to the other the entire distance, and let the boats down by ropes over the bad rapids. of course, when we got through and loaded up again the boats were not so heavy and the major said our appetites were growing. at the mouth of this canyon we came to a nice little island which we called island park. here we camped a few days, for we sure had rolled many a rock two-thirds of the twenty-five miles and soaked our provisions. i went out on the east side of the canyon some three miles to see if there was any game and run across a big buck deer coming down the trail to water about one-half mile from camp. he stopped to take a look at me and i shot just as he stopped and broke his neck. the boys heard the shot and hall and dunn came out and helped me in with it. powell named the mountain hawkins mountain. we moved on down the river, which was very good traveling for a ways and then we heard a great roaring below and saw powell standing on some rocks on the east side of the river. he motioned us to land, which we all succeeded in doing except howland's boat. it went over the rapids and broke in two and threw the men out. they succeeded in catching hold of a large pine tree that was drifting top down stream and seemed to stop just to let the boys crawl on to it. the river was raising fast and sumner, with the small boat, was trying to reach them, but his two first trials failed and the tree began to move on slowly and goodman shouted, "goodbye, boys." but then sumner threw a line he made to where the boys were on the log, which had moved on down a ways, but he got them in the boat and finally got near enough to catch a rope and was hauled into shore some hundred yards below. as we had lost considerable of our provisions and one boat, of course the men had to double up in the other boats. howland no. 1 came in with hall and myself, howland no. 2 went in with capt. powell and bradley, goodwin went in with sumner, dunn and the major. but as we had good water for some time we finally came to the mouth of ---creek. up this creek about 18 miles is the uinta agency. we went up to the agency--powell, goodman and myself. it was the 4th day of july and we had dinner with the indian agent. here we left goodman. he said he had all he wanted of the river. from here to the junction of the green river with the grand river the water is very good, a distance of one hundred miles, which took but a few days to make. the canyon is hard rock and the walls on the west side in some places overhang the water three hundred feet. back under this shelf was drift-wood and willows at that time, a good home for beaver and otter. we stopped for noon and went into camp near the head of a small rapid and tied our boats to small undergrowth, and, being the cook, i had just started a fire in a nice little cove in the brush and rock. i had just got my "mess kit" out of the front of the boat when a wind started up and set the leaves and brush all a-blaze. i gathered up the mess kit and made for the boat. but the blaze beat me to it and had burned the small ropes in two that i had the boats tied with, and they were just moving into the current. i jumped, but missed the boat, and down i went, mess kit and all. i held on to the mess kit until i saw i could not raise with it and so i let it go and came to the top of the water to find the boat some thirty feet from me, and andy was doing his best to hold it up stream until i could catch it. i just caught the boat as it was going into the rapid, but it was not a bad rapid, as the waves were about eight feet high. bradley, held fast to the side of his boat, was not able to get into it, but went through the rapid and a part of the time his head was under the water. at the lower end of this rapid we stopped, as in our rush we had left the major behind, and in order to get him out of a place he had got into we took four oars and made a bridge across a crevis in the rocks for him to cross over on. three of the best hats the boys had were lost in the fire and rapids. we were now at the junction of the green and grand rivers. the walls on the west side are 1,800 feet high, where the rivers come together in a v shape. now our trouble begins, and plenty of bad rapids in the river. dunn was the one who took the altitudes with the barometer and it was here we had the first real trouble in the party, although powell had named dunn the "dirty devil." but the rest of the boys looked over that. at noon, while we were making a portage and letting the boats over a bad place, the ropes happened to catch bill dunn under the arms and came near drowning him, but he managed to catch the ropes and come out. while we were eating our dinner sumner said that dunn came near being drowned and the major's brother made the remark that it would have been but little loss, and the major spoke up and said that dunn would have to pay thirty dollars for a watch belonging to him that had been soaked with water and ruined, and if he did not he would have to leave the party. andy hall and i were down at our boat, i having gone down after a cup and andy had remained at the boat fitting one of his oars. when we returned to where they were eating sumner asked me what i thought of the major's proposition, and i asked him what it was, and he then related what had been said. i asked the major if that was his desire and he said that it was. i made the remark that a part of his wishes could not be granted, as it was impossible to get out of the canyon on account of the abrupt walls. he then said that it made no difference whether dunn got out or not. i then said that i was sorry that dunn had been jerked into the water and got the watch wet, and that i was sorry he felt that way with one of his party, and the major seemed to be offended at my remarks and said i had no right to pass on the matter. also that neither hall nor myself, in the future of the party, would be expected to say anything, as we were too young. hall made the remark that we had old heads on our shoulders anyway. before this time everything seemed to be getting along fine, as each man had a certain task, or a certain thing to do, and i was doing the cooking, and i generally found plenty to do. our meal was ready and we all seated ourselves on the rocks to eat our dinner. up to this time i had always helped the major all i could and washed his hand (as he only had one) and generally found him a good place to sit at meals, sometimes a few feet from the rest. but before this it never made any difference to me, but now it did, for, as andy hall would say, he raised hell with himself in the break he had made with dunn. i could see that there was a different feeling in the whole party at this time and the major had sat down several feet from the rest of the party. i poured out each man a cup of coffee and one for him also and we all began to eat. he then asked me why i did not bring him his dinner as i had been doing before and i told him he had just said that he was going to make a change in the outfit and i told him that i had made that change to start the ball rolling, and that he would have to come and get his grub like the rest of the boys. his brother then handed his dinner to him. after dinner sumner asked him if he had changed his mind in regard to dunn and the watch and he said he had not and that dunn would either pay for the watch or leave the party. dunn, hall, bradley and myself were near the cook boat and about twenty feet from the major and sumner. we could not hear what they were talking about, but we had decided that if dunn left the party we would go with him. of course, we expected opposition to what we intended to do, so after we had talked the matter over we wanted bradley to go and tell the major what we intended to do. but bradley decided i had better go and tell him myself, as i had made the plan of going with dunn. i went to where sumner and the major were talking, and the two rowland boys were with them. i told the major that bradley, hall and myself had decided to go with dunn and that we would take my boat (the cook boat) and some grub, and we would pull out, and he could come when he got ready. he said he would not stand any such work, that it would be the ruin of his party. i told him that it was all his own fault and that i had no more talk to make and went back to the boat. i found dunn, bradley and hall waiting to see what had happened, but before i had time to tell them, sumner came and began to talk to us, telling us to not feel put out, that the major was hasty and to give him another chance. dunn said that the major never did like him anyway, if he had he would never have named the eskalanty[1] river dirty devil. we camped at that place for the night and in the morning the major said he would take thirty dollars for the watch and that he could pay for it when we got through. none of the party except the major liked capt. powell. he had a bulldozing way that was not then practiced in the west. he threatened to slap me several times for trying to sing like he did, but he never did slap anyone in the party. we all moved off down the river all o.k., but our provisions began to run short, rapids became more often, some of them very bad, but for a few days everything went all right. the boys would tell indian adventures at night that someone had had, but the remark was made that dunn had nothing to say and captain powell said he guessed dunn did not know much about indians. the major chipped in and said, nor anything else. sumner took it up for dunn because he knew there would soon be trouble, and told powell that dunn had been wounded four times by the comanchies, so it all passed off. the next day we had some very bad rapids, so bad that it was necessary to let the boats around some large rocks, and in order to do this, and as dunn was a fine swimmer, the major asked him to swim out to a rock where he could catch the rope and raise it over the rock so the boat would swing in below. he made the rock all o.k. and was ready to catch the rope which was supposed to be thrown to him, so he could swing the boat in below, but the major saw his chance to drown dunn, as we thought, and he held to the rope. that was the first time that he had interfered in the letting the boats around bad places and the rope caught dunn around the legs and pulled him into the current and came near loosing the boat. but dunn held on to the rope and finally stopped in water up to his hips. we were all in the water but the major and captain dunn told the major that if he had not been a good swimmer he and the boat both would have been lost. the major said as to dunn that there would have been but little loss. one word brought on another, and the major called dunn a bad name and dunn said that if the major was not a cripple he would not be called such names. then captain powell said he was not crippled and started for dunn with an oath, and the remark he would finish dunn. he had to pass right by me and i knew that he would soon drown dunn, as he, so much larger, could easily do. he was swearing and his eyes looked like fire and just as he passed i caught him by the hair of his head and pulled him over back into the water. howland saw us scuffling and he was afraid cap would get hold of my legs, but dunn got to me first and said, for god's sake, bill, you will drown him. by that time howland was there and cap had been in the water long enough and dunn and howland drug him out on the sand bar in the rocks. after i got my hold in cap's hair i was afraid to let go, for he was a very strong man. he was up in a short time, and mad! i guess he was mad! he cursed me to everything, even to being a "missoury puke." i wasn't afraid of him when i got on dry ground; i could out-knock him after he was picked up twice. he made for his gun and swore he would kill me and dunn. but this talk did not excite me and as he was taking his gun from the deck of the boat andy hall gave him a punch behind the ear and told him to put it back or off would go his head. cap looked around and saw who had the gun and he sure dropped his. this all happened before the major got around to where we were. he soon took in the situation and came to me and made the remark that he would have never thought that i would go back on him. i told him that he had gone back on himself and that he had better help cap get the sand out of his eyes, that if he monkeyed with me any more i would keep him down next time. sumner and i had all we could do to keep down mutiny and there was bad feeling from that time on for a few days and we began to not recognize any authority from the major. we began to run races with our boats, as the loads were almost all gone. it was fun for the first two days, but the water began to get rough. hall, howland and myself were in my boat and i had become an expert in bad rapids and we ran several that the other two boats were let over with ropes. we stopped at noon one day to wait for the other boats. we were at the head of four bad rapids; it was some two hours before the other boats came and i had coffee all ready, as that was our principal food then. we had but little flour, but had plenty of dried apples and coffee. we laid in camp that afternoon and the major and sumner spent that afternoon in trying to find a place where we could let the boats over the first rapid with ropes. but they failed to find any place where we could get footing enough and the walls were too high for our ropes, so the major said we would try to find a place on the west side the next day. that evening late major and sumner and the two howland boys held a consultation (as i afterwards found out) to see about leaving the river with all hands. he said we would cross over and leave our boats and instruments under some large rocks and that we then would go out to some mormon settlements and get some grub and return to our boats and continue on down the river. the major asked me to bake up all the flour that we had and said to make the bread into bisquits, or dough-gods (as we called them), as flour and water was what we had to make them with. in about three hours i had them all baked. i told the major that the bread was ready and he called the boys and told them all his intentions as to leaving the river. that was the first time hall and i knew anything about what was going on. i told hall to take our shares and put them in the boat, as the major said that each man should keep his own part as we might get separated. i told the major that hall and i had no intention of separating, and that bradley, hall and myself were going to stay with the river and go through or drown. i also told him that if we had enough coming to us to pay for the boat that he could keep it. dunn, o. g. howland and seneca howland had made up their minds to go and dunn said he hated to leave hall and myself, as we had been together a long time, and that we would perish in the river and that we had better come and stay with the party. i told him that was what i was doing, that i called hall, bradley and myself a party of three and each one of them was a party of one. while we were talking the major came up to me and laid his left arm across my neck, tears running down his cheeks. by that time the rest of the boys were present and the major said to me, bill, do you really mean what you say? i told him that i did, and he said that if he had one man that would stay with him that he would not abandon the river, i just simply said that he did not know his party, and that andy hall and myself were too young to have any say in council and i said we are off now. he said that it was near noon and if i would make some coffee that we would have a cup of coffee together. i have been present at many solemn occasions, but i never witnessed one that come up to this. there were some strong hearts that shed tears. bradley said it made him a child again. we crossed over to the west side of the river and there was where we left our instruments and one boat. this is the last time we ever saw dunn and the two howland brothers alive. some years afterwards i, with a party of some others, buried their bones in the shewitz mountains, below kanab wash. as to powell leaving the party at lee's ferry, there was no ferry on the river, no one except some indians ever crossed. there was no place known as kanab wash when we first came down. powell never left the party until we got through to the mouth of the virgin river, where he and his brother were taken to the railroad or stage by some mormons who lived on the muddy. sumner, bradley, hall and myself continued on down the river. hall and i stopped at ehrenburg and sumner and bradley went on to yuma. from there sumner went to denver and bradley to san diego, where he died. sumner died at vernal, utah, so i heard, and hall was killed near globe, arizona. powell and his brother both died somewhere in the east and i am here nine miles below phoenix. w. w. hawkins. [1] correctly spelled "escalante," so named after padre escalante, who crossed the river in an expedition made in 1776. part ii. the story of james white, the first man to pass through the canyons of the colorado river. it seems to be a natural trait for any man, no matter how great, to claim to have been first in any great endeavor, dangerous exploration or unusual undertaking. hence it was to be expected that after major powell had made his memorable first trip down the canyons of the colorado that he and his friends should assert that his was the first expedition to attempt this hazardous undertaking. yet, while it may appear strange, an account appeared in the _rocky mountain herald_ of the date of january 8, 1869, about five months before major powell started on his first expedition, giving circumstantial detail of the passage on a raft through the canyons of the colorado from the san juan river, by a wisconsin prospector, james white. more dead than alive, he emerged from the lower reaches of the canyon at callville, a mormon settlement, where he was cared for and nursed back to life. mr. white is still alive, a respected and honored old man, a citizen of trinidad, colorado, and while all the writers that have extolled powell, from george wharton james down to the kolb bros., have either abused or ignored white, there is a growing conviction that the old man's story was and is true and that he did actually make the journey. a stalwart defender of white appeared in 1917 in the person of mr. thomas f. dawson, who succeeded in having the senate of the u. s. congress publish an elaborate argument of some sixty-seven pages which he had prepared, entitled: "the grand canyon--an article giving the credit of first traversing the grand canyon of the colorado to james white, a colorado gold prospector, who it is claimed made the voyage two years previous to the expedition under the direction of maj. j. w. powell in 1869." this pamphlet called forth a strong rejoinder from robert brewster stanton, which occupied some twenty-two pages of "the trail," a monthly publication of the "sons of colorado." in it, this eminent engineer and writer, whose intimate knowledge of the canyon none can dispute, while giving full credit to the honesty and integrity of mr. white, still insists that he was unintentionally wrong in the main part of his statements. on the other hand, f. s. dellenbaugh, who has written two books on the colorado river, viz., "the romance of the colorado river" and "a canyon voyage," openly assails white as a mendacious fabricator of the worst type. it would not be impossible for me, with my intimate personal knowledge of one portion of the grand canyon, extending over a period of nearly forty years, to point out discrepancies and inaccuracies in the published statements of both stanton and dellenbaugh, but it is not worth while here to do this. personally, i have come to believe white's statements, and here wish to reproduce in fac-simile a letter he wrote to his brother, dated callville, september 26, 1867. owing to the imperfections in spelling, punctuation, etc., i give a rendition (made by mr. dawson) into correct english. [illustration: fac-simile of first page of james white's letter to his brother.] [illustration: fac-simile of second page of james white's letter, and the envelope in which it was sent to his brother.] navigation of the big canon a terrible voyage callville, september 26, 1867. dear brother: it has been some time since i have heard from you. i got no answer from the last letter i wrote you, for i left soon after i wrote. i went prospecting with captain baker and george stroll in the san juan mountains. we found very good prospects, but nothing that would pay. then we started down the san juan river. we traveled down about 200 miles; then we crossed over on the colorado and camped. we laid over one day. we found that we could not travel down the river, and our horses had sore feet. we had made up our minds to turn back when we were attacked by fifteen or twenty ute indians. they killed baker, and george stroll and myself took four ropes off our horses, an axe, ten pounds of flour and our guns. we had fifteen miles to walk to the colorado. we got to the river just at night. we built a raft that night. we sailed all that night. we had good sailing for three days; the fourth day george stroll was washed off the raft and drowned, and that left me alone. i thought that it would be my time next. i then pulled off my pants and boots. i then tied a rope to my waist. i went over falls from ten to fifteen feet high. my raft would tip over three or four times a day. the third day we lost our flour, and for seven days i had nothing to eat except a raw-hide knife cover. the eighth day i got some mesquite beans. the thirteenth day i met a party of friendly indians. they would not give me anything to eat, so i gave them my pistol for the hind parts of a dog. i had one of them for supper and the other for breakfast. the sixteenth day i arrived at callville, where i was taken care of by james ferry. i was ten days without pants or boots or hat. i was sun-burnt so i could hardly walk. the indians took seven head of horses from us. i wish i could write you half i underwent. i saw the hardest time that any man ever did in the world, but thank god that i got through it safe. i am well again, and i hope these few lines will find you all well. i send my best respects to all. josh, answer this when you get it. direct your letter to callville, arizona. ask tom to answer that letter i wrote him several years ago. james white. stanton claims that white only went through the lower part of the canyon, viz., from the grand wash cliff's to callville. this much he concedes, and he asserts that the evidence is clear that white was led to claim he had traveled the whole length of the canyons, not through dishonesty, but by the law of suggestion. the men with whom he talked, after he was rescued from the raft, knowing little or nothing of the canyon, and assuming he had traveled the whole distance from the san juan, made him believe he had so traveled. when his terrible physical and mental condition is recalled, it is not hard to believe that he was in such a weakened state as readily to receive any powerful mental suggestion, and that this, once firmly fixed in his mind, ever afterwards appeared to him to be the strict and literal truth. but this assertion of stanton's implies that white and his companion, stroll, after captain baker was killed, crossed the intervening hundreds of miles from the san juan to the head of the grand wash, and that he there entered the canyon and floated down to callville. to my limited intelligence it seems incredible that any man could believe in the truth and honesty of james white and yet not question him as to how he forgot to mention how he traveled over all these hundreds of miles. white never makes a word of reference to it, nor does stanton. did white come on a flying machine in a trance? let anyone, even though he be unfamiliar with the wild country that exists between the san juan and the grand wash, look at a u. s. geological survey map and he will then be able to form some idea of the practical difficulties in the way of anyone crossing it. then, when it is recalled, that white was beset by hostile indians, who were determined to slay him and capture his outfit; that the country was unknown to him; that there was no food except that which he could secure with his rifle, is it not evident that he would far rather take his chances on facing the unknown dangers of the river than face certain death at the hands of the surrounding indians? personally, it is far harder for me to believe that white came overland, and forgot all about that trip, and entered the canyon at its lower end, than it is to accept his own plain statement that he built the raft near the junction of the grand and the green and made the whole descent of the colorado river to the point where he was rescued at callville. my first interest in white's trip through the grand canyon dates back to 1883, while i was engaged in train service for the atlantic and pacific railroad (now the santa fe) during its construction between williams, arizona, and the colorado river where the bridge is now situated near needles, california. it so happened that we were detained for several days at kingman, arizona, due to a fire that destroyed boarding cars and a water tank on the line near the end of the construction work. at this time i had never taken any interest in the grand canyon, in fact knew nothing about it, only from vague reports that were being circulated by the railroad men who had been out to see it from peach springs, at the mouth of diamond creek canyon. this route was then in its infancy and later was opened to visitors and was the first one opened to the public. they were so enthusiastic in their descriptions of this now famous "national park" that i at once became very greatly interested, and when i chanced to meet a man named hardy, who was then in kingman, i found that he lived on the colorado river and was engaged in goat raising. he told me about finding some mountain sheep among his band of goats, and various other experiences he had met, not the least of which was finding a man on a raft who had come through the entire grand canyon. he described him as being in an exhausted condition and covered with sores festered by flies. after reviving the man they learned the story of his sufferings and the drowning of his partner while going through some bad rapids; in fact his descriptions to me of what white told him was very much the same as has been published from later interviews to different parties. this was in july, 1883, when i met mr. hardy, and in september following i set out to make my first visit to grand canyon, from williams, arizona. since that time i have taken a great interest in its history and discovery. f. s. dellenbaugh, a member of the powell party of 1872, while on a visit to my camp at bass trail, told me his opinion of white's dramatic tale and i later read the same in his "romance of the colorado river," wherein he stamps the whole story as a "splendid yarn" (and i may here add, "but well told"). he denounces white's account as an utterly improbable feat to accomplish, but from my first personal knowledge of what the river is at the season of year that white's trip was staged, i cannot agree with dellenbaugh, and never have. from my many years of observation in this section of the canyon i am thoroughly convinced that during the period of high water, which is from the last of june until late in august, a raft may pass safely through the entire 488 miles of the canyon without disaster. it would be dangerous in the extreme in low water. another incident to strengthen my belief in white's story was the meeting of a man, j. p. vollmer by name, then president of the first national bank of lewiston, idaho, who was a visitor to the canyon some years later. he told me he came near being a member of white's party when they were about to start on their prospecting trip on the mancos in colorado, but unavoidably he was prevented from joining them in time or he might have been among them when attacked by the utes and met the fate of baker, or with white and his partner on the raft. i subsequently corresponded with vollmer regarding the incident and he once wrote me he was quite sure he could find some record of dates among his papers, but later on failed to do so. he and various others with whom i have talked regarding white have all united in their convictions of the truth of white's claims regarding this, the first journey through the entire five divisions of canyons through which the colorado river maintains its tortuous existence, 218 miles of which, at the western end, is known as the grand canyon. w. w. bass. grand canyon, arizona, may 21st, 1920. additional copies of this booklet may be obtained by addressing, w. w. bass, p. o. box 15, grand canyon, ariz. ancient chinese account of the grand canyon, or course of the colorado (copyrighted, brooklyn, 1913) by alexander m'allan ten suns in the sky! the ancient chinese records tell of a "place of ten suns," where "ten suns rose and shone together" (see appendix, note 1). seven suns were also seen shining together in the sky! and at night (if indeed we can call it "night") as many as seven moons! (what a haunt for lovers and poets!) five suns were also beheld (see note 2). what liars those chinese writers are! [illustration: figure 1. spectacle of five suns.] very good; but why not denounce all our own arctic navigators as a pack of liars? they all tell about more suns than one! a picture of five (see figure 1) is furnished by a most eminent explorer (note 3). the dictionaries and cyclopedias of our careful publishers call the appearance of two or more suns (or moons) a =parhelion=. the number of the multiplied "luminaries" never exceeds ten (note 4). there actually is a "place of ten suns." ten suns say the ancients. ten suns say the moderns. america shaped like a tree. the ancient mexicans likened north america to a tree--a stupendous =mulberry tree=--"planted in the land known to us today as south america" (n. 5). the chinese geographers or mythologists teach that at a distance of 30,000 =le= (10,000 miles) to the east there is a land 10,000 =le= (over 3,000) miles in width. now the land referred to must be north america, for, 10,000 miles east from southern china brings us to california; and we further find that north america, now reached, is 10,000 =le=, or over 3,000 miles in width, measuring from the pacific to the atlantic. the chinese accounts further call our eastern realm a =fu-sang= (or helpful =mulberry=) land. a =mulberry= land (3,000 miles wide) is =there=, say the chinese. the =mulberry= land (3,000 miles wide) is =here=, say the mexicans. like the mexicans, the chinese sages declare that there is an enormous tree--the =fu= (or helpful) =sang= tree--in the eastern mulberry land 3,000 miles wide. as just remarked, the chinese call the enormous eastern tree a =sang=, and the mexicans call their enormous tree a =beb= (both terms standing for the =mulberry=,--a fact to which no writer hitherto has directed, or called, attention.) observe (see figure 2) that at tehauntepec (a little west of yucatan) our continent narrows down to a width of 100 miles (or 300 chinese =le=). the mexicans say that north america is a tree, and that it has a correspondingly enormous trunk,--which at tehauntepec measures 100 miles (or 300 chinese =le=). now the chinese writers declare that the enormous mulberry in the region east of the flowery kingdom has "a trunk of 300 =le=" (or 100 miles.) what a prodigious dimension! (see note 6.) a mulberry tree, with a "trunk of 300 =le=," is =there=, say the chinese. a mulberry tree, with a trunk of 300 =le=, is =here=, say the mexicans. such a stupendous tree ought to have enormous branches to match the trunk, and we are not surprised when informed that our monarch of the forest goes up--up--up even to the place of the 10 suns (in the arctic zone.) the one true sun is, of course, high above the mountain ranges, or "branches" of our continental mulberry. but the extra nine are false or delusive and mere reflections of the true sun on fog or vapor. the chinese account, truly enough, states that they bear =wu=, and this term stands for "blackness," "inky," or "dark" (williams dict. p. 1058.) this identical term =wu= also stands for black or dark =fowls=, such as the raven, blackbird, and crow; and one oriental scholar, dwelling indeed in japan, assures us that each of the nine suns bears a =crow=! we are seriously informed, that "all bear--literally cause to ride--a =crow=" (note 7.) as well might it be asserted that because =wu= signifies "black," the nine =wu= borne by the suns must be nine blacks or negroes! the supposition that nine =crows= are meant is absurd and contradicted by the luminaries themselves. strange to say, the "luminaries" emit no radiance! the light that is in them is darkness, and they are fitting symbols for commentators--black, white, yellow, and green--who have written learnedly and positively on them without understanding a thing about them. perhaps it might be well, apart from its inconvenience, when writing about any nation, place, or natural object, to ascertain the position and name of the =continent= in which the subject of study is situated. of course we are not so unreasonable as to insist that we must really comprehend a matter before getting up to explain it to others, but the positions of continents dealt with ought, as a rule, to be clearly ascertained. in the present instance we have faithfully followed the ancient directions and groped our way into the presence of the nine blind suns. gazing at their beaming disks we perceive how the term wu (black or dark) applies to them. the =color= of crows is there, but not the living birds themselves. it is the story of the three black crows advanced another stage on its career of misrepresentation, and magnified threefold. the nine suns have neither swallowed nor disgorged nine black crows. but they are certainly open to the charge of having feasted too freely on diet no less dark and deceptive. they're the =color= of crows, say the ancients. they =bear= nine crows, say the moderns. [illustration: figure 2. our continental american tree.] the truth is that the false suns furnish neither heat nor light and really consist of dark (=wu=) vapor. the nine are mere reflections of the low-declined, true sun on "surrounding" frozen haze or mist, in extremely cold weather. when this icy fog seems--merely seems, of course,--to touch and surround the true sun, the illusions known as false suns are apt to appear. they obey some optical code of laws or signals understood best perhaps by themselves, and will sometimes disappear in a moment like a flock of timid "sun birds" (or wild geese--see note 8.) their design apparently is to cheer and escort their illustrious sire in his otherwise lonesome trip through a frozen, desolate zone. some chinese accounts call them "children"--"children of the sun," etc., etc. there is a reference to this frozen mist, in verne's "fur country," reading as follows: "it is not a mist or fog,' he said to his companions, 'it is frost-rime,' a dense vapor which remains in a state of complete congelation. but whether a fog or a frozen mist, this phenomenon was none the less to be regretted for it rose a hundred feet at least above the level of the sea, and it was so opaque that the colonists could not see each other when only two or three paces apart."--danvers' translation, p. 288. it should be remarked that the frozen haze which breeds the false suns is found only "at the bottom of," or "below," the mountain ranges or "branches" of our north american mulberry tree. the false suns speedily disappear from the view of the observer who climbs up out of the thick stratum of frozen fog or mist and ascends the nearest "branch." such observations are completely in accord with the ancient chinese declaration that nine of the suns are to be seen "below" (=hia=) or "at the bottom of" the branches, and one "above" the branches. the suns (see note 9) are not said to be "in the branches." nine are "below" (=hia=) and one "above" (=shang=); a remark as true today as it ever was. the "morea" (about fifty miles long), in greece, was so named because it was supposed to resemble the leaf of a =morus= or mulberry. and similarly north america was considered by mexican and chinese mythologists to exhibit some resemblance to a mulberry,--the helpful mulberry (or =fu-sang=). the one comparison is just as fanciful or reasonable as the other. nor can it be denied that north america presents some likeness to a tree,--towering aloft like the tree of the prophet daniel, which was seen from the ends of the earth. here columbia lights up her tree and welcomes the neighbors with a smile. the chinese note concerning the extra suns and moons, which frequently flit about and disappear, like so many sun-birds, connects them with the "branches" of the fu (or fu-sang) tree of amazing proportions, which flourishes in the region east of the eastern sea. the fu-sang land, 10,000 =le= (or 3,000 miles wide) is said to be 30,000 =le= (10,000 miles) to the east of china; and this indeed is the distance from canton to california. a lesser distance (20,000 =le=, or 7,000 miles) lies between northern china and the american mulberry land due east. it is in america that we are directed to search for the surplus assemblage of suns. and do we not find both them and fu-sang? (see note 10.) in what respect is the chinese account inaccurate thus far? we are informed that "in the water is a large tree having nine suns," etc. the trunk of this prodigious tree, which is more or less immersed in the eastern sea, furnishes the surprising dimension of "300 =le=." and rising above a valley of hot springs (readily found in nicaragua) the tree proceeds upward and rears aloft its exalted branches in the "place of the ten suns." the vast mountain-system, with its tree-like "trunk" and "branches," on which the many suns and moons are seen to alight or gambol, is called the "sun and moon =shan=" (=shan= signifying "mountain or range") in both the chinese text and the translation (see note 11.) it is identical with our continental stony mulberry and constitutes the form of north america. unfortunately our esteemed translator was utterly in the dark concerning the sense of the curious statements regarding the manifold suns and moons and even suggested that an explanation should be sought for in connection with the philippine islands. but the tree, or range of the sun and moon, is plainly in north america. and here are the flocks of suns roosting among the branches. notice of our grand canyon. according to the translation, a "great canyon" is to be seen in the "great eastern waste" "beyond the eastern sea." and this great canyon is placed in connection with the "sun and moon =shan=",--which possesses the mulberry's branches and exhibit of suns already glanced at (note 12.) we read that a stream flows through this canyon, "producing a charming gulf." we are further informed that "the water accumulates and so forms a gulf." a river flowing through the "great canyon," swells or widens out, displays a broadening expanse of water and becomes a gulf, a "charming gulf." is not this the beautiful gulf of california, which is a widening out or enlargement of a notable stream, the colorado? decidedly this mighty and famous river, whose "water accumulates and so forms a gulf," flows through a canyon. moreover, this canyon is truly a "great canyon." it is the greatest and grandest on the planet. it is also found in the "great waste to the east of the eastern sea," which washes the coast of china. it is the grand canyon of the colorado. the translation informs us (note 13) that this stream which flows into, or becomes a gulf has a "delightful spring." the canyon "has a beautiful mountain, from which there flows a delightful spring, producing a charming gulf. the water accumulates and so forms a gulf." such is the translation; but no chinese term for "spring" appears in the text. the original states that it is a =kan shui= which runs through the canyon, and this identical compound is translated "sweet river" by our author on page 163 of his large and comprehensive work. =kan= indeed signifies sweet, sweetness; delightsome, pleasant, happy, refreshing; and =shui= stands for "water or river" (see williams dict. pp. 310, 781.) it is therefore evident that a =kan shui= should be remarkable for the sweetness of its water and should start from a "delightful spring" of =sweet= water, in order to be pure and deserve its reputation. as a geographical fact, the colorado flows out of the very fount which curiously enough, gives birth to the "sweet water." this stream becomes the platte or nebraska river, which joins the missouri. and from the fount of the sweet water, exactly on the mountain divide, a head-stream of the colorado bubbles out, enlarging into the affluent known as the "green," the stream traverses the grand canyon and connects with the gulf. (note 14.) it should have a spring of =kan shui= or =sweet water=; and we find that it comes sparkling down the mountains from a =sweet water= spring. the sweet water stream after traversing a canyon, even a "great canyon" should connect with, or enlarge into, a gulf, described as "charming." can the gulf of california be regarded as charming? one explorer expresses himself as charmed and delighted with the scenery of the gulf. a sample passage in his report reads as follows: "the island and mountain peaks, whose outlines, as seen from the gulf, had been somewhat dimmed by a light haze, appeared surprisingly near and distinct in the limpid medium through which they were now viewed. the whole panorama became invested with new attractions, and it would be hard to say whether the dazzling radiance of the day or the sparkling clearness of the night was the more beautiful and brilliant. (note 15.) truly a charming and beautiful gulf is here. although the translation does not draw attention to the fact, the term employed in the chinese record to describe the course of the stream which passes through the great canyon, is =chu=. now this word is employed to designate water which is "shooting over a ledge" (williams' dict. p. 89), and its use is entirely appropriate in a description of the course of the water in the channel of the colorado. the bed of the stream is exceedingly irregular and consists indeed of a succession of =ledges=--producing a series of rapids, falls, or cataracts. were the water to disappear, the exposed bed of the colorado, with its ascending series of steps, might be likened indeed with truth to a stairway for giants or gods. the falls caused by =ledges= (=chu=) are exceedingly numerous. one navigator's log contains many such entries as the following: "still more rapids and falls today. in one, the emma dean [a boat] is caught in a whirlpool, and set spinning about (n. 16). one subdivision of the grand canyon is known as cataract canyon, and this section "in its 41 miles, has 75 rapids and cataracts, and 57 of these are crowded into 19 miles, with falls, in places, of 16 to 20 feet" (n. 17.) all accounts concur in representing the stream as remarkable for the fury and number of its falls. to ascend the colorado is a sheer impossibility and even to descend the stream is an enterprise rarely indeed attempted or achieved. only rafts or life-boats, backed by pluck and luck, stand a chance of getting through--in pieces. the mariners all wear life-belts and are just as often in the water as they are out of it. evidently a river of =ledges= is here. surely the term =chu= (or water shooting over =ledges=) applies with peculiar force to the career of this "wildest of rivers"--the colorado. the colorado--bottomless? knowing quite well as we do, that our mighty river possesses a very substantial bottom composed of step-like ledges of rock, we learn with surprise that it is said to flow through a section described as =bottomless=! is not such a statement or assertion absurd? but what did the ancient writer mean? what could he have meant? the translation states that, according to a poem, the =tsang-shan-wu=, "in the east there is a stream flowing in a =bottomless= ravine. it is supposed to be this canyon"--the "great canyon of the region beyond the eastern sea." the chinese term rendered "canyon" is =hoh=, which stands also for "a bed of a torrent, a deep gully or wady; a valley" (see williams dict. p. 453.) of course, a =ta= (or "great") =hoh= ought to be a great canyon, or a remarkable deep gorge or valley containing the bed of a torrent. we have already been informed that a =chu= (or river of ledges and falls) is in the =ta hoh=, or mighty gorge beyond the eastern sea. we also perceive that the title =ta hoh= applies properly to the mountain-hemmed course of our colorado (which connects with middle park and runs to the gulf.) somewhere in this immense and peerless =ta hoh=--somewhere among the majestic mountains--somewhere along the bed of the colorado (either inside or outside of middle park,) the investigator should find a section which is =bottomless=. the ancient account locates it there. nor are we to look for it in any philippine island. we are restricted to the bed or banks of the colorado which we have identified as the =chu= or plunging river that rushes downward to the gulf. our leaping stream flows into and out of grand lake (within middle park.) now this lake (or enlargement of the bed of the grand colorado) "has a beach, and far out into the body of the water a sandy bottom" and "in the center, covering an area of nearly a =mile= square the lake to all appearance is =bottomless=." we are further informed that "explorations of the edges of this great submarine cavern give the most positive evidences that it was once the crater of a great volcano" (note 18). "the lake to all appearance is bottomless. the deepest soundings that could ever be made have failed to reach bottom. hence it is concluded that it has =no bottom=." turn these two words, "no bottom" into chinese and we get =wu ti=,--the very terms employed in the chinese account. no bottom, say the ancients. no bottom, say the moderns. the old account puts the unfathomable abyss in a =kuh= (valley or ravine) and it is within a valley--the valley of middle park--that we actually find it. moreover, this bottomless valley is "supposed" (or reported) to belong to the =ta hoh=--a title which would cover both valley and canyon. indeed, middle park, with its enormous mountain-walls connects directly with the system of the grand canyon. moreover, the one stream flows through both. and here it may be remarked that the =chu= (or river of ledges and falls) is not terminated or swallowed up by the bottomless abyss in =kuh= (or valley of middle park.) it flows on through the =ta hoh= and ultimately enlarges into a gulf (the gulf of california). the rocky floor of the =kuh= (or valley of middle park) evidently constitutes a support or bottom for an impetuous and important river of ledges or rapids and yet, at the same time, is reported to be bottomless. this seems contradictory. but reaching the precise locality referred to in the old account, modern scientists simply echo the declaration of the ancients,--that this valley or =kuh=, traversed by a leaping, furious =chu=, is unfathomable. bottomless! say the ancients. bottomless! say the moderns. it thus appears that a statement seemingly calculated at first sight to drown the ancient claim in a flood of derision, turns out on examination to be overwhelmingly powerful evidence in support of the validity of the old record. in no respect or degree is the ancient testimony contradicted or falsified by modern evidence. take for instance the old assertion that the =shan= or mountain-range of the great canyon, is "beautiful." nothing seems more natural than to conclude that such a laudatory term is grossly out of place and that the mountain-range, with its canyon and furious =chu=, is a frightful, gloomy, dangerous, horrible, repulsive, bleak, and ugly mass of shattered and tottering heights. and, indeed, there is much truth in this view of the situation. nevertheless, modern visitors unite in declaring that beauty is a marked feature of the rocky heights that possess or direct the colorado; and this is in agreement with the ancient account. one traveler says: "the roar of its waters was heard unceasingly, ... but its walls and cliffs, its peaks and crags, its amphitheatres and alcoves, tell a story of =beauty= and sublimity" (note 19). another visitor, who was treated most disrespectfully by our =chu=, has eyes only for its "beauty": "the canyon grows more and more picturesque and =beautiful= the farther we proceed.... on many of the long stretches where the river can be seen for several miles, the picture is one of charming =beauty=.... as the clouds rose we were treated to scenes rare and =beautiful= in the extreme" (n. 20.) again: "cataract and narrow canyons are wonderful, glen canyon is =beautiful=, marble canyon is mighty; but it is left for the grand canyon, where the river has cut its way down through the sandstones, the marbles, and the granites of the kaibab mountains, to form those =beautiful= and awe-inspiring pictures that are seen from the bottom of the black granite gorge, where above us rise great wondrous mountains of bright red sandstone capped with cathedral domes and spires of white, with pinnacles and turrets, and towers, in such intricate forms and flaming colors that words fail to convey any idea of their =beauty= and sublimity." the translation informs us that the mighty gorge is the canyon of =kiang=, =shang=, or almighty god. and a modern visitor declares that "here omnipotence stands revealed," and that here is "a glorious creation of god." (n. 21.) so impressed were the ancients with the beauty and grandeur of this region that they peopled it with the souls of illustrious sages, and declared that here was the canyon of almighty god. and those who enter it today, come reeling back from its portals,--declaring that no mortal can describe its glories, and that it is the grand canyon of almighty god! words fail one in the attempt to describe this glorious creation of god. the impression it leaves upon the mind is overpowering. one feels as though he had been admitted into the presence of the genii of the plutonic regions, had penetrated to the very heart of the inner world of elemental creations." we need not wonder that the old account connects a revered ancestor with this glorious and celestial retreat in the grand canyon. he is called =shao hao=, and is furthur termed a =ju=, (or sucking child.) =shao= signifies "little" or "a little," and =hao= is formed of the signs for "sun" and "heaven." it is therefore evident that the =ju= or infant at the canyon is (or was) a little sun child, or child of the sun. american rulers called themselves "children of the sun," and we should be careful not to confound our arizona prince with any asiatic ruler. [the =hao= or =shao hao= of supposed chinese origin is represented by some different symbols: see williams' dict. p. 172, columns 1 and 2.] the little child of the sun at the =ta-hoh= or great canyon should not be--must not be--confounded with any early chinese sun-worshiper. we are to look =far to the east of china= for both the canyon and the little child of the sun referred to in the account before us. we are informed that the country connected with the great canyon was called "=shao hao's= country" (or the land of the sun-child) on account of the little prince. he entered (=chi=) it, and this furnished the =reason= (or =chih=) for its title--land of the sun-child. the infant (or =ju=) is distinctly called a ruler (or =ti=.) moreover, although he was little (=shao=) or but a =ju= (suckling); he was a supreme king (or =chwen suh=). (note 22.) =chwen= is formed by putting together the two words "only" and "head." and =suh= is a chinese term composed of the two significant words "only" and "king" (see williams' dict. pp. 117, 825, 1043.) evidently the baby ruler (or =ju ti=) was regarded by his people, in this region remarkable for its mountains, as the only or supreme head--the =chwen suh=, as chinese historians might forcibly phrase it--of the people ruled. [because the infant was king and even the supreme king, it seems reasonable to suppose that his father was dead (and his mother alive) at the time when he was carried into the great canyon and duly suckled there.] we need not just here attempt to unravel his history. enough to show that our grand canyon is positively and clearly referred to in chinese literature. we may, however, note the fact that the royal infant (see translation) belonged to the =kin tien= or golden heaven family, and this title must be considered when the history of our arizona prince comes to be investigated. it should further be remarked that the respected translator has erred slightly in his supposition that the =chwen suh= (or supreme head) was "shao =hao's descendant=." the chinese terms in the original are: =shao hao= (not =hao's=) =ju= (baby) =ti= (ruler) =chwen suh= (head king.) it was the =little sun child ruler and supreme king= who was at the canyon. particular attention should be paid to the fact, that, although regarded as a supreme ruler, the prince is represented as being but a suckling (or =ju=) when in the neighborhood of the great canyon. now, the translation states that this baby or supreme lord "of whom no further description is given, =left there his lute= and lyre. it says that =his lute= and lyre are in this canyon." music in the grand canyon? it is absurd to imagine for a moment that a =sucking= infant could own, or could be really supposed to own, a =lute=. the chinese text does not say that the musical instrument is "his." and yet, curiously enough, it does declare that the baby-prince left or abandoned (=k'i=) a lute or lyre in the canyon. why should such a matter be mentioned? supposing that a fiddle was left behind, or a drum, or a rattle, why should the trivial fact be gravely recorded? if a lute was left in the mighty chasm, its remains might be there still. but how could an infant be said to leave or abandon a lute? would he not try, so well as our memory serves, to first get it into his mouth? would not his chubby hands, quite stout enough for destructive arts, tear the strings apart and feed the music to the nearest cat? would it be a lute at all when ultimately relinquished? and if the babe derived pleasure from ill-treated and squalling strings, why should he leave the lute behind? as well say that the suckling abandoned there a fishing-rod! would not a milk-bottle be a much readier fount of ecstacy than either a lute or a flute? why, neither one nor the other =could be heard= within the canyon. a chinese commentator, however, relieves us from the necessity of seeking for a literal lute between the resounding jaws of the mighty chasm (note 23.) he says it is erroneous (=ngo=) to suppose that the baby emperor (=ju ti=) grasped (=ping=,) or left behind (=chi=) or abandoned in the place of midnight darkness (=huen=) any lutes or lyres (=kin seh=.) in hyperbolical language (=wu wu=)--which is never true when taken literally--a clear limpid river (=shuh=) would be the lute (=kin=.) but how could a clear stream serve as a lute? the running water might produce limpid notes. thus moore, in his ode on "harmony," uses the following words: "listen!--when the night-wind dies down the still current, =like a harp= it sighs! a liquid =chord= in every wave that flows." here is a current of water likened to the string of a harp, and the playing of winds compared to music. mrs. sigourney calls niagara a "trump," and we accept the assertion (although literally it is quite untrue.) but if the chinese account placed a trump in the ontario chasm there would be considerable difficulty in finding it. fortunately, in the case immediately before us, it is a chinese author who tells us that we are to seek for limpid streams rather than for literal lutes or lyres. the mention of the latter would probably imply that the sounds of some stream or streams in the great canyon are of a remarkably soft and musical character. streams may produce delightful tones. thus one observer (at yellowstone) tells of the "mysterious music of the distant falls" "like the tremulous vibration of a mighty but remote harp-string." (note 24) if falling water under certain peculiar acoustic circumstances can produce notes like those struck off from harp-strings, the tones can also be compared to those of lutes or lyres (for all are stringed instruments.) the very volume which places lutes and lyres in the great canyon, also tells of a forest elsewhere, which is a "forest of lutes and lyres" (note 25.) of course sounds merely resembling those of the stringed instruments, are here referred to. a forest is composed of trees rather than musical instruments, but it may produce musical tones like those of lutes and lyres. and similarly the notes arising from the grand canyon may be of a lute-like character. this is the teaching of the ancients. we have found the bottomless stream and it is certain that visitors should return with accounts of melody arising from the canyon. future explorers should listen for musical notes. they will certainly not be disappointed. one visitor says: "the waters waltz their way through the canyon, making their own rippling, rushing, roaring music." we further read of innumerable cascades adding their wild music to the roar of the river." what are these innumerable cascades but the strings of the lute which was heard ages ago by enraptured ears and which has kept on resounding ever since. the concert in the canyon drowns even the basic roar of the river. the music is there. "we sit on some overhanging rocks, and enjoy the scene for a time, listening to the music of falling waters away up the canyons." (n. 26.) it appears that the acoustic properties of the grand canyon are calculated to produce most notable effects: "great hollow domes are seen in the eastern side of the rock.... our words are repeated with startling clearness, but in a soft mellow tone, that transforms them into magical music." elsewhere an immense grotto "was doubtless made for an academy of =music= by its storm born architect; so we name it =music= temple." (n. 27.) lutes and lyres are there, say the ancients. a temple of music is there, say the moderns. it will be noticed that the chinese annotater calls the great canyon--the =ta hoh=--a place of (=huen=) midnight darkness and declares that it is erroneous to suppose that the lute played down there (where it could not possibly be heard) was an instrument held by a human hand (the hand of a suckling!). now, although the great gorge is wonderfully beautiful, it must be conceded that its basic part (within which human beings might dwell) is decidedly dark. here "it is necessary to 'lie down upon one's back in order to see the sky,'--as i once heard general crook express it. into much of this deep gorge no ray of sunshine ever falls, and it well deserves the name of the 'dark canyon.'" (n. 28). often in midday, stars are seen shining overhead; and it may well be called a place of midnight darkness (=huen=.) in the following passage a modern visitor notices the "dark and frowning" walls of the chasm, but still enlarges on their beauty:--"one would think that after traveling through six hundred miles of those canyons, one would be satisfied with =beauty= and grandeur, but in this fact lies the charm. of the six hundred miles no two miles are alike. the picture is ever changing from grandeur to beauty, from beauty to sublimity, from the =dark= and =frowning= greatness of its granite walls, to the dazzling colors of its upper cliffs. and i stood in the last few miles of the grand canyon spellbound in wonder and admiration, as firmly as i was fixed in the first few miles in surprise and astonishment." (note 29.) nature has done her best to adorn the walls of the mighty gorge. we are told of "=thousands of rivulets=" that "dropped farther and farther down, till the whole of the bright scarlet walls seemed hung with a tapestry of silver threads, the border fringed with white fleecy clouds which hung to the tops of the walls, and through which the points of the upper cliffs shone as scarlet tassels." nor was dame nature completely satisfied with her tapestry and fringe of tassels. other embroidery was displayed. "as the sun broke through some side gorge, the canyon was spanned from side to side, as the clouds shifted their position, with rainbow after rainbow, vying to outdo in brilliancy of color the walls of the canyon themselves." the ancient account declares, that in "the region beyond the eastern sea," a bottomless river traverses a great canyon. and this stream, remarkable for its ledges (=chu=) or rapids and falls, rushes onward and downward, and grows or enlarges into a gulf. and the canyon, the river, and the gulf are all reported to be =kan=--or =beautiful=. and visitors today return from all three, declaring that they are beautiful! beautiful!! beautiful!!! and some are entranced by strains of music arising from the mouth of the canyon and declare that it holds an "orchestra." in one place the thousands of streamlets, glistening and gleaming like silvery cords, stretch downward from the edge of the painted chasm; and the resounding, melodious precipice is called "the cliff of the harp." (note 30.) what is this but an echo of the ancient declaration that the royal lute in the canyon was merely a musical stream. similar ideas have occurred to poets. coleridge in his "ancient mariner," tells of "a noise like of a hidden brook in the leafy month of june, which to the sleeping woods all night singeth a quiet tune." and moore has heard the notes of harp-strings sounding forth from melodious streams. what wonder, then, that ancient poets (and the translation states that the particular work which makes mention of the "bottomless =kuh=" or valley, is a "poem") should have likened a collection of falling streams or cascades to the chords of a tuneful lute and then, to distinguish it from others less excellent, have applied to the stringed instrument the name of their prince. americans today gravely talk of visiting or seeing "st. luke's head" (in california!) and we possess a mere natural formation which is supposed to resemble a nose and is religiously called "st. anthony's nose." in truth this "nose" is no more a literal nose than the "lute" in the canyon is a literal stringed instrument made by men. then we have "cleopatra's bath" and "pompey's pillar." (next tell us in the interest of chaos and confusion that pompey left here "his" pillar.) in the grand caves at pikes peak there is an "organ," which is really no organ at all. it is a natural formation or production from which charming melodies are fetched by skilled musicians. now if we ourselves can gravely call a musical, highly-strung rock an "organ," may not the ancients be excused for calling a combination of musical streams a lute? contemplating the "cliff of the harp," we can readily understand how old-time visitors found down there the tuneful string of a "lute" and how an imperial child of the sun was unable to lug along "his" notable musical toy. there it remains and melodious notes still come floating up. lutes and lyres are there, say the ancients. "an academy of music!" say the moderns. the chinese annotater remarks that the =lieh tsze= (a class of sages or teachers--the literati) are unacquainted (=pu chi=) with the =sheu-hai= or gulf situated toward the east (=chi tung=.) the chinese scholars of the writer's time knew little or nothing of our gulf of california (or =sheu-hai=). however, it was known to some; and we are now informed that it is =ki= (a =few=; nearly about, approximately) =yih= (to =guess=, to bet; 100,000; an indeterminate number) =wan= (10,000) =le=. a single =wan le= should measure about 3,000 miles, and a =few= (to "guess") separate china from the =ta-hoh= which connects with the bottomless =kuh= or valley ("=ta-hoh shih wei wu ti chi kuh=.) evidently the great canyon lies more than =one wan le= (3,000 miles) to the east of china. we find indeed that the number may well be referred to as "a few" (=ki=.) nor can the gulf be =more= than about 30,000 =le= to the east, seeing that this gulf of california is in "the region beyond the eastern sea" along with the =fu-tree= which has a trunk of 300 =le=. the gulf to the east is connected with the mountain system whose branches exhibit the gorgeous spectacle of ten suns. in short, the gulf and canyon are along with =fu-sang=; and =fu-sang= is only 30,000 =le= to the east of china, and merely 10,000 wide. accordingly, the gulf is but "a few" =wan le= to the east of the flowery kingdom. to look for the canyon and tree within the philippine islands, contiguous to china, is simply impossible. the islands have been pretty well thrashed over lately, and no one has met with the tree! it has a "trunk of 300 le," and collectors of curios or strange plants should keep wide awake and see that they don't pass it in the dark. and yet with its ten moons, how miss it? how fail to notice our glittering, gleaming, glorious candelabrum? it couldn't have fallen or drifted over to the panama ditch? it can't possibly be now stuck in any south american flower-pot? catching the tree seems to be as slippery as catching tartars, and perhaps when the first is found, the others won't be very far off. the chinese commentator, of course, never saw either the gulf or canyon but he quotes from earlier writers who were well acquainted with our "region beyond the eastern sea;" and one of these named =chwangtsze=, is quoted to the effect that in the =ta hoh= or great canyon =high winds= (=yuen fung=) occur (=yu=) or come unexpectedly upon one. do storms arise suddenly in the neighborhood of the mighty chasm? one modern explorer says: "i go up to explore the alcove. while away a whirlwind comes scattering the camp fire among the dead willows and cedar spray and soon there is a conflagration, the men rushing for the boats, leaving all they cannot readily seize at the moment, and even then they have their clothing burned and hair singed." (note 31.) storms occur in all parts of the world. is there anything peculiar about the tempests which are said to suddenly arise in the great canyon? one visitor says: "storms were not infrequent and these occurring where the canyon walls were a mile high and close together produced an effect that was almost supernatural in its awfulness. the deep thunder echoed sharply between the cliffs, producing a roaring sound that was almost deafening." (note 32.) it should be remembered that the vast caverns here multiply the bellowings of thunder and also help to confine and intensify the raging and imprisoned whirlwinds. one eye or ear witness tells of a storm both seen and heard within the canyon and adds: "i have seen the lightning play and heard the thunder roll among the summit peaks of the rocky mountains, as i have stood on some rocky point far above the clouds, but =nowhere= has the awful grandeur equalled that night in the lonesome depths of what was to us death's canyon.... again all was shut in by darkness thicker than that of egypt. the stillness was only broken by the roar of the river as it rushed along beneath me. suddenly as if the mighty cliffs were rolling down against each other, there was peal after peal of thunder striking against the marble cliffs below, and mingling with their echoes, bounding from cliff to cliff. thunder with echo, echo with thunder, crossed and recrossed from wall to wall of the canyon," etc. (note 33.) surely sudden and dreadful storms rage here. the loudest in north america, says an expert. observe that the visitor just quoted notices the "roar of the river" in connection with the fury of the tempest. now, the ancient visitor does the same. after directing attention to the sudden high winds, he says that a decidedly curious sight or spectacle (=king shun=) is the =keang= (a large main stream which receives tributaries) spreading abroad (=fu=) the =noise= of flowing water (=tsung=) in the =ta-hoh= or great canyon. the noise of the great river or =keang= is thus noticed by the ancient visitor, who also declares that the =ta-hoh= or great canyon constitutes a decidedly fine or curious sight. and such in truth it actually is. "imagine a chasm that at times is less than a quarter of a mile wide and more than a mile deep, the bed of which is a tossing, =roaring=, madly impetuous flood.... what an imposing spectacle; what a sublime vision of mightiness!" (n. 34). a great sight! say the ancients. a wonder of the world! say the moderns. the roar of the river has never ceased since the ancient scribe, or his informant, passed that way. a modern visitor says: "the threatening =roar= of the water is loud and constant." again, "the =roar= of its waters was heard unceasingly from the hour we entered it until the time we landed here. no quiet in all that time." (n. 35). one navigator tells of a "bore" in connection with the resounding stream. "in the stillness of the night, the roaring of the huge mass could be heard reverberating among the windings of the river.... this singular phenomenon of the 'bore,' as it is called, is met with but at few places in the world.... in the course of four or five hours the river falls about thirty feet" (n. 36.) another explorer pauses at one spot in his amphibious career to note that "high water mark" can be seen "fifty, sixty, or a hundred feet above its present stage;" and "when a storm bursts over the canyon, a side gulch is dangerous, for a sudden flood may come and the inpouring waters will raise the river, so as to hide the rocks before your eyes" (n. 37). another navigator, who never was without a life-belt,--which he found of vital use when righting his too often overturned ark,--tells with amazement of "the waves, torrents, and cataracts of this wildest of rivers." a ceaseless basic roar is there,--deadened at times by floods of music, yet nevertheless eternally there. the sea connected with the great canyon is elsewhere called a =puh hai= (the latter term signifying "sea.") a =puh hai= is said to be a "gulf," and we find a gulf--the gulf of california--at the mouth of the colorado. it should, however, be observed that the term =puh= by itself stands for "an arm of the sea." a =puh hai= is a gulf which forms "an arm of the sea." the gulf or sea should be shaped like an =arm=--an arm of the ocean (see williams' dict. p. 718.) now, a glance at the map shows that in a very peculiar sense the gulf of california is a =hai= or "sea" which meets the requirements of being shaped like an =arm=. it is a sea and a gulf and at the same time "an arm" of the ocean. truly it is a =puh hai=. a great many "gulfs" are quite unlike "arms," being too broad to admit of such a comparison. but our gulf of california is comparatively narrow and is truly an "arm" of the sea. and notice how the water of the river--our colorado--"accumulates and so forms a gulf." such are the words of the existing translation and they apply completely to the american situation. here we find the water of the colorado accumulating or widening out until it becomes a great body of water--a gulf. indeed this development or process of expansion is so gradual that it is impossible for navigators to tell where the river ends or the gulf begins. in the chinese comment immediately before us, however, the =hai= or sea to the canyon's river mouth is called a =sheu=. now this term signifies "to rinse the mouth, to scour; to wash out a thing; to purify." (williams, p. 757.) the word =sheu= is written by combining the characters for "water" and "to suck in." it is evident that our gulf of california is "an arm of the sea" and no less a =sheu=. a "mouth" it undoubtedly has, and this mouth is being ceaselessly "washed," "scoured," and "purified." even a dentist would be satisfied! the immense stream rushes out, and tides from the pacific rush in. moreover the colorado "sucks in" the tidal wave known as the bore. surely we have here the eastern gulf sea which is both a =puh= and a =sheu=. the water of the noisy, restless, purifying stream within the =ta-hoh= was it is said,-1. =yu= (which means "used or employed.") 2. =wuh= (to water or irrigate; to soften with water; to enrich.) 3. =tsiao= (scorched, burned, singed, dried up.) 4. =chi= (referring to or denoting.) 5. =tsze= (here or this.) evidently the water of the colorado was used to =irrigate= some ground or vegetation which was dried up or =scorched=. such a remark implies a high temperature (during the period of growth) between the walls of the chasm, and also leads us to look for some soil--some scorched or dried up soil (sadly in need of irrigation)--between the jaws of the canyon. is there parched or desert soil on the banks of the colorado? here is the answer: "the region through which the chafing waters of the colorado run is forbidding in the extreme, a vast =sahara= of waste and inutility; a desert too dreary for either vegetable or animal life; a land that is =haunted with wind-storm=, on which ride the furies of desolation.... the earth is =parched to sterility=.... it is like the moon, a =parched= district, save for the single stream which, instead of supplying sustenance, is eating its vitals." (note 38.) another traveler visited fort yuma, on the colorado, and says: "the ride to the fort was through a flat and desolate looking country.... it was a dreary eight hours ride." other remarks are made concerning "the barrenness of the surrounding region and" "the =intense heat= of its summer climate." (note 39.) in some spots, however, water produces magical effects. in the mojave valley, for instance, "the annual overflow of the river enables the mojaves, to raise with little labor, an abundant supply of provisions for the year.... during one season, a few years since, the colorado did not overflow its banks; there were consequently no crops and great numbers of the mojaves perished from starvation." (note 40.) curiously enough, although rain fell furiously within the canyon, it was observed by a traveler that "such rain-storms were invariably confined to the immediate vicinity of the canyon, the territory lying two or three miles east or west continuing parched with hardly a cloud above it." and the explorer wonders how some ancient inhabitants, whose buildings are now in ruins, "managed to exist, situated as they were in a desolate country, where there was great scarcity of both vegetable and animal life." the ancient chinese account connects a baby king, a supreme ruler, with the great canyon and now states that water was used within the gorge to irrigate the soil, which is represented as being dried up or scorched. is the canyon remarkable for its heat? surely it ought to be cool down there? one visitor says: "that canyon was the sultriest place i have ever struck, and my experience includes some of the hottest sections this side of the equator. the oppressive heat in the chasm was felt at a "point fifty times as deep as the great chasm at niagara." (note 41.) "but despite the terrible heat, despite the discomfort of the situation, i was compelled to wonder and admire, for,"-the =ta-hoh= should constitute a magnificent sight, but it is also said to contain some =scorched= or dried up soil. is such to be seen? an explorer reached the colorado at a point where it is 266 yards wide, and adds that the "soil" "bore nothing but dry weeds and bushes and the whole scene presented the most perfect picture of desolation i have ever beheld, as if some =sirocco= had passed over the land, =withering= and =scorching everything=." (note 42.) withered and scorched! say the ancients. withered and scorched! say the moderns. in one favored spot, "to the limit of vision, the tortuous course of the river (the colorado) could be traced through a belt of alluvial land varying from one to six miles in width, and garnished with inviting meadows, with broad groves of willow and mezquite and promising fields of grain." the visitor remarks that the valley appears most attractive in the spring--"at this season of the year before the =burning heat= has =withered= the freshness and beauty of the early vegetation." (note 43.) we are informed that the valley south of the bend of the colorado near the "needles," there is in the spring a "most brilliant array" of flowers; but, "after the ephemeral influence of the few spring showers has passed, the annual plants are soon =burned= up by the sun's heat and perfect sterility prevails throughout the remainder of the season." (note 44.) it is sufficiently apparent that the soil when properly watered can produce abundant vegetation and sufficient nourishment for, of course, limited numbers of human beings. deprived of water, the soil is unable to sustain desirable plants, and presents a sterile aspect. surveying its present condition or appearance of barrenness, a modern visitor wonders how the ancient inhabitants contrived to exist, or find food, within the withered, unfruitful chasm. but one of the ancients, mr. chwang tsze, writing about this very =ta-hoh= or great chasm, says that they used water to irrigate the otherwise scorched or dried up soil. then, if such a somewhat belated answer is true, the question arises, where are the proofs? a chief of the ethnological bureau very properly furnishes the answer. standing in the abyss of the =ta-hoh=, on the bank of the roaring river, he beholds some ancient buildings and perceives how their vanished occupants formerly contrived to subsist. he says: "we can see where the ancient people who lived here--a race more highly civilized than the present--had made a =garden=, and =used= a great spring" [or feeder of the colorado], "that comes out of the rocks for =irrigation=," etc. (n. 45.) we irrigated the soil, say the ancients. they irrigated the soil, say the moderns. next comes the statement of some trusted early sage or scholar who was certainly acquainted with our =ta-hoh= (containing the ruin and irrigated soil just noticed.) it is an observer or scribe named =tu-tsan=, who says:-10. =seay= (to paint, to draw, to sketch.) 11. =yih= (to spread abroad, to diffuse.) 12. =tung= (a gorge, ravine, canyon, a cave, a grotto.) 13. =hueh= ("a hole in the earth or side of a hill,--they are used for dwellings;" a den, a grotto, a cavern.) something called =seay= is here said to be spread abroad, or diffused over rocky walls or caves. williams (p. 796) says that =seay= (or =sie= as it is also spelled) stands for a sketch or design, and adds that it means to draw, to compose, to write. morrison, in his dictionary, says that =seay= signifies "to paint," etc. of course there is no use looking for anything so absurd as pictured or painted rocky walls or caves; and we accordingly feel disappointed when the ancient text seems to notice such. the pictures or paint should be "spread abroad" freely or lavishly in the vicinity of caverns, and we know positively that no "paint" or pigment of human composition can be seen on the canyon walls. no artificial pictures are there, and we are compelled to admit that the ancient account here stands falsified. we have, however, found the caves. music temple, for instance measures two hundred feet from floor to roof, and is "a vast chamber carved out of the rock." there are caverns in all directions. and the noisy, roaring river is certainly there as well. one explorer says: "imagine a chasm that at times is less than a quarter of a mile wide and more than a mile deep, the bed of which is a tossing, roaring, madly impetuous flood, winding its way in a sinuous course along =walls= that are =painted= with all the pigments known to nature. what an imposing spectacle!" (n. 46.) of course we must object that the "walls" are really not walls and that the "paint" so lavishly spread upon them is not paint at all. the ancient assertion is delusive, but equally so is the modern. just compare them. the virgin river enters the colorado, and at the place of junction are the "resplendently =painted= temples and towers of the virgin. here the slopes, the serpentine ledges, and the bosses of projecting rock, interlarded with scanty soil, display all the colors of the rainbow, and in the distance may be likened to the =painter's pallete=. the bolder tints are of maroon, purple, chocolate, magenta, and lavendar, with broad bands of white laid in horizontal belts. (n. 47.) is this so-called "paint" =lavishly= "spread abroad"? certainly; one section of the mighty and wondrous gorge is known as "the =painted= canyon." of course the chasm is not really "painted" by artists or human agents, and we need not look for painted cliffs anywhere. nevertheless modern observers echo the language of the ancients, and we are told today of "the =painting= of the rocks" and of "deep, =painted= alcoves" and "=painted= grottos" (n. 48.) the term =yih= (see williams' dict. pp. 781, 1092) is composed of the characters for "fluid" and "vessel," and signifies "a vessel full to the brim; ready to overflow, to run over; abundant; to spread abroad, to diffuse." as =seay=, the word which precedes =yih= in our chinese note, signifies "to paint," we perceive how the additional term =yih= teaches that the =paint= made use of has been applied to extensive surfaces, so that it presents the appearance of having "overflowed" or "run over" the rocky walls and caverns dealt with. of course neither writing nor literal pictures could overflow or drench--and adhere to--walls or cliffs. but =seay yih= might cover the motion of applying =paint= in a most lavish, copious, overflowing manner. here are cliffs so "rich with parti-coloring as to justify the most extravagant language in describing them." it looks as though the gnomes on the job, in the canyon, just emptied their paint-pots down dizzy cliffs and then went back for more. and such extravagance is in harmony with the symbols which stand for painting and vessels and spreading abroad or overflowing! mineral paints were freely used and sometimes apparently with considerable care and skill. thus we read of a red sandstone cliff "unbroken by cracks or crevices or ledges" exhibiting "extensive flat surfaces beautifully =stained= by iron, till one could imagine all manner of tapestry effects." here are painted imitations of tapestry. it should further be remembered that there are actual picture writings spread abroad on extensive painted or stained surfaces. the author just quoted beheld ancient dwellings which "exhibited considerable skill on the part of the builders, the corners being plumb and square." and just here "there were also numerous picture writings." (note 49.) an amazed visitor exclaims: "grand, glorious, sublime, are the pictorial cliffs of vermillion hue!" "pictorial" answers to =seay= (the 10th character in our list.) pictured and painted! say the ancients. pictured and painted! say the moderns. we have seen that our gulf (of california) has been called a =puh-hai=, or "arm of the sea." professor hoith, the celebrated student of chinese, in his work on "chinese history" (p. 49, footnote) says that a =puh hai= is "an estuary." webster says that an "estuary" is "an arm of the sea; a firth; a narrow passage, or the mouth of a river or lake, where the tide meets the current, or flows and ebbs." plainly our gulf of california is a =puh hai= or estuary. it may further be remarked that =puh= is written in chinese by putting together two characters, one standing for "water," and the other signifying "suddenly; hastily; flurried, disconcerted, as when caught doing wrong; to change color, confused" (williams' dict. p. 718.) it is superfluous to say that our gulf or estuary is a very "confused" or "flurried" body of water. it is truly a =puh-hai=. moreover, it "changes color." as though "caught doing wrong," it changes color and blushes at times a rosy red. this is the hue of multidunious veins: "a thousand streams rolling down the cliffs on every side, carry with them red sand; and these all unite in the canyon below, in one great stream of red mud" (n. 50.) but sometimes the color below yuma is yellow or black (n. 51.) the name "colorado" is a spanish term conveying the idea of redness, and undoubtedly this hue predominates throughout the course of the boisterous stream; but other colors due to the dye or wash of variously painted cliffs, are also met with. moreover a section may exhibit one color to-day and something different to-morrow. and so it is with the gulf, which receives the colorado, and on which floating patches of color are frequently seen. truly our gulf or estuary is remarkable for both its coloring, blue, red, etc., and its changes of color. in all respects it is plainly a =puh-hai=. our gulf or estuary is also called a =yuen=. farther on (see chinese version) we read that the canyon river produces or grows into (=shang=) a beautiful (=kan=) =yuen=. this term =yuen= stands for a "gulf, an abyss; an eddy, a whirlpool or place where the back water seems to stop." a whirling, violent, or impetuous body of water is evidently referred to. fernando alarchon, in 1540, found the colorado "a very mighty river, which ran with so great a fury of stream that we could hardly sail against it. one voyager tells how his ark, the "emma" was "caught in a =whirlpool=, and set spinning about." here is a =yuen=. again, "the men in the boats above see our trouble but they are caught in whirlpools, and are spinning about in eddies." what have we here but =yuen=--multiplied whirlpools? through "whirlpool canyon" and all the way to the gulf, the waters dance around and about. we read of "dancing eddies or whirlpools." there are more than 600 rapids and falls in the colorado (n. 52.) the waters =waltz= their way and even furnish their own "rippling, rushing, roaring music." and we are in addition told of "innumerable cascades adding their wild music" (n. 53). surely the entire inlet traversed by the bore or reached by ocean tides is in precisely the condition of commotion which may well be designated by the term yuen. we are informed that the =kan= (or beautiful) =yuen= approaches (=tsih=) with vapor (=hi hwo=) and bathes (=yuh=) the sun's place (=ji chi su=). it is evident that the mighty stream which traverses the great canyon in the region beyond the eastern sea, should flow from a bottomless valley to a gulf, and reach to the sun's place. and we find that the current of the colorado extends to the tropical line of cancer, which crosses and marks the mouth of the gulf of california. vapor or fog is noticed in connection with the beautiful (even if restless or reeling) =yuen=. are fogs a noticeable feature along the coast of california? if so, they might hide the entrance or mouth of the gulf. one visitor says: "westward toward the setting sun and the sea," was a "filmy fog creeping landward, swallowing one by one the distant hills." again, we read of "hilltops that thrust their heads through the slowly vanishing vapor." here "you may bask in the sunshine of gardens of almost tropic luxuriance or shudder in =fogs that shroud the coast=" (n. 54.) we need not wonder that such vapors should appear within the confines of the charming gulf of california and at times veil its shores. a recent visitor says: "the island and mountain peaks, whose outlines are seen from the gulf, had been somewhat =dimmed= by a light =haze=, appeared surprisingly near and distinct in the limpid medium through which they were now viewed. the whole panorama became invested with new attractions, and it would be hard to say whether the dazzling radiance of the day or the sparkling clearness of the night was the more =beautiful= and brilliant" (n. 55). hazy and beautiful, say the ancients. hazy and beautiful, say the moderns. the haze is not dense enough to blind our eyes to the manifest fact that those people of old who were acquainted with the position of our gulf of california, must also have been acquainted with mexico and its inhabitants. tropical america was considered by its people to be particularly under the influence of the sun. uxmal was in "the land of the sun" (n. 56), and the mexicans called themselves "children of the sun." cave dwellings in the grand canyon. it will be noticed that the 13th term in our list is =hueh=, which stands for cave habitation. are such to be seen in our canyon? numerous =tung= (see 12th term,) in the shape of caves or holes are undoubtedly there, but in addition the old account notices =hueh=. have such been found? one explorer says: "even more remarkable than the stupendous walls which confine the colorado river, are the ruined cave habitations which are to be seen along the lofty and inaccessible ledges, in which a vanished race long years ago evidently sought refuge from their enemies.... they were reached by very narrow, precipitous, and devious paths, and being extremely difficult to attain by the occupants themselves, presented an impregnable front to invaders" (n. 57.) explorers decending into the =ta-hoh= come forth to-day with accounts of gardens and irrigating streams, pictured cliffs, and cave dwellings,--in complete agreement with the ancient record. following the term =hueh= we find a 14th, called =han=, which stands for dry, heated air; too dry; parched as by drought; crisp. is there =han=, or dry heated air down in the canyon? one visitor entered the grand canyon "in the morning while darkness yet covered the scene, but even then it was oppressively hot, and as the sun got higher i felt as though i had been thrust into a dutch =oven= and the mouth stopped up.... but, despite the terrible heat ... i was compelled to wonder and admire ... the gorgeous cliffs and rock walls showing all those varied colorings," etc. (n. 58). it was the "terrible heat" which compelled the ancients to resort to irrigation in order to raise some food for themselves and little ones. destitute of water, the soil is scorched and barren. it is said that "there are about 700 square miles of arable land between the mouth of the gila and the 35th parallel of n. latitude," along the colorado. and "in the valley" of this stream, where it is joined by the gila, "are traces of ancient irrigating canals, which show that it has once been cultivated." and along the connected gila are irrigating works of remarkable construction and undoubted antiquity--antedating the arrival of the spaniards by centuries. where the soil is actually irrigated or cultivated the response of nature is most gratifying and encouraging. we learn with regard to the colorado valley, that "portions are cultivated by the numerous tribes of indians who live along its banks, affording them an abundance of wheat, maize, beans, melons, squashes," etc. (n. 59). such ground would be well worthy of attention; but the attitude of "the numerous tribes of indians" along the colorado might interfere with the plans of newcomers and even compel the latter to live in caves or on ledges easily defended. and it is certain that soil insufficiently watered presents a distressingly sterile aspect in the neighborhood of the colorado. one traveler, already quoted, says with regard to a wide section, that "the whole scene presented the most perfect picture of desolation i have ever beheld, as if some sirocco had passed over the land, =withering= and =scorching= everything to crispness" (n. 60.) notice this word "crispness" used by our author. turned into chinese it becomes =han= (crisp)--the very term applied in the ancient record to the condition of the soil unwatered within the canyon. it is curious how the old and new visitors agree in their descriptions of the interior of the mighty gorge, where vegetation is withered or dead. scorched and crisp! say the ancients. scorched and crisp! say the moderns. the canyon should be hot, and one of our own visitors says: "the sun shone directly up the canyon, and the glare =reflected from the walls= made the heat intolerable (n. 61.) the word =han= has, unfortunately enough, a perfect right to appear in the old record. following it we find additional terms: 15. a compound character consisting of the signs for "sun" (=jih=) and "people" (=min=.) 16. =lung= ("used for =nagas= or snake gods;" "a dragon," "imperial." "it is often used for a man.") 17. =chuh= ("the illumination of torches; a candle; a light; to give or shed light upon, to illumine") the statement seems to teach that the sun people--the men--were using torches to illumine the depth of the hot canyon. we have already been informed that a =ju= or suckling, who was yet a supreme king (like perhaps the last chinese emperor of the manchu dynasty, in 1912 a. d.) and a child of the sun, was down in the abyss, so we are prepared to hear that his subjects--some sun people--were down there too. of course, for the greater part of the twenty-four hours, the darkness, particularly in the cave dwellings should be most intense. one visitor, quoted already, tells of "darkness thicker than that of egypt." such gloom should be particularly and painfully felt by "sun people," and we are not surprised to find that they made use of torches or artificial lights. singularly enough, the chasm, as though remorsefully conscious of the blackness of its character, produces no end of dried-up vegetable stems or stalks fit to be ignited and used as firebrands. these it places convenient to your hand, as though to invite inspection. indians today are in the habit of using such torches. we are informed that "the custom still prevails among them of carrying a firebrand," which was noticed by spanish explorers in the 16th century, "and induced those discoverers to give to the river the name of rio del tizon" (n. 62). it will be noticed that the ancient chinese account connects lights, or "an illumination of torches" (=chuh=), with the very stream which the spaniards of a later age, and of their own accord christened the rio del tizon. a torch-lighted stream, say the chinese. a torch-lighted stream, say the spaniards. the author or explorer last quoted says with reference to indians dwelling on the banks of the colorado, that "the custom still prevails among them of carrying a firebrand in the hand in cold weather," which was noticed by the spaniards. of course the flaming brands may well be used in winter to warm those who hold them, but the ancients who inhabited the cave or cliff houses (which they built and which are now more or less in ruin, according to exposure or original inherent strength) might have used the =chuh= or torches as =lights=. these torches are mentioned in connection with excessive =heat=, and it would be absurd to suppose that the sun people of old desired a still higher temperature. but mention is made of cave dwellings, and such are actually there; and we can readily understand why the ancient dwellers in the cave houses should have frequently used the ready-to-hand torches when climbing to their dark and break-neck abodes. even today the =chuh= or torches are used as =lights=. the withered stalks or stems, so abundant in the canyon, are a melancholy illustration of the scorching power of the sun within the chasm. we have not forgotten the fact that the chinese term =han= is used in the ancient text and that it stands for the "crispness" of scorched or dried up plants. an actual visit to the =ta-hoh= or great canyon referred to, shows that it is this =han=--or withered, scorched and crisp--vegetation which provides no end of torches (=chuh=) for dwellers in the vicinity. one stumbling visitor uses the following language: "we struck for it ... through the thick night, the guide occasionally lighting a =torch of grass=" (n. 63). unable to directly or steadily illumine the angles or recesses of the canyon, the bright and clear-headed sun does the next best thing and raises a bounteous harvest of firebrands. nature here concentrates her attention on the task of serving the necks (rather than the bellies) of her children, and presents them with a crop of seasoned and brilliant torches. certain it is that most efficient firebrands are raised here in profusion and constitute such a unique feature of the stream that in order to distinguish it from others in the region, the spaniards called our river the rio del tizon. torches have lighted the canyon in the past and they now throw light on the ancient record. mentioned in connection with withered vegetation and intense heat, the natural inference is that the torches were used to =light= the steps of dwellers in the canyon. of course they might in winter have been used, like other vegetable produce, as fuel, but the old record now before us does actually connect the =chuh= or torches with a high scorching temperature; and our impression or deduction is that they were used as lights amid the blackness of the chasm. and the torches (=chuh=) are used as lights still. one explorer says: "we fear that we shall have to stay here clinging to the rocks until daylight. our little indian gathers a few dry stems, ties them in a bundle, lights one end, and holds it up. the =others do the same=, and with these =torches= we =find a way= out of trouble." observe that these torches (or =chuh= as the chinese would call them) were not ignited to =warm= the explorers. they were held aloft to find or light the way among perilous cliffs. without their aid it would have been madness for the explorers to move. practically they were as men born blind, but the indian guide, with knowledge derived from the depths of antiquity, obtains the necessary torches and light at his elbow. with one withered and hot stem he ties together a number, lights them and then finds the way out of trouble for both himself and his bewildered party. what have we here but a duplication of the "illumination of torches" referred to in the ancient record? 17. =chuh= (the illumination of torches; a candle; a torch.) 18. =yuen= ("to lead or take by the hand, to cling to; to pull up higher, to drag out; to put forward; to relieve, to rescue") 19. =yiu= (have, has; to get.) 20. =ta= (great.) 21. =hoh= (canyon.) 22. =hao= (a mark, classed, a signal.) 23. =wei= (said or declared; has; in the place of.) 24. =wu= (no; without; destitute of.) 25. =te= (bottom.) it appears that within the bottomless =ta-hoh= or great canyon (see words 19 to 25) there is an illumination of torches (=chuh=) and a pulling up higher, or a dragging about and clinging to (=yuen=). climbing is here referred to. the sun people seem to have found locomotion difficult and hazardous within the chasm. the modern explorer who reached the irrigated garden plots and houses of the ancient occupants, was himself compelled to resort to much climbing. in one place he says: "i find i can get up no farther, and cannot step back, for i dare not let go with my hands, and cannot reach foot-hold below without. i call to bradley for help.... the moment is critical. standing on my toes my muscles begin to tremble.... i hug close to the rock, let go with my hand, seize the dangling legs, and with his assistance, i am enabled to gain the top" (n. 64.) it will be seen by the intelligent reader that the forgoing performance is covered by the term =yuen= (no. 18) used in the ancient record. there was a =rescue= by bradley, and the desperate adventurer, a chief of the ethnological bureau, was "pulled up higher," even to "the top" of the cliff. all this constitutes =yuen=; and without intending it, our modern climber--calling to bradley for help--is a most eloquent and lucid commentator on the ancient statement in the chinese text. but this climbing should be accomplished in connection with =chuh= (no. 17--the illumination of torches). is it true that there is climbing by torchlight (not =moonlight=, gentle reader) within the chasm? light is thrown on the ancient text by a statement already in part quoted: "we fear that we shall have to stay here =clinging= to the rocks until daylight. our little indian gathers a few dry stems, ties them in a bundle, lights one end, and holds it up. the others do the same, and with these torches we find a way out of trouble. =helping= each other, holding =torches= for each other, one =clinging= to another's =hand= until we get footing, then supporting the other on his shoulders, so we make our passage into the depths of the canyon. and now captain bishop has kindled a huge fire of driftwood, on the bank of the river. this and the fires in the gulch opposite, and our own =flaming torches=, light up little patches, that make more manifest the awful darkness below. still, on we go, for an hour or two, and at last we see captain bishop coming up the gulch, with a =huge= torch-light on his shoulders. he looks like a fiend waving brands and lighting the fires of hell, and the men in the opposite gulch are imps lighting delusive fires in inaccessible crevices, over yawning chasms.... at last we meet captain bishop with his flaming torch" (n. 65). and so the brilliant description continues. what is all this but the =chuh yuen= of the ancient record? here surely is "an illumination of torches." torches and climbing, say the ancients. torches and climbing, say the moderns. [illustration] we can readily understand why the ancient occupants of the stone houses in the grand canyon, should have used the torches so liberally and conveniently supplied by nature throughout the region where their light is too often sadly or desperately needed. we have been informed by a modern visitor that ruined cave habitations are to be seen along "lofty and inaccessible ledges." and these dwellings "were reached by very narrow, precipitous, and devious paths, and being extremely difficult to attain by the occupants themselves, presented an impregnable front to invaders." surely here torches would often come in handy. dr. fewkes believes that the ancient occupants of the cliff or cave houses chose hazardous sites in order to be out of the reach of enemies. he says: "the pressure of outside tribes, or what may be called human environment, probably had much to do originally with the choice of caves for houses. the experienced archaeologist also draws attention to jackson's remark that finger imprints answering to those of women, "may still be traced in the mortar" of the dwellings (n. 66). many interiors indeed are covered with smooth plaster in which the impressions of small and delicate fingers appear. of course, women and children formerly lived on the "inaccessible ledges"; and sons, fathers, husbands, or brothers, away perhaps hunting in distant glens or forests, were comparatively free from anxiety concerning the condition of loved ones at home. and if savages with tomahawks and scalping knives came stealing through ravines to the foot of impregnable stairways, the mothers aloft, pressing children to their breasts and looking down on baffled foes, must have felt something of the emotion which throbs through the well-known lines, written indeed by a woman,- for the strength of the hills we bless thee, our god, our fathers' god! thou hast made thy children mighty by the touch of the mountain sod; thou hast fixed our ark of refuge where the spoiler's foot ne'er trod;- for the strength of the hills we bless thee, our god, our fathers' god! and if in the darkness of night, the awaited signal or cry were heard arising from the heart of the abyss, how quickly the doors would be opened and ropes lowered and torches lighted to help the hunters to their homes on high! torches flaming and eyes gleaming. lights flashing in all directions. an illumination of torches. no wonder the canyon was noted for its =chuh yuen= and cave dwellings. lights, climbing, and caves, say the ancients. lights, climbing, and caves, say the moderns. the account continues thus: 26. =leang= (the principal, the chief; a bridge, a beam.) 27. =kien= (official writing; to mark; a slip of bamboo for making notes on; a classifier of folios or sheets.) 28. =wan= (strokes, lines, literature, literary; a despatch.) 29. =ta= (great.) 30. =hoh= (canyon.) 31. =fu= (to spread abroad as decrees; to exact; to demand.) a =leang= or chief is here referred to in connection with the great canyon. the ruler is not exactly called the king or supreme head (=chwen suh=). indeed, we have been already informed that the head ruler was a mere nurseling (at the time when he abandoned his lute in the canyon) and such an infant carried about by the mother who had just brought him into the world, among the cliffs and canyons, would evidently have been unable to either write or issue decrees. of course, however, a nominally subordinate chief (or =leang=) might have attended to the details of government and ruled or directed the movements of the sun people in the name of the infant king. such a minister might have spread abroad decrees or commands within the canyon. are any writings to be seen on its walls? an explorer already in part quoted, says: "at last we meet captain bishop with his flaming torch.... on a broad shelf we find the ruins of an old stone house, the walls of which are broken down, and we can see where the ancient people who lived here--a race more highly civilized than the present--had made a garden, and used a great spring, that comes out of the rocks, for irrigation. on some rocks near by we discover some curious etchings" (n. 67). here are cliff writings. again, on the brink of a rock 200 feet high stands an old house. its walls are of stone, laid in mortar, with much regularity.... on the face of the cliff, under the building and along down the river for 200 or 300 yards, there are many etchings." here are writings "spread abroad" within the =ta-hoh= or great canyon. not painted on the cliffs, but cut into the stone! beyond the reach or malice of savage tribes, they doubtless furnished directions to friendly clans, telling where certain companies had moved, and so forth. "on many of the tributaries of the colorado i have heretofore examined their deserted dwellings.... sometimes the mouths of caves have been walled across and there are many other evidences to show their anxiety to secure defensible positions. probably the nomadic tribes were sweeping down upon them, and they resorted to these cliffs and canyons for safety.... here i stand where these now lost people stood centuries ago, and look over this strange country." the former chief of the ethnological bureau also says that at the mouth of the colorado chiquito he discovered some curious remains, such as ruins and pottery, also "etchings and hieroglyphics on the rocks." some of the cliff or cave dwellings are singularly impressive. baron nordenskiold, says of one, called the "cliff palace," that it well deserves its proud name, "for with its round towers and high walls ... deep in the mysterious twilight of the cavern, and defying in their sheltered site the ravages of time, it resembled at a distance an enchanted castle." and chapin exclaims: "surely its discoverer had not overstated the beauty and magnitude of this strange ruin. there it was, occupying a great oval space under a grand cliff wonderful to behold, appearing like an immense ruined castle with dismantled towers" (n. 68). and yet dr. fewkes very rationally refuses to regard it as a "palace"--occupied merely by a king and servants or else officers of state managing an empire. of course some nook within sheltered its ruler. but it is merely a pueblo--set within a cave. one french visitor says: "il est probable que cliff-palace n'abritait pas moins de 500 personnes" (n. 69). at this rate it would have required forty such structures (or equivalent clusters of apartments) to shelter, say, 20,000 individuals. there is mention of cave dwellings in connection with the great canyon; and as sun people with a supreme ruler (although but a suckling) are represented as climbing within the chasm, with the aid of torches, we expect to find curious remains in connection with the caverns. nor are we disappointed. here are mouths of caves walled up for defensive purposes. here are ramparts, towers, and fortified structures classed with castles. we are informed that decrees were spread abroad in the canyon; and searching for the ancient inscriptions, we find that they are cut into the cliffs. this shows that the former dwellers were able to cut and work stone; and abundant remains of masonry are at hand to sustain this deduction. the personality of the =ju=, or suckling ruler, remains to be investigated, and should yield curious--most surprising--results; but, of course, reasonable, logical critics will not for an instant confound such an inquiry with that just finished. even absolute failure to unearth the facts with regard to the prince and his royal mother, can not shake the plain fact that we have actually found an account of the grand canyon, the colorado river, and the gulf of california, in an ancient chinese book. pimo and the casas grandes it may further be remarked that the chinese paragraph which immediately follows the account of our canyon, mentions a place called "pi-mo." this is its pronunciation in canton, but in shanghai, where =mo= is accorded the sound of =mu= (see williams' dict. p. 1154 and p. 1186, column 6) =pi-mo= would be called =pi-mu=. now, this pi-mo or pi-mu is said (see existing translation) to be situated in the "south-east corner of the desert beyond the eastern sea. proceeding eastward until the "eastern sea," which washes the coast of china, is crossed, the modern investigator reaches california and arizona. and here, in the region or basin of the colorado, he finds a place still called "pi-mo." it is in arizona, with a "desert" of sand--the desert of california and sonora--to its west and south, and a region of running streams, grass, and forests to its east. =pimo= is itself in the "desert"--in a "south-east corner of the desert beyond the eastern sea." it is entirely dependent on artificial irrigation for its limited power to support human beings. here are ruined buildings whose origin is shrouded in mystery and around or about which controversies have raged for centuries. one visitor, an american officer, states that his general "asked a pimo, who made the house i had seen?" the house was one of the casas grandes in the neighborhood of pimo. who had made it? was now the question. the reply was: "it was built by the son of the most beautiful woman who once dwelt in yon mountain; she was fair and all the handsome men came to court her, but in vain; when they came, they paid tribute, and out of this small store she fed all people in times of famine and it did not diminish." moreover, "at last she brought forth a boy, who was the builder of all these houses." the pimo indian "seemed unwilling to talk about them, but said there were plenty more of them to the north, south, west, etc." (note 70.) [was the royal suckling or prince ever carried down into the neighboring grand canyon by the beneficient being, his mother? was he a =shao hao= (as the chinese might say) or little child of the sun? did he ever see the cliff palace? were he and his people connected with the cave and cliff-dwellings? and when he retired from the canyon did he fail to take with him a lute?] if the royal suckling (or =ju=) of the chinese account ever actually lived in the neighborhood of the grand canyon, or in the vicinity of pimo, and was connected with a restless or troubled nation of cliff dwellers or stone-house builders, why should not the indians have some traditional, even if but hazy recollection of both the suckling and his imperial mother? the forefathers of the pimos must have beheld them, and it is difficult to suppose that the ancient legendary knowledge has completely evaporated from the aboriginal memory. as we have learned the construction of the casas grandes at pimo is connected with the advent or movements of an intelligent, even if harassed race of builders who owed allegiance to a princess or her child. and if it is a fact that in a time of famine the royal lady fed the ancestors of the pimos, we wonder not that the nation has enshrined her image within its ceaseless, throbbing heart. the hill-top on which she gave birth to her suckling is remembered to the present hour and was pointed to by the pimo interpreter when telling the american general about the merciful being who fed the hungry in a time of famine (and perhaps had relieved or cheered his own ancestor.) let us not overlook or snub the fact that pimo--the pimo of "the region beyond the eastern sea" is actually mentioned in the same breath with the grand canyon and the gulf. it is represented by characters numbered 9 and 10 in the extract from the ancient chinese volume, now set before the patient and intelligent reader who appreciates or perceives the difficulties connected with the present investigation. the last column (reading from right to left) consists of 12 characters, which express the following sense: =ta=--=hg=--east--south--corner--=has=--=shan= (mountain or height)--called--=pi mo=--=ti=--=kiu=. the 11th term, =ti=, stands for "place;" and a =kiu= is a level-topped hill. as it is also called a =shan= (see no. 7), the =kiu= should be a prominent eminence having a level space on top. the name =pi-mo= is expressed by putting =pi=, which signifies "skin" or "case," along with =mo=, which simply stands for "mother." a mother, or a maternal case is connected with the =pi-mo kiu= or level-topped hill. is such an eminence to be seen in the vicinity of pi-mo? has it a flat summit? are there any signs that it was inhabited by the queen of the builders? the pimo indian told the general that on the hill-top in the vicinity--in the lower gila valley--a female ruler gave birth to a child. is there any foundation for the legend? where is her house? [illustration] referring to the structures in arizona, an observer draws particular attention to one "comparatively intact in the lower gila valley." he says: "the hill on which it is built rises abruptly from the surrounding lowlands to the height of a full thousand feet. near the northwest corner the ancient strategists began at a height of thirty feet, carving a narrow pathway to the summit. here an irregular stone staircase has been made, passable by one person at a time. at intervals watchtowers were constructed, from which huge boulders could be hurled down upon the advancing foe. "the road makes three complete circles above the hill before reaching the upper =level=." [here is a =level=-topped hill or =kiu=.] "here another monument of early fortitude inspired by the love of life presents itself. there is, perhaps, three acres of =level= rock on the summit. for a depth of nearly two feet the entire =plateau= is covered with rich soil 'packed up' from below. when one pauses to think of the immense labor involved in carrying this mass of earth up the irregular winding stone staircase, a feeling of admiration springs up for these simple patient people." it is plain that there is a =level=-topped hill (or =kiu=) in the vicinity of pimo. and it is directly connected in indian tradition with the movements of a race of builders who reared "all these houses," and were directed or governed by a beneficient being who here gave birth to a remarkable prince. but it is enough at present to observe that the chinese symbols connect pimo--the pimo of the "region beyond the eastern sea"--with a mother, or notable birth. and when the american general--in our region beyond the eastern sea--inquires at pimo for information, concerning its now silent and forsaken ruins, the pimo interpreter instantly responds by raising his arm and pointing to the hill of the royal birth. the hill of the maternal case is there, say the chinese. the hill of the maternal case is here, say the pimos. the hill is prominent or lofty and quite level on top. it is in truth a =kiu= (pronounced like our own word cue) and holds aloft some impregnable dwellings and also a green spot or abandoned garden--clay having been carried aloft a thousand feet by devoted builders in part to raise flowers for the young mother. but, of course, her own bud was the brightest of all. and every one told her so. and what a wide view from the summit! and how cool the air up there! how different from the blazing canyon (with its hidden or abandoned lute.) "the general asked a pimo, who made the house i had seen? 'it is the casa de montezuma', said he; it was built by the son of the most beautiful woman who once dwelt in yon mountain; she was fair--" notice here the name "montezuma." the casas grandes at pimo were fortunately seen by spanish explorers in the 16th century, and "the indians then assigned them an age of no less than 500 years." (note 71.) of course the casa grande montezuma (or builder prince of the 11th century) could not have been the montezuma who was overthrown by cortez in the 16th century. as well confound william of normandy with william of holland, because each was a william! let fools do that! one writer says with regard to the legends of the sedentary indians, that "the name of montezuma runs through all of these--not generally referring to the king whom we are accustomed to identify with that name, but to the great chief of the golden or heroic age." (n. 72) there are noticeable variations in the name or title of the ancient king. thus one spanish explorer speaks of "the casa grande, or palace of =moc=-te-zuma" (n. 73.) here we have =moc= (or =mok=, as it is by others spelled) instead of =mon= (ti-zuma.) another authority furnishes the spelling =mo=-te-cuh-=zoma=, and adds, that it is "found written also =moc=-te-zuma, mu-teczuma, mo-texuma" (n. 74.) notice the three different spellings or sounds--=mo=, =mu=, and =mok=, prefixed to "=te-zuma=...." the title =te= or =ti= (or =te-cuh=) signifies warrior or lordly ruler (n. 75.) as for =suma= it is said to mean "sad, angry, or severe." [but soma may include an allusion to the water of immortality and embrace the notion of divine descent.] =mok= (the =te-zuma=) =mo= or =mu= were names or titles bestowed on the 11th century builder prince who was connected with the construction of the casas grandes in the pimo section, and was born on a prominent hill-top there. he was =mok=, =mo= or =mu=. turning to the chinese account we find that the royal =ju= or suckling connected with the region of the grand canyon and pimo, was likewise known as =mu=. (note 76.) in addition, the suckling is repeatedly called a =ti= (or =te= as it is just as often spelled.) and this, so far, agrees with the title of the pimo infant, whose name is frequently said to be =mu-ti= (zuma.) a =mu-ti=, say the chinese. a =mu-ti=, say the pimos. according to the chinese record, the imperial (=ti= or =te=) heir apparent (or =yuen-tsz=) suckling or baby (=ju=) whose estate or patrimony (=chan=) was =loh-ming= (name of a region) lived or resided (=ku=) as the tender, delicate youth (=yao=) =mu=. here we see that the heir apparent the ju or baby was both =mu= and a =ti=. the old account connects the infantile ruler with a region called loh-ming. we need not delay to ascertain the position of this province or land; enough now to observe that wherever it was, the =ju= and =ti= lived there (or lived some where) as the pleasing and tender =mu=. the baby was =mu=. this name, like some of our own names, such as grace, patience, clement, is frequently used as an adjective. it may stand for either "beauty" or "majesty," but it is also, at times, a surname. (note 77.) as already seen, the great canyon with the connected bottomless abyss, in the region beyond the eastern sea, is connected with the sun and moon shan. and on this shan is "the great men's country" (see existing translation.) now a chinese comment (note 78) informs us that the =forts= of the entirely great =mu= formerly held or possessed this great men's country (which is on the sun and moon shan.) information is next furnished concerning the largest walrusses, and it is plain that the polar region is referred to. the account is quite clear, as any chinese scholar can see, now that we have pointed out the position of the passage. it might seem advisable to prove that the haunt of the walrus was known to the ancient chinese writers who have furnished accounts of america, but it is unnecessary to do this, seeing that the phenomenon of ten suns, which is only visible at the arctic circle, is referred to in the ancient books. moreover, as we have learned, appearances of five or seven suns (or moons) shining simultaneously in the sky, are distinctly connected with the sun and moon shan. it was therefore known that the mountain system of north america, stretches upward--like the branches of a tree--from the vicinity of the grand canyon to the polar region, or place of the ten suns. and from a point here, the shores of north-eastern tartary or asia can be seen without even the aid of an opera-glass. it now appears that in the remote past there was a ruler named =mu= dwelling in the mountainous land which stretches from the grand canyon to the arctic ocean. his domain was on the sun and moon shan. and he had fortified dwellings or forts. where, today, are the remains of the ancient strongholds? one observer says with reference to the cliff-dwellings, that they "have the appearance of fortified retreats. the occupants, on account of "decending hordes devised these =unassailable= retreats.... the builders hold no smallest niche in recorded history. their aspirations, their struggles and their fate are all unwritten, save in these crumbling stones, which are their sole monuments and meagre epitaph. here once they dwelt. they left no other print on time." (note 79.) the "unassailable retreats" noticed by this melancholy writer may well be some of the strongholds of mu and his followers or warriors. the ancient pueblos (or casas grandes) are of great strength. when the "ladders are drawn in, the various sides present a perpendicular front to an enemy, and the building itself becomes a =fortress=." further, "the strength of the walls of these structures was proved during the mexican war, when it was found that they were impregnable to field-artillery." (note 80.) the spanish soldier, castenada, in the 16th century said with regard to the pimo casa grande, that "it seemed to have served as a fortress." (note 81.) now, =pimo=--represented by the symbols for a maternal case and hill--is mentioned on the very page of the chinese book which notices our grand canyon. then, we are told that cliff-dwellings were here and a sun prince (at first a mere =ju= or infant) called =mu=, and that he or his followers erected forts or fortresses. and here we find no scarcity of ancient strongholds. and when we ask the indians for the name of the ruler who governed the now decaying strongholds, their answer is--=mu=. the very title in the chinese book. =mu=, say the ancients. =mu=, say our indians. it may be said that some of the latter pronounce the title =mo=. one of our philologists speaks of "montezuma, or more correctly, =mo=tecuhzoma." (note 82.) another authority says: "montezuma, or more correctly, =moc=tezuma." (note 83.) in his account of the casa grande, the old time spanish traveler, padre garces, says: on this river is situated the house which they call =moc=tezuma's. (note 84.) it is evident that the two pronunciations =mo= and =mok= are preferred to =mon= (tezuma) and that =mu= has also its advocates. curiously enough, these three sounds =mu=, =mo=, and =mok=, are likewise applied to the one character by the chinese literati. the identical symbol which williams calls =mu= is in another dictionary (see bailley's, iii, p. 246) termed =mo=. morrison (vol. iv, p. 600-1) says that the two sounds =mu= and =mo= are both applied, and that in canton this selfsame character is called =mok=. it thus appears that the builder or ruler of the fortresses in the region beyond the eastern sea, might be called =mu=, =mo=, or =mok=. and in the region referred to--"the region beyond the eastern sea"--we find many strongholds or forts (as well as cave-dwellings;) and when antiquarians inquire of the indians for the name of the ancient builder prince, they are variously informed that he was the glorious =mu=, =mo=, or =mok=. if the royal infant (or =ju=) became in process of time a ruler of fortresses (=tai=) which "formerly held the great men's country" (on the sun and moon shan) would be surprising to find that he himself had been born within the shelter of a =tai= or fortress? and what is the fortified hill at pimo but a fortress? he counts it as the first of the forts of =mu= or =mo-ti= in "the region beyond the eastern sea." remember that our own government has erected numbers of forts on hilltops throughout the south-west expressly for the purpose of holding such tribes as the navajoes and apaches in check. (and in addition we are furnishing the red men with supplies.) but in the 11th century there were no congressional appropriations, no detachments of troops hurrying down from washington to preserve order. yet the ancestors of our savage tribes were certainly there. and although the warrior chieftans immediately around the young queen appear to have been filled with jealousy of each other, it is certain that they were united as one in devising for the princess a calm or sure retreat which no barbaric host could take by assault. from its base the savage ranks would reel, or break into foam like waves of the sea. aloft in this secure retreat she gave birth to =mo=. who was his father? the american general already referred to, supplies his own report of the pimo interpreter's words: "all he knew was a tradition amongst them, 'that in bygone days, a woman of surpassing beauty resided in a green spot in the mountains near the place where we were encamped. all the men admired and paid court to her. she received the tributes of their devotion, grain, skins, etc., but gave no love or other favor in return. her virtue and her determination to remain unmarried were equally firm. there came a drought which threatened the world with famine. in their distress, people applied to her, and she gave corn from her stock, and the supply seemed to be endless. her goodness was unbounded. one day, as she was lying asleep with her body exposed, a drop of rain fell on her stomach, which produced conception. a son was the issue, the founder of a new race which built all these houses'.... the houses of the people (the agricultural or sedentary pimos) are mere sheds, thatched with willow and corn stalks" (n. 85.) this report is more rational than the other in so far as it represents the multitudinous houses of stone or adobe as being reared by a "race" rather than by a "boy"! but, of course, the "son" could not have been the "founder" of his mother or of her ancestors. it is further apparent that the infant could not have been either the builder or inventor of the house or stronghold in which he was born. of course it is an impossibility to get at the exact truth in relation to the mysterious birth. the unwedded lady's own account ought to constitute a sufficient explanation, and would--but for the unfortunate historic fact that no mother has ever been known to tell her children the truth about their production. even christian mothers lie precisely like pagans in this respect, and are just as thorough-going humbugs as hannah in the temple, when questioned for details. they will tell a poor helpless, green, inquiring child, for instance, that they found him in a cabbage, when the actual truth is that they got him from a stork. we therefore unanimously dismiss their worse than useless testimony as that of a shameless pack of preposterous deluderers. it is probable that the pimo princess may have been secretly wedded or united to some man whom she really loved and preferred to all others. yet an open avowal of such preference might have caused his death or might have turned the love of rival suitors into hate and brought about the ruin of the already sufficiently perplexed and troubled nation. but would not the birth of the infant have revealed all? certainly, but in the present instance the queen seems to have contented herself with the announcement that she had got her child from heaven. her friends, including doubtless the priests, at once spread abroad the story that the infant--the child of the sun--was of celestial origin. this tale may not have completely satisfied the numerous rival claimants for the lady's hand. but how disprove it? and why assail or shake the authority of the beautiful young queen? why not draw closer together, bury their mutual animosities or rivalries and face the murderous hordes thronging the passes of the rocky mountains and slopes of the mississippi valley? why not grasp at the hope--embodied in the suckling born on the hilltop--that heaven had furnished a leader, a reincarnated divinity of the wandering nation, who would guide the despairing people onward to new fields of national glory and prosperity. it may of course be said that such predictions were never realized, but it is certain that they were cherished. even the mokis, tunis and pimos still regard =mo-ti= as immortal and await his return. he is "the demigod of their earliest traditions, watching over them from heaven and waiting to come again to bring to them victory and a period of millenial glory and happiness" (n. 86.) and, of course, those who actually followed the leader =mu= must have felt strongly the ties of affection and veneration. and who were the people who got across to mongolia with accounts of our grand canyon, gulf and continental tree--crowned with its wreath of multiplied suns? [doubtless the notion that our =mu-te= (or =te-mu=) was of divine origin, had a surprising, stimulating effect. curiously enough, asiatic writers notice a =te-mu= (=te-mu-dzin= or =temugin=) who arose in tartary in the early part of the 12th century, and therefore might be regarded as the contemporary of our =mu= born at pimo about the year 1100. some say this tartarean conqueror was called timour or temur-chi, and his origin is wrapt in mystery. one account treats him as a demigod, but other statements assume that a divinity was his remote ancestor. he is said to belong to the race that broke out of irkena kon (or the mountain valley), situated in some out of the way and dangerous region. personally this =mu= came from a distant land. some historians whose time is valuable readily find irkena kon in the vicinity of the caspian sea, but others declare that it must be situated in the direction of the arctic ocean! [in his old age, in or about the year 1153, this supposed demigod had a child born to him. the name of temudzin or temugin was bestowed upon the infant. when thirteen years old his father--the demigod--died, and the extensive empire which the parent had established fell into political pieces. gibbon, in his "decline and fall of the roman empire," chap. lxiv, says that the young prince temugin could only claim authority over about 12,000 families. we should never overlook this fact when contemplating his career. every incident in his history is known. his name has resounded through the world. he rose to be a mighty conqueror. he became jenghiz khan--king of kings--grandsire of kublai khan, ancestor of tamerlane and the great moguls, and of no end of persian or moslem sultans or kings. [the immediate followers of jenghiz khan always declared that success awaited him because he was the son of a god. petis de la croix denounces such a claim as a piece of "insolence," yet it might better be regarded as a form of delusion. but notice the victorious lengths to which this delusion carried believers. and the notion promulgated at pimo, in the midst of crowding calamities,--that the royal infant was a son of heaven,--might have been intended to console and stimulate a despairing nation. and the spiritual stimulus appears to have transported its believers to such lengths that aboriginal americans seem to have lost track of the demigod, and know not from what point he may return. [the father of temugin was the founder of the =yuen= dynasty, or at all events an ancestral king. he is generally called yisukai or pysukai behadur, but such is a mere title, signifying "9th hero," and not a proper name at all. some lucid commentators will positively tell us that it was not the father of jenghiz khan, but his 9th father or ancestor, who was the god. but with such hair-splitting we need not concern ourselves. enough to note the uplifting, psychological effect or result of faith or belief in divine aid or protection. no wonder david exclaims: "thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me." [in the case of the tartars, the results of their exalted faith were indeed surprising. the crusades of the christians had proved a failure. jerusalem had passed from their hands. richard, king of england, had been taken prisoner. the moslems, according to gibbon, were preparing for the invasion of europe. their brethren were actually intrenched in the heart of spain. enraged against western nations for the long war waged against their power, armies were gathering for the conquest and plunder of christendom. the crescent instead of the cross, says gibbon, was to glitter on the spire of st. paul's. [but at this very juncture, jenghiz khan and his followers came pouring forth from the wilds of tartary. the sultan felt secure within his line of fortified cities which hitherto had repelled every assault. but the tartarean host--led by warriors of the race from irkena kon--overthrew the moslems in every encounter. they ransacked the provinces and gave the cities to the flames. and the children or successors of the conqueror completed the work which he had begun. bagdad which for ages had successfully defied the invading, crusading armies of europe, was destroyed, and an end put to the caliphate so long enthroned within its historic walls. the conquest of china was completed by kublai khan, and an empire formed which stretched from the indian ocean to the arctic, and from the pacific to the mediterranean sea.] even traditions of tribes that most certainly remained behind in arizona and consequently did not disappear in company with the mysterious =mu= or mo-te, declare that he was an agent of providence. he was the "equal" of the "great spirit" and "was often considered identical with the sun" (n. 87.) had he remained in arizona, his son in due time might have claimed divine descent through his father the demigod. chinese knowledge of the pimo demigod. but if the =mu-te= (or =te-mu=,) builder or ruler of fortresses in the region of pimo and the grand canyon, was identical with our pimo =mu-te=, he should be referred to as semi-divine, in the chinese record. and so he actually is. even here the evidence does not fail. but conception of the little sun-child did not occur on the well watched or guarded hilltop at pimo. it was in a green wilderness noted for its hay or grass and butchering of beasts, that a phantasm approached the female--and so on. fortunately we can turn away from this particular account of the visit of incubus, seeing that the necessary information is more conveniently furnished elsewhere (n. 88.) the name of a mountain, which may or may not have been far indeed from the grand canyon, is furnished, and we are informed that =shao hao= dwelt (=ku=) there (=chi=.) in addition he is called a sovereign (=ti= or =te=) and a =shan=. now this term, =shan=, according to williams (p. 737,) stands for "the gods, the divinities, a god, a supernatural good being; divine; spiritual, as being higher than man; godlike, wonderful, superhuman; to deify. the =shao hao= (or =mu-ti=) is a =shan= or god. a god! say the chinese. a god! say the indians. taking the account as it stands, it appears that an incarnated god (in the shape of the =shao hao mu=) was at one time within the grand canyon (which still retains his "lute.") notice that the "country contiguous to the mighty chasm is called the "shao hao's country." next observe that the vast chasm (or =ta-hoh=) is itself called the great canyon of the incarnated god (or =keang shang=.) =shang= stands for "heaven" or supreme;" and keang signifies "to descend from a higher level, to come from the sky, to fall as rain, to come into the world as christ did" (williams.) the contiguous country is named in honor of the =shao hao=, or sun-child, who is called a =shan= or god. and "=keang shang's= ta-hoh" or great canyon is also named in honor of this =shan= or god--this incarnated god. and here, "in the region beyond the eastern sea," the land is ringing with his name. he was =mu= or =mo-te= and a builder of forts, and above and beyond all this he was an incarnation of the great spirit! "the name, at this moment, is as familiar to every indian, apache and navajoe as that of our savior or washington is to us" (n. 89.) bancroft says: "under restrictions, we may fairly regard him as the melchizedek, the =moses=, and the messiah of the pueblo desert-wanderers from an egypt that history is ignorant of, and whose name even tradition whispers not." a messiah and demigod! say the chinese. a messiah and demigod! say americans. bancroft, says, that according to indian paintings or traditions, the messiah or demigod of pueblo tradition had red or yellow hair. then mo was a white man and his mother a white woman. such a conclusion agrees completely with the teaching of the ancient chinese book just quoted. we are informed with reference to a certain mountain, that: =ki= (the) =shan= (god or spirit) =poh= (white) =ti= (sovereign) =shao hao= (little sun-child) =ku= (dwelt) =chi= (there). next appears a comment stating in the plainest possible terms that =shao hao= of the =kin tien= dynasty was a virtuous or excellent ruler. the =shao hao= who was at the ta-hoh or great canyon is here called a =white king=. mons. rosny, in his french translation, declares that the divine or superhuman =shao hao= was "l'empereur blanc." (note 90.) one well known writer and archaeologist says with reference to the builders of some structures in the pimo region, that there is "reason to suppose that they were a light-skinned people. at least one red-haired skull and one with still lighter hair were found. hair has been but rarely found not over a half dozen times in all. in three cases it was black." (note 91.) according to aboriginal testimony, 800 years have rolled by since the time of burial, and hair has lingered on but few of the heads it once adorned. but when discovered it is seen to be quite different from the hair of the indians. those interested in the subject of the cliff-dwellers should study the accurate reports of the ethnological bureau and also the writings of editor peet the well known "american antiquarian." these works should be in the libraries of all americanists. according to the american antiquarian, doctor birdsall reports that dried bodies have been found in tombs on the mesa verde in arizona and the "hair of the head has been found partly preserved on some mummies. it is said to be of fine texture, not coarse like indian hair and varying in color from shades of yellowish brown to reddish brown and black" ... the wetherills exhumed one mummy having a short brownish beard." (note 92.) we are further informed that mummies have been taken from "a hermetically sealed cave in the canyon of the gila river," and two of the bodies were those of women. the females "retain their long, flowing silken hair." the "bodies were covered with highly colored clothes, which crumbled on exposure. three kinds were saved, and one a deep blue woven in diamond shapes. no implements or utensils were found.... all the consuls and many scientific men inspected the mummies yesterday. among those present were henry a. ward, of rochester, n. y., kate field, dr. harkness, academy of sciences." other doctors and professors were present and also "historian bancroft." (n. 93.) in addition to all this, professor c. l. webster, the accomplished, painstaking, and trusted scientist of charles city, iowa, has unearthed a body whose silent testimony is truly inestimable. in the "archaeological bulletin," issued by the international society of archaeologists (madison, indiana,) for july and september, 1912, we find a photograph of a mummy brought to light by the professor in a cliff-house on a head stream of the gila. the body is that of a child, and its preservation is due to "the chemical elements of the soil," etc. "the hair on the head of the mummy was of a beautiful dark brown color, and of a soft and silky texture," and "the hair on the head of this mummified child is of the same color and texture (only finer) as that of adults found braided in long plaits in an adjoining room"--page 78. the professor believes that "different races" were here contending for the mastery of the region, and that "one or more of them were driven out (perhaps destroyed) suddenly" (see article 1.) another archaeologist says, that "quite recently hieroglyphics were discovered in the tonto basin country, depicting the driving out of white people by red men, and local archaeologists have set up a theory that the people who once cultivated these valleys were white. the present indians have many legends of white men being in their country before the advent of the spanish conquistodores. father marcas niza, a pious jesuit, who accompanied coronado on his march through this section in search of the seven lost cities of cibola, speaks frequently of allusions made by indians to white bearded men who were here before" (n. 94.) [in tracking the missing white race, remember that some of the toltecs, like the mayas of yucatan, compressed the skull in childhood, that they had among them a sprinkling of very large men (quinames,) and that in the wilderness their mode of living would be more like that of indians than of cultured, civilized people.] mons. charney has argued that the mexican toltecs were of a white race, but very foolishly argues (like baron humboldt) that the toltecs marched from mongolia to mexico in the 6th century. the illustrious humboldt has served archaeology enormously by drawing attention to the absolute and startling identity of the zodiacal signs of the manchu tartars with those of central america (see mr. vining's exceedingly comprehensive and valuable work entitled "an inglorious columbus.") skilled, scientific archaeologists connected with the washington bureau have all along been contending that the cliff or cave dwellings, forts, pueblos, and mounds of north america were constructed by native-born americans, rather than by toltecs moving in, say, the 6th century from tartary to arizona or mexico. therefore, as the toltecs (sun-people and architects or builders) were certainly settled in mexico for some centuries prior to the 11th (when the remnant disappeared,) the ancestors of the pale-faced and cultured people (see vining's chapter on the "toltecs") may like ourselves have reached america by crossing the atlantic. the greek face, the celtic face, the saxon face, and the jewish or semitic face are all seen carved on the tottering walls of temples and palaces in yucatan (see charney's essays.) moving to the vale of mexico, the toltecs tried with more or less success to keep on neighborly terms with the red skinned people. but thoughtless propagation produced more mouths than could be filled--except with human flesh. open war broke out in the 11th century. the aztecs or others of the red tribes almost annihilated the whites; and topiltzin quetzalcoatl, the "last" king of the toltecs fled north from chapultepec,--the selfsame chapultepec which in our own day has seen the downfall of maxmillian and the flight of diaz. may not the fair and beautiful princess at pimo have belonged to the outcast mexican royal family? may not her idolized child have inherited titles absurdly out of place among the deserts of arizona? and may not all the elements in our later yankee nation have been represented in the pale-faced people that found refuge among the canyons and cliffs of the colorado? if so, their remote or ancestral fathers and mothers were likewise no less our own. the curtain of history rises and shows the young queen of the builders on a hill top at pimo. the structures there, according to aboriginal testimony were reared about the year 1100,--the very time when the toltecs disappeared from the vale of mexico. and now the ruins are yielding up forms of the females who once tenanted those cliffs and contrived to get plaster and paint with which to adorn the now desolate and trembling walls. and the yellow, brown, or silky black hair on the heads of those women who sought to make their bleak and dreary homes attractive, shows unfailingly their race. even an ostrich might see it! mons. charney declares that the toltecs expelled from mexico in the 11th century were scholars, artists, astronomers, and philosophers. and their sisters were certainly no less cultured and refined. now, the shan hai king states that in "the region beyond the eastern sea" there is (or was) a "country of refined gentlemen." and charney argues that "a gentle race were the toltecs, preferring the arts to war." refined and gentle--men, says charney. refined gentlemen, says the shan hai king. certain comments collected by jin chin ngan, and unnoticed in mr. vining's translation (p. 657), connect the refined gentlemen with pyramids (=k'iu=) and even declare that their dwellings were on mounds (=ling=). and charney says: "now, the first thing that we find at the houses of tula is an example of a mode of building entirely new and curious. the prevailing tendency of the toltec is to place his dwellings and his temples likewise upon eminences and pyramids." they lived upon mounds, says charney. they lived upon mounds, says the shan hai king. "they are very gentle, and do not quarrel. they have fragrant plants. they have a flowering-plant which produces blossoms in the morning that die in the evening. the chinese account calls this vegetable production the =hwa= plant, and as =hwa= stands for "glory" (see williams' chinese dict.) it is apparent that the "morning glory" is referred to. botanist wood says: "this =glorious= plant is a =native= of tropical america and now universally cultivated. it is also nearly naturalized with us." (in the united states.) "the flowers are ephemeral. beginning to open soon after midnight, they greet the sun at his rising, arrayed in all their =glory=" (=hwa=) "and before he reaches the meridian, fold their robes and perish. but their work is done, and their successors, already in bud, will renew the gorgeous display the following morning."--p. 182. such a flower might be held to symbolize the fleeting glory of the generations which had lived and died in central america. it still climbs about the temples of the sun, saluting its divinity with a smile, and then falling prostrate among the desolate and forsaken altars. it may often be seen twining its arms around the monuments of a buried past, or pressing its lips to the dust of the vanished race it so speedily follows. it lives but a day, says the american botanist. it lives but a day, says the shan hai king. surely the works in arizona are worthy of the exiled toltecs. one of the ancient stone structures, on a northern feeder of the gila, is so strong, commodious, and so impregnably planted that by universal consent it is called a castle. and because the indian tribes persist in ascribing its construction to =mu= or =mo-te= it is known as "montezuma's castle." the ethnological bureau has interested itself in the preservation of this impressive work of the so-called cliff-dwellers, and our government has taken charge of it as a "national monument." and =ari-zona= is named in honor of the =ari= or "maiden"--the legendary queen of the pimo =zona= or pimo valley. the mother referred to in the ancient chinese record is thus remembered in the title of a yankee sister state. her idolized son is said to have governed forts, and in the vicinity of the castle we find a number of forts. dr. fewkes says: "the =forts= were built on the summits, ... and it is an instructive fact in this connection that one rarely loses sight of one of these hill =forts= before another can be =seen=." an "approaching foe" could be discerned and "smoke signals" would warn field-workers "to retreat to the =forts= for protection."--28th rept. bur. amer. ethnol., p. 207. (read also connected pages for information relating to the forts and their builders. the same or an allied people erected also houses in natural caves or excavated them in soft rock."--p. 219. the latter--the excavated dwellings are noticed in asiatic books and will be dealt with in next pamphlet--if such is ever written.) we have found the "forts" and also pimo (or pima as some pronounce the name) with its princess and her child. and have we not found the gulf and canyon referred to by the departed ancients. have we not found everything except perhaps the abandoned imperial lute? and even it may yet be recovered. let it be dug for at the cliff of the harp. perhaps it may yet be resurrected- "a harp that in darkness and silence forsaken has slumbered while ages rolled slowly along, once more in its own native land may awaken and pour from its chords all the raptures of song. "unhurt by the dampness that o'er it was stealing, its strings in full chorus, resounding sublime, may 'rouse all the ardor of patriot feeling and gain a bright wreath from the relics of time." appendix (note 1) see mr. vining's "an inglorious columbus," p. 659. (2) =jin-chin ngan's= comment in 14th book of the shan hai king. (3) kane's work. (4) van troil's "iceland," 1, 643: headley's "island of fire," p. 100. (5) dr. le plongeon's "queen moo," xl, xlii, 175. (6) vining, 182, 659, 666. (7) vining; 182. (8) vining, 659. (9) vining, 659. (10) see index for essays collected by mr. vining. (11) see chinese version of shan hai king, with jin-chin-ngan's notes, (the latter being omitted in mr. v.'s translation, p. 661.) (12) see either the =shan hai king=, book 14, or the translation of same. (13) vin. 661. (14) mark twain's "roughing it," p. 101. (15) lieut. ives' report, pt. 1, p. 23. (16) powell's report. (17) scribners' mag. nov. 1890. (18) r. r. co.'s handbook on "colorado." (19) powell's report. (note 20) stanton in scribners' mag. nov. 1890. (21) mr. f. a. ober. (22) (compare mr. vining's translations with original chinese statement.) (23) =jin-chin-ngan's= note (never hitherto translated into english.) (24) dunraven's "great divide." (25) vin. 647. (26) powell's report, 29, 35, 86. (27) powell, 32, 71. (28) vin. 532. (29) stanton. (30) mr. clampitt's "echoes from the rocky mts." 218. (31) powell, p. 30. (32) "glimpses of america" (phila. 1894) p. 80. (33) stanton. (34) "glimpses." 78. (35) powell, 16, 30. (36) ives. pt. i, 28; ii, p. 8. (37) powell, 63, 86. (38) "glimpses," 78. (39) ives, 42. (note 40) =ives'= rept., pt. i, p. 73. (41) f. a. ober in brooklyn =times=, june 19, 1897. (42) sitgreaves, 17. (43) ives, 66. (44) ives, iii, 49. (45) powell, 125. (46) "glimpses of amer." 78. (47) glimpses," 83. (48) powell, 55, 60, 70. (49) dellenbaugh's "canyon voyage," 139. (50) powell, 65, 76. (51) g. w. james's "wonders of the colorado desert," 30. (52) murphy's "three wonderlands," 137. (53) powell, 35, 63, 86, 90. (54) piexot's "romantic california," 67, 144, 148. (55) ives. 23. (56) sacred mysteries of the mayas", 90. (57) "glimpses of amer." p. 82. (58) f. a. ober in the brooklyn =times=, june 19, '97. (59) appleton's "new amer. cyc." article colorado. (note 60) sitgreaves' report, p. 17. (61) ives, 107. (62) sitgreaves, p. 18. (63) dellenbaugh's "canyon voyage," 255. (64) powell's report. (65) powell, 34, 35, 124, 125. (66) smithson. ethnol. "bulletin," no. 51, p. 18. (67) powell, 125. (68) ethnological "bulletin," no. 51, pp. 14, 15. (69) bulletin, no. 51, p. 19. (70) johnson's journal in emory's "reconn. of n. mex.," etc., 598-9. (71) appletons' "new am. cyc." article "casas grandes." (72) l. b. prince's "new mex.," p. 24. (73) elliott cones 'comments on garces' diary, p. 94. (74) encyc. americana, vol. x. (75) vining, 411. (76) see 28th character from last in note by jin chin ngan preceding assertion in text that the canyon has a beautiful mountain (vining, 661.) (77) morrison, iv, p. 601. (78) =jin chin ngan=. (79) murphy's "three wonderlands," 152. note (80) amer. cyc. iv, p. 50. (81) bancroft's "native races," iv, 620. (82) new internat. encyc. xiii. (83) penny cyc. article "mexico," p. 163. (84) bancroft's "native races." (85) emory, p, 83. (86) prince's n. mex. 24. (87) prince's n. m. 24-6. (88) the =shan hai king=, book ii, section iii, 14th mountain. (89) emory, 64. (90) shan hai king, p. 83. (91) mr spears in n. y. =sun=. sept. 3, 1893. (92) =amer. antiquarian=, may, 1892. (93) n. y. =world=, oct. 1887. (94) n. y. =recorder=, feb. 19, 1893. * * * * * transcriber's note: all apparent printer's errors retained. online distributed proofreaders team through the grand canyon from wyoming to mexico by e.l. kolb with a foreword by owen wister new edition with additional illustrations (72 plates) from photographs by the author and his brother 1915 dedication to the many friends who "pulled" for us, if not with us during the one hundred one days of our river trip, this volume is respectfully dedicated. foreword it is a dogged courage of which the author of this book is the serene possessor--shared equally by his daring brother; and evidence of this bravery is made plain throughout the following pages. every youth who has in him a spark of adventure will kindle with desire to battle his way also from green river to the foot of bright angel trail; while every man whose bones have been stiffened and his breath made short by the years, will remember wistfully such wild tastes of risk and conquest that he, too, rejoiced in when he was young. whether it deal with the climbing of dangerous peaks, or the descent (as here) of some fourteen hundred miles of water both mysterious and ferocious, the well-told tale of a perilous journey, planned with head and carried through with dauntless persistence, always holds the attention of its readers and gives them many a thrill. this tale is very well told. though it is the third of its kind, it differs from its predecessors more than enough to hold its own: no previous explorers have attempted to take moving pictures of the colorado river with themselves weltering in its foam. more than this: while the human race lasts it will be true, that any man who is lucky enough to fix upon a hard goal and win it, and can in direct and simple words tell us how he won it, will write a good book. perhaps this planet does somewhere else contain a thing like the colorado river--but that is no matter; we at any rate in our continent possess one of nature's very vastest works. after the river and its tributaries have done with all sight of the upper world, have left behind the bordering plains and streamed through the various gashes which their floods have sliced in the mountains that once stopped their way, then the culminating wonder begins. the river has been flowing through the loneliest part which remains to us of that large space once denominated "the great american desert" by the vague maps in our old geographies. it has passed through regions of emptiness still as wild as they were before columbus came; where not only no man lives now nor any mark is found of those forgotten men of the cliffs, but the very surface of the earth itself looks monstrous and extinct. upon one such region in particular the author of these pages dwells, when he climbs up out of the gulf in whose bottom he has left his boat by the river, to look out upon a world of round gray humps and hollows which seem as if it were made of the backs of huge elephants. through such a country as this, scarcely belonging to our era any more than the mammoth or the pterodactyl, scarcely belonging to time at all, does the colorado approach and enter its culminating marvel. then, for 283 miles it inhabits a nether world of its own. the few that have ventured through these places and lived are a handful to those who went in and were never seen again. the white bones of some have been found on the shores; but most were drowned; and in this water no bodies ever rise, because the thick sand that its torrent churns along clogs and sinks them. this place exerts a magnetic spell. the sky is there above it, but not of it. its being is apart; its climate; its light; its own. the beams of the sun come into it like visitors. its own winds blow through it, not those of outside, where we live. the river streams down its mysterious reaches, hurrying ceaselessly; sometimes a smooth sliding lap, sometimes a falling, broken wilderness of billows and whirlpools. above stand its walls, rising through space upon space of silence. they glow, they gloom, they shine. bend after bend they reveal themselves, endlessly new in endlessly changing veils of colour. a swimming and jewelled blue predominates, as of sapphires being melted and spun into skeins of shifting cobweb. bend after bend this trance of beauty and awe goes on, terrible as the day of judgment, sublime as the psalms of david. five thousand feet below the opens and barrens of arizona, this canyon seems like an avenue conducting to the secret of the universe and the presence of the gods. is much wonder to be felt that its beckoning enchantment should have drawn two young men to dwell beside it for many years; to give themselves wholly to it; to descend and ascend among its buttressed pinnacles; to discover caves and waterfalls hidden in its labyrinths; to climb, to creep, to hang in mid-air, in order to learn more and more of it, and at last to gratify wholly their passion in the great adventure of this journey through it from end to end? no siren song could have lured travellers more than the siren silence of the grand canyon: but these young men did not leave their bones to whiten upon its shores. the courage that brought them out whole is plain throughout this narrative, in spite of its modesty.--owen wister. preface this is a simple narrative of our recent photographic trip down the green and colorado rivers in rowboats--our observations and impressions. it is not intended to replace in any way the books published by others covering a similar journey. major j.w. powell's report of the original exploration, for instance, is a classic, literary and geological; and searchers after excellence may well be recommended to his admirable work. neither is this chronicle intended as a handbook of the territory traversed--such as mr. f.s. dellenbaugh's two volumes: "the romance of the grand canyon," and "a canyon voyage." we could hardly hope to add anything of value to his wealth of detail. in fact, much of the data given here--such as distances, elevations, and records of other expeditions--is borrowed from the latter volume. and i take this opportunity of expressing our appreciation to mr. dellenbaugh for his most excellent and entertaining books. we are indebted to mr. julius f. stone, of columbus, ohio, for much valuable information and assistance. mr. stone organized a party and made the complete trip down the green and colorado rivers in the fall and winter of 1909, arriving at needles, california, on november 27, 1909. he freely gave us the benefit of his experience and presented us with the complete plans of the boats he used. one member of this party was nathan galloway, of richfield, utah. to him we owe much of the success of our journey. mr. galloway hunts and traps through the wilds of utah, colorado, and arizona, and has a fame for skill and nerve throughout this entire region. he makes a yearly trip through the upper canyons, usually in a boat of his own construction; and in addition has the record of being the only person who has made two complete trips through the entire series of canyons, clear to needles. he it is who has worked out the type of boats we used, and their management in the dangerous waters of the colorado. we have tried to make this narrative not only simple, as we say, but truthful. however, no two people can see things in exactly the same light. to some, nothing looks big; to others, every little danger is unconsciously magnified out of all proportion. for instance, we can recall rapids which appeared rather insignificant at first, but which seemed decidedly otherwise after we had been overturned in them and had felt their power--especially at the moment when we were sure we had swallowed a large part of the water that composed them. the reader will kindly excuse the use of the first person, both singular and plural. it is our own story, after all, and there seems to be no other way than to tell it as you find it here. +contents+ chapter page i. preparations at green river city, wyoming 1 ii. interesting sights of southern wyoming 12 iii. the gateway of all the canyons 22 iv. suspicious hosts 36 v. the battle with lodore 50 vi. hell's half mile 64 vii. jimmy goes over the mountain 71 viii. an inland excursion 83 ix. canyon of desolation 93 x. hospitable ranchmen 102 xi. wonders of erosion 111 xii. could we succeed? 121 xiii. a companion voyager 129 xiv. a patient amid the cataracts 142 xv. placer gold 156 xvi. a warning 169 xvii. a night of thrills 178 xviii. marble halls and marble walls 190 xix. signalling our canyon home 203 xx. one month later 219 xxi. what christmas eve brought 235 xxii. short of provisions in a sunless gorge 249 xxiii. the last portage and the last rapids 267 xxiv. on the crest of a flood 280 xxv. four days to yuma 290 xxvi. across the mexico border 303 xxvii. the gulf of california 321 illustrations the grand canyon near the mouth of ha va su creek _frontispiece_ after a difficult picture. e. c. kolb on rope................... 2 in the grand canyon near the little colorado.................... 6 the start at green river, wyoming............................... 10 fire hole chimneys.............................................. 10 a typical butte formation....................................... 14 boats and crew. photo taken in the grand canyon................. 18 skeleton found in the grand canyon.............................. 22 inside of the first canyons..................................... 26 tilted rocks at kingfisher canyon............................... 26 "immense rocks had fallen from the cliff"....................... 36 ashley falls, looking down-stream............................... 40 the rocks were dark red; occasional pines grew on the ledges, making a charming combination of colour....................... 44 "we stopped at one hay ranch close to the utah-colorado line"... 48 remarkable entrance to lodore canyon............................ 52 "the river cut a channel under the walls" at lower disaster falls......................................................... 56 "everything was wet"............................................ 56 a colorado river salmon......................................... 60 lodore canyon as seen from brown's park......................... 60 "the canyon was gloomy and darkened with shreds of clouds"...... 64 "it took nine loads to empty one boat".......................... 68 "an upright log was found wedged between the boulders".......... 68 echo cliffs. "this was the end of lodore"....................... 72 end of echo cliffs. the mouth of the yampa river is on the right.......................................................... 72 marvels of erosion.............................................. 76 "here was one end of the rainbow of rock that began on the other side of the mountains".................................. 80 pat lynch: the canyon hermit.................................... 84 each bed was placed in a rubber and a canvas sack............... 90 "now for a fish story" ......................................... 100 the centre of three symmetrical formations in the double bow knot.......................................................... 114 the buttes of the cross......................................... 118 "the land of standing rocks was like a maze".................... 122 rocks overhanging the colorado's gorge.......................... 122 thirteen hundred feet above the green river..................... 124 the junction of the green and the grand rivers.................. 128 looking west into cataract canyon............................... 132 charles smith and his boat...................................... 132 a narrow channel at rapid no. 22................................ 136 developing tests................................................ 136 rapid no. 22 in cataract canyon................................. 140 the _edith_ in a cataract....................................... 144 a seventy-five-foot drop in three-fourths of a mile............. 144 camp in the heart of cataract canyon............................ 148 lower cataract canyon. boats tandem............................. 152 beginning of a natural bridge. glen canyon...................... 152 pictographs in glen canyon...................................... 158 cliff ruins near san juan river................................. 162 rainbow natural bridge, looking south........................... 162 rainbow natural bridge, looking north........................... 166 glen canyon near navajo mountain................................ 170 upper marble canyon............................................. 170 placer dredge at lee's ferry.................................... 174 badger creek rapid.............................................. 180 bands of marble in marble canyon................................ 180 a peaceful camp in marble canyon................................ 184 the soap creek rapid; a little above lowest stage. photo published by permission of julius f. stone.................... 188 "it was too good a camp to miss"................................ 192 arch in marble canyon........................................... 192 walls of marble canyon.......................................... 196 approaching the grand canyon.................................... 200 end of marble canyon, from the mouth of the little colorado..... 204 cataracts of the little colorado river.......................... 204 end of hance trail. small white line is an intrusion of quartz in the algonkian.............................................. 208 below the sockdologer........................................... 210 the rust tramway. span four hundred and fifty feet.............. 214 bright angel creek and canyon................................... 218 leaving home, dec. 19, 1911..................................... 222 a composite picture of marble canyon walls and a grand canyon rapid......................................................... 222 the _edith_ (on left of central rock) in granite falls.......... 226 rough water in hermit creek rapid............................... 230 type of rapid in the granite near bass trail.................... 234 the inner plateau, thirteen hundred feet above the river........ 238 bert lauzon, above separation rapid............................. 238 the break in the _edith_........................................ 242 merry christmas. the repair was made with bilge boards, canvas, paint, and tin................................................ 242 pulling clear of a rock......................................... 246 a shower bath................................................... 246 grand canyon at the mouth of ha va su canyon. medium high water. frontispiece shows same place in low water............. 250 "morning revealed a little snow," on the top.................... 252 new year's eve was spent in this section between the highest sheer walls in the lower gorge................................ 252 lava falls. lava on left, hot springs on right.................. 254 swift water in tapeets creek rapid.............................. 260 lauzon, equipped with a life preserver on a rope, on guard below a rapid................................................. 260 in the last granite gorge....................................... 260 capt. burro: a ha va supai...................................... 266 the last portage. the rocks were ice-filmed. note potholes...... 270 mooney falls: ha va su canyon................................... 274 watching for the signal fire. mrs. emery and edith kolb......... 278 the granite gorge near bright angel trail....................... 282 the grand canyon from the head of bright angel trail............ 286 the cork screw: lower end of bright angel trail................. 290 zoroaster temple from the end of bright angel trail............. 298 winter in the grand canyon from the rim......................... 308 winter in the grand canyon at the river......................... 308 a vaquero in the making......................................... 318 cliff swallows' nests. found from wyoming to mexico............. 318 steam vents beside volcanic lake................................ 326 cocopah mountain, mexico........................................ 326 ten miles from the gulf of california. coming up on a twenty-foot tide.............................................. 332 sunset on the lower colorado river.............................. 332 [illustration] through the grand canyon from wyoming to mexico chapter i preparations at green river city, wyoming early in september of 1911 my brother emery and i landed in green river city, wyoming, ready for the launching of our boats on our long-planned trip down the green and colorado rivers. for ten years previous to this time we had lived at the grand canyon of arizona, following the work of scenic photography. in a general way we had covered much of the country adjacent to our home, following our pack animals over ancient and little-used trails, climbing the walls of tributary canyons, dropping over the ledges with ropes when necessary, always in search of the interesting and unusual. after ten years of such work many of our plans in connection with a pictorial exploration of the grand canyon were crowned with success. yet all the while our real ambition remained unsatisfied. we wanted to make the "big trip"--as we called it; in other words, we wanted a pictorial record of the entire series of canyons on the green and colorado rivers. the time had come at last, after years of hoping, after long months of active preparation. we stood at the freight window of the station at green river city asking for news of our boats. they had arrived and could be seen in their crates shoved away in a corner. it was too late to do anything with them that day; so we let them remain where they were, and went out to look over the town. green river city proved to be a busy little place noisy with switch engines, crowded with cattle-men and cowboys, and with hunting parties outfitting for the jackson hole country. a thoroughly western town of the better sort, with all the picturesqueness of people and surroundings that the name implies. it was busier than usual, even, that evening; for a noisy but good-natured crowd had gathered around the telegraph office, eager for news of a wrestling match then taking place in an eastern city. as we came up they broke into a cheer at the news that the american wrestler had defeated his foreign opponent. there was a discussion as to what constituted the "toe-hold," three boys ran an impromptu foot-race, there was some talk on the poor condition of the range, and the party began to break up. the little excitement over, we returned to the hotel; feeling, in spite of our enthusiasm, somewhat lonesome and very much out of place. our sleep that night was fitful and broken by dreams wherein the places we had known were strangely interwoven with these new scenes and events. through it all we seemed to hear the roar of the rio colorado. we looked out of the window the next morning, on a landscape that was novel, yet somehow familiar. the river, a quarter of a mile away, very clear and unruffled under its groves of cottonwood, wound through low barren hills, as unlike as could be to the cliffs and chasms we knew so well. but the colours--gray, red, and umber, just as moran has painted them--reassured us. we seemed not so far from home, after all. it was wyoming weather, though; clear and cold, after a windy night. when, after breakfast, we went down to the river, we found that a little ice had formed along the margin. the days of final preparation passed quickly--with unpacking of innumerable boxes and bundles, checking off each article against our lists; and with a long and careful overhauling of our photographic outfit. this last was a most important task, for the success of our expedition depended on our success as photographers. we could not hope to add anything of importance to the scientific and topographic knowledge of the canyons already existing: and merely to come out alive at the other end did not make a strong appeal to our vanity. we were there as scenic photographers in love with their work, and determined to reproduce the marvels of the colorado's canyons, as far as we could do it. in addition to three film cameras we had 8 ã� 10 and 5 ã� 7 plate cameras; a plentiful supply of plates and films; a large cloth dark-room; and whatever chemicals we should need for tests. most important of all, we had brought a motion-picture camera. we had no real assurance that so delicate an apparatus, always difficult to use and regulate, could even survive the journey--much less, in such inexperienced hands as ours, reproduce its wonders. but this, nevertheless, was our secret hope, hardly admitted to our most intimate friends--that we could bring out a record of the colorado as it is, a live thing, armed as it were with teeth, ready to crush and devour. there was shopping to do; for the purchases of provisions, with a few exceptions, had been left to the last. there were callers, too--an embarrassing number of them. we had camped on a small island near the town, not knowing when we did so that it had recently been put aside for a public park. the whole of green river city, it seemed, had learned of our project, and came to inspect, or advise, or jeer at us. the kindest of them wished us well; the other sort told us "it would serve us right"; but not one of our callers had any encouragement to offer. many were the stories of disaster and death with which they entertained us. one story in particular, as it seems never to have reached print--though unquestionably true--ought to be set down here. three years before two young men from st. louis had embarked here, intending to follow the river throughout its whole course. they were expert canoeists, powerful swimmers, and equipped with a steel boat, we were told, built somewhat after the style of a canoe. they chose the time of high water--not knowing, probably, that while high water decreases the labour of the passage, it greatly increases the danger of it. they came to the first difficult rapid in red canyon, seventy odd miles below green river city. it looked bad to them. they landed above it and stripped to their underclothing and socks. then they pushed out into the stream. almost at once they lost control of the boat. it overturned; it rolled over and over; it flung them off and left them swimming for their lives. in some way, possibly the currents favouring, they reached the shore. the boat, with all its contents, was gone. there they were, almost naked, without food, without weapons, without the means of building a fire; and in an uninhabited and utterly inhospitable country. for four days they wandered, blistered by the sun by day; nearly frozen at night, bruised by the rocks, and torn by the brambles. finally they reached the ranch at the head of the canyons and were found by a half-breed indian, who cared for them. their underwear had been made into bindings for their lacerated feet; they were nearly starved, and on the verge of mental collapse. after two weeks' treatment in the hospital at green river city they were partially restored to health. quite likely they spent many of the long hours of their convalescence on the river bank, or on the little island, watching the unruffled stream glide underneath the cottonwoods. such tales as this added nothing to our fears, of course--for the whole history of the colorado is one long story of hardship and disaster, and we knew, even better than our advisors, what risks lay before us. we told our newfound friends, in fact, that we had lived for years on the brink of the grand canyon itself, a gorge deeper and more awful, even, than lodore; with a volume of water ten times greater. we knew, of course, of the river's vast length, of the terrible gorges that confined it, of the hundreds of rapids through which a boat would have to pass. we knew, too, how major powell, undismayed by legends of underground channels, impassable cataracts, and whirlpools; of bloodthirsty tribes haunting its recesses,--had passed through the canyons in safety, measuring and surveying as he went. we also knew of the many other attempts that had been made--most of them ending in disaster or death, a very few being successful. well, it had been done;[1] it could be done again--this was our answer to their premonitions. we had present worries enough to keep us from dwelling too much on the future. it had been our intention to start two weeks earlier, but there had been numerous unavoidable delays. the river was low; "the lowest they had seen it in years" they told us, and falling lower every day. there were the usual difficulties of arranging a lot of new material, and putting it in working order. at last we were ready for the boats, and you may be sure we lost no time in having them hauled to the river, and launching them. they were beauties--these two boats of ours--graceful, yet strong in line, floating easily, well up in the water, in spite of their five hundred pounds' weight. they were flat-bottomed, with a ten-inch rake or raise at either end; built of white cedar, with unusually high sides; with arched decks in bow and stern, for the safe storing of supplies. sealed air chambers were placed in each end, large enough to keep the boats afloat even if filled with water. the compartment at the bow was lined with tin, carefully soldered, so that even a leak in the bottom would not admit water to our precious cargoes. we had placed no limit on their cost, only insisting that they should be of materials and workmanship of the very best, and strictly in accordance with our specifications. in every respect but one they pleased us. imagine our consternation when we discovered that the hatch covers were anything but water-tight, though we had insisted more upon this, perhaps, than upon any other detail. loose boards, with cross-pieces, fastened with little thumbscrews--there they were, ready to admit the water at the very first upset. there was nothing to be done. it was too late to rebuild the hatches even if we had had the proper material. owing to the stage of water it was imperative that we should start at once. bad as it would be to have water in our cargo, it would be worse to have too little water in the rock-obstructed channels of red canyon, or in the "flats" at brown's park for instance. certainly the boats acted so beautifully in the water that we could almost overlook the defective hatches. emery rowed upstream for a hundred yards, against a stiff current, and came back jubilant. "they're great--simply great!" he exclaimed. we had one real cause for worry, for actual anxiety, though; and as each hour brought us nearer to the time of departure, we grew more and more desperate. what about our third man? we were convinced that a third man was needed; if not for the duties of camp making, helping with the cooking and portaging; at least, for turning the crank of the motion-picture camera. emery and i could not very well be running rapids, and photographing ourselves in the rapids at the same time. without a capable assistant, therefore, much of the real purpose would be defeated. our first move, accordingly, had been to secure the services of a strong, level-headed, and competent man. friends strongly advised us to engage a canadian canoe-man, or at least some one familiar with the management of boats in rough water. it was suggested, also, that we might secure the help of some one of the voyagers who had been members of one of the previous expeditions. but--we may as well be frank about it--we did not wish to be piloted through the colorado by a guide. we wanted to make our own trip in our own way. if we failed, we would have no one but ourselves to blame; if we succeeded, we would have all the satisfaction that comes from original, personal exploration. in other words, we wanted a man to execute orders, not to give them. but that man was hard to find! there had been many applicants; some of them from distant parts of the country. one by one they were sifted out. at length we decided on one man; but later he withdrew. we turned elsewhere, but these applications were withdrawn, until there remained but a single letter, from a young man in san francisco. he seemed in every way qualified. we wrote accepting his application, but while waiting to hear from us a civil service position had been offered and accepted. "he was sorry"; and so were we, for his references proved that he was a capable man. later he wrote that he had secured a substitute. we replied on the instant, by wiring money for transportation, with instructions for the new man to report at once at green river. we took very much for granted, having confidence in our friends' sincerity and knowledge of just what was required. the time had passed, two days before; but--no sign of our man! we wrote, we telegraphed, we walked back and forth to every train; but still he did not come. had this man, too, failed us? then "jimmy" came--just the night before we were to leave. and never was a man more heartily welcome! with james fagen of san francisco our party was complete. he was an irish-american, aged 22 years, a strong, active, and willing chap. to be sure, he was younger, and not so experienced at "roughing it" as we had hoped. but his good qualities, we were sure, would make up for what was lacking. evening found us encamped a half mile below the town, the county bridge. our preparations were finished--even to the final purchase of odds and ends; with ammunition for shot-gun and rifle. we threw our sleeping-bags on the dry ground close to the river's edge, and, all our anxieties gone, we turned our faces to the stars and slept. at daybreak we were aroused by the thunder of hoofs on the bridge above us, and the shouts of cowboys driving a large herd of half-broken horses. we tumbled into our clothes, splashed our faces with ice-cold water from the river, and hurried over to the hotel for a last breakfast. then we sat down--in the little hotel at green river city--as others had done before, to write last messages to those who were nearest and dearest to us. a telegram to our parents in an eastern city; and another to emery's wife and little girl, at bright angel, more than eight hundred miles down this self-same river--these, somehow, took longer to write than the letters themselves. but whatever we may have felt, we finished this final correspondence in silence, and hurried back to the river. something of a crowd had gathered on the bridge to wish us _bon voyage_. shouting up to them our thanks for their hospitality, and telling them to "look pleasant," we focussed the motion-picture camera on them, emery turning the crank, as the boat swung out into the current. so began our journey, on friday, september the 8th, 1911, at 9.30 a.m., as entered in my journal. chapter ii interesting sights of southern wyoming all this preparation--and still more, the vexatious delays--had been a heavy tax upon us. we needed a vacation. we took it--six pleasant care-free days--hunting and fishing as we drifted through the sixty miles of southern wyoming. there were ducks and geese on the river to test our skill with the shot-gun. only two miles below green river city emery secured our first duck, a promise of good sport to follow. an occasional cottontail rabbit was seen, scurrying to cover through the sage-brush, when we made a detour from the boats. we saw many jack-rabbits too--with their long legs, and exaggerated ears--creatures swifter, even, than the coyotes themselves. we saw few people, though an occasional rancher hailed us from the shore. men of the open themselves, the character of our expedition appealed to them. their invitations to "come up to the ranch, and spend the evening" were always hearty, and could seldom be refused if the day was nearly gone. the logan boys' ranch, for instance, was our first camp; but will be one of the last to be forgotten. the two logan boys were sturdy, companionable young men, full of pranks, and of that bubbling, generous humour that flourishes in this western air. we were amused by their kindly offer to allow jimmy to ride "the little bay"--a beautiful animal, with the shifty eye of a criminal. but jimmy, though city-bred, was not to be trapped, and declined; very wisely, as we thought. we photographed their favourite horses, and the cabin; also helped them with their own camera, and developed some plates in the underground storm-cellar,--a perfect dark-room, as it happened. we took advantage of this pleasant camp to make a few alterations about our boats. certain mechanical details had been neglected in our desire to be off, our intention being to look after them as occasion demanded. our short run had already shown us where we were weak or unprepared. the rowlocks needed strengthening. one had come apart in our first brush with a little riffle. the rowlocks were of a little-used type, but very serviceable in dangerous waters. inside the usual rowlock a heavy ring was hung, kept in place by strong set-screws, but allowing full play in every direction. these rings were slipped over the oars; then the usual leather collar was nailed on the oar, making it impossible for the rings to become separated from the oars. the holes for the set-screws were too shallow, so we went over the entire lot to deepen them. we foresaw where a break might occur, and hung another lock of the open type on a cord, beside each oar, ready for instant use in case of emergency. the logan boys, seeing our difficulties in making some of these changes, came to our relief. "help yourselves to the blacksmith shop," they said heartily. here was an opportunity. much time was consumed in providing a device to hold our extra oars--out of the way on top of the deck, but available at a moment's notice. thanks to the logan boys and their blacksmith shop, these and many other little details were corrected once for all; and we launched our boats in confidence on the morning of september 10. a few miles below we came to the locally famous fire hole chimneys, interesting examples of the butte formation, so typical of the west. there were several of these buttes, about 800 feet high, composed of stratified rock; in colour quite similar to the rocks at green river city, but capped with rock of a peculiar burnt appearance, though not of volcanic origin. some of the buttes sloped up from the very edge of the river; others were separated from the river by low flats, covered with sage-brush and bunch-grass,--that nutritious food of the range stock. at the water's edge was the usual fringe of willows, cottonwoods, and shrubs innumerable,--all mirrored in the limpid surface of green river. at the foot of the cliffs were a number of wild burros, old and young--fuzzy little baby-burros, looking ridiculously like jack-rabbits--snorting their indignation at our invasion of their privacy. strange, by the way, how quickly these wild asses lose their wildness of carriage when broken, and lapse into the utmost docility! just below the chimneys emery caught sight of fish gathered in a deep pool, under the foliage of a cottonwood tree which had fallen into the river. our most tempting bait failed to interest them; so emery, ever clever with hook and line, "snagged" one just to teach them better manners. it was a colorado river salmon or whitefish. that evening i "snagged" a catfish and used this for salmon bait, a fourteen-pound specimen rewarding the attempt. these salmon were old friends of ours, being found from one end to the other of the colorado, and on all its tributaries. they sometimes weigh twenty-five or thirty pounds, and are common at twenty pounds; being stockily built fish, with large, flat heads. they are not gamey, but afford a lot of meat with a very satisfying flavour. on september 11, about forty miles below green river, we passed black's fork, a tributary entering from the west. it is a stream of considerable length, but was of little volume at that time. the banks were cliffs about 300 feet high, rugged, dark, and overhanging. here were a half dozen eagles and many old nests--proof enough, if proof were needed, that we were in a little visited country. what strong, splendid birds they were; how powerful and graceful their flight as they circled up, and up, into the clear blue sky! our next camp was at the holmes' ranch, a few miles below black's fork. we tried to buy some eggs of walter holmes, and were told that we could have them on one condition--that we visit him that evening. this was a price we were only too glad to pay, and the evening will linger long in our memories. mr. holmes entertained us with stories of hunting trips--after big game in the wilds of colorado; and among the lakes of the wind river mountains, the distant source of the green river. mrs. holmes and two young ladies entertained us with music; and jimmy, much to our surprise, joined in with a full, rich baritone. it was late that night when we rolled ourselves in our blankets, on the banks twenty feet above the river. next morning we were shown a group of mrs. holmes' pets--several young rabbits and a kitten, romping together in the utmost good fellowship. the rabbits had been rescued from a watery grave in an irrigation ditch and carefully nursed back to life. we helped her search for a lame wild duck that had spurned the offer of a good home with civilized ducklings, and had taken to the sage-brush. mrs. holmes' love of wild animals, however, failed to include the bald-headed eagle that had shown such an appetite for her spring chickens. a few miles below this ranch we passed bridger crossing, a ford on an old trail through southern wyoming. in pioneer days jim bridger's home was on this very spot. but those romantic days are long since past; and where this world-famous scout once watched through the loopholes of his barricade, was an amazed youngster ten or eleven years old who gazed on us, then ran to the cabin and emerged with a rifle in his hands. we thought little of this incident at the time, but later we met the father of the boy and were told that the children had been left alone with the small boy as their only protector, and that he stood ready to defend the home against any possible marauders. no doubt we looked bad enough to him. just below the ford the channel widened, and the river became very shallow, the low rolling hills falling away into a wide green prairie. we camped that night on a small island, low and treeless, but covered with deep, rank grass. next morning our sleeping-bags were wet with frost and dew. a hard pull against a heavy wind between gradually deepening rocky banks made us more than glad to pitch camp at noon a short distance above the mouth of henry's fork, a considerable stream flowing from the west. in the afternoon emery and i decided to walk to linwood, lying just across the utah line, four miles up henry's fork. jimmy preferred to remain with the boats. between the river and a low mesa lay a large ranch of a different appearance from those others which we had passed. those past were cattle ranches, with stock on the open range, and with little ground fit for cultivation, owing to the elevation. here we found great, broad acres, fenced and cultivated, with thoroughbred stock--horses and cattle--contentedly grazing. this pastoral scene, with a background of rugged mountains, appealed strongly to our photographic instincts. after three or four exposures, we climbed the farthest fence and passing from alfalfa to sage-brush in one step, were at the foot of the mesa. climbing to the summit, we beheld the village in the distance, in a beautiful green valley--a splendid example of mormon irrigation and farming methods. linwood proved to be the market-place for all the ranchers of this region. dotting the foot-hills where water was less plentiful were occasional cabins, set down in the middle of hay ranches. all this husbandry only emphasized the surrounding desolation. just beyond, dark in the southern sky, rose the great peaks of the uintah range, the mountains we were so soon to enter. storm-clouds had been gathering about one great snow-covered peak, far in the distance. these clouds spread and darkened, moving rapidly forward. we had taken the hint and were already making all possible haste toward the town, hoping to reach it before the storm broke. but it was useless. long before we had gained the edge of the valley the rain had commenced in the mountains,--small local storms, resembling delicate violet-coloured veils, hung in the dense pall of the clouds. there were far flashes of lightning, and the subdued roar of distant thunder, rapidly growing louder as the storm approached. unable to escape a drenching, we paused a moment to wonder at the sight; to marvel--and shrink a little too--at the wild, incessant lightning. the peaks themselves seemed to be tumbling together, such was the continuous roar of thunder, punctuated by frequent deafening crashes. then the storm came down upon us. such torrents of rain we have seldom witnessed: such gusts of driving wind! at times we could scarcely make headway against it, but after most strenuous effort we neared the village. we hoped to find shelter under a bridge, but found innumerable muddy streams running through the planks. so we resumed our plodding, slipping and sliding in the black, bottomless mud. the storm by this time had passed as quickly as it came. wet to our skins, we crawled into the little store and post-office combined, and found it filled with ranch hands, waiting for the weekly mail. we made a few purchases, wrote some letters, then went to a large boarding-house near by and fortified ourselves with a generous, hot supper. there were comments by some of the men on our venture, but they lacked the true green river tang. here, close to the upper canyons, the unreasonable fear of the rapids gave way to a reasonable respect for them. here we heard again of the two young men from st. louis, and the mishaps that had befallen them. here too we were to hear for the first time of the two snyders, father and son, and the misfortunes that had overtaken them in lodore canyon, twenty years before. we were to hear more of these men later. we made what haste we could back to our boats, soon being overtaken by a horseman, a big-hearted swede who insisted on carrying our load as long as we were going in his direction. how many just such instances of kindliness we were to experience on our journey down the river! how the west abounds with such men! it was dark when he left us a mile from the river. here there was no road to follow, and we found that what had been numerous dry gullies before were now streams of muddy water. two or three of these streams had to be crossed, and we had a disagreeable half hour in a marsh. finally we reached the river, but not at the point where we had left our boats. we were uncertain whether the camp was above or below us, and called loudly for jimmy, but received no answer. emery felt sure that camp was upstream. so upstream we went, keeping back of the bushes that fringed the banks, carefully searching for a sign. after a few minutes' hunt we heard a sound: a subdued rumble, not unlike the distant thunder heard that afternoon, or of boats being dragged over the pebbles. what could it be? we listened again, carefully this time, and discovered that it came from a point about thirty feet away, on the opposite side of the bushes. it could be only one thing. jimmy's snore had brought us home! hurriedly securing some dry clothes from the rubber sacks, which contained our sleeping-bags as well, we made a quick change, and slid into the beds, inflating the air mattresses with our lungs after we were inside. then we lay down contentedly to rest. chapter iii the gateway of all the canyons we awoke the next morning full of anticipation. something new lay ahead of us, a promise of variety. in plain sight of our camp lay the entrance to flaming gorge, the gateway to the entire series of canyons. hurriedly finishing our camp duties, we loaded the boats, fastened down the hatches, and shoved off into the current, eager to be on our way. it was cloudy overhead and looked as if we were to have more rain. even then it must have been raining away to the north, for a dirty, clay-colored torrent rushed through the dry arroyo of the night before, a stream large enough to discolour the water of the green itself. but we thought little of this. we were used to seeing muddy water in the colorado's gorges; in fact we were surprised to find clear water at all, even in the green river. rowing downstream we found that the country sloped gently towards the mountains. the river skirted the edge of these foot-hills as if looking for a possible escape, then turned and entered the mountain at a sharp angle. the walls sloped back considerably at first, and there was a little shore on either side. somewhere near this point runs the dividing line of wyoming and utah. we considered the gateway a subject worthy of a motion picture, if taken from the deck of the boat; but doubted if it would be a success owing to the condition of the light and the motion of the boat. still it was considered worthy of a trial, and the film was run through. the colour of the rocks at the entrance was a light red, but not out of the ordinary in brilliancy. the rock formation was stratified, but displaced; standing at an angle and flexed over on top with a ragged break here and there, showing plainly the great pressure to which the rocks had been subjected. the upheaval was not violent, the scientists tell us, but slow and even, allowing the river to maintain its old channel, sawing its way through the sandstone. the broken canyon walls, when well inside the gorge, were about 600 to 700 feet high. the mountains beyond and on either side were much higher. the growth on the mountain sides was principally evergreen; douglas fir, the bull-pine and yellow pine. there was a species of juniper, somewhat different from the utah juniper, with which we were familiar at the grand canyon. bushes and undergrowth were dense above the steep canyon walls, which were bare. willows, alder-thickets, and a few cottonwood trees lined the shores. meanwhile the current had quickened, almost imperceptibly at first, but enough to put us on our guard. while there were no rapids, use was made of what swift water we found by practising on the method we would use in making a passage through the bad rapids. as to this method, unused as yet by either of us, we had received careful verbal instruction from mr. stone, who had made the trip two years before our own venture; and from other friends of nathan galloway, the trapper, the man who first introduced the method on the green and colorado rivers. our experience on water of any kind was rather limited. emery could row a boat, and row it well, before we left green river, but had never gone over any large rapids. while he was not nearly so large or heavy as i,--weighing no more than 130 pounds, while i weighed 170 pounds,--he made up for his lighter weight by a quickness and strength that often surprised me. he was always neat and clever in his method of handling his boat, taking a great deal of pride in keeping it free from marks, and avoiding rocks when making a landing. i had done very little rowing before leaving green river, so little that i had difficulty in getting both oars in the water at the same time. of course it did not take me long to learn that; but i did not have the knack of making clean landings, and bumped many rocks that my brother missed. still i was improving all the time and was anxious to get into the rough water, feeling sure i would get through somehow, but doing my best in the meantime to get the knack of handling the boat properly before the rough water was reached. an occasional rock would stick up above the surface; the swift water would rush up on it, or drive past on either side. instead of pulling downstream with might and main, and depending on a steersman with a sweep-oar to keep us clear of obstructions--the method usually adopted on large rivers, and by the earlier parties on the colorado--by our method the single oarsman reversed his boat so that it was turned with the stern downstream, giving the oarsman a view of what was ahead; then by pulling upstream the boat was held in check. we allowed ourselves to be carried in a direct line with the rocks ahead, approaching them as closely as we dared; then, with a pull on one oar, the boat was turned slightly at an angle to the current, and swung to one side or the other; just as a ferry is headed into the current, the water itself helping to force it across. the ferry is held by a cable; the boat, by the oarsman; the results are quite similar. the boats, too, were somewhat unusual in design, having been carefully worked out by galloway after much experience with the problem, and after building many boats. he finally settled on the design furnished us by mr. stone. the flat bottom, sloping up from the centre to either end, placed the boats on a pivot one might say, so that they could be turned very quickly, much more quickly than if they had had a keel. there was a four foot skag or keel under the stern end of the boat, but this was only used when in quiet water; and as it was never replaced after being once removed we seldom refer to it. being flat-bottomed, they drew comparatively little water, a matter quite important on low water such as we found in the green river. while each boat carried a weight of seven hundred pounds in addition to its own five hundred pounds, they often passed over rocks less than ten inches below the surface, and did so without touching. while the boats were quite large, the arched decks made them look even larger. a considerable amount of material could be stored under these decks. the only part of the boat that was entirely open or unprotected from the waves was the cockpit, or mid-section occupied by the oarsman. this was only large enough for one man. a second man had to sit on the deck behind the oarsman, with his feet hanging into the cockpit. jimmy occupied this place of honour as we drifted through the placid water; first on one boat, then on the other, entertaining us meanwhile with his songs. we encountered two splashy little rapids this day, but with no rocks, or any dangerous feature whatever. any method, or none at all, was safe enough in these rapids. the colouring of the rocks changed as we proceeded, and at the lower end of the short canyon we saw the flaming patch of colour that had suggested its name to major powell, forty-two years before. intensified on that occasion by the reflected light of a gorgeous sunset, it must have been a most brilliant spectacle. two beavers slid into the water when we were close beside them, then rose to the surface to stare curiously when we had passed. we left them undisturbed. some geese decoyed us into an attempt to ambush them, but they kept always just out of reach of our guns. wise fellows, those geese! a geological fault accompanied by the breaking down of the walls marks the division between flaming gorge and horseshoe canyon, which immediately follows. we nooned here, opposite a deserted cabin. a trail dropped by easy stages over the slope on the east side; and fresh tracks showed that sheep had recently been driven down to the water's edge. passing through horseshoe,--another very short canyon,--we found deep, placid pools, and sheer, light red walls rising about four hundred feet on either side, then sloping back steeply to the tree-covered mountains. in the middle of this canyon emery was startled out of a day-dream by a rock falling into the water close beside him, with never a sound of warning. years spent in the canyons had accustomed emery and me to such occurrences; but jimmy, unused to great gorges and towering cliffs, was much impressed by this incident. after all, it is only the unusual that is terrible. jimmy was ready enough to take his chances at dodging bricks hurled by a san francisco earthquake, but never got quite used to rocks descending from a source altogether out of sight. small wonder, after all! later we were to experience more of this thing, and on a scale to startle a stoic! we halted at the end of horseshoe, early in the afternoon of september 14, 1911, one week out from green river city. camp no. 6 was pitched on a gravelly shore beside sheep creek, a clear sparkling stream, coming in from the slopes of the uintah range. just above us, on the west, rose three jagged cliffs, about five hundred feet high, reminding one by their shape of the three brothers of yosemite valley. here, again, we were treated to another wonderful example of geologic displacement, the rocks of horseshoe canyon lying in level strata; while those of kingfisher, which followed, were standing on end. sheep creek, flowing from the west, finds an easy course through the fault, at the division of the canyons. the balance of this day was spent in carefully packing our material and rearranging it in our boats, for we expected hard work to follow. tempted by the rippling song of the brook, and by tales of fish to be found therein, we spent two hours fishing from its banks on the morning of the 15th. but the foliage of overhanging trees and shrubs was dense, making it difficult to cast our lines, or even to climb along its shores, and our small catch of two trout, which were fried with a strip of bacon to add flavour, only whetted our appetites for more. it was a little late in the season for many birds. here in kingfisher canyon were a few of the fish-catching birds from which the canyon took its name. there were many of the tireless cliff-swallows scattered all through these canyons, wheeling and darting, ever on the wing. these, with the noisy crested jays, an occasional "camp-robber," the little nuthatches, the cheerful canyon wren with his rollicking song, the happy water-ousel, "kill-deer," and road-runners and the water birds,--ducks, geese, and mud-hens, with an occasional crane,--made up the bird life seen in the open country and in these upper canyons. earlier in the season it must be a bird's paradise, for berries and seeds would then be plentiful. we resumed our journey at 10 a.m., a very short run bringing us to the end of kingfisher canyon. the three canyons passed through approximate hardly more than ten miles in length, different names being given for geological reasons, as they really form only one canyon. the walls at the end were broken down, and brilliantly tinted talus of many hues covered the slopes, the different colours intermingling near the bottom. the canyon-walled river turned southeast here, and continued in this general direction for many miles, but with many twists and turns. we had previously been informed that red canyon, the next to follow, while not considered bad when compared to others, gave one the experience most necessary to combat the rapids farther down. it was not without danger, however, as a review of previous expeditions showed: some had lost their lives, still others, their boats; and one of major powell's parties had upset a boat in a red canyon rapid. the stage of water was so different on these previous attempts that their experiences were of little value to us one way or the other. a reference to pictures taken by two of these parties showed us there was considerable more water when they went through--six, and even eight feet higher in places. possibly this would be the best stage on which to make the voyage in heavy boats. the unfortunate ones had taken the spring rise, or flood water, with disastrous results to themselves or their boats. we soon found that our passage was to be hard on account of having too little water. in the quiet water above we had been seldom bothered with shoals; but now that we were in swifter water, there was scarcely any depth to it at all, except in the quiet pools between the rapids. for a description of our passage through this upper end of red canyon we refer to our journal: sketchy notes jotted down, usually in the evening just before retiring, by the light of a camp-fire, or the flickering flame of a candle. under the date of friday, september the 15th, we find the following: "end of kingfisher: long, quiet pools and shoals where we grounded a few times; several small, splashy rapids; then a larger one near an old boat landing. looked the rapid over from the shore. jim remained at the lower end with a life-preserver on a rope, while we ran the rapid. struck one or two rocks, lightly; but made the run in safety." "at the third rapid we saw some geese--but they got away. at noon we ate a cold lunch and because of the low water removed the skags, carrying them in the cockpit. the scenery in upper red canyon is impressive: pines and fir come down on the sloping sides to the river's edge; the rocks are reddish brown in colour, often broken in squares, and looking like great building blocks piled one upon another. the canyon is about fifteen hundred feet deep; the river is clear again, and averages about two hundred feet in width. we have seen a few deer tracks, but have not seen any deer. we also saw some jumping trout in a splashy little rapid. doubtless they came from a little creek, close by, for we never heard of trout being found in the green river." "we made a motion picture, while dropping our boats down with lines, over the first rapid we considered bad. emery remained in the boats, keeping clear of the rocks with a pole. powell's second party records an upset here. we passed kettle creek about 5 p.m. in the fifth rapids below kettle creek i got on the wrong side of the river and was carried into a very rocky rapid--the worst so far encountered. i touched a rock or two at the start, but made the run in safety; while emery ran the opposite side without trouble. we camped beside a small stream on the south, where there were signs of an old camp." "_saturday, september 16_. clear and cold in the early morning. started about 9 a.m. lined our boats past a difficult rapid. too many rocks, not enough water. two or three miles below this i had some difficulty in a rapid, as the pin of a rowlock lifted out of the socket when in the middle of rough water. emery snapped a picture just as it happened. a little later e.c.[2] ran a rocky rapid, but had so much trouble that we concluded to line my boat. noon. just a cold lunch, but with hot coffee from the vacuum bottles. then at it again." "the scenery is wonderful; the canyon is deeper than above; the river is swift and has a decided drop. we proceed cautiously, and make slow progress. we camp for the day on the north side close to a little, dry gully, on a level sage and bunch-grass covered bottom back from the river's edge. an abruptly descending canyon banked with small cottonwood trees coming in from the opposite side contains a small stream. put up our tent for the second time since leaving green river, wyoming. we are all weary, and glad to-morrow is sunday--a day of rest." "_sunday, september 17._ e.c. and i follow a fresh deer track up a game trail and get--a rabbit. climb out about 1300 feet above the river to the top of the narrow canyon. here is a sloping plateau, dotted with bunch-grass and grease-wood, a fourth of a mile wide. then rounded mountains rise beyond the plateau, some of the peaks reaching a height of 4000 feet above the river. the opposite side is much the same, but with a wider plateau. we had no idea before what a wonderful country this is. it is a picture to tempt an artist. high on the mountain tops is the dark blue-green of pines and firs, reds and yellows are mixed in the quaking aspen,--for the frost comes early enough to catch the sap in the leaves; little openings, or parks with no trees, are tinted a beautiful soft gray; 'brownstone fronts' are found in the canyon walls; and a very light green in the willow-leafed cottonwoods at the river's edge, and in all side canyons where there is a running stream. the river glistens in the sunlight, as it winds around the base of the wall on which we stand, and then disappears around a bend in the canyon. turn where we will, we see no sign of an opening, nothing but the rounded tops of wooded mountains, red and green, far as the eye can reach, until they disappear in the hazy blue. finally emery's keen eyes, aided by the binoculars, discover a log cabin at the foot of a mountain, on the plateau opposite us about three miles away." "we hurry back to camp and write some letters; then jim and i cross the river and climb out over the rocky walls to the plateau above. in two hours we reach the cabin. it is new--not yet finished. a woman and four children are looking over a garden when we arrive. they are a little frightened at first, but soon recover. the woman gladly promises to take out our mail when they go to the nearest town, which happens to be vernal, utah, forty-five miles away. three other families live near by, all recently moved in from vernal. the woman tells us that galloway hunts bear in these timbered mountains, and has killed some with a price on their heads--bear with a perverted taste for fresh beef."[3] "thanking the woman, we make our way back to the river. we see some dried-out elk horns along our trail; though it is doubtful if elk get this far south at present. a deer trail, leading down a ravine, makes our homeward journey much easier. it has turned quite cold this evening, after sunset. we finish our notes and prepare to roll into our beds a little earlier than usual." chapter iv suspicious hosts we awoke bright and early the next morning, much refreshed by our day of rest and variety. with an early start we were soon pulling down the river, and noon found us several miles below the camp, having run eleven rapids with no particular difficulty. a reference in my notes reads: "last one has a thousand rocks, and we could not miss them all. my rowing is improving, and we both got through fairly well." in the afternoon they continued to come--an endless succession of small rapids, with here and there a larger one. the canyon was similar to that at our camp above, dark red walls with occasional pines on the ledges,--a most charming combination of colour. at 2.30 p.m. we reached ashley falls, a rapid we had been expecting to see for some time. it was a place of singular beauty. a dozen immense rocks had fallen from the cliff on the left, almost completely blocking the channel--or so it seemed from one point of view. but there was a crooked channel, not more than twelve wide in places, through which the water shot like a stream from a nozzle. we wanted a motion picture of our dash through the chute. but the location for the camera was hard to secure, for a sheer bank of rock or low wall prevented us from climbing out on the right side. we overcame this by landing on a little bank at the base of the wall and by dropping a boat down with a line to the head of the rapid where a break occurred in the wall. jimmy was left with the camera, the boat was pulled back, and we prepared to run the rapid. we first had to pass between two square rocks rising eight feet above the water so close together that we could not use the oars; then, when past these, pull ten feet to the right in order to clear the large rock at the end of the main dam, or barrier, not more than twenty feet below. to pull down bow first and try to make the turn, would mean to smash broadside against this rock. it could only be done by dropping stern first, and pulling to the right under the protection of the first rocks; though it was doubtful if even this could be accomplished, the current was so swift. the _defiance_ was ready first, the _edith_ was to follow as closely as safety allowed. almost before i knew it i was in the narrow channel, so close to the right rock that i had to ship that oar, and pull altogether on the left one. as soon as i was through i made a few quick strokes, but the current was too strong for me; and a corner of the stern struck a bang when i was almost clear. she paused as a wave rolled over the decks, then rose quickly; a side current caught the boat, whirling it around, and the bow struck. i was still pulling with all my might, but everything happened so quickly,--with the boat whirling first this way, then that,--that my efforts were almost useless. but after that second strike i did get in a few strokes, and pulled into the quiet pool below the line of boulders. emery held his boat in better position than i had done, and it looked for a while as if he would make it. but the _edith_ struck on the stern, much as mine had done. then he pulled clear and joined me in the shelter of the large rock, as cool and smiling as if he had been rowing on a mill-pond. we were delighted to find that our boats had suffered no damage from the blows they had received. striking on the ends as they did, the shock was distributed throughout the whole boat. this completed our run for that day, and we went into camp just below the "falls." emery painted the name _edith_ on the bow of his boat, at this camp. the name was given in honour of his four-year-old daughter, waiting for us at the grand canyon. i remarked that as no one loved me, i would name my boat the _defiance_. but i hesitated about putting this name on the bow. i would look rather foolish, i thought, if the _defiance_ should be wrecked in the first bad rapid. so the christening of my boat was left until such time as should have earned the title, although she was constantly referred to as the _defiance_. we remained until noon of the following day at ashley falls, exploring, repairing, and photographing this picturesque spot. the canyon walls here dropped down to beautiful, rolling foot-hills eight or nine hundred feet high tree covered as before but more open. the diversity of rocks and hills was alluring. there was work to be done and no pleasanter spot could be found in which to do it. among other things that had to be looked after were some adjustments to the motion-picture camera--usually referred to by us as the m.p.c.--this delicate work always falling to emery, for he alone could do it. there was much to interest us here. major powell reported finding the name "ashley" painted under an overhanging rock on the left side of the river. underneath was a date, rather indistinct, but found to have been 1825, by dellenbaugh, after carefully tracing the career of colonel ashley who was responsible for the record. accompanied by a number of trappers, he made the passage through this canyon at that early day. we found a trace of the record. there were three letters--a-s-h--the first two quite distinct, and underneath were black spots. it must have been pretty good paint to leave a trace after eighty-six years! resuming our journey we passed into deep canyon again,--the deepest we had found up to this time,--with steeply sloping, verdure-covered walls about 2700 feet high. the rapids still continued. at one rapid the remark was made that "two feet of water would cover two hundred rocks so that our boats would pass over them." but we did not have the two feet needed. we had previously been informed that some of these mountains were the hiding-places of men who were "wanted" in the three states which bordered near here. some escaping prisoners had also been traced to the mountains in this direction; then all tracks had ceased. the few peaceable ranchers who lived in these mountains were much alarmed over these reports. we found one such rancher on the plateau above the canyon, whom we will call johnson for convenience,--living in one of the upper canyons. he sold us some provisions. in return he asked us to help him swim some of his horses across the river. he said the high water had taken out his own boat. the horses were rounded up in a mountain-hidden valley and driven into the water ahead of the boat. after securing the horses, johnson's welcome seemed to turn to suspicion and he questioned our reasons for being there, wanting to know what we could find in that wild country to interest us. johnson's sons, of whom there were several, seemed to put in most of their time at hunting and trapping, never leaving the house without a gun. the cabin home looked like an arsenal, revolvers and guns hanging on all the walls--even his daughters being familiar with their use. although we had been very well treated after all, mrs. johnson especially having been very kind to us, we felt just a little relieved when the johnson ranch was left behind. we use, in fact, a fictious name, not caring to visit on them the suspicions we ourselves felt in return. another morning passed in repairing the m.p. camera, and another afternoon's work was necessary to get us out of the walls and the rapids of red canyon. but on the evening of the 20th, we did get out, and pulled into an open country known as brown's park, one week after entering flaming gorge. it had not been very fast travelling; but we were through, and with no mishap more serious than a split board on the side of my boat. under favourable conditions, and in experienced hands, this distance might have been covered in three days. but meanwhile, we were gaining a lot of experience. about the lower end of red canyon the river turned directly east, paralleling the northern boundary of utah, and continued to flow in this general direction until it crossed into colorado. on emerging from red canyon we spied a ranch house or log cabin close to the river. the doors were open and there were many tracks in the sand, so we thought some one must be about. on approaching the house, however, we found the place was deserted, but with furniture, books, and pictures piled on the floor in the utmost confusion, as if the occupants had left in a great hurry. this surmise afterward proved to be correct; for we learned that the rancher had been murdered for his money, his body having been found in a boat farther down the river. suspicion pointed to an old employee who had been seen lurking near the place. he was traced to the railroad, over a hundred miles to the north; but made his escape and was never caught. we found brown's park, once known as brown's hole, to be a beautiful valley several miles in width, and thirty-five or forty miles in length. the upper end of the valley was rugged in places, with rocky hills two or three hundred feet high. to the south, a few miles away, were the mountains, a continuation of those we had come through. we saw many cattle scattered over some of these rocky hills, grazing on the bunch-grass. at one place our course led us through a little canyon about two miles long, and scarcely more than two hundred feet deep. this was swallow canyon--a name suggested by the many birds of that species which had covered the canyon's walls with their little clay nests. the openings of some of these nests were so small that it scarcely seemed possible for a bird to enter. the water was deep and quiet in this short canyon, and a hard wind blowing up the stream made it difficult for us to gain any headway. in this case, too, the forms of the boat were against us. with the keel removed and with their high sides catching the wind, they were carried back and forth like small balloons. well, we could put up with it for a while, for those very features would prove most valuable in the rough-water canyons which were to follow! emerging from the canyon at last, we saw a ferry loaded with sheep crossing the stream. on the left shore was a large corral, also filled with sheep which a half dozen men were driving back and forth into different compartments. later these men told us there were 2400 sheep in the flock. we took their word for it, making no attempt to count them. the foreman of the ranch agreed to sell us some sugar and honey,--these two articles being a welcome addition to our list of supplies, which were beginning to show the effects of our voracious appetites. we found many other log cabins and ranches as we proceeded. some of them were deserted; at others men were busily engaged in cutting hay or the wild grass that grew in the bottoms. the fragrance of new-mown hay was in the air. young boys and women were among these busy workers, some of the women being seated on large harvesters, handling the horses with as much dexterity as any of the men. the entire trip through this pretty valley was full of interest. we were hailed from the shore by some of the hay ranchers, it being a novel sight to them to see a river expedition. at one or two of these places we asked the reason for the deserted ranches above, and were given evasive answers. finally we were told that cattle rustlers from the mountains made it so hard for the ranchers in the valleys that there was nothing for them to do but get out. they told us, also, that we were fortunate to get away from johnson's ranch with our valuables! our former host, we were told, had committed many depredations and had served one term for cattle stealing. officers, disguised as prospectors, had taken employment with him and helped him kill and skin some cattle; the skins, with their telltale brands, having been partially burned and buried. on this evidence he was afterwards convicted. our cool welcome by the johnsons, their suspicions of us, the sinister arsenal of guns and pistols, all was explained! quite likely some of these weapons had been trained against us by the trappers on the chance that we were either officers of the law, or competitors in the horse-stealing industry. for that matter we were actually guilty of the latter count, for come to think of it, we ourselves had helped them steal eight horses and a colt! the entire trip through this pretty valley was full of interest. it was all so different from anything seen above. there were great bottoms that gave evidence of having recently been overflooded, though now covered with cottonwood trees, gorgeous in their autumn foliage. we had often wondered where all the driftwood that floated down the colorado came from; but after seeing those unnumbered acres of cottonwoods we ceased to wonder. there were many beaver slides on the banks; and in places, numberless trees had been felled by these industrious animals. on one or two occasions we narrowly escaped splitting the sides of our boats on snags of trees which the beavers had buried in the bottom of the stream. we saw no beaver dams on the river; they were not necessary, for deep, quiet pools existed everywhere in brown's park. we saw two beavers in this section. one of these rose, porpoise-like, to the top of the water, stared at us a moment, then brought his tail down with a resounding smack on the top of the water, and disappeared, to enter his home by the subterranean route, no doubt. the river was gradually losing its clear colour, for the sand-bars were beginning to "work out," or break, making the water quite roily. in some sections of brown's park we grounded on these sand-bars, making it necessary for us to get out into the water, pushing and pulling on the boats until deeper water was reached. sometimes the deep water came when least expected, the sand-bars having a disconcerting way of dropping off abruptly on the downstream side. jimmy stepped off the edge of one of these hidden ledges while working with a boat and was for some time in no condition to appreciate our ill-concealed mirth. often we would be passing along on perfectly smooth water, when suddenly a turmoil would rise all about us as though a geyser had broken out below the surface. if we happened to be directly over it, the boat would be rocked back and forth for a while; then all would be peaceful again. this was most often caused by the ledges of sand, anywhere from three to ten feet high breaking down or falling forward as their bases were undermined. in a single night a bar of this kind will work upstream for a distance of several feet; then the sand will be carried down with the current to lodge again in some quiet pool, and again be carried on as before. this action gives rise to long lines of regular waves or swells extending for some distance down the stream. these are usually referred to as sand-waves. these waves increase in size in high water; and the monotonous thump, thump of the boat's bottom upon them is anything but pleasant, especially if one is trying to make fast time. so, with something new at every turn, we pulled lazily through brown's park, shooting at ducks and geese when we came near them, snapping our cameras when a picture presented itself, and observing the animal life along the stream. we stopped at one hay-ranch close to the utah-colorado line and chatted awhile with the workers. a pleasant-faced woman named mrs. chew asked us to deliver a message at a ranch a mile or two below. here also was the post-office of lodore, colorado, located a short distance above the canyon of the same name. mrs. chew informed us that they had another ranch at the lower end of lodore canyon and asked us to look them up when we got through, remarking: "you may have trouble, you know. two of my sons once tried it. they lost their boat, had to climb out, and nearly starved before they reached home." the post-office at the ranch, found as described, without another home in sight, was a welcome sight to us for several reasons. one reason was that it afforded shelter from a heavy downpour of rain that greeted us as we neared it, and a better reason still was, that it gave us a chance to write and mail some letters to those who would be most anxious to hear from us. among the messages we mailed was a picture post-card of coney island at night. in some way this card had slipped between the leaves of a book that i had brought from the east. i sent it out, addressed to a friend who would understand the joke; writing underneath the picture, "we have an abundance of such scenery here." the young woman who had charge of the office looked at the card in amazement. it was evidently something new to her. she told us she had never been to the railroad, and that her brother took the mail out on horse-back to steamboat, colorado, 140 miles distant. the rain having ceased, we returned to our boats pausing to admire a rainbow that arched above the canyon in the mountains, toward which we were headed. we remarked, jokingly, to jimmy that this was a good sign. he replied without smiling that he "hoped so." jimmy's songs had long since ceased, and we suspected him of homesickness. with the exception of a short visit to some friends on a large ranch, jimmy had never been away from his home in san francisco. this present experience was quite a contrast, to be sure! we did what we could to keep him cheered up, but with little success. jimmy had intimated that he would prefer to leave at the first opportunity to reach a railroad, and we willingly agreed to help him in every possible way. emery and i also agreed between ourselves that we would not take any unnecessary risks with him; but would leave him out of the boats at all rapids, if there was any passage around them. the river had taken a sharp turn to the south soon after passing the post-office, heading directly towards the mountains. camp was pitched just above the mouth of lodore. this twenty-mile canyon bears a very unsavory reputation, having a descent of 425 feet in that short distance, the greater part of the fall occurring in a space of twelve miles. this would mean wild water somewhere! we were camped on a spot recently occupied by some engineers of the united states conservation department, who had been trying to determine if it was feasible to dam the river at this place. the plan was to flood the hole of brown's park and divert the water through the mountains by a tunnel to land suitable for cultivation and in addition, allow the muddy water to settle and so prevent the vast amount of silt from being washed on down, eventually to the mouth of the colorado. the location seemed admirably suited for this stupendous project. but holes drilled beside the river failed to find bottom, as nothing but quicksand existed even at a depth of nearly three hundred feet; and without a strong foundation, such a dam would be utterly useless. chapter v the battle with lodore camp routine was hurriedly disposed of the next morning, saturday, september the 23d. everything was made snug beneath the hatches, except the two guns, which were too long to go under the decks, and had to be carried in the open cockpits. "camp no. 13, at the head of lodore," as it is entered in my journal, was soon hidden by a bend in the river. the open, sun-lit country, with its pleasant ranches and its grazing cattle, its rolling, gray, sage-covered hills and its wild grass and cottonwood-covered bottoms, was left behind, and we were back in the realm of the rock-walled canyon, and beetle-browed, frowning cliffs with pines and cedars clutching at the scanty ledges. we paused long enough to make a picture or two, with the hope that the photographic record would give to others some idea of the geological and scenic wonder--said to be the greatest known example of its kind--which lay before us. here is an obstructing mountain raised directly in the river's path. yet with no deviation whatever the stream has cut through the very centre of the peak! the walls are almost sheer, especially at the the bottom, and are quite close together at the top. a mile inside the mountain on the left or east side of the gorge is 2700 feet high. geologists say that the river was here first and that the mountain was slowly raised in its pathway--so slowly that the river could saw away and maintain its old channel. the quicksand found below the present level would seem to indicate that the walls were once even higher than at present, and that a subsidence had taken place after the cutting. the river at the entrance of this rock-walled canyon was nothing alarming, four small rapids being passed without event. then a fifth was reached that looked worse. the _edith_ was lined down. this was hard work, and dangerous too, owing to the strength of the current and the many rocks; so i concluded that my own boat, the _defiance_, must run the rapid. jimmy went below, with a life-preserver on a rope. emery stood beside the rapid with a camera and made a picture as i shot past him. fortunately i got through without mishap. i refused to upset even to please my brother. we were beginning to think that lodore was not so bad after all. rapid followed rapid in quick succession, and all were run without trouble; then we came to a large one. it was upper disaster falls; so named by major powell, for it was here that one of his boats was wrecked on his first voyage of exploration. this boat failed to make the landing above the rapid and was carried over. she struck a rock broadside, turned around and struck again, breaking the boat completely in two. this boat was built of 3/4-inch oak reã«nforced with bulkheads. when this fact is taken into consideration, some idea may be had of the great power of these rapids. the three men who occupied the boat saved themselves by reaching an island a short distance below. this all happened on a stage of water much higher than the present one, so we did not let the occurrence influence us one way or the other, except to make us careful to land above the rapid. we found a very narrow channel between two submerged boulders, the water plunging and foaming for a short distance below, over many hidden rocks. still, there was only one large rock near the lower end that we greatly feared, and by careful work that might be avoided. the _edith_ went first and grazed the boulder slightly, but no harm was done as e.c. held his boat well in hand. i followed, and struck rocks at the same instant on both sides of the narrow channel with my oars. it will be remembered that we ran all these dangerous rapids facing downstream. the effect of this was to shoot the ends of both oars up past my face. the operator said that i made a grimace just as he took a picture of the scrimmage. we landed on the island below and talked of camping for the night, as it was getting late; but the island so rocky and inhospitable that we concluded to try the lower part of the rapid. this had no descent like the upper end; but it was very shallow, and we soon found ourselves on rocks, unable to proceed any farther. it took an hour of hard labour to work our heavy boats safely to the shore. we had been hoping for a rest the next day--sunday--but the island was such a disagreeable place to camp that it seemed necessary to cross to the mainland at least. a coil of strong, pliable wire had been included in our material. here was a chance to use it to advantage. the stream on the left side of the island could be waded, although it was very swift; and we managed to get the wire across and well fastened at both ends. elevating the wire above the water with cross-sticks, our tent and camp material were run across on a pulley, and camp was pitched a hundred yards below, on the left shore of the river. there were fitful showers in the afternoon, and we rested from our labour, obtaining a great deal of comfort from our tent, which was put up here for the third time since leaving green river city. always, when the weather was clear, we slept in the open. monday, the 25th, found us at the same camp. having concluded that disaster falls was an ideal place for a moving picture, we sent the balance of the material across on the pulley and wire, making a picture of the operation; stopping often because it continued to shower. between showers we resumed our work and picture making. the picture was to have been concluded with the operation of lining the boat across. e.c. stood on the shore about sixty feet away, working with the camera; jimmy was on the island, paying out the rope; while i waded in the water, holding the bow of the boat as i worked her between the rocks. having reached the end of the rope, i coiled it up, advising jimmy to go up to a safe crossing and join my brother while i proceeded with the boat. all was going well, and i was nearing the shore, when i found myself suddenly carried off my feet into water beyond my depth, and drifting for the lower end of the rapid. meanwhile i was holding to the bow of the boat, and calling lustily to my brother to save me. at first he did not notice that anything was wrong, as he was looking intently through the finder. then he suddenly awoke to the fact that something was amiss, and came running down the boulder-strewn shore, but he could not help me, as we had neglected to leave a rope with him. things were beginning to look pretty serious, when the boat stopped against a rock and i found myself once more with solid footing under me. it was too good a picture to miss; and i found the operator at the machine, turning the crank as i climbed out. we developed some films and plates that evening, securing some satisfactory results from these tests. it continued to rain all that night, with intermittent showers next morning. the rain made little difference to us, for we were in the water much of the following day as he boats were taken along the edge of another unrunnable rapid, a good companion rapid for the one just passed. this was lower disaster falls, the first of many similar rapids we were to see, but this was one of the worst of its kind. the swift-rushing river found its channel blocked by the canyon wall on the right side, the cliff running at right angles to the course of the stream. the river, attacking the limestones, had cut a channel under the wall, then turned and ran with the wall, emerging about two hundred feet below. standing on a rock and holding one end of a twenty-five foot string we threw a stone attached to the other end across to the opposite wall. the overhanging wall was within two feet of the rushing river; a higher stage of water would hide the cut completely from view. think what would happen if a boat were carried against or under that wall! we thought of it many times as we carefully worked our boats along the shore. between the delays of rain, with stops for picture making, portaging our material, and "lining" our boats, we spent almost three days in getting past the rapids called upper and lower disaster falls, with their combined fall of 50 feet in little more than half a mile. on the evening of september the 26th we camped almost within sight of this same place, at the base of a 3000-foot sugar-loaf mountain on the right, tree-covered from top to bottom. things were going too easily for us, it seemed; but we were in for a few reverses. it stormed much of the night and still drizzled when we embarked on the following morning. the narrow canyon was gloomy and darkened with shreds of clouds drifting far below the rim. the first rapid was narrow, and contained some large boulders. the _edith_ was caught on one of these and turned on her side, so that the water flowed in, filling the cockpit. the boat was taken off without difficulty, and bailed out. we found that the bulkheads failed to keep the water out of the hatches. some material from the _edith_ was transferred to the _defiance_. a bed, in a protecting sack of rubber and canvas, was shoved under the seat and we proceeded. less than an hour later i repeated my brother's performance, but i was not so fortunate as he. the _defiance_ was carried against one rock as i tried to pull clear of another, and in an instant she was on her side, held by the rush of water. i caught the gunwale, and, climbing on to the rock that caused the disaster, i managed to catch the rope and held the boat. in the meantime emery was in a whirlpool below, trying to land on the right side; but was having a difficult time of it. jimmy stood on the shore unable to help. the bed was washed out of the boat and went bobbing over the waves, then before i knew what had happened, the rope was jerked from my hands and i was left stranded on my rock. seeing this, jimmy ran with all his might for a pool at the end of the rapid, bravely rescuing the boat and the bed as well, just as the _edith_ was landed. a rope was soon thrown to me, after the inevitable picture was made. then i jumped and was pulled to shore. on making an inventory we found that our guns were lost from the boat. being too long to go under the hatches, they had been left in the cockpit. the _defiance_ had an ugly rap on the bottom, where she struck a rock, the wood being smashed or jammed, but not broken out. nearly all material in the two boats was wet, so we took everything out and piled it on a piece of canvas, spread out on the sand. we worked rapidly, for another storm had been threatening all the morning. we were engaged in putting up our little tent when a violent wind which swept up the canyon, followed by a downpour of rain interrupted our work; and if anything missed a soaking before, it certainly received it then. the sand was beaten into our cameras and everything was scattered helter-skelter over the shore. we were fortunate in only one respect. the wind was away from the river instead of toward it. we finally got the tent up, then threw everything into it in an indiscriminate pile, and waited for the storm to pass. emery proposed that we do a song and dance just to show how good we felt; but any appearance of merriment was rather forced. had the builders of the boats been there, we fear they would have had an uncomfortable half-hour; for nearly all this loss could have been avoided had our instructions regarding the hatch covers been followed. and for the sake of their saving a few dollars we had to suffer! the rain soon passed and we went to work, first starting a fire and getting a hurried lunch, for we had not eaten our noon meal, and it was then 4 p.m. we put up our dark-room tent, then went to work to find what was saved, and what was lost. we were surprised to find that all our small films and plates had escaped a soaking. protected in tin and cardboard boxes, wrapped with adhesive tape, and covered with a coating of paraffine melted and poured over them, they had turned the water in nearly every instance. the motion-picture film was not so fortunate. the paraffine had worn off the tin boxes in spots, the water soaked through the tape in some instances, and entered to the film. one roll, tightly wrapped, became wet on the edges; the gelatine swelled and stuck to the other film, thus sealing the inner portion or picture part of the film, so that roll was saved. the motion-picture camera was filled with water, mud and sand; and the other cameras fared likewise. we cleaned them out as best we could, drying them over small alcohol lamp which we had included in our duffle. our job seemed endless. jimmy had retired early, for he could help us but little in this work. it rained again in torrents, and the wind howled about the tent. after midnight, as we still toiled, a land-slide, loosened by the soaking rains, thundered down the mountain side about a fourth of a mile below our camp. we hoped jimmy would not hear it. we retired soon after this. smaller slides followed at intervals, descending over the 3000-foot precipices. thunder reverberated through the canyon, and altogether it was a night long to be remembered. these slides made one feel a little uncomfortable. "it would be most inconvenient," as we have heard some one say, "to wake in the morning and find ourselves wrapped up in a few tons of earth and rock." emery woke me the next morning to report that the river had risen about six feet; and that my boat--rolled out on the sand but left untied--was just on the point of going out with the water. it had proven fortunate for us all emery was a light sleeper! there was no travelling this day, as the boat had to be repaired. emery, being the ship's carpenter, set to work at once, while jimmy and i stretched our ropes back and forth, and hung up the wet clothes. then we built a number of fires underneath and soon had our belongings in a steam. things were beginning to look cheerful again. the rain stopped, too, for a time at least. a little later jimmy ran into camp with a fish which he had caught with his hands. it was of the kind commonly called the bony-tail or humpback or buffalo-fish, a peculiar species found in many of the rivers of the southwest. it is distinguished by a small flat head with a hump directly behind it; the end of the body being round, very slender, and equipped with large tail-fins. this specimen was about sixteen inches long, the usual length for a full-grown fish of this species. now for a fish story! on going down to the river we found a great many fish swimming in a small whirlpool, evidently trying to escape from the thick, slimy mud which was carried in the water. in a half-hour we secured fourteen fish, killing most of them with our oars. there were suckers and one catfish in the lot. you can judge for yourself how thick the water was, that such mudfishes as these should have been choked to helplessness. our captured fish were given a bath in a bucket of rain-water, and we had a fish dinner. in the afternoon we made a test of the water from the river, and found that it contained 20 per cent of an alkaline silt. when we had to use this water, we bruised the leaf of a prickly pear cactus, and placed it in a bucket of water. this method, repeated two or three times, usually clears the muddiest water. we also dug holes in the sand at the side of the river. the water, filtering through the sand, was often clear enough to develop the tests we made with our films. jimmy continued to feel downhearted; and this afternoon he told us his story. our surmise about his being homesick was correct, but it was a little more than that. he had an invalid mother, it seemed, and, aided by an older brother, he had always looked after the needs of the family. when the proposition of making the river trip came up, serious objections were raised by the family; but when the transportation arrived he had determined to go, in spite of their objections. now he feared that his mother would not live, or that we would be wrecked, and he would not know where to turn, or what to do. no wonder he felt blue! all we could do was to promise to help him leave the river at the very first opportunity. this would quite likely be at jensen, utah, still fifty miles farther downstream. it continued to rain by spells that night and the next morning. about 11 a.m. we resumed our work on the river. a short distance below our camp we saw the land-slide which we heard the night before--tons of earth and shattered rock wrapped about the split and stripped trunks of a half-dozen pines. the slide was started by the dislodged section of a sheer wall close to the top of the 2700-foot cliff. we also saw a boat of crude construction, pulled above the high-water mark; evidently abandoned a great while before. any person who had to climb the walls at that place had a hard job to tackle, although we could pick out breaks where it looked feasible; there were a few places behind us where it would be next to impossible. we had only gone over a few rapids when we found a long pool, with driftwood eddying upstream, and knew that our run for the day was over--the triplet rapids were ahead of us. we found this rapid to be about a fourth of a mile long, divided into three sections as its name indicated, and filled with great boulders at the base of a sheer cliff on the right--another unrunnable rapid. taking the camp material from the boats, we carried it down and pitched our tent first of all, then, while emery prepared supper, jimmy and i carried the remaining duffle down to camp. one of the boats was lined down also. then after supper we enjoyed the first rest we had taken for some time. camp ideal we called it, and it well deserved the name. at the bottom of a tree-covered precipice reaching a height of 2700 feet, was a strip of firm, level sand, tapering off with a slope down to the water, making a perfect landing and dooryard. a great mass of driftwood, piled up at the end of the rapid, furnished us with all fuel we needed with small effort on our part. our tent was backed against a large rock, while other flat rocks near at hand made convenient shelves on which to lay our camp dishes and kettles. it started to drizzle again that night, but what cared we? with a roaring fire in front of the tent we all cleaned up for a change, sewed patches on our tattered garments, and, sitting on our beds, wrote the day's happenings in our journals. then we crawled into our comfortable beds, and i was soon dreaming of my boyhood days when i "played hookey" from school and went fishing in a creek that emptied into the allegheny river, or climbed its rocky banks; to be awakened by jimmy crying out in his sleep, "there she goes over the rapids." jimmy was soon informed that he and the boats were perfectly safe, and i was brought back to a realization of the fact that i was not going to get a "whaling" for going swimming in dog-days; but instead was holed up in lodore canyon, in the extreme northwestern corner of colorado. chapter vi hell's half mile we began our work the next morning where we left off the night before by bringing the remaining boat down along the edge of the "triplets." then, while emery cooked the breakfast, jimmy and i "broke camp." the beds came first. the air had been released from the mattresses before we got up,--one way of saving time. a change of dry clothing was placed with each bed, and they were rolled as tightly as the two of us could do it, after which they were strapped, placed in a rubber sack, with a canvas sack over that, both these sacks being laced at the top. the tent--one of those so-called balloon silk compositions--made a very small roll; the dark-room tent, with its three plies of cloth, made the largest bundle of the lot. everything had been taken from the boats, and made quite a pile of dunnage, when it was all collected in a pile ready for loading. after the dishes were washed they were packed in a box, the smoke-covered pots and pans being placed in a sack. everything was sorted and piled before the loading commenced. an equal division of nearly everything was made, so that the loss of one boat and its cargo would only partially cripple the expedition. the photographic plates and films, in protecting canvas sacks, were first disposed of, being stored in the tin-lined hatches in the bow of the boats. two of the smaller rolls containing bedding, or clothing; a sack of flour, and half of the cameras completed the loads for the forward compartments. five or six tin and wooden boxes, filled with provisions, went into the large compartments under the stern. a box containing tools and hardware for the inevitable repairs, and the weightier provisions--such as canned milk and canned meats--went in first. this served as ballast for the boats. then the other provisions followed, the remaining rolls of bedding and tents being squeezed in on top. this compartment, with careful packing, would hold as much as two ordinary-sized trunks, but squeezing it all in through the small hatchway, or opening on top, was not an easy job. one thing we guarded very carefully from this time on was a waterproofed sack containing sugar. the muddy water had entered the top of this sack in our upset, and a liquefied sugar, or brown-coloured syrup, was used in our coffee and on our breakfast foods after that. it gradually dried out, and our emptied cups would contain a sediment of mud in the bottom. such was our morning routine, although it was not often that everything was taken from the boats, and it only happened in this case because we made a portage the night before. our work was all undone an hour later, when we came to the sharp descent known as hell's half mile, a section of a cliff had fallen from above, and was shattered into a hundred fragments, large and small; gigantic rocks were scattered on both shores and through the river bed, not an orderly array of rocks such as that found at ashley falls, but a riotous mass, looking as though they had been hurled from the sky above. the stripped trunk of an eight-foot tree, with roots extending over the river, had been deposited by a recent flood on top of the principal barrier. all this was found about fifty yards below the beginning of the most violent descent in lodore canyon. it would have been difficult enough without this last complication; the barrier seemed next to insurmountable, tired and handicapped with heavy boats as we were. with a weary sigh we dropped our boats to the head of the rapid and prepared to make the portage. our previous work was as nothing to this. rounded limestone boulders, hard as flint and covered with a thin slime of mud from the recent rise, caused us to slip and fall many times. then we dragged ourselves and loads up the sloping walls. they were cut with gullies from the recent rains; low scraggy cedars caught at our loads, or tore our clothes, as we staggered along; the muddy earth stuck to our shoes, or caused our feet to slip from under us as we climbed, first two or three hundred feet above the water, then close to the river's edge. three-fourths of a mile of such work brought us a level place below the rapid. it took nine loads to empty one boat. darkness came on before our boats were emptied, so they were securely tied in quiet water at the head of the rapid, and left for the morning. the next day found emery and me at work on the boats, while jimmy was stationed on the shore with the motion-picture camera. this wild scene, with its score of shooting currents, was too good a view to miss. with life-preservers inflated and adjusted, emery sat in the boat at the oars, pulling against the current, lessening the velocity with which the boat was carried down toward the main barrier, while i followed on the shore, holding a rope, and dropped him down, a little at a time, until the water became too rough and the rocks too numerous. all directions were given with signals; the human voice was of little avail in the turmoil. we kept the boats in the water as long as it was safe to do so, for it greatly lessened the hard work of a portage. with one end of the boat floating on the water, an ordinary lift would take the other end over a rock with insufficient water above it to float the boat. then the boat was balanced on the rock, the opposite end was lifted, she was shoved forward and dropped in the water again and another threatening rock was passed. foot by foot we fought our way, now on the shore, now waist deep in the water below some protecting boulder, threatened every moment by the whirling water that struggled to drag us into the torrent. the sand and water collecting in our clothes weighted us down; the chill of standing in the cold water numbed our limbs. finally the barrier was reached and the boats were run out close to the end, and tied in a quiet pool, while we devised some method of getting them past or over this obstruction. directly underneath and beyond the roots of the tree were large rounded boulders, covered with slippery mud. past this barrier the full force of the water raced, to hurl itself and divide its current against another rock. it was useless to try to take a boat around the end of the rock. the boat's sides, three-eighths of an inch thick, would be crushed like a cardboard box. if lifted into the v-shaped groove, the weight of the boats would wedge them and crush their sides. fortunately an upright log was found tightly wedged between these boulders. a strong limb, with one end resting on a rock opposite, was nailed to this log; a triangle of stout sticks, with the point down, was placed opposite this first limb, on the same level, and was fastened to the upright log with still another piece; and another difficulty was overcome. with a short rope fastened to the iron bar or hand-hold on the stern, this end was lifted on to the cross-piece, the bow sticking into the water at a sharp angle. the short rope was tied to the stump, so we would not lose that we had gained. the longer rope from the bow was thrown over the roots of the tree above, then we both pulled on the rope, until finally the bow was on a level with the stern. she was pulled forward, the ropes were loosened and the boat rested on the cross-pieces. the motion-picture camera was transferred so as to command a view of the lower side of the barrier, then the boat was carefully tilted, and slid forward, a little at a time, until she finally gained headway, nearly jerking the rope from our hands, and shot into the pool below. we enjoyed the wildest ride we had experienced up to this time in running the lower end of this rapid. the balance of the day was spent in the same camp below the rapid. our tent was put up in a group of box elder trees,--the first trees of this species we had seen. red cedar trees dotted the rocky slopes, while the larger pines became scarce at the river's edge, and gathered near the top of the canyon's walls. the dark red rocks near the bottom were covered with a light blue-tinted stratum of limestone, similar to the fallen rocks found in the rapid above. in one land-slide, evidently struck with some rolling rock, lay the body of a small deer. we saw many mountain sheep tracks, but failed to see the sheep. many dead fish, their gills filled with the slimy mud from the recent rise, floated past us, or lay half buried in the mud. these things were noticed as we went about our duties, for we were too weary to do any exploring. the next morning, monday, october the 2d saw us making arrangements for the final run that would take us out of lodore canyon. no doubt it was a beautiful and a wonderful place, but none of us seemed sorry to leave it behind. for ten days we had not had a single day entirely free from rain, and instead of having a chance to run rapids, it seemed as if we had spent an entire week in carrying our loads, or in lining our boats through the canyon. the canyon walls lost much of their precipitous character as we neared the end of the canyon. a short run took us over the few rapids that remained, and at a turn ahead we saw a 300-foot ridge, brilliantly tinted in many colours,--light and golden yellows, orange and red, purple and lavender,--and composed of numberless wafer-like layers of rock, uptilted, so that the broken ends looked like the spines of a gigantic fish's back. a sharp turn to the left soon brought us to the end of this ridge, close to the bottom of a smooth, sheer wall. across a wide, level point of sand we could see a large stream, the yampa river, flowing from the east to join its waters with those of the green. this was the end of lodore canyon. chapter vii jimmy goes over the mountain the yampa, or bear river, was a welcome sight to us in spite of its disagreeable whitish yellow, clay colour; quite different from the red water of the green river. the new stream meant more water in the channel, something we needed badly, as our past tribulations showed. the recent rise on the green had subsided a little, but we now had a much higher stage than when we entered lodore. quite likely the new conditions gave us six feet of water above the low water on which we had been travelling. would it increase or diminish our dangers? we were willing, emery and i, even anxious, to risk our chances on the higher water. directly opposite the yampa, the right shore of the green went up sheer about 700 feet high, indeed it seemed to overhang a trifle. this had been named echo cliffs by powell's party. the cliffs gave a remarkable echo, repeating seven words plainly when shouted from the edge of the yampa a hundred yards away, and would doubtless repeat more if shouted from the farther shore of the yampa. echo cliffs, we found, were in the form of a peninsula and terminated just below this point where we stood, the river doubling back on the other side of the cliff. on the left side of the river, the walls fell back, leaving a flat, level space of about twenty-five acres. here was a little ranch of which mrs. chew had told us. the chew ranch lay back from the river on top of the cliffs. we found no one at home here at this first ranch, but there was evidence of recent habitation. there were a few peach trees, and a small garden, while beyond this were two buildings,--little shacks in a dilapidated condition. the doors were off their hinges and leaned against the building, a few logs being placed against the doors. past the dooryard, coming out of a small canyon above the ranch, ran a little brook; up this canyon was a trail, the outlet to the ranch above. we camped near the mouth of the stream. it had been agreed upon the night before, that we should endeavour to make arrangements to have jimmy taken out on horseback over the mountains. before looking for the ranch, however, we asked him if he did not wish to reconsider his decision to leave here. we pointed out that jensen, utah, was only fifty miles away, half that distance being in quiet water, and that the worst canyon was behind us. but he said he had enough of the river and preferred to see what could be done. while i busied myself about camp, he and emery left for the ranch. about seven o'clock that evening they returned in great spirits. they had found the ranch without any trouble nearly three miles from our camp. mrs. chew was there and gave them a hearty welcome. she had often wondered what had become of us. she invited the boys to remain for supper, which they did. they talked over the matter of transportation for jimmy. as luck would have it, mrs. chew was going to drive over to jensen, and vernal, utah, in two days' time, and agreed to take jimmy along. early the next morning two boys, one about fourteen years old the other a little older, rode down from the ranch. some of their horses were pastured across the river and they had come after these. after a short visit they got into the _edith_ with emery and prepared to cross over to the pasture, which was a mile or more downstream. they were soon out of our sight. jimmy and i remained at the camp, taking pictures, packing his belongings, and finding many odd jobs to be done. in about three hours the boys returned with their horses. the horses were quite gentle, and they had no difficulty in swimming them across. a young colt, too feeble to swim, placed its fore feet on its mother's flanks and was ferried across in that way. then they were driven over a narrow trail skirting the cliff, 300 feet above the river. no one, looking from the river, would have imagined that any trail, over which horses could be driven, existed. the boys informed us that we were expected at the ranch for dinner, and would listen to no refusal so up we went, although we would have to make a second trip that day. the view of the ranch was another of those wonderful scenic changes which we were to meet with everywhere in this region. the flat on which we stood was simply a pocket, shut in by the round-domed mountains, with a pass, or an opening, to the east side. a small stream ran down a mountain side, spreading over the rocks, and glistening in the sunlight. this same stream passed the ranch, and ran on down through the narrow canyon up which we had come. the ranch itself was refreshing. the buildings were new, some were under construction; but there was considerable ground under cultivation. cattle were scattered up the valley, or dotted the rocky slopes below the mountains. a wild spot this, on the borderland of the three states. none but people of fortitude, or even of daring, would think of taking up a homestead in this secluded spot. the same rumours of the escaped prisoners had drifted in here. it was mr. chew who gave us the information we have previously quoted concerning the murdered man. he had found the body in the boat, in front of the post-office. he further stated that others in the mountains would not hesitate at anything to drive out those who were trying to improve a homestead as he was doing, and that it was a common event to find the carcasses of his own horses or cattle which had been ruthlessly slaughtered. this was the reason for putting the horses across the river. there they were safe, for none could approach them save by going past the ranch, or coming through lodore canyon. mr. chew also told us of the snyders, who had lost their boat in upper lodore canyon, and of how he had given them a horse and provisions to aid them in reaching the settlements. this did not prevent the elder snyder from coming back to trap the next year, much to mr. chew's disgust. he thought one experience should be enough for any man. while we were talking, a very old, bearded man rode in on a horse. he was pat lynch, the owner of the little ranch by the river. he was a real old-timer, having been in brown's park when major powell was surveying that section of the country. he told us that he had been hired to get some meat for the party, and had killed five mountain sheep. he was so old that he scarcely knew what he was talking about, rambling from one subject to another; and would have us listening with impatience to hear the end of some wonderful tale of the early days, when he would suddenly switch off on to an entirely different subject, leaving the first unfinished. in spite of his years he was quite active, having broken the horses on which he rode, bareback, without assistance. we were told that he placed a spring or trap gun in his houses at the river, ready to greet any prying marauder the last we saw of him he was on his way to the post-office, miles away, to draw his pension for service in the civil war. returning to the transportation of jimmy, it was settled that the chews were to leave early the next morning. they also agreed to take out our exposed films and plate for us--something we had not counted on, but too good a chance to lose. we all three returned to the boats and packed the stuff that was to go out; then went back to the ranch with jimmy. it was late--after midnight--when we reached there, and we did not disturb any one. jimmy's blankets were unrolled in the wagon, so there would be no question about his going out. he was to go to jensen, or vernal, and there await us, keeping our films until we arrived. we knew they were in good hands. it was with some difficulty that we found our way back to our camp. the trail was difficult and it was pitch dark. my boat had been taken down to where emery left the _edith_ when the horses were driven across, and this extra distance was added to our walk. we were laggard the next morning, and in no hurry to resume our work. we rearranged our loads in the boats; with one less man and considerable less baggage as well, they were lighter by far. our chances looked much more favourable for an easier passage. not only were these things in our favour, but in addition we felt that we had served our apprenticeship at navigation in rapid water, and we were just as capable of meeting the rapids to follow as if we had years of experience to our record. on summing up we found that the river had dropped 1000 feet since leaving green river, wyoming, and that 5000 feet remained, to put us on a level with the ocean. our difficulties would depend, of course, on how this fall was distributed. most of the fall behind was found in lodore and red canyons. it was doubtful indeed if any section would have a more rapid fall than lodore canyon. there is a certain verse of wisdom which says that "pride goeth before a fall," but perhaps it was just as well for us if we were a little bit elated by our past achievements as long as we had to go through with the balance of our self-imposed task. confidence, in a proper degree, is a great help when real difficulties have to be surmounted. we were full of confidence that day when we pulled away about noon into whirlpool canyon, whirlpool canyon being next on the list. the camp we were about to leave was directly opposite lodore canyon, where it ran against the upended cliff. the gorgeous colours were the same as those on the opposite side, and, to a certain degree, were also found in whirlpool canyon. our two and a half hours' dash through the fourteen miles of rapid water in whirlpool canyon put us in a joyful frame of mind. rapid after rapid was left behind us without a pause in our rowing, with only a hasty survey standing on the deck of the boats before going over. others that were free from rocks were rowed in bow first, the big waves breaking over our boats and ourselves. we bailed while drifting in the quiet stretches, then got ready for the next rapids. two large rapids only were looked over from the shore and these were run in the same manner. we could hardly believe it was true when we emerged from the mountain so quickly into a little flat park or valley sheltered in the hills. this was island or rainbow park, the latter name being suggested by the brilliant colouring of the rocks, in the mountains to our left. perhaps the form of the rocks themselves helped a little, for here was one end of the rainbow of rock which began on the other side of the mountains. jagged-edged canyons looking almost as if their sides had been rent asunder came out of these mountains. there was very little dark red here except away on top, 2300 feet above, where a covering of pines made a soft background for light-cream and gorgeous yellow-coloured pinnacles, or rocky walls of pink and purple and delicate shades of various hues. large cottonwoods appeared again along the river banks, in brilliant autumn colours, adding to the beauties of the scene. back from the river, to the west, stretched the level park, well covered with bunch-grass on which some cattle grazed, an occasional small prickly pear cactus, and the ever present, pungent sage. verdure-covered islands dotted the course of the stream, which was quiet and sluggish, doubling back and forth like a serpent over many a useless mile. nine miles of rowing brought us back to a point about three miles from the mouth of whirlpool canyon; where the river again enters the mountain, deliberately choosing this course to one, unobstructed for several miles, to the right. the next gorge was split mountain canyon, so named because the stream divided the ridge length-wise, from one end to the other. it was short, only nine miles long, with a depth of 2700 feet in the centre of the canyon. three miles of the nine were put behind us before we camped that evening. these were run in the same manner as the rapids of whirlpool, scarcely pausing to look them over, but these rapids were bigger, much bigger. one we thought was just formed or at least increased in size by a great slide of rock that had fallen since the recent rains. we just escaped trouble in this rapid, both boats going over a large rock with a great cresting wave below, and followed by a very rough rapid. emery was standing on top of a fifteen-foot rock below the rapid when i went over, and for a few moments could see nothing of my boat, hardly believing it possible that i had come through without a scratch. these rapids with the high water looked more like rapids we had seen in the grand canyon, and were very unlike the shallow water of a week previous. we had only travelled a half day, but felt as if it had been a very complete day when we camped at the foot of a rock slide on the right, just above another big rapid. on thursday, october 5, camp no. 20 was left behind. the rapid below the camp was big, big enough for a moving picture, so we took each other in turns as we ran the rapid. more rapids followed, but these were not so large. a few sharp-pointed spires of tinted rock lifted above us a thousand feet or more. framed in with the branches of the near-by cottonwood trees, they made a charming picture. less than three hours brought us to the end of split mountain canyon, and the last bad water we were to have for some time. just before leaving the canyon, we came to some curious grottos, or alcoves, under the rock walls on the left shore. the river has cut into these until they overhang, some of them twenty-five feet or over. in one of these was a beaver lying on a pile of floating sticks. although we passed quite close, the beaver never moved, and we did not molest it. another shower greeted us as we emerged into the uinta valley as it is called by the ute indians. this valley is eighty-seven miles long. it did not have the fertileness of brown's park, being raised in bare rolling hills, runnelled and gullied by the elements. the water was quiet here, and hard rowing was necessary to make any progress. we had gone about seven miles when we spied a large placer dredge close to the river. to the uninitiated this dredge would look much like a dredging steamboat out of water, but digging its own channel, which is what it really does. great beds of gravel lay on either side of the river and placer gold in large or small quantities, but usually the latter is likely to exist in these beds. when a dredge like the one found here is to be installed, an opening is made in the river's bank leading to an excavation which has been made, then a large flatboat is floated in this. the dredging machinery is on this float, as well as most of the machinery through which the gravel is passed accompanied by a stream of water; then with quicksilver and rockers of various designs, the gold is separated from the gravel and sand. numerous small buildings were standing near the dredge, but the buildings were empty, and the dredge lay idle. we saw many fresh tracks of men and horses aid were welcomed by a sleek, well-fed cat, but found the place was deserted. all buildings were open and in one was a telephone. we were anxious to hear just where we were, so we used the telephone and explained what we wanted to know. the "central" informed us that we were about nine miles from jensen, so we returned to the boats and pulled with a will through a land that was no longer barren, but with cozy ranch houses, surrounded by rows of stately poplars, bending with the wind, for it was storming in earnest now. about six o'clock that evening we caught sight of the top of the jensen bridge; then, as we neared the village, the sun broke through the pall of cloud and mist, and a rainbow appeared in the sky above, and was mirrored in the swollen stream, rainbow and replica combined nearly completing the wondrous arc. there was a small inn beside the bridge, and arrangements were made for staying there that night. we were told that jim and mrs. chew had passed through jensen about four hours before we arrived. they had left word that they would go on through to vernal, fifteen miles distant from the river. chapter viii an inland excursion jensen was a small village with two stores and a post-office. a few scattered houses completed the village proper, but prosperous-looking ranches spread out on the lowland for two or three miles in all directions on the west side of the river. avenues of poplar trees, fruit trees, and fields of alfalfa gave these ranches a different appearance from any others we had passed. we found some mail awaiting us at the post-office, and were soon busily engaged in reading the news from home. we conversed awhile with the few people at the hotel, then retired, but first made arrangements for saddle horses for the ride to vernal. next morning we found two spirited animals, saddled and waiting for us. we had some misgivings concerning these horses, but were assured that they were "all right." a group of grinning cowboys and ranch hands craning their necks from a barn, a hundred yards distant, rather inclined us to think that perhaps our informant might be mistaken. nothing is more amusing to these men of the range than to see a man thrown from his horse, and a horse that is "all right" for one of them might be anything else to persons such as we who never rode anything except gentle horses, and rode those indifferently. we mounted quickly though, trying to appear unconcerned. the horses, much to our relief, behaved quite well, emery's mount rearing back on his hind legs but not bucking. after that, all went smoothly. leaving the irrigated ranches on the bottom lands, we ascended a low, rolling mesa, composed of gravel and clay, unwatered and unfertile, from which we caught occasional glimpses of the mountains and the gorge from which we had emerged, their brilliant colours softened and beautified by that swimming blue haze which belongs to this plateau region. then we rode down into the beautiful ashley valley, watered by ashley creek, a good-sized stream even after it was used to irrigate all the country for miles above. the valley was several miles wide. the stream emptied into the river about a mile below jensen. all parts of the valley were under cultivation. it is famous for its splendid deciduous fruits, apples, pears, peaches; splendid both in appearance and flavour. it excelled not only in fruits, however, but in all products of the field as well. "vernal honey," which is marketed far and near, has a reputation for fine flavour wherever it is known. a thick growth of the bee-blossom or bee-weed crowded the road sides and hugged the fences. the fragrance of the flower can easily be noticed in the sweetness of the honey. the pity of it was that bushels of fruit lay rotting on the ground, for there were no transportation facilities, the nearest railroad being 90 miles distant. there were stock ranches too, with blooded stock in the fence-enclosed fields. some of the splendid horses paced along beside us on the other side of the fence. we heard the rippling song of some meadow-larks this day, the only birds of this species we remember having seen on the western plateaus. all these ranches were laid out in true mormon style, that is, squared off in sections, fenced, and planted with shade-trees before being worked. the roads are usually wide and the streets exceptionally so. except in the business streets, a large garden usually surrounds the home building, each family endeavouring to raise all their own vegetables, fruits, and poultry. they usually succeed. the shade trees about vernal were lombardy poplars. they attained a height that would give ample shade under most conditions, and too much when we were there, for the roads were very muddy, although they had dried in all other sections. nearing vernal, we passed nathan galloway's home, a cozy place set back some distance from the road. we had hoped to meet galloway and have an opportunity of talking over his experiences with him, but found he was absent on a hunting trip, in fact was up in the mountains we had come through. on nearing the town we were greeted by a busy scene. numerous wagons and horses stood in squares reserved for that purpose, or were tied to hitching posts in front of the many stores. ranchers and their families were everywhere in evidence; there were numerous prospectors in their high-topped boots just returning from the mountains, and oil men in similar garb, muddy from head to foot. later we learned that oil had recently been discovered about forty miles distant, this fact accounting for much of the activity. the town itself was a surprise; we found it to be very much up-to-date considering its isolated position. two of the streets were paved and oiled and were supplied with drinking fountains. there were two prosperous looking banks, two well-stocked and up-to-date drug stores, several mercantile stores, and many others, all busy. many of the buildings were of brick; all were substantial. near a hotel we observed a group of men surrounding some one who was evidently keeping them interested. on approaching them we found it was jimmy, giving a graphic description of some of our difficulties. his story was not finished, for he saw us and ran to greet us, as pleased to see us as we were to see him. he had little idea we would be along for two or three days and naturally was much surprised. on entering the hotel we were greeted by an old grand canyon friend, a civil engineer named duff, who with a crew of men had been mapping the mountains near whirlpool canyon. you can imagine that it was a gratifying surprise to all concerned to find we were not altogether among strangers, though they were as hospitable as strangers could be. the hotel was a lively place that night. there was some musical talent among duff's men, and duff himself was an artist on the piano. many of the young people of the town had dropped in that evening, as some one had passed the word that there might be an impromptu entertainment at the hotel. there was. duff played and the boys sang. jimmy was himself again and added his rich baritone. the town itself was not without musical talent, and altogether it was a restful change for us. perhaps we should have felt even better if we had been dressed differently, for we wore much the same clothes as those in which we did our work on the river--a woollen shirt and overalls. besides, neither emery nor i had shaved since starting, and it is quite likely that we looked just a little uncouth. appearances count for little with these people in the little-settled districts, and it is a common enough sight to them to see men dressed as we were. they did everything they could to make us feel at ease. as one person remarked, "the wealthiest cattle man, or the owner of the richest mine in the country, usually looks worse than all others after a month on the range or in the hills." if wealth were indicated on an inverse ratio to one's good appearance, we should have been very wealthy indeed. we felt as if it would take us a week to get rested and lost little time in getting to bed when the party broke up. we imagine most of the residents of vernal were mormons. it is part of their creed to give "the stranger within their gates" a cordial welcome. this however, was accorded to us, not only among the mormons, but in every section of our journey on the green and colorado rivers. the following day was a busy one. arrangements had been made with a local photographer to get the use of his dark room, and we proceeded to develop all plates and many of our films. these were then to be packed and shipped out. we were informed at the local express office, that it might be some time before they would go, as the recent rains had been very bad in colorado and had washed out most of the bridges. vernal had passenger transportation to the railway--a branch of the d. & r.g. running north into colorado--by automobile, the route lying across the green and also across the white river, a tributary to the green. a steel structure had been washed away on the white river, making it impossible to get through to the station. the high water below here must have been a flood, judging from all reports. about ten bridges, large and small, were reported as being washed away on numerous branch streams leading into the green river. fortunately vernal had another means of communication. this was a stage running southwest from vernal, over 125 miles of rough road to price, utah--price being a station on the main line of the d. & r.g. jimmy concluded that he would take this road, in preference to the uncertainties of the other route, and noon that day found him on board the stage. he promised to write to us, and was anxious to hear of our success, but remarked that when he once got home he would "never leave san francisco again." there was a final hand clasp, a cheer from the small group of men, and the stage drove away with jimmy, a happy boy indeed. our work on the developing progressed well, and with very satisfying results on the whole, and that evening found us with all plates packed ready for shipment to our home. the moving-picture film was also packed and shipped to be developed at once. this was quite a load off our minds. the following day we prepared to depart, but did not leave until the afternoon. then, with promises to let them know the outcome of our venture, we parted from our friends and rode back to jensen. we planned on leaving the following morning. the river had fallen one foot since we had landed, and we were anxious to have the benefit of the high water. we were told that it was six feet above the low-water stage of two weeks before. on monday, october the 9th, after loading our boat with a new stock of provisions,--in which was included few jars of honey, and a few dozen of eggs, packed in sawdust,--we began what might be called the second stage of our journey; the 175-mile run to blake or green river, utah, a little west of south from jensen. ten miles below jensen was a ferry used by the auto and wagons. here also was a ranch house, with a number of people in the yard. we were invited to land and did so. they had been informed by telephone of our coming and were looking for us; indeed they had even prepared dinner for us, hoping we would reach there in time. not knowing all this, we had eaten our cold lunch half an hour before. the women were busy preserving fruits and garden truck, and insisted on us taking two or three jars along. this was a welcome change to the dried fruit, which was one of our principal foods. these people made the usual request--"drop us a post card if you get through." the memory of these people that we met on this journey will linger with us as long as we live. they were always anxious to help us or cheer us on our way. we passed a dredge that evening and saw a man at work with a team and scoop shovel, the method being to scoop up the gravel and sand, then dump it in an iron car. this was then pulled by the horses to the top of a derrick up a sloping track and dumped. a stream of water pumped up from the river mixed with the gravel, the entire mass descended a long zigzagging chute. we paused a few minutes only and did not examine the complicated process of separating the mineral from the gravel. this dredge had been recently installed. we camped early, half a mile below the dredge. emery had been feeling poorly all this day. he blamed his indisposition to having eaten too many good things when in vernal--a break in training, as it were. this was our excuse for a short run that day. i played nurse and gave him some simple remedy from the little supply that we carried; and, after he was in his sleeping bag, i filled some hot-water bags for the first time on the trip, and soon had him feeling quite comfortable. a hard wind came up that night, and a little rain fell. i had a busy half-hour keeping our camp from being blown away. the storm was of short duration, and all was soon quiet again. on the following morning emery felt so good that i had a hard time in keeping up with him and i wondered if he would ever stop. towards evening, after a long pull, we neared the reservation of the uinta utes, and saw a few indians camped away from the river. here, again, were the cottonwood bottoms, banked by the barren, gravelly hills. we had been informed that there was a settlement called ouray, some distance down the river, and we were anxious to reach it before night. but the river was sluggish, with devious and twisting channels, and it was dark when we finally landed at the ouray ferry. chapter ix canyon of desolation ouray, utah, consisted of a large store to supply the wants of the indians and ranchers, a small hotel, and a few dwellings. the agency proper was located some distance up the uinta river, which stream emptied into the green, just below ouray. supper was taken at the hotel, after which we visited a young man in charge of the store, looking over his curios and listening to tales of his life here among these indians. they were peaceable enough now, but in years gone by were a danger to be reckoned with. we slept in our own beds close to our boats by the river. the following morning, when we were ready to leave, a small crowd gathered, a few indians among them. most of the indians were big, fat, and sleepy-looking. apparently they enjoyed the care of the government. a mile below we passed several squaws and numerous children under some trees, while on a high mound stood a lone buck indian looking at us as we sped by, but without a single movement that we could see. he still stood there as we passed from sight a mile below. it might be interesting if one could know just what was in his mind as he watched us. a mile below the uinta river, which entered on the west, we passed another stream, the white river, entering from the east, the two streams adding considerable water to the green river. we passed another idle dredge, also some mineral workings in tunnels, and saw two men camped on the shore beside them. we saw numerous indian carvings on the rocks, but judged they were recent because horses figured in most of them. in all the open country the river was fringed with large cottonwood trees, alders and willow thickets. a number of islands followed, one of them very symmetrical in shape, with cottonwood trees in the centre, while around the edge ran a fringe of bushes looking almost like a trimmed hedge. the autumn colouring added to its beauty. the hedge, as we called it, was dark red, brown, yellow, and green; the cottonwoods were a light yellow. after we had passed this island, a deer, confused by our voices, jumped into the river fifty yards behind us, leaping and swimming as he made for the shore. we had no gun, but emery had the moving-picture camera at hand, and turned it on the deer. the hour was late, however, and we had little hopes of its success as a picture. the country back from the river stretched in rolling, barren hills 200 or 300 feet high--a continuation of the bad lands of utah, which lay off to the west. with the next day's travel the hills lost some of their barren appearance. some cattle were seen early in the afternoon of the following day. we passed a cattle man working at a ferry, who had just taken some stock across, which other men had driven on ahead. he was busy, so we did not interrupt him, merely calling to him from the boats, drifting meanwhile with the current. soon we saw him riding down the shore and waited for him to catch up. he invited us to camp with him that evening, remarking that he had "just killed a beef." we thanked him, but declined, as it was early and we had only travelled a short distance that day. we chatted awhile, and he told us to look out for rapids ahead. he was rather surprised when he learned that we had started at green river, wyoming, and had already come through a few rapids. "where are you going to stop?" he then asked. on being told that our destination was needles, california, he threw up his hands with an expressive gesture, then added soberly, "well, boys, i sure wish you luck," and rode back to his camp. we had difficulty in making a suitable landing that evening, as the high water had deposited great quantities of black mud over everything, making it very disagreeable when we left the boats. we finally found a place with less mud to wade through than on most of the banks seen, and tied up to the roots of a tree. while lying in our beds that night looking at the starlit sky--such a sky as is found only on these high plateaus--we discovered a comet directly above us. an astronomer would have enjoyed our opportunities for observing the heavens. no doubt this comet had been heralded far and wide, but we doubt if any one saw it to better advantage than did we. later, some coyotes, possibly in chase of a rabbit, gave vent to their yodeling cry, and awakened us from a sound sleep. they were in a little lateral canyon, which magnified and gave a weird, organ-like echo to their calls long after the coyotes themselves had passed from hearing. the nights were getting warmer as we travelled south, but not so warm that we were bothered with insects. the same reason accounted for the absence of snakes or scorpions, for no doubt there were plenty of both in warm weather in this dry country. when there was no wind, the silence of the nights was impressive, with no sound save the lapping of the water against the banks. sometimes a bird in the trees above would start up with a twitter, then quiet down again. on occasions the air chambers in our boats would contract on cooling off, making a noise like the boom of a distant gun, every little sound being magnified by the utter stillness of the night. there were other times when it was not so quiet. hundreds of birds, geese, ducks and mud-hens had been seen the last few days. also there were occasional cranes and herons, over a thousand miles from their breeding place at the mouth of the colorado. as dusk settled, we would see these birds abandon their feeding in the mud, and line up on the shore, or on an island, and go to sleep. occasionally one of these birds would start up out of a sound sleep with an unearthly squawk. possibly an otter had interrupted its dreams, or a fox had pounced on one as it slept. it may be that it was only a bad dream of these enemies that caused their fright, but whatever it was, that first call would start up the entire flock and they would circle in confusion like a stampeded herd of cattle, their discordant cries putting an end to the stillness of the night. finally they would settle down in a new spot, and all would be quiet once more. we saw a few birds that were strangers to us,--water birds which we imagined belonged to the salt water rather than the inland streams, making a little excursion, perhaps, away from their accustomed haunts. one type we saw on two occasions, much like a gull, but smaller, pure white as far as we could tell, soaring in graceful flight above the river. camp no. 26 was close to the beginning of a new canyon. the country had been changing in appearance from rather flat plains to small bare hills, gradually increasing in height with smooth, rounded sides, and going up to a point, usually of a dirty clay colour, with little vegetation of any kind on them. the river for miles past had swept in long graceful curves, the hills being close to the river on the outside of the curve, leaving a big flat on the inside. this flat gradually sloped back to hills of an equal height to those opposite. then the curve would reverse, and the same conditions would be met with again, but on opposite sides from the previous bend. after passing a creek the evening before, the hills became higher, and from our camp we could see the first place where they came close on both sides to the river. we felt now that our beautiful tree-covered canyons were behind us and from now on we would be hemmed in by the great eroded canyons of the southwest. we were sorry to leave those others behind, and could easily understand why major powell had named this desolation canyon. as the canyon deepened the cliffs were cut into fantastic shapes, as is usual in rocks unprotected by vegetation. there was a hard rock near the top in places which overhung a softer formation. this would erode, giving a cornice-like effect to the cliffs. others were surmounted by square towers and these were capped by a border of little squares, making the whole look much like a castle on the rhine. for half a day we found no rapids, but pulled away on a good current. the walls gradually grew higher and were more rugged; a few trees cropped out on their sides. at noon our boats were lashed together and lunch was eaten as we drifted. we covered about three miles in this way, taking in the scenery as we passed. we saw a great stone arch, or natural bridge, high on a stupendous cliff to our right, and wondered if any one had ever climbed up to it. our lunch was no more than finished when the first rapid was heard ahead of us. quickly unlashing our boats, we prepared for strenuous work. friday the 13th proved to be a lucky day; thirteen large rapids and thirteen small ones were placed behind us before we camped at rock creek--a splashing, laughing mountain stream, no doubt containing trout. the following morning we found there was a little ranch house below us, but, though we called from our boats, no one came out. we wondered how any one could reach this out-of-the-way place, as a road would be almost an impossibility. later we found a well-constructed trail on the right-hand side all the way through the canyon. we saw a great many cattle travelling this trail. some were drinking at the river when we swept into view. our boats filled them with alarm, and they scrambled for the hillsides, looking after us with frightened expressions as we left them to the rear. we put in a full day at running rapids, one after another, until fifteen large ones were passed, no count being kept of the smaller ones. some of these rapids resembled dams from six to twelve feet high, with the water falling abruptly over a steep slope. others were long and rough, with swift water in places. above one of these we had landed, then found we could get a much better view from the opposite shore. emery crossed and landed, i followed. we had been having heavy winds all day. when crossing here i was caught by a sudden gust of wind and carried to the head of the rapid. i heard emery call, "look out for the big rock!" then over i went. the wind and water together had turned my boat sideways, and try as i would i could not get it turned around. i saw the rock emery referred to straight ahead of me. it was about fifteen feet square and about fourteen feet from the shore, with a powerful current shooting between the rock and the shore. it seemed as if i must strike the rock broadside, and i ceased my struggle, but held out an oar with both hands, hoping to break the blow. but it never came. the water struck this rock with great force, then rebounded, and actually kept me from even touching the rock with the oar, but it caught the boat and shot it through the narrow channel, bow first, as neatly as it could possibly be done, then, turned the boat around again as i scrambled to regain my hold on both oars. no other rocks threatened however, and besides filling the cockpit with water, no damage was done. emery had no desire to follow my passage and crossed back to the other side. shooting over the upper end of the rapid, his boat ran up on a rounded rock, the stern sticking high in the air; it paused a moment, the current slowly turning it around as if on a pivot, and the boat slid off; then down he came lurching and plunging, but with no more difficulty. many times in such places as these we saw the advantage of our flat-bottomed boats over one with a keel, for these would surely be upset when running up on such a rock. chapter x hospitable ranchmen the appearance of desolation canyon had changed entirely in the lower end. instead of a straight canyon without a break, we were surrounded by mountain peaks nearly 2500 feet high, with many side canyon between them and with little level parks at the end of the canyons beside the river. the tops were pine-covered; cedars clung to the rocky slopes. some of these peaks were not unlike the formations of the grand canyon, as seen from the inner plateau, and the red colouring was once more found in the rocks. these peaks were gradually dropping down in height; and at one open section, with alfalfa and hay fields on gently sloping hillsides, we found a small ranch, the buildings being set back from the river. we concluded to call and found three men, the rancher and two young cowboys, at work in a blacksmith shop. emery had forgotten to remove his life-preserver, and the men looked at him with some astonishment, as he was still soaking wet from the splashing waves of the last rapid. when i joined him he was explaining that no one had been drowned, and that we were merely making an excursion down the river. mr. mcpherson, the rancher, we learned, owned all the cattle seen up the river. the little cabin at our last camp was a sort of headquarters for his cowboys. the cattle were just being driven from the mountains before the snows came, and were to be wintered here in the canyons. some of these cattle were much above the usual grade of range cattle, being thoroughbreds, although most of them ran loose on the range. this ranch had recently lost a valuable bull which had been killed by a bear up in the mountains--not unlike similar conflicts in more civilized sections of the country. mcpherson camped on this bear's trail for several days and nights before he finally hung his pelt on a tree. he was a large cinnamon-coloured grizzly. four other bears had been killed this same year, in these mountains. mcpherson's home had burned down a short time before our visit, and his family had removed to green river, utah. a number of tents were erected, neatly boarded up, and we were informed that one of these was reserved for company, so we need not think of going any farther that day. these men, while absolutely fearless in the saddle, over these rough mountain trails, had "no use for the river" they told us; in fact, we found this was the usual attitude of the cattle men wherever we met them. mcpherson's respect for the river was not without reason, as his father, with two others, had been drowned while making a crossing in a light boat near this point, some years before. some accident occurred, possibly the breaking of a rowlock, and they were carried into a rapid. mcpherson's men found it necessary to cross their cattle back and forth, but always took the wise precaution to have on some life-preservers. the cork preservers hung in the blacksmith shop, where they could easily be reached at a moment's notice. desolation canyon, with a slight breaking down of the walls for a short distance only, gave place to gray canyon below the mcpherson ranch. a good sized mountain stream, part of which irrigated the ranch above, found its way through this division. we had been told that more rapids lay ahead of us in gray canyon, but they were not so numerous in our next day's travel. what we did find were usually large, but we ran them all without difficulty. about noon we met five men in a boat, rowing up the stream in a long, still stretch. they told us they were working on a dam, a mile or two below. they followed us down to see us make the passage through the rapid which lay above their camp. the rapid was long and rocky, having a seventeen-foot fall in a half mile. we picked our channel by standing up in the boat before entering the rapid and were soon at the bottom with no worse mishap than bumping a rock or two rather lightly. we had bailed out and were tying our boats, when the men came panting down the hill up which they had climbed to see us make this plunge. a number of men were at work here, but this being sunday, most of them had gone to green river, utah, twenty-one miles distant. among the little crowd who came down to see us resume our rowing was a lady and a little girl who lived in a rock building, near the other buildings erected for the working-men. emery showed the child a picture of his four-year-old daughter, edith, with her mother--a picture he always carried in a note-book. then he had her get in the boat with him, and we made a photograph of them. they were very good friends before we left. in a few hours we emerged from the low-walled canyon into a level country. a large butte, perhaps 700 feet high, stood out by itself, a mile from the main cliffs. this was gunnison butte, an old landmark near the gunnison trail. we were anxious to reach blake or green river, utah, not many miles below, that evening; but we failed to make it. there were several rapids, some of them quite large, and we had run them all when we came to a low dam that obstructed our passage, while looking it over, seeing how best to make a portage, a young man whom we had just seen remarked: "well, boys, you had better tie up and i will help you in the morning." it was 5.30 then, and we were still six miles from green river, so we took his advice and camped. on seeing our sleeping bags, tightly strapped and making rather small roll, he remarked: "well, you fellows are not mormons; i can tell by the size of your beds!" our new friend gave the name of wolverton. there was another man named wilson who owned a ranch just below the dam. both of these men were much interested in our experiences. wolverton had considerable knowledge of the river and of boats; very little persuasion would have been necessary to have had him for a companion on the balance of our journey. but we had made up our minds to make it alone, now, as it looked feasible. both wilson and wolverton knew the country below green river, utah, having made surveys through much of the surrounding territory. wolverton said we must surely see his father, who lived down the river and who was an enthusiast on motor boats. a few minutes' work the next morning sufficed to get our boats over the dam. the dam was constructed of loose rock and piles, chinked with brush and covered with sloping planks,--just a small dam to raise the water for irrigation purposes. much of the water ran through the canal; in places the planks were dry, in others some water ran over. the boats, being unloaded were pulled up on these planks, then slid into the water below. wilson had a large water wheel for irrigation purposes, the first of several such wheels which we were to see this day. these wheels, twenty feet or more in height,--with slender metal buckets each holding gallons of water, fastened at intervals on either side,--were placed in a swift current, anchored on the shore to stout piles, or erected over mill-races cut in the banks. there they revolved, the buckets filling and emptying automatically, the water running off in troughs above the level of the river back to the fertile soil. some of these wheels had ingenious floating arrangements whereby they accommodated themselves to the different stages of a rising or falling river. we took a few pictures of wilson's place before leaving. he informed us that he had telephoned to certain people in green river who would help us in various ways. two hours' rowing, past many pretty little ranches, brought us to the railroad bridge, a grateful sight to us. a pumping plant stood beside the bridge under charge of captain yokey, one of wilson's friends. yokey owned a large motor boat, which was tied up to the shore. our boats were left in his charge while we went up to the town, a mile distant. another of wilson's friends met us, and secured a dark room for us so that we could do a little developing and we prepared for work on the following day. that night a newspaper reporter hunted us out, anxious for a story. we gave him what we had, making light of our previous difficulties, which were exciting enough at times; but owing to the comparatively small size of the stream, we seldom thought our lives were in any great danger. the papers made the most of these things, and the stories that came out had little semblance to our original statements. we have since learned that no matter how much one minimizes such things, they are seldom published as reported. we put in a busy day unpacking new films and plates developing all films from the smaller cameras and sending these home. a new stock of provisions had to be purchased, enough for one month at least, for there was no chance of securing supplies until we reached our canyon home, about 425 miles below. we had a valuable addition to our cargo in two metal boxes that had been shipped here, as it was not possible to get them before leaving wyoming. these cases or trunks were sent from england, and were water-tight, if not waterproof, there being a slight difference. well constructed, with rubber gaskets and heavy clamps, every possible precaution had been taken, it seemed, to exclude the water and still render them easy of access. they were about thirty inches long, fifteen wide, and twelve high, just the thing for our photographic material. up to this time everything had to be kept under the deck when in bad water. these boxes were placed in the open section in front of us, and were thoroughly fastened to the ribs to prevent loss, ready to be opened or closed in a moment, quite a convenience when pictures had to be taken hurriedly. the following day we went over the boats, caulking few leaks. the bottoms of the boats were considerably the worse for wear, owing to our difficulties in the first canyons. we got some thin oak strips and nailed them on the bottom to help protect them, when portaging. sliding the boats on the scouring sand and rough-surfaced rock was hard on the half-inch boards on the bottom of the boats. this work was all completed that day, and everything was ready for the next plunge. in passing the station, we noticed the elevation above sea-level was placed at 4085 feet, and remembered that green river, wyoming, was 6080 feet, showing that our descent in the past 425 miles had been close to 2000 feet. we had not found it necessary to line or portage any rapids since leaving lodore canyon; we were hopeful that our good luck would continue. nothing was to be feared from what remained of the green river, 120 miles or more, for motor boats made the journey to its junction with the grand, and we were told even ascended the grand for some distance. below this junction was the colorado river, a different stream from the one we were still to navigate. before leaving, we ate a final hearty breakfast at the boarding-house where we had been taking our meals. a number of young men, clerks in some of the business houses here, were among the boarders. the landlady a whole-souled german woman and an excellent cook, was greatly worried over their small appetites, thinking it was a reflection on her table. she remarked that she hoped we had good appetites, and i am sure she had no complaint to make so far as we were concerned. we had never stinted ourselves when on the river, but the change and the rest seemed to give us an abnormal appetite that could not be satisfied, and we would simply quit eating because we were ashamed to eat more. less than half an hour after one of these big meals, i was surprised to see my brother in a restaurant with a sheepish grin on his face, and with a good-sized lunch before him. chapter xi wonders of erosion _thursday, october the 19th_. we embarked again with two of our new-found friends on board as passengers for a short ride, their intention being to hunt as they walked back. they left us at a ranch beside the san rafael river, a small stream entering from the west. they left some mail with us to be delivered to mr. wolverton, whose son we had met above. about 20 miles below green river we reached his home. judging by a number of boats--both motor and row boats--tied to his landing, mr. wolverton was an enthusiastic river-man. after glancing over his mail, he asked how we had come and was interested when he learned that we were making a boating trip. he was decidedly interested when he saw the boats and learned that we were going to our home in the grand canyon. his first impression was that we were merely making a little pleasure trip on the quiet water. going carefully over the boats, he remarked that they met with his approval with one exception. they seemed to be a little bit short for the heavy rapids of the colorado, he thought. he agreed that our experience in the upper rapids had been good training, but said there was no comparison in the rapids. we would have a river ten times as great as in lodore to contend with; and in numerous places, for short distances, the descent was as abrupt as anything we had seen on the green. wolverton was personally acquainted with a number of the men who had made the river trip, and, with the one exception of major powell's expeditions, had met all the parties who had successfully navigated its waters. this not only included galloway's and stone's respective expeditions, which had made the entire trip, but included two other expeditions which began at green river, utah, and had gone through the canyons of the colorado.[4] these were the brown-stanton expedition, which made a railroad survey through the canyons of the colorado; and another commonly known as the russell-monnette expedition, two of the party making the complete trip, arriving at needles after a voyage filled with adventure and many narrow escapes. mr. wolverton remarked that every one knew of those who had navigated the entire series of canyons, but that few people knew of those who had been unsuccessful. he knew of seven parties that had failed to get through cataract canyon's forty-one miles of rapids, with their boats, most of them never being heard of again. these unsuccessful parties were often miners or prospectors who wished to get into the comparatively flat country which began about fifty miles below the junction of the green and the grand rivers. here lay glen canyon, with 150 miles of quiet water. nothing need be feared in this, or in the 120 miles of good boating from green river, utah, to the junction. between these two points, however, lay cataract canyon, beginning at the junction of the two rivers. judging by its unsavory record, cataract canyon was something to be feared. among these parties who had made short trips on the river was one composed of two men. phil foote was a gambler, stage robber, and bad man in general. he had broken out of jail in salt lake city and, accompanied by another of similar character, stole a boat at green river, utah, and proceeded down the river. soon after entering cataract canyon, they lost their boat and provisions. finding a tent which had been washed down the river, they tore it into strips and constructed a raft out driftwood, tying the logs together with the strips of canvas. days of hardship followed, and starvation stared them in the face; until finally foote's partner gave up, said he would drown himself. with an oath foote drew his revolver, saying he had enough of such cowardice and would save him the trouble. his companion then begged for his life, saying he would stick to the end, and they finally got through to the hite ranch, which lay a short distance below. they were taken care of here, and terminated their voyage a short distance beyond, going out over land. foote was afterwards shot and killed while holding up a stage in nevada. the hite ranch also proved to be a place of refuge for others, the sole survivors of two other parties who were wrecked, one person escaping on each occasion. hite's ranch, and lee's ferry, 140 miles below hite, had mail service. we had left instructions at the post-office to forward our mail to one or the other of these points. these were also the only places on our 425-mile run to bright angel trail where we could expect to see any people, so we were informed. we were about to descend into what is, possibly, the least inhabited portion of the united states of america. a party of civil engineers working here, joined us that evening at wolverton's home. a young man in the party asked us if we would consent to carry a letter through with us and mail it at our destination. he thought it would be an interesting souvenir for the person to whom it was addressed. we agreed to do our best, but would not guarantee delivery. the next morning two letters were given us to mail, and were accepted with this one reservation. before leaving mr. wolverton showed us his motor boat with much pardonable pride. on this boat he sometimes took small parties down to the beginning of the colorado river, and up the grand, a round trip of three hundred miles or more. the boat had never been taken down the colorado for the simple reason that the rapids began almost immediately below the junction. wolverton, while he had never been through the rapids in a boat, had followed the river on foot for several miles and was thoroughly familiar with their nature. on parting he remarked, "well, boys, you are going to tackle a mighty hard proposition, but i'm sure you can make it if you are only careful. but look out and go easy." wolverton was no novice, speaking from much experience in bad water, and we were greatly impressed by what he had to say. five uneventful days were spent in labyrinth and stillwater canyons, through which the green peacefully completed its rather violent descent. in the upper end we usually found rough water in the canyons and quiet water in the open sections. here at least were two canyons, varying from 300 feet at their beginning to 1300 in depth, both without a rapid. the first of these was labyrinth canyon, so named from its elaborately winding course as well as its wonderful intricate system of dry, lateral canyons, and its reproduction in rock of architectural forms, castles, arches, and grottos; even animals and people were represented in every varying form. our sunday camp was beside what might be called a serpentine curve or series of loops in the river. this was at the centre of what is known as the double bow knot, three rounded loops, very symmetrical in form, with an almost circular formation of flat-topped rock, a mile or more in diameter in the centre of each loop. a narrow neck of rock connects these formations to the main mesa, all being on the same level, about 700 feet above the river. the upper half of the rock walls was sheer; below was a steep boulder-covered slope. the centre formation is the largest and most perfect, being nearly two miles in diameter and almost round; so much so, that a very few minutes are necessary to climb over the narrow neck which connects this formation to the mesa. it took 45 minutes of hard rowing on a good current to take us around this one loop. the neck is being rapidly eroded, two hundred feet having disappeared from the top, and at some distant day will doubtless disappear entirely, making a short cut for the river, and will leave a rounded island of rock standing seven hundred feet above the river. a bird's-eye view of the three loops would compare well in shape to the little mechanical contrivance known as the "eye" in the combination of "hook and eye." all women and many men will get a clear idea the shape of the double bow knot from this comparison. we recorded an interesting experiment with the thermometer at this camp, showing a great variety of temperatures, unbelievable almost to one who knows nothing of conditions in these semi-arid plateaus. a little ice had formed the night before. under a clear sky the next day at noon, our thermometer recorded 54 degrees in the shade, but ran up to 102 degrees in the sun. at the same time the water in the river was 52 degrees far. the effect of being deluged in ice-cold waves, then running into deep sunless canyons with a cold wind sweeping down from the snow on top, can be easier imagined than described. this is what we could expect to meet later. the colouring of the rocks varied greatly in many localities, a light red predominating. in some places the red rock was capped by a gray, flint-like limestone; in others this had disappeared, but underneath the red were regular strata of various-coloured rocks, pink, brown, light yellow, even blue and green being found in two or three sections. the forms of erosion were as varied as the rock itself, each different-coloured rock stratum presenting a different surface. in one place the surface was broken into rounded forms like the backs of a herd of elephants. in others we saw reproductions of images, carved by the drifting sands--a diana, with uplifted arm, as large as the goddess of liberty; a billiken on a throne with a hundred worshippers bowed around. covered with nature-made ruins and magnificent rock structures, as this section is, it is not entirely without utility. it is a grazing country. great numbers of contented cattle, white-faced, with red and white, or black and white patches of colour on their well-filled hides, were found in the open spaces between the sheer-walled cliffs. dusty, well-beaten trails led down through these wide canyons, trails which undoubtedly gained the top of the level, rocky plateau a few miles back from the river. as is usual in a cattle country at the end of the summer season, the bunch-grass, close to the water supply--which in this case happened to the river--was nibbled close to the roots. the cattle only came here to drink, then travelled many miles, no doubt, to the better grazing on the upper plateaus. the sage, always gray, was grayer still, with dust raised by many passing herds. there was a band of range horses too, those splendid wild-eyed animals with kingly bearing, and wind-blown tails and manes, lean like a race-horse, strong-muscled and tough-sinewed, pawing and neighing, half defiant and half afraid of the sight of men, the only thing alive to which they pay tribute. it is a never ending source of wonder, to those unacquainted with the semi-arid country, how these animals can exist in a land which, to them, seems utterly destitute and barren. to many such, a meadow carpeted with blue grass or timothy is the only pasture on which grazing horses or grazing cattle can exist; the dried-out looking tufts of bunch-grass, scattered here and there or sheltered at the roots of the sage, mean nothing; the grama-grass hidden in the grease-wood is unnoticed or mistaken for a weed. but if the land was bare of verdure, the rock saved it from being monotonous. varied in colour, the red rock predominated--blood-red at mid-day, orange-tinted at sunset, with gauze-like purple shadows, and with the delicate blue outlines always found in the western distances; such a land could never be called uninteresting. the banks of the stream, here in the open, were always green. from an elevation they appeared like two emerald bands through a land of red, bordering a stream the tint of the aged pottery found along its shores. we were continually finding new trees and strange shrubs. beside the cottonwoods and the willows there was an occasional wild-cherry tree; in the shrubs were the service-berry, and the squaw-berry, with sticky, acid-tasting fruit. the cacti were small, and excepting the prickly pear were confined nearly altogether to a small "pin-cushion" cactus, growing a little larger as we travelled south. and always in the mornings when out of the deep canyons the moist, pungent odour of the sage greeted our nostrils. it is inseparable from the west. there is no stuffy germ-laden air there, out in the sage; one is glad to live, simply to breathe it in and exhale and breathe again. in stillwater canyon the walls ran up to 1300 feet in height, a narrow canyon, with precipitous sides. occasionally we could see great columns of rock standing on top of the mesa. late one evening we saw some small cliff dwellings several hundred feet above the river, and a few crude ladders leaning against the cliff below the dwellings. a suitable camp could not be made here, or we would have stopped to examine them. the shores were slippery with mud and quicksands, and there was no fire-wood in sight. from here to the end of the canyons we would have to depend almost entirely on the drift-piles for fire-wood. a landing was finally made where a section of a cliff had toppled from above, affording a solid footing leading up to the higher bank. we judged from our maps that we were within a very few miles of the colorado river. here some footprints and signs of an old boat landing, apparently about a week old, were seen in the sand. this surprised us somewhat, as we had heard of no one coming down ahead of us. chapter xii could we succeed? an hour or two at the oars the next morning sufficed to bring us to the junction of the green and the grand rivers. we tied up our boats, and prepared to climb out on top, as we had a desire to see the view from above. a mile back on the green we had noticed a sort of canyon or slope breaking down on the west side, affording a chance to reach the top. loading ourselves with a light lunch, a full canteen, and our smaller cameras, we returned to this point and proceeded to climb out. powell's second expedition had climbed out at this same place; wolverton had also mentioned the fact that he had been out; so we were quite sure of a successful attempt before we made the climb. the walk close to the river, over rocks and along narrow ledges, was hard work; the climb out was even more so. the contour maps which we carried credited these walls with 1300 feet height. if we had any doubt concerning the accuracy of this, it disappeared before we finally reached the top. what we saw, however, was worth all the discomfort we had undergone. close the top, three branches of dry, rock-bottomed gullies carved from a gritty, homogeneous sandstone, spread out from the slope we had been climbing. these were less precipitous. taking the extreme left-hand gully, we found the climb to the top much easier. at the very end we found an irregular hole a few feet in diameter not a cave, but an opening left between some immense rocks, touching at the top, seemingly rolled together. gazing down through this opening, we were amazed to find that we were directly above the colorado itself. it was so confusing at first that we had to climb to the very top to see which river it was, i contending that it was the green, until satisfied that i was mistaken. the view from the top was overwhelming, and words can hardly describe what we saw, or how we were affected by it. we found ourselves on top of an irregular plateau of solid rock, with no earth or vegetation save a few little bushes and some very small cedars in cracks in the rocks. branching canyons, three or four hundred feet in depth, and great fissures ran down in this rock at intervals. some were dark and crooked, and the bottom could not be seen. between these cracks, the rock rounded like elephants backs sloping steeply on either side. some could be crossed, some could not. others resembled a "maze," the puzzle being how to get from one point to another a few away. the rock was a sandstone and presented a rough surface affording a good hold, so there was little danger of slipping. we usually sat down and "inched" way to the edge of the cracks, jumping across to little ledges when possible, always helping each other. the rock at the very edge of the main canyon overhung, in places 75 to 100 feet, and the great mass of gigantic boulders--sections of shattered cliffs--on the steep slope near the river gave evidence of a continual breaking away of these immense rocks. to the north, across the canyon up which we had climbed, were a great number of smooth formations, from one hundred to four hundred feet high, rounded on top in domes, reminding one of bagdad and tales from the arabian nights. "the land of standing rocks," the utes call it. the rock on which we stood was light gray or nearly white; the river walls at the base for a thousand feet above the river were dark red or chocolate-brown; while the tops of the formations above this level were a beautiful light red tint. but there were other wonders. on the south side of the colorado's gorge, miles away, were great spires, pointing heavenward, singly and in groups, looking like a city of churches. beyond the spires were the blue mountains, to the east the hazy lasalle range, and nearest of all on the west just north of the colorado lay the snow-covered peaks of the henry mountains. directly below us was the colorado river, muddy, swirllng, and forbidding. a mile away boomed a rapid, beyond that was another, then the river was lost to view. standing on the brink of all this desolation, it is small wonder if we recalled the accounts of the disasters which had overtaken so many others in the canyon below us. many who had escaped the water had climbed out on to this death trap, as it had proven to be for them, some to perish of thirst and starvation, a few to stagger into the ranch below the canyon, a week or more after they had escaped from the water. small wonder that some of these had lost their reason. we could only conjecture at the fate of the party whose wrecked boat had been found by the stone expedition, a few miles below this place, with their tracks still fresh in the sand. no trace of them was ever found. for the first time it began to dawn on us that we might have tackled a job beyond our power to complete. most of the parties which had safely completed the trip were composed of several men, adding much to the safety of the expedition, as a whole. others had boats much lighter than ours, a great help in many respects. speaking for myself, i was just a little faint-hearted, and not a little overawed as we prepared to return to the boats. while returning, we saw evidences of ancient indians--some broken arrow-heads, and pottery also, and a small cliff ruin under a shelving rock. what could an indian find here to interest him! we had found neither bird, nor rabbit; not even a lizard in the land of standing rocks. perhaps they were sun worshippers, and wanted an unobstructed view of the eastern sky. that at least could be had, in unrivalled grandeur, here above the rio colorado. the shadows were beginning to lengthen when we finally reached our boats at the junction. camp was made under a large weeping willow tree, the only tree of its kind we remembered having seen on the journey. while emery prepared a hasty meal i made a few arrangements for embarking on the colorado river the next morning. we were prepared to bid farewell to the green river--the stream that had served us so well. in spite of our trials, even in the upper canyons, we had found much enjoyment in our passage through its strange and beautiful surroundings. from a scenic point of view the canyons of the green river, with their wonderful rock formations and stupendous gorges, are second only to those of the colorado itself. it is strange they are so little known, when one considers the comparative ease with which these canyons on the lower end can be reached. some day perhaps, surfeited globe-trotters, after having tired of commonplace scenery and foreign lands, will learn what a wonderful region this is, here on the lower end of the green river. then no doubt, wolverton, or others with similar outfits, will find a steady stream of sight-seers anxious to take the motor boat ride down to this point, and up to moab, utah, a little mormon town on the grand river. a short ride by automobile from moab to the d. & r.c. railway would complete a most wonderful journey; then the transcontinental journey could be resumed. so i mused, as i contrived an arrangement of iron hooks and oak sticks to hold on a hatch cover, from which all the thumb screws had been lost. more than likely my dream of a line of sight-seeing motor boats will be long deferred; or they may even meet the fate of brown's and stanton's plans for a railroad down these gorges. as a reminder of the fate which overtakes so many of our feeble plans, we found a record of stanton's survey on a fallen boulder, an inscription reading "a 81 + 50. sta. d.c.c. & p.r.r.," the abbreviations standing for denver, colorado canyons, and pacific railroad. it is possible that the hands that chiselled the inscription belonged to one of the three men who were afterwards drowned in marble canyon. emery--being very practical--interrupted my revery and plans for future sight-seers by announcing supper. the meal was limited in variety, but generous in quantity, and consisted of a dried-beef stew, fried potatoes and cocoa. a satisfied interior soon dispelled all our previous apprehensiveness. we decided not to run our rapids before we came to them. the water still gave indications of being higher than low-water mark, although it was falling fast on the green river. each morning, for three days previous to our arrival at the junction, we would find the water about six inches lower than the stage of the evening before. strange to say, we gained on the water with each day's rowing, until we had almost overtaken the stage of water we had lost during the night. more than likely we would have all the water we needed under the new conditions which were before us. beginning with the colorado river, we made our journals much more complete in some ways, giving all the large rapids a number and describing many of them in detail. this was done, not only for our own satisfaction, but for the purpose of comparison with others who had gone through, for many of these rapids have histories. it was often a question, when on the green river, where to draw the line when counting a rapid; this was less difficult when on the colorado. while the descent was about the same as in some of the rapids above, the increased volume of water made them look and act decidedly different. we drew the line, when counting a rapid, at a descent having a decided agitation of the water, hidden rocks, or swift descent and with an eddy or whirlpool below. major powell considered that many of these drops in the next canyon were above the ordinary rapid, hence the name, cataract canyon. at one of the camps below green river, utah boat had been christened the _defiance_, by painting the name on the bow. after leaving the green we referred to the boats by their respective names, being in the _edith_, i in the _defiance_. [illustration: the junction of the two rivers. the grand river is on the right. note boats.] chapter xiii a companion voyager thursday morning, october the 26th, found emery feeling very poorly, but insisting on going ahead with our day's work, so camp no. 34 was soon behind us. we were embarked on a new stream, flowing west-southwest, with a body of water ten times the size of that which we had found in the upper canyons of the green. our sixteen-foot boats looked quite small when compared with the united currents of the green and the grand rivers. the colorado river must have been about 350 feet wide here just below the junction, with a three-mile current, and possibly twenty-five feet deep, although this is only a guess. the grand river appeared to be the higher of the two streams, and had a decidedly red colour, as though a recent storm was being carried down its gorges; while the colour of the green was more of a coffee colour--coffee with a little cream in it. a fourth of a mile below the junction the two currents began to mix, with a great ado about it, with small whirlpools and swift eddies, and sudden outbursts from beneath as though a strangled current was struggling to escape from the weight which overpowered it. the boats were twisted this way and that, and hard rowing was necessary to carry us down to the steadied current, and to the first rapid, which we could hear when yet far above it. soon we were running rapids again, and getting a lot of sport out of it. there were some rocks, but there was water enough so that these could be avoided. if one channel did not suit us, we took another, and although we were drenched in every rapid, and the cockpit was half filled each time, it was not cold enough to cause us any great discomfort, and we bailed out at the end of each rapid, then hurried on to tackle the next. each of these rapids was from a fourth to a third of a mile in length. the average was at least one big rapid to the mile. when no. 5 was reached we paused a little longer, and looked it over more carefully than we had the others. it had a short, quick descent, then a long line of white-topped waves, with a big whirlpool on the right. there were numerous rocks which would take careful work to avoid. the waves were big,--big enough for a motion picture,--so emery remained on shore with both the motion-picture camera and the 8x10 plate camera in position, ready to take the picture, while i ran my boat. at the head of this rapid we saw footprints in the sand, but not made with the same shoe as that which we had noticed above the junction. we had also seen signs of a camp, and some fishes' heads above this point, and what we took to be a dog's track along the shore. at the head of the next rapid we saw them again, but on opposite side of the river, and could see where boat had been pulled up on the sand. this next rapid was almost as bad as the one above it, but with a longer descent, instead of one abrupt drop. the following rapid was so close that we continued along the shore to look it over at the same time, saving a stop between the two rapids. the shores were strewn with a litter of gigantic boulders--fallen sections of the overhanging cliffs. we found more of this in cataract canyon than in any of the canyons above. this was partly responsible for the violence of the rapids, although the descent of the river would make rough water even if there were no boulders. working back along the shore, we were suddenly electrified into quick action by seeing the _edith_ come floating down the river, close to the shore and almost on the rapid. emery was a short distance ahead and ran for the _defiance_; i caught up a long pole and got on a projecting rock, hoping i might steer her in. she passed me, and was soon in the midst of the rapid before emery had launched the boat. three gigantic boulders extended above the water about fifty feet from shore, with a very crooked channel between. down toward these boulders came the _edith_, plunging like a thing possessed. how it was done i could never tell, but she passed through the crooked channel without once touching, and continued over the rapid. meanwhile emery had run the other side and had gained on the _edith_, but only caught her when close to the next rapid; so he turned her loose and came to the shore for me. emery had not been feeling his best and i advised him to remain on shore while i took the boat. as we made the change we again observed the boat, bounding through the next rapid, whirling on the tops of the waves as though in the hands of a superhuman juggler. i managed to overtake her in a whirlpool below the rapid, and came to shore for her captain. he was nearly exhausted with his efforts; still he insisted on continuing. a few miles below we saw some ducks, and shot at them with a revolver. but the ducks flew disdainfully away, and landed in the pool below. by 4.30 p.m. we were twelve miles below the junction, a very good day's run considering the kind of water we were travelling on, and the amount of time we spent on the shore. we had just run our twelfth rapid, and were turning the boats around, when we saw a man back from the shore working over a pile of boxes which he had covered with a piece of canvas. a boat was tied to the water's edge. we called to him, and he answered, but did not seem nearly as much interested in seeing companion travellers as we were, and proceeded with his work. we landed, and, to save time, introduced ourselves, as there seemed to be a certain aloofness in his manner. he gave the name of smith--with some hesitation, we thought. smith was about medium size, but looked tough and wiry; he had a sandy complexion, with light hair and mustache. he had lost one eye, the other was that light gray colour that is usually associated with indomitable nerve. he had a shrewd, rather humorous expression, and gave one the impression of being very capable. dressed in a neat whipcord suit, wearing light shoes and a carefully tied tie, recently shaved--a luxury we had denied ourselves, all this time--he was certainly an interesting character to meet in this out-of-the-way place. we should judge he was a little over forty years old; but whether prospector, trapper, or explorer it was hard to say. some coyote skins, drying on a rock, would give one the impression that he was the second, with a touch of the latter thrown in. these coyotes were responsible for the tracks we had seen, and had mistaken for dog tracks, but of all the canyons we had seen he was in the last place where we would expect to find a trapper. the coyotes evidently reached the river gorge through side canyons on the left, where we had seen signs of ancient trails. apart from that there was no sign of animal life. with the last of the wooded canyons, the signs of beaver had disappeared. there were a few otter tracks, but they are wily fellows, and are seldom trapped. while there are laws against the trapping of beaver, they seldom prevent the trappers from taking them when they get the chance; they are only a little more wary of strangers; the thought occurred to us that this trapper may have secured some beaver in the open sections above, and mistrusted us for this reason. it was too late to go any farther that evening, so we camped a hundred yards below him, close to where our boats were pulled out. at this place there was a long, wide flat in the canyon, with plenty of driftwood, so we saw no reason why we should quarrel with our neighbour. smith accepted our invitation to supper, stating that he had just eaten before we arrived, but enjoyed some pineapple which we had kept for some special occasion, and which was served for dessert. over the table we became better acquainted, and, after learning what we were doing, he recounted his experiences. he told us he had left green river, utah, a month before, and had been trapping as he came along. he knew there was a canyon, and some rapids below, but had no idea they were so bad, and thought they were about ended. no one had warned him, for he had told no one what he intended doing. he had bought an old water-logged boat that had been built by galloway, and seeing the uselessness of trying to run the rapids with it, worked it down along the shores by holding it with a light chain. once he had been pulled into the river, twice the boat had been upset, and he was just about dried out from the last spill when we arrived. he had heard us shooting at the ducks, so rather expected company--this in brief was his amazing story. we were surprised when we examined the boat closely. it had been well made, but was so old and rotten that it seemed ready to fall to pieces. in places, the nail heads had pulled through the boards. it was entirely open on top--a great risk in such water. his boxes were tied in to prevent loss. these boxes were now piled on the shore, with a large canvas thrown over them. this canvas, fastened at the top and sloping to the ground, served him for a tent; his bed was underneath. a pair of high-topped boots, placed bottom up over two sticks, stuck in the sand beside the camp-fire, explained the different tracks we had seen above. smith evidently was not much alarmed over his situation. about the only thing that seemed to bother him was the fact that his smoking tobacco had been wet several times. that evening we got out our guide-book--dellenbaugh's "a canyon voyage"--and tried to give him an idea of what was ahead. the walls ahead grew higher, and closer together; sometimes there was a shore on one side, sometimes on the other, at one or two places there was no shore on either side, and the rapids continued to get worse,--so we gathered from dellenbaugh's experience. above this point there were several places where one could climb out,--we had even seen signs of ancient trails in two side canyons,--below here few such places existed. smith listened to all this attentively, then smiled and said "i guess there will be some way through." after a short visit he returned to his camp. we noticed that he slept on his gun,--to keep it dry, no doubt, for it looked like rain. morning found us very sorry that we had not erected our tent, for it rained nearly all night, but when once in our beds it was a question which was preferable; to get out in the rain and put up our tent, or remain in our comfortable beds. we remained where we were. as we prepared to leave, we offered smith a chance to accompany us through cataract canyon, telling him that we would help him with his boat until the quiet water of glen canyon was reached. he declined the opportunity, saying that he would rather travel slowly and do what trapping he could. he welcomed a chance to take a ride on the _defiance_, however. we took him over two small rapids, and gave him an insight into our method of avoiding the dangers. he was very enthusiastic about it. on reaching the next rapid we all concluded it would be very unwise to carry any passengers, for it was violent water, so he got out on the shore. smith had once seen some moving pictures of japanese shooting rapids, but he said they were nothing compared to these, remarking that a bronco could hardly buck any harder. the next rapid was just as bad, rapid no. 14 for cataract canyon, and smith helped us secure a motion picture. then he prepared to return to his camp. just before leaving he explained rather apologetically, that ranchers, or others, were usually very unfriendly to a stranger coming into their section of the country. he had heard us shooting at the ducks and he imagined we belonged in some of the side canyons or on the top. this explained his puzzling attitude at our first meeting. if he had any beaver skins in his pack this would make him even more suspicious of strangers. we wished him nothing but the best of luck, and were good friends when we parted. his decision to make the trip alone, poorly equipped as he was, seemed like suicide to us. he promised to write to us if he got out, and with a final wave of the hand we left him on the shore. the rapid just passed was possibly the scene of the disaster discovered by the stone expedition. they found a clumsy boat close to the shore, jammed in a mass of rocks, smashed and abandoned. there were tracks of three people in the sand, one track being a boy's. a coat was left on the shore. the tracks disappeared up a box canyon. mr. stone corresponded with the only settlements in all that region, few in number, and far distant; but nothing was ever heard of them, two other parties have left green river, utah, within a year of this find and disappeared in like manner. this seemed to be the usual result of these attempts. in nearly every case they have started in boats that are entirely unfitted for rough water, and, seemingly without any knowledge of the real danger ahead, try to follow where others, properly equipped, have gone through. what a day of excitement that was! we always thought we needed a certain amount of thrills to make life sufficiently interesting for us. in a few hours' time, in the central portion of cataract canyon, we experienced nearly enough thrills to last us a lifetime. in one or two of the upper canyons we thought we were running rapids. now we were learning what rapids really were. no sooner were we through one than another presented itself. at each of them we climbed along the boulder-strewn shores--the lower slopes growing steeper, the walls above towering higher--clear to the end of the rapid. looking upstream we could pick out the submerged rocks hidden in the muddy water, and looking like an innocent wave from above. twice we had picked out channels in sharp drops, after carefully observing their actions and deciding they were free from obstructions, when suddenly the waves would part for an instant and disclose a hidden rock--in one case as sharp as a hound's tooth--sure disaster if we ever struck it. as soon as we had decided on a channel we would lose no time in getting back to our boats and running it for we could feel our courage oozing from our finger tips with each second's delay. time and again we got through just by a scratch. success bred confidence; i distinctly remember feeling that water alone would not upset the boat; that it would take a collision with a rock to do it. and each time we got through. twice i almost had reason to reverse my impression of the power of water. first the stern rose up in front of me, as if squaring off at the tops of the cliffs, then descended, until it seemed to be trying to plumb the depths of the river. the waves, rolling over me, almost knocked me out of the boat, i lost my hold on the oars and grabbed the sides of the boat; then, regaining the oars, i finished the run by pulling with the bow headed downstream, for the boat had "swapped ends" in the interval, and was heavy with about three barrels of water in the cockpit. i bailed out with a grocery box, kept under the seat for that purpose. it had been growing quite cold, and emery's indisposition--or what was really acute indigestion--had weakened him for the past two days, but he pluckily declined to stop. i was soaked with my last immersion and chilled with the wind, so concluded there was no use having him go through the same experience and i ran his boat while he made a picture. we were both ready to camp then, but there was no suitable place and we had to push on to the next rapid. on looking it over we almost gave up our intention of running it. it was about a fourth of a mile long; a mass of submerged rocks extended entirely across the river; the entire rapid seemed impossible. we finally concluded it might be run by shooting up, stern first, on a sloping rock near the shore, then return as the current recoiled and ran back, dividing on either side of the rock. the only clear channel was one about twelve feet wide, between this rock and the shore. a projecting shore above prevented a direct entrance to this channel. we threw logs in and watched their action. in each case they paused when within five or six feet of the top of the slope, then returned with the current, whirled back to the side and shot through close to the shore. we planned to go through as close together as possible. emery was ready first, i held back in a protecting pool, waiting for him to get out of the way. he got his position, facing stern downstream, gave the slightest shove forward, and the released boat whizzed down for fifty feet and ran up on the rock. she paused a moment, as the water prepared to return. he gave two quick pulls, shooting back again, slightly to the right, until he struck the narrow channel, then reversed his course and went through stern first exactly as we had planned it. the square stern, buoyed up by the air-chamber, lifted the boat out of the resulting wave as he struck the bottom of the descent. this much of the rapid had only taken a few seconds. i followed at once, but was not so fortunate. the _defiance_ was carried to the left side, where some water dropped over the side of the rock, instead of reversing. i pulled frantically, seeing visions, meanwhile, of the boat and myself being toppled off the side of the rock, into the boulders and waves below. my rowing had no effect whatever, but the boat was grabbed by the returning wave and shot, as if from a catapult, back and around to the right, through the sloping narrow channel,--my returning course describing a half circle. instead of rising, the pointed bow cut down into the waves until the water was on my shoulders. emery turned his head for an instant to see what success i was having, and his boat was thrown on to a rock close to the shore. i passed him and landed, just before going into the next rapid. i then went back and helped him off the rock, and he continued his course over the leaping waves. he broke a rowlock before he landed, and had to use the substitute we had hung beside it. we found a good spot for a camp just above the next rapid. our tent was stretched in front of a large boulder. a large pile of driftwood gave us all the fuel needed, and we soon had a big fire going and our wet clothes steaming on the line. chapter xiv a patient amid the cataracts an hour or so after making our camp, we began to doubt the wisdom of our choice of a location, for a downpour of rain threatened to send a stream of water under the tent. the stream was easily turned aside, while a door and numerous boards found in the drift pile, made a very good floor for the tent and lifted our sleeping bags off the wet sand. we had little trouble in this section to find sufficient driftwood for fires. the pile at this camp was enormous, and had evidently been gathering for years. some of it, we could be sure, was recent, for a large pumpkin was found deposited in the drift pile twenty-five feet above the low-water stage on which we were travelling. this pumpkin, of course, could only have come down on the flood that had preceded us. what a mixture of curios some of those drift piles were, and what a great stretch of country they represented! the rivers, unsatisfied with washing away the fertile soil of the upper country, had levied a greedy toll on the homes along their banks, as well. almost everything that would float, belonging to a home, could be found in some of them. there were pieces of furniture and toilet articles, children's toys and harness, several smashed boats had been seen, and bloated cattle as well. a short distance above this camp we had found two cans of white paint, carefully placed on top of a big rock above the high-water mark, by some previous voyager.[5] the boats were beginning to show the effect of hard usage, so we concluded to take the paint along. at another point, this same day, we found a corked bottle containing a faded note, undated, requesting the finder to write to a certain lady in delta, colorado. a note in my journal, beneath a record of this find, reads: "aha! a romance at last!" judging by the appearance of the note it might have been thrown in many years before. delta, we knew, was on the gunnison river, a tributary of the grand river. the bottle must have travelled over two hundred miles to reach this spot. a letter which i sent out later brought a prompt answer, with the information that this bottle and four others with similar notes were set adrift by the writer and four of her schoolmates, nearly two years before. an agreement was made that the one first receiving an answer was to treat the others to a dinner. our find was the second, so this young lady was a guest instead of the host. emery took but little interest in our camp arrangements this evening, and went to bed as soon as it was possible for him to do so. he said little, but he was very weak, and i could tell from his drawn face that he was suffering, and knew that it was nothing but nervous energy that kept him at his work--that, and a promise which he had made to build a fire, within a stated time now less than two weeks away, in bright angel creek canyon, nearly three hundred miles below this camp, a signal to his wife and baby that he would be home the next day. i was worried about his condition and i feared a fever or pneumonia. for two or three days he had not been himself. it was one thing to battle with the river when well and strong; it would be decidedly different if one of us became seriously ill. for the first time in all our experiences together, where determination and skill seemed necessary to success, i had taken the lead during the past two days, feeling that my greater weight and strength, perhaps, would help me pull out of danger where he might fail. in two or three rapids i felt sure he did not have the strength to pull away from certain places that would smash the boats. after running the _defiance_ through these rapids i suggested to him that; he would take a picture while i brought the _edith_ down. he would stay near the _defiance_, ready to aid in case of emergency. after being once through a rapid i found it quite a simple matter to run the second boat, and the knowledge that he would save me in case of an upset greatly lessened any danger that might have existed. he was too nervous to sleep, and asked me to take a last look at the boats before going to bed. they were pulled well up on the shore and securely tied, i found, so that it would take a flood to tear them loose. the rain, which had stopped for a while, began again as i rolled into the blankets; the fire, fed with great cottonwood logs, threw ghostly shadows on the cliffs which towered above us, and sputtered in the rain but refused to be drowned; while the roar of rapids, nos. 22 and 23 combined, thundered and reverberated from wall to wall, and finally lulled us to sleep. the rain continued all night, but the weather cleared in the morning. emery felt much the same as he had the day before, so we kept the same camp that day. we took some pictures, and made a few test developments, hanging the dark-room, or tent, inside the other tent for want of a better place to tie to. sunday, october the 29th, we remained at the same place, and by evening were both greatly benefited by the rest. on monday morning we packed up again, leaving only the moving-picture camera out, and pictured each other, alternately, as the boats made the plunge over the steep descent in rapid no. 23. both boats disappeared from sight on two or three occasions in this rapid and emerged nearly filled with water. the section just passed is credited with the greatest descent on the rivers, a fall of 75 feet in 3/4 of a mile. this includes the three rapids: nos. 21, 22, and 23. proceeding on our way the canyon narrowed, going up almost sheer to a height of 2500 feet or over. segregated spires, with castle-like tops, stood out from the upper walls. the rapids, or cataracts, compared well with those passed above, connected in some instances by swift-rushing water instead of the quiet pools which were usually found between the rapids. we ran ten rapids this day, but several of these which were counted as one were a series of two or three rapids, which might be one in high water. all had a shore on one side or the other, but caution was imperative when crossing in the swift water between the rapids. a mishap here meant destruction. we figured that we had travelled about ten miles for this day's run. the menacing walls continued to go higher with the next day's travel, until they reached a height of 2700 feet. the left wall was so sheer that it almost seemed to overhang. the little vegetation which we had found on the lower slope gradually disappeared as the walls grew steeper, but a few scattered shrubs, sage-brush, and an occasional juniper grew on the rocky sides, or in one or two side canyons which entered from the south. these side canyons had the appearance of running back for considerable distances, but we did not explore any of them and could tell very little about them from the river. after our noon lunch this day, in order to keep our minds from dwelling too much on the rather depressing surroundings, we proposed having a little sport. on two or three occasions we had made motion pictures from the deck of the boats as we rowed in the quiet water; here we proposed taking a picture from the boats as we went over the rapids. the two boats were fastened stern to stern, so that the rowing would be done from the first boat. my brother sat on the bow behind with the motion-picture camera in front of him, holding it down with his chin, his legs clinging to the sides of the boat, with his left hand clutching at the hatch cover, and with his right hand free to turn the crank. in this way we passed over two small rapids. after that one experience we never tried it in a large rapid. as smith had said a few days before the boat bucked like a broncho, and emery had a great deal of difficulty to stay with the boat, to say nothing of taking a picture. once or twice he was nearly unseated but pluckily hung on and kept turning away at the crank when it looked as if he and the camera would be dumped into the river. at one point in the lower end of cataract canyon we saw the name and date a.g. turner, '07. below this, close to the end of the canyon, were some ruins of cliff dwellings, and a ladder made by white men, placed against the walls below the ruins. on reaching a very deep, narrow canyon entering from the south, locally known as dark canyon, we knew that we were nearing the end of the rapids in cataract canyon. dark canyon extends a great distance back into the country, heading in the mountains we had seen to the south, when we climbed out at the junction of the green and the grand. pine cones and other growths entirely foreign to the growth of the desert region were found near its mouth. a flood had recently filled the bottom of this narrow canyon to a depth of several feet, but the water had settled down again and left a little stream of clear water running through the boulders. the rapid at the end of this canyon was one of the worst of the entire series, and had been the scene of more than one fatality, we had been told. it had a very difficult approach and swung against the right wall, then the water was turned abruptly to the left by a great pile of fallen boulders. the cresting waves looked more like breakers of the ocean than anything we had seen on the river. we each had a good scare as we ran this rapid. emery was completely hidden from my view, he was nearly strangled and blinded by the waves for a few seconds while struggling in the maelstrom; the _edith_ was dropped directly on top of a rock in the middle of this rapid, then lifted on the next wave. i also had a thrilling experience but avoided the rock. in the lower part of the rapid a rowlock pulled apart; and to prevent the boat from turning sideways in the rapid, i threw up my knee, holding the oar against it for a lever until i was in quieter water, and could get the other rowlock in position. separated from my brother in this instance, i had an opportunity to see the man and water conflict, with a perspective much as it would have appeared to a spectator happening on the scene. i was out of the heat of the battle. the excitement and indifference to danger that comes with a hand-to-hand grapple was gone. i heard the roar of the rapid; a roar so often heard that we forgot it was there. i saw the gloom of the great gorge, and the towering, sinister shafts of rock, weakened with cracks, waiting for the moment that would send them crashing to the bottom. i saw the mad, wild water hurled at the curving wall. jagged rocks, like the bared fangs of some dream-monster, appeared now and then in the leaping, tumbling waves. then down toward the turmoil--dwarfed to nothingness by the magnitude of the walls--sped the tiny shell-like boat, running smoothly like a racing machine! there was no rowing. the oar-blades were tipped high to avoid loss in the first comber; then the boat was buried in foam, and staggered through on the other side. it was buffeted here and there, now covered with a ton of water, now topping a ten-foot wave. like a skilled boxer--quick of eye, and ready to seize any temporary advantage--the oarsman shot in his oars for two quick strokes, to straighten the boat with the current or dodge a threatening boulder; then covered by lifting his oars and ducking his head as a brown flood rolled over him. time and again the manoeuvre was repeated: now here now there. one would think the chances were about one to a hundred that he would get through. but by some sort of a system, undoubtedly aided, many times, by good luck, the man and his boat won to land. after running a small rapid, we came to another, in the centre of which was an island,--the last rapid in cataract canyon. while not as bad as the one at dark canyon it was rather difficult, and at this point we found no shore on either side. the south side was rendered impassable by great boulders, much higher than the river level, which were scattered through the channel. the opposite channel began much like the rapid at dark canyon, sweeping under the wall until turned by a bend and many fallen rocks below the end of the island, then crossed with a line of cresting waves to the opposite side, where it was joined by the other stream, and the left wall was swept clean in like manner. we ran it by letting our boats drop into the stream, but pulled away from the wall and kept close to the island, then when its end was reached crossed the ridge of waves and pulled for the right-hand shore. in such rapids as this we often found the line of waves in the swift-rushing centre to be several feet higher than the water along the shore. then our thoughts reverted to smith. what would he do when he came to this rapid? the only escape was a narrow sloping ledge on the right side, beginning close to the water some distance above the rapid, reaching a height of sixty or seventy feet above the water at the lower end, while a descent could be made to the river some distance below here. it would be possible for him to climb over this with his provisions, but the idea of taking his boat up there was entirely out of the question, and, poorly equipped as he was, an attempt to run it would surely end in disaster. the breaking of an oar, the loss of a rowlock, or the slightest knock of his rotten boat against a rock, and smith's fate would be similar to those others whose bones lay buried in the sands. in the next four miles we had no more rapids, but had some fine travelling on a very swift river. it was getting dusk, but we pulled away, for just ahead of us was the end of cataract canyon. we camped by a large side canyon on the left named mille crag bend, with a great number of jagged pinnacles gathered in a group at the top of the walls, which had dropped down to a height of about 1300 feet. we felt just a little proud of our achievement, and believed we had established a record for cataract canyon, having run all rapids in four days' travelling, and come through in safety. we had one rapid to run the next morning at the beginning of narrow canyon, the only rapid in this nine-mile long canyon. the walls here at the beginning were twelve or thirteen hundred feet high, and tapered to the end, where they rise about four hundred feet above the dirty devil river. narrow canyon contains the longest straight stretch of river which we remembered having seen. when five miles from its mouth we could look through and see the snow-capped peak of mt. ellsworth beyond. this peak is one of the five that composes the henry mountains, which lay to the north of the river. three hours' rowing brought us to the end. we paused a few minutes to make a picture or two of the dirty devil river,--or the frã©mont river as it is now recorded on the maps. this stream, flowing from the north, was the exact opposite of the bright angel creek, that beautiful stream we knew so well, two hundred and fifty miles below this point. the dirty devil was muddy and alkaline, while warm springs containing sulphur and other minerals added to its unpalatable taste. after tasting it we could well understand the feeling of the jack sumner, whose remark, after a similar trial, suggested its name to major powell. a short distance below this we saw a tent, and found it occupied by an old-timer named kimball. among other things he told us that he had a partner, named turner, who had made the trip through the canyons above, and arrived at this point in safety. this was the man whose name we had seen on the walls in cataract canyon. less than two miles more brought us to the hite ranch, and post-office. john hite gave us a cordial reception. he had known of our coming from the newspapers; besides, he had some mail for us. we spent the balance of the day in writing letters, and listening to hite's interesting experiences of his many years of residence in this secluded spot. hite's home had been a haven for the sole survivor of two expeditions which had met with disaster in cataract. in each case they were on the verge of starvation. hite kept a record of all known parties who had attempted the passage through the canyons above. less than half of these parties, excepting galloway's several successful trips, succeeded in getting through cataract canyon without wrecking boats or losing lives. after passing the frã©mont river the walls on the right or north side dropped down, leaving low, barren sandstone hills rolling away from the river, with a fringe of willows and shrubs beside the water, and with the usual sage-brush, prickly pear, cactus and bunch-grass on the higher ground. we had seen one broken-down log cabin, but this ranch was the only extensive piece of ground that was cultivated. judging by the size of his stacks of alfalfa, hite had evidently had a good season. the banks of the south side of the river were about two hundred feet high, composed of a conglomerate mass of clay and gravel. this spot has long been a ferry crossing, known far and wide as dandy crossing, the only outlet across the river for the towns of southeastern utah, along the san juan river. the entire 150 miles of glen canyon had once been the scene of extensive placer operations. the boom finally died, a few claims only proving profitable. one of these claims was held by bert loper, one of the three miners who had gone down the river in 1908. loper never finished, as his boat--a steel boat, by the way--was punctured in a rapid above dark canyon but was soon repaired. his cameras and plates being lost, he sent from hite out for new ones. his companions--chas. russell, and e.r. monette--were to wait for him at lee's ferry, after having prospected through glen canyon. some mistake was made about the delivery of the cameras and, as hite post-office only had weekly communication with the railroad, a month elapsed before he finally secured them. lee's ferry had been discontinued as a post-office at that time, and, although he tried to get a letter in to them, it was never delivered. his disappointment can be imagined better than described, when he reached lee's ferry and found his companions had left just a few days previous. they naturally thought if he were coming at all he would have been there long before that, and they gave him up, not knowing the cause of the delay. they left a letter, however, saying they would only go to the bright angel trail, and the trip could be completed together on the following year. loper spent many hard days working his boat, with his load of provisions, back against the current, and located a few miles below the hite ranch. chapter xv placer gold we passed loper's claim after resuming our journey the next day. his workings were a one-man proposition and very ingenious. we found a tunnel in the gravel a hundred feet above the river, and some distance back from the river bank. a track of light rails ran from the river bank to these workings; the gravel and sand was loaded into a car, and hauled or pushed to the bank, then dumped into a chute, which sent it down to the river's edge. loper was not at his work however, neither did we find him at his ranch, a mile down the river. he had a neat little place, with fruit trees and a garden, a horse or two, and some poultry. after resuming our rowing, when about a mile down the river, some one called to us from the shore, and loper himself came running down to meet us. john hite had requested us to stop and see his brother, cass hite, who owned a ranch and placer working nearly opposite where loper had halted us; so loper crossed with us, as he was anxious to know of our passage through the canyons. we found, in cass hite, an interesting "old-timer," one who had followed the crowd of miners and pioneers, in the west, since the discovery of gold on the coast. he was the discoverer of the white canyon natural bridges, of southern utah, located between this point and the san juan river, and had been the first to open the ferry at dandy crossings. hite had prospected navajo mountain, southwest of this point, in the early sixties, about the time of the navajos' trouble with the united states army, under the leadership of kit carson, who dislodged them from their strongholds in the mountains after many others had failed. hite's life was saved on more than one occasion by warnings from a friendly chief, or head man of the western navajos, known as hoskaninni, who regarded him as a brother, and bestowed on him the name, hosteen pes'laki, meaning "silver man." he is still known by this name, and refers to his pretty ranch as tick a bo, a ute word for "friendly." hite proudly quoted a poem written by cy warman about the theme of the indian's regard for his white friend. warman had followed the crowd in to this spot at the time of the boom, looking for local colour--human local colour, not the glitter in the sands. it was at john hite's home where warman had composed the one time popular song, "sweet marie." it would be safe to say that he brought his inspiration with him, for this was decidedly a man's country. we were told that it had only been visited by one woman in the past twelve years. hite insisted on our remaining until the following morning, and we concluded that the rest would do us good. he loaded us up with watermelons, and with raisins, which he was curing at that time. we spent a pleasant afternoon under a shaded arbour, listening to his reminiscences, and munching at the raisins. that evening loper told us his story of their canyon expedition. he felt a little bitter about some newspaper reports that had been published concerning this expedition, these reports giving the impression that his nerve had failed him, and that for this reason he had not continued on the journey. we mollified his feelings somewhat, when we told him that his companions were not responsible for these reports; but rather, that short telegraphic reports, sent out from the grand canyon, had been misconstrued by the papers; and that this accounted for the stories which had appeared. his companions had remained at the grand canyon for two days following their arrival at bright angel trail. they gave loper credit, to our certain knowledge, of being the only one of the party who knew how to handle the boats in rough water when they began the trip, and had stated that he ran all the boats through certain rapids until they caught the knack. they could not know of his reasons for the delay, and at that time had no knowledge of his arrival at lee's ferry, after they had gone. naturally they were very much puzzled over his non-appearance. it got quite cold that night, and we were glad to have shelter of hite's hospitable roof. in our trip down the river to this point we had seemed to keep even with the first cold weather. in all places where it was open, we would usually find a little ice accompanied by frost in the mornings, or if no ice had frozen the grass would be wet with dew. in the canyons there was little or no ice, and the air was quite dry. naturally we preferred the canyons if we had a choice of camps. loper looked as though he would like to accompany us as we pulled away the next morning, after having landed him on the south side of the stream. we, at least, had full confidence in his nerve to tackle the lower colorado, after his record in cataract canyon. the five scattered peaks of the henry mountains were now to the north-northwest of us, rugged and snow-capped, supreme in their majesty above this desolate region. signs of an ancient indian race were plentiful in this section. there were several small cliff dwellings, walled up in ledges in the rocks, a hundred feet or so above a low flat which banked the river. at another place there were hundreds of carvings on a similar wall which overhung a little. drawings of mountain-sheep were plentiful; there was one representing a human figure with a bow and arrow, and with a sheep standing on the arrow--their way of telling that he got the sheep, no doubt. there were masked figures engaged in a dance, not unlike some of the hopi dances of to-day, as they picture them. there were geometrical figures, and designs of many varieties. a small rock building half covered with sand and the accumulations of many years stood at the base of the cliff; and quantities of broken pottery were scattered about the ruin. farther down the river a pathway was worn into the sandstone where countless bare and moccasined feet had toiled, and climbed over the sloping wall to the mesa above. the ruins in this section were not extensive, like those found in the tributary canyons of the san juan river, for instance, not a very great distance from here. possibly this people stopped here as they travelled back and forth, trading with their cousins to the north; or the dwellings may have been built by the scattered members of the tribe, when their strongholds were assailed by the more warlike tribes that crowded in on them from all sides. what a story these cliffs could tell! what a romance they could narrate of various tribes, as distinct from each other as the nations of europe, crowding each other; and at the last of this inoffensive race, coming from the far south, it may be; driven from pillar to post, making their last stand in this desert land; to perish of pestilence, or to be almost exterminated by the blood-thirsty tribes that surrounded them--then again, when the tide changed, and a new type of invader travelled from the east, pushing ever to the west, conquering all before them! but like the sphinx, the cliffs are silent and voiceless as the hillocks and sand-dunes along the nile, that other desert stream, with a history no more ancient and momentous than this. that night we camped opposite the ruins of a dredge, sunk in the low water at the edge of the river. this dredge had once represented the outlay of a great deal of money. it is conceded by nearly all experts that the sands of these rivers contain gold, but it is of such a fine grain--what is known as flour gold--and the expense of saving it is so great, that it has not paid when operated on such a large scale. a few placers in glen canyon have paid individual operators, some of these claims being in gravel deposits from six hundred to eight hundred feet above the present level of the river. on the following day we again entered deep canyon; sheer for several hundred feet, creamy white above, with a dark red colour in the lower sandstone walls. that afternoon we passed a small muddy stream flowing from the north, in a narrow, rock-walled canyon. this was the escalante river, a stream rising far to the north, named for one of the spanish priests who had travelled this country, both to the north and the south of this point, as early as the year 1776, about the time when the new england colonists were in the midst of their struggle with the mother country. just below the escalante river, the canyon turned almost directly south, continuing in this general direction for several miles. a glimpse or two was had of the top of a tree-covered snow-capped peak directly ahead of us, or a little to the southwest. this could be none other than navajo mountain, a peak we could see from the grand canyon, and had often talked of climbing, but debated if we could spare the time, now that we were close to it. in all this run through glen canyon we had a good current, but only one place resembling a rapid. here, below the escalante, it was very quiet, and hard pulling was necessary to make any headway. we were anxious to reach the san juan river that evening, but the days were growing short, and we were still many miles away when it began to grow dusk; so we kept a lookout for a suitable camp. the same conditions that had bothered us on one or two previous occasions were found here; slippery, muddy banks, and quicksand, together with an absence of firewood. we had learned before this to expect these conditions where the water was not swift. the slower stream had a chance to deposit its silt, and if the high water had been very quiet, we could expect to find it soft, or boggy. in the canyons containing swift water and rapids we seldom found mud, but found a firm sand, instead. here in glen canyon we had plenty of mud, for the river had been falling the last few days. time and again we inspected seemingly favourable places, only to be disappointed. the willows and dense shrubbery came down close to the river; the mud was black, deep, and sticky; all driftwood had gone out on the last flood. meanwhile a glorious full moon had risen, spreading a soft, weird light over the canyon walls and the river; so that we now had a light much better than the dusk of half an hour previous, our course being almost due south. finally, becoming discouraged, we decided to pull for the san juan river, feeling sure that we would find a sand-bar there. it was late when we reached it, and instead of a sand-bar we found a delta of bottomless mud. we had drifted past the point where the rivers joined, before noticing that the stream turned directly to the west, with canyon walls two or three hundred feet high, and no moonlight entered there. instead, it was black as a dungeon. from down in that darkness there came a muffled roar, reverberating against the walls, and sounding decidedly like a rapid. there was not a minute to lose. we pulled, and pulled hard--for the stream was now quite swift close to the right shore, and a sheer bank of earth about ten feet high made it difficult to land. jumping into the mud at the edge of the water, we tied the boats to some bushes, then tore down the bank and climbed out on a dry, sandy point of land. at the end or sharp turn of the sheer wall we found a fair camp, with driftwood enough for that night. emery, weak from his former illness and the long day's run, went to bed as soon as we had eaten a light supper. i looked after the cooking that evening, making some baking-powder bread,--otherwise known as a flapjack,--along with other arrangements for the next day; but i fear my efforts as a cook always resulted rather poorly. we had breakfast at an early hour the next morning and were ready for the boats at 7.15, the earliest start to our record. our rapid of the night before proved to be a false alarm, being nothing more than the breaking of swift water as it swept the banks of rocks at the turn. it was quite different from what we had pictured in our minds. we had long looked forward to this day. navajo mountain, with bare, jagged sides and tree-covered dome, was located just a few miles below this camp. it was a sandstone mountain peak, towering 7000 feet above the river, the steep slope beginning some five or six miles back from the stream. the base on which it rested was of sandstone, rounded and gullied into curious forms, a warm red and orange colour predominating. the north side, facing the river, was steep of slope, covered with the fragments of crumbled cliffs and with soft cream-tinted pinnacles rising from its slope. the south side, we had reason, to believe, was tree-covered from top to bottom; the north side held only a few scattered cedar piã±on we had often seen the hazy blue dome from the grand canyon, one hundred and twenty miles away, and while it was fifty miles farther by the river, we felt as if we were entered on the home stretch; as if we were in a country with which we were somewhat familiar. the colorado and the san juan rivers form the northern boundary of the navajo indian reservation, comprising a tract of land as large as many eastern states, extending over a hundred miles, both east and west from this point. embodied in this reservation, and directly opposite our camp, was a small section of rugged land set aside for some utes, who had friendly dealings, and who had intermarried with the navajo. but if we expected to find the navajo, or utes on the shore, ready to greet us, we were doomed to disappointment. we explored a few side canyons this morning, hoping to find a spot where some of major powell's party--particularly those men who were afterwards killed by the indians--had chiselled their names, which record we were told was to be found near the san juan, but on which side we were not sure. while in one of these canyons, or what was really nothing more than a crooked overhanging slit in the rocks, containing a small stream, emery found himself in some soft quicksand, plunged instantly above his knees, and sinking rapidly. he would have had a difficult time in getting out of this quicksand without help, for a smooth, rock wall was on one side, the other bank of the stream was sheer above him for a few feet, and there was nothing solid which he could reach. we had seen a great deal of quicksand before this, but nothing of this treacherous nature. usually we could walk quickly over these sands without any danger of being held in them, or if caught--while lifting on a boat for instance--had no difficulty in getting out. when once out of this canyon we gave up our search for the carved record. but it was not the hope of shortening our homeward run, or the prospect of meeting indians on the shores, or of finding historical records, even, that caused us to make this early start. it was the knowledge that the wonderful rainbow natural bridge, recently discovered, and only visited by three parties of whites, lay hidden in one of the side canyons that ran from the north slope of navajo mountain. no one had gone into it from the river, but we were told it could be done. we hoped to find this bridge. the current was swift, and we travelled fast, in spite of a stiff wind which blew up the stream, getting a very good view of the mountain from the river a few miles below our camp, and another view of the extreme top, a short distance below this place, not over six miles from the san juan. we had directions describing the canyon in which the bridge was located, our informant surmising that it was thirty miles below the san juan. we thought it must be less than that, for the river was very direct at this place, and a person travelling over the extremely rough country which surrounded this side of the mountain slope would naturally have to travel much farther, so began to look for it about twelve miles below camp. but mile after mile went by without any sign of the landmarks that would tell us we were at the "bridge canyon." then the river, which had circled the northern side of the peak, turned directly away from it, and we knew that we had missed the bridge. at no point on the trip had we met with a disappointment to equal that; even the loss of our moving-picture film, after our spill in lodore, was small when compared with it. on looking back over the lay of the land, we felt sure that the bridge was at one of the two places, where we had seen the top of the mountain from the river. to go back against the current would take at least three days. our provisions were limited in quantity and would not permit it; the canyon had deepened, and a second bench of sheer cliffs rose above the plateau, making it impossible to climb out: so we concluded to make the best of it, and pulled down the stream, trying to put as many miles as possible between ourselves and our great disappointment. this afternoon we passed from utah into arizona. for the remainder of the trip we would have arizona on one side of the river at least. we had much the same difficulty this evening as we had the night before in finding a camp. judging by the evidence along the shore, the high water which came down the san juan had been a torrent, much greater than the flood on the colorado and its upper tributaries. chapter xvi a warning we camped that night at the ute ford, or the crossing of the fathers; a noted landmark of bygone days, when escalante (in 1776) and others later followed the inter-tribal trails across these unfriendly lands. later marauding navajo used this trail, crossing the canyon to the north side, raiding the scattered mormon settlements, bringing their stolen horses, and even sheep, down this canyon trail. then they drove them across on a frozen river, and escaped with them to their mountain fastness. the mormons finally tired of these predatory visits, and shut off all further loss from that source by blasting off a great ledge at the north end of the trail. this ruined the trail beyond all hope of repair, and there is no travel at present over the old ute crossing. the fording of the river on horseback was effected by dropping down to the river through a narrow side canyon, and crossing to the centre on a shoal, then following a centre shoal down quite a distance, and completing the crossing at a low point on the opposite side. this was only possible at the very lowest stage of water. the morning following our arrival here, we walked about a mile up the gravelly slope on the south side, to see if we could locate the pass by which the trail dropped down over these 3000-foot walls. the canyon had changed in appearance after leaving the mountain, and now we had a canyon; smaller, but not unlike the grand canyon in appearance, with an inner plateau, and a narrow canyon at the river, while the walls on top were several miles apart, and towering peaks or buttes rose from the plateau, reaching a height almost equal to the walls themselves. the upper walls were cream-tinted or white sandstone, the lower formation was a warm red sandstone. we could not discover the pass without a long walk to the base of the upper cliffs, so returned to the boats. about this time we heard shots, seeming to come from some point down the river, and on the north side. later a dull hollow sound was heard like pounding on a great bass drum. we could not imagine what it was, but knew that it must be a great distance away. we had noticed instances before this, where these smooth, narrow canyon had a great magnifying effect on noises. in the section above the san juan, where the upper walls overhung a little, a loud call would roll along for minutes before it finally died. a shot from a revolver sounded as if the cliff were falling. our run this morning was delightful. the current was the best on which we had travelled. the channel swung from side to side, in great half circles, with most of the water thrown against the outside bank, or wall, with a five-or six-mile an hour current close to the wall. we took advantage of all this current, hugging the wall, with the stern almost touching, and with the bow pointed out so we would not run into the walls or scrape our oars. then, when it seemed as if our necks were about to be permanently dislocated, from looking over one shoulder, the river would reverse its curve, the channel would cross to the other side, and we would give that side of our necks a rest. once in a great while i would bump a rock, and would look around sheepishly, to see if my brother had seen me do it. i usually found him with a big grin on his face, if he happened to be ahead of me. we rowed about twenty miles down the river before we learned what had caused the noises heard in the morning. on rounding a turn we saw the strange spectacle of fifteen or twenty men at work on the half-constructed hull of a flat-bottomed steamboat, over sixty feet in length. this boat was on the bank quite a distance above the water, with the perpendicular walls of a crooked side canyon rising above it. it was a strange sight, here in this out-of-the-way corner of the world. some men with heavy sledges were under the boat, driving large spikes into the planking. this was the noise we had heard that morning. the blasting, we learned later, was at some coal mines, several miles up this little canyon, which bore the name of warm creek canyon. a road led down through the canyon, making it possible to haul the lumber for the boat, clear to the river's edge. the nearest railroad was close to two hundred miles from this place, quite a haul considering the ruggedness of the country. the material for the boat had been shipped from san francisco, all cut, ready to put together. the vessel was to be used to carry coal down the river, to a dredge that had recently been installed at lee's ferry. the dinner gong had just sounded when we landed, and we were taken along with the crowd. there were some old acquaintances in this group of men, we found, from flagstaff, arizona. these men had received a flagstaff paper which had published a short note we had sent from green river, utah. they had added a comment that no doubt this would be the last message we would have an opportunity to send out. very cheering for emery's wife, no doubt. fortunately she shared our enthusiasm, and if she felt any apprehension her few letters failed to show it. we resumed our rowing at once after dinner, for we wished to reach lee's ferry, twenty-five miles distant, that evening. we had a good current, and soon left our friends behind us. we pulled with a will, and mile after mile was covered in record time, for our heavy boats. the walls continued to get higher as we neared our goal, going up sheer close to the river. we judged the greatest of these walls to be about eleven hundred feet high. after four hours of steady pulling we began to weary, for ours were no light loads to propel; but we were spurred to renewed effort by hearing the sounds of an engine in the distance. on rounding a turn we saw the end of glen canyon ahead of us, marked by a breaking down of the walls, and a chaotic mixture of dikes of rock, and slides of brilliantly coloured shales, broken and tilted in every direction. just below this, close to a ferry, we saw the dredge on the right side of the river. we were quite close to the dredge before we were seen. some men paused at their work to watch us as we neared them, one man calling to those behind him, "there come the brothers!" a whistle blew announcing the end of their day's labour, and of ours as well, as it happened. there was some cheering and waving of hats. one who seemed to be the foreman asked us to tie up to a float which served as a landing for three motor boats, and a number of skiffs. a loudly beaten triangle of steel announced that the evening meal was ready at a stone building not far from the dredge. we were soon seated at a long table with a lot of others as hungry as we, partaking of a well-cooked and substantial meal. we made arrangements to take a few meals here, as we wished to overhaul our outfits before resuming our journey. the meal ended, we inquired for the post-office, and were directed to a ranch building across the paria river, a small stream which entered from the north, not unlike the frã©mont river in size and appearance. picking our way in the darkness, on boulders and planks which served as a crossing, we soon reached the building, set back from the river in the centre of the ranch. a man named johnson, with his family, had charge of the ranch and post-office as well. mail is brought by carrier from the south, a cross-country trip of 160 miles, through the hopi and navajo indian reservations. johnson informed us that an old-time friend named dave rust had waited here three or four days, hoping to see us arrive, but business matters had forced him to leave just the day before. we were very sorry to have missed him. rust lived in the little mormon town of kanab, utah, eighty miles north of the grand canyon opposite our home. in addition to being a cattle man and rancher, he had superintended the construction of a cable crossing, or tramway, over the colorado river, beside the mouth of bright angel creek, not many miles from our home. he also maintains a cozy camp at this place, for the accommodation of tourists and hunting parties, which he conducts up bright angel creek and into the kaibab forest. it was while returning from such a hunting trip that we first met rust. many are the trips we have taken with him since then, emery, with his wife and the baby, even, making the "crossing" and the eighty-mile horseback ride to his home in kanab, while i had continued on through to salt lake city. rust had been the first to tell us of galloway and his boating methods; and had given us a practical demonstration on the river. naturally there was no one we would have been more pleased to see at that place, than rust. in our mail we found a letter from him, stating, among other things, that he had camped the night before on the plateau, a few hundred feet above a certain big rapid, well known through this section as the soap creek rapid. this locality is credited with being the scene of the first fatality which overtook the brown-stanton expedition; brown being upset and drowned in the next rapid which followed, after having portaged the soap creek rapid. rust wrote also that there was a shore along the rapid, so there would be no difficulty in making the portage; and concluded by saying that he had a very impressive dream about us that night, the second of its kind since we had started on our journey. we understood from this that he had certain misgivings about this rapid, and took his dream to be a sort of a warning. rust should have known us better. with all the perversity of human nature that letter made me want to run that rapid if it were possible. why run the rapid, and get a moving picture as it was being done. then we could show rust how well we had learned our lesson! so i thought as we returned to the buildings near the dredge, but said nothing of what was in my mind to emery, making the mental reservation that i would see the rapid first and decide afterwards. the foreman of the placer mines called us into his office that evening, and suggested that it might be a good plan to go over our boats thoroughly before we left, and offered us the privilege of using their workshop, with all its conveniences, for any needed repairs. he also let us have a room in one of the buildings for our photographic work. this foreman mourned the loss of a friend who had recently been drowned at the ferry. it seemed that the floods which had preceded us, especially that part which came down the san juan river, had been something tremendous, rising 45 feet at the ferry, where the river was 400 feet wide; and rising much higher in the narrow portions of glen canyon. great masses of driftwood had floated down, looking almost like a continuous raft. when the river had subsided somewhat, an attempt was made to cross with the ferry. the foreman and his friend, with two others, and a team of horses hitched to a wagon, were on the ferry. when in midstream it overturned in the swollen current. three of the men escaped, the other man and the horses were drowned. a careful search had been made for the body to a point a few miles down the river, then the canyon closed in and they could go no farther. the body was never recovered. it is seldom that the colorado river gives up its dead. the heavy sands collect in the clothes, and a body sinks much quicker than in ordinary water. any object lodged on the bottom is soon covered with a sand-bar. the foreman knew this, of course; yet he wished us to keep a lookout for the body, which might, by some chance, have caught on the shore, when the water receded. this was as little as any one would do, and we gave him our promise to keep a careful watch. chapter xvii a night of thrills we declined the offer of a roof that night, preferring to sleep in the open here, for the evening was quite warm. we went to work the next morning when the whistle sounded at the dredge. beyond caulking a few leaks in the boats, little was done with them. the tin receptacles holding our photographic plates and films were carefully coated with a covering of melted paraffine; for almost anything might happen, in the one hundred miles of rapid water that separated us from our home. lee's ferry was an interesting place, both for its old and its new associations. this had long been the home of john d. lee, well known for the part he took in the mountain meadow massacre, and for which he afterwards paid the death penalty. here lee had lived for many years, making few visits to the small settlements to the north, but on one of these visits he was captured. there were six or seven other buildings near the large stone building where we took our meals, so arranged that they made a short street, the upper row being built against a cliff of rock and shale, the other row being placed halfway between this row and the river. these buildings were all of rock, of which there was no lack, plastered with adobe, or mud. one, we were told, had been lee's stronghold, it was a square building, with a few very small windows, and with loopholes in the sides. at the time of our visit it was occupied by two men; one, a young englishman, recently arrived from south africa--a remittance-man, in search of novelty--the other a grizzled forty-niner. much could be written about this interesting group of men, and their alluring employment. there were some who had followed this work through all the camps of the west--to colorado, to california, and to distant alaska as well, they had journeyed; but it is doubtful if, in all their wanderings, they had seen any camp more strangely located than this, hemmed in with canyon walls. to us, their dredge and the steamboat up the river seemed as if they had been taken from the pages of some romance, or bit of fiction, and placed before us for our entertainment. there were other men as well, just as interesting m their way as the "old-timers," the sons of some of the owners of this proposition,--clean-cut young fellows,--working side by side with the veterans, as enthusiastic as if on their college campus. one feature about the dredge interested us greatly. this was a tube, or sucker, held suspended by a derrick above a float, and operated by compressed air. the tube was dropped into the sand at the bottom of the river, and would eat its way into it, bringing up rocks the size of one's fist, along with the gravel and sand. in a few hours a hole, ten or fifteen feet in depth and ten feet in diameter, would be excavated. then the tube was raised, the float was moved, and the work started again. the coarse sand and gravel, carried by a stream of water, was returned to the river, after passing over the riffles; the screenings which remained passed over square metal plates--looking like sheets of tin--covered with quicksilver. these plates were cleaned with a rubber window-cleaner, and the entire residue was saved in a heavy metal pot, ready for the chemist. one day only was needed for our work, and by evening we were ready for the next plunge. we might have enjoyed a longer stay with these men, but stronger than this desire was our anxiety to reach our home, separated from us by a hundred miles of river, no extended part of the distance being entirely free from rapids. we had written to the grand canyon, bidding them look for our signal fire in bright angel creek canyon, in from seven to ten days, and planned to leave on the following morning. nothing held us now except the hope that the mail, which was due that evening, might bring us a letter, although that was doubtful, for we were nearly a week ahead of our schedule as laid out at green river, utah. as we had anticipated, there was no mail for us, so we turned to inspect the mail carrier. he was a splendid specimen of the navajo indian,--a wrestler of note amoung his people, we were told,--large and muscular, and with a peculiar springy, slouchy walk that gave one the impression of great reserve strength. he had ridden that day from tuba, an agency on their reservation, about seventy miles distant. this was the first sign of an indian that we had seen in this section, although we had been travelling along the northern boundary of their reservation since leaving the mouth of the san juan. these indians have no use for the river, being children of the desert, rather than of the water. beyond an occasional crossing and swimming their horses at easy fords, they make no attempt at its navigation, even in the quiet water of glen canyon. some of the men showed this indian our boats, and told him of our journey. he smiled, and shrugged his massive shoulders as much as to say, he "would believe it when he saw it." he had an opportunity to see us start, at least, on the following morning. before leaving, we climbed a 300-foot mound on the left bank of the paria river, directly opposite the lee ranch. this mound is known as lee's lookout. whether used by lee or not, it had certainly served that purpose at some time. a circular wall of rock was built on top the mound, and commanded an excellent view of all the approaches to the junction of the rivers. this spot is of particular interest to the geologist, for a great fault, indicated by the vermilion cliffs, marks the division between glen canyon and marble canyon. this line of cliffs extends to the south for many miles across the painted desert, and north into utah for even a greater distance, varying in height from two hundred feet at the southern end to as many thousand feet in some places to the north. looking to the west, we could see that here was another of those sloping uplifts of rock, with the river cutting down, increasing the depth of the canyon with every mile. we had now descended about 2900 feet since leaving green river city, wyoming, not a very great fall for the distance travelled if an average is taken, but a considerable portion of the distance was on quiet water, as we have noted, with a fall of a foot or two to the mile, and with alternate sections only containing bad water. we were still at an elevation of 3170 feet above the sea-level, and in the 283 miles of canyon ahead of us--marble canyon and the grand canyon combined--the river descends 2330 feet, almost a continuous series of rapids from this point to the end of the grand canyon. after a hasty survey from our vantage point, we returned to the river and prepared to embark. as we left the dredge, the work was closed down for a few minutes, and the entire crowd of men, about forty in number, stood on an elevation to watch us run the first rapid. the indian had crossed to the south side of the to feed his horse and caught a glimpse of us as we went past him. running pell-mell down to his boat, he crossed the river and joined the group on the bank. about this time we were in the grip of the first rapid, a long splashy one, with no danger whatever, but large enough to keep us busy until we had passed from view. a few miles below this, after running a pair of small rapids, we reached a larger one, known as the badger creek rapid, with a twenty-foot drop in the first 250 feet, succeeded by a hundred yards of violent water. emery had a little difficulty in this rapid, when his boat touched a rock which turned the boat sideways in the current, and he was nearly overturned in the heavy waves which followed. as it was, we were both drenched. about the middle of the afternoon, twelve miles below lee's ferry, we reached the soap creek rapid of which we had heard so much. the rapid had a fall of twenty-five feet, and was a quarter of a mile long. most of the fall occurred in the first fifty yards. the river had narrowed down until it was less than two hundred feet wide at the beginning of the descent. many rocks were smattered all through the upper end, especially at the first drop. on the very brink or edge of the first fall, there was a submerged rock in the centre of the channel, making an eight-foot fall over the rock. a violent current, deflected from the left shore, shot into this centre and added to the confusion. twelve-foot waves from the conflicting currents, played leap-frog, jumping over or through each other alternately. clearly there was no channel on that side. on the right or north side of the stream it looked more feasible, as the water shot down a sloping chute over a hundred feet before meeting with an obstruction. this came in the shape of two rocks, one about thirty feet below the other. to run the rapid this first rock would have to be passed before any attempt could be made to pull away from the second rock, which was quite close to the shore. once past that there was a clear channel to the end of the rapid, if the centre, which contained many rocks, was avoided. below the rapid was the usual whirlpool, then a smaller rapid, running under the left wall. this second rapid was the one that had been so fatal for brown. the soap creek rapid in many ways was not as bad as some we had gone over in cataract canyon, but there were so many complications that we hesitated a long time before coming to a decision that we would make an attempt with one boat, depending on our good luck which had brought us through so many times, as much as we depended on our handling of the boat. it was planned that i should make the first attempt while emery remained with the motion-picture camera just below the rock that we most feared, with the agreement that he was to get a picture of the upset if one occurred, then run to the lower end of the rapid with a rope and a life-preserver. after adjusting life-preservers i returned to my boat and was soon on the smooth water above the rapid, holding my boat to prevent her from being swept over the rock in the centre, jockeying for the proper position before i would allow her to be carried into the current. once in, it seemed but an instant until i was past the first rock, and almost on top of the second. i was pulling with every ounce of strength, and was almost clear of the rock when the stern touched it gently. i had no idea the boat would overturn, but thought she would swing around the rock, heading bow first into the stream, as had been done before on several occasions. instead of this she was thrown on her side with the bottom of the boat held against the rock while i found myself thrown out of the boat, but hanging to the gunwale. then the boat swung around and instantly turned upright while i scrambled back into the cockpit. looking over my shoulder, when i had things well in hand again, i saw my brother was still at the camera, white as a sheet, but turning at the crank as if our entire safety depended on it. after i landed the water-filled boat, however, he confessed to me that he had no idea whether he had caught the upset or not, as he may have resumed the work when he saw that i was safe. then we went to work to find out what damage was done. first we found that the case, which was supposed to be waterproof, had a half-inch of water inside, but fortunately none of our films were wet. some plates which we had just exposed and which were still in the holders were soaked. the cameras also had suffered. we hurriedly wiped off the surplus water and piled these things on the shore, then emptied the boat of a few barrels of water. this one experience, i suppose, should have been enough for me with that rapid, but i foolishly insisted on making another trial at it with the _edith_, for i felt sure i could make it if i only had another chance, and the fact that emery had the empty boat at the end of the rapid and could rescue me if an upset occurred greatly lessened the danger. the idea of making a portage, with the loss of nearly a day, did not appeal to me. emery agreed to this reluctantly, and advised waiting until morning, for it was growing dusk, but with the remark "i will sleep better with both boats tied at the lower end of the rapid," i returned to the _edith_. to make a long story short i missed my channel, and was carried over the rock in the centre of the stream. the _edith_ had bravely mounted the first wave, and was climbing the second comber, standing almost on end, seemed to me, when the wave crested over the stern while the current shooting it from the side struck the submerged bow and she fell back in the water upside down. it was all done so quickly, i hardly knew what had occurred, but found myself in the water, whirling this way and that, holding to the right oar with a death-grip. i wondered if the strings would hold, and felt a great relief when the oar stopped slipping down,--as the blade reached the ring. it was the work of a second to climb the oar, and i found i was under the cockpit. securing a firm hold on the gunwale, which had helped us so often, i got on the outside of the boat, thinking i might climb on top. about that time one of the largest waves broke over me, knocking me on the side of the head as if with a solid object, nearly tearing me from the boat. after that i kept as close to the boat as possible, paddling with my feet to keep them clear of rocks. then the suction of the boat caught them and dragged them under, and for the rest of the rapid i had all i could do to hang to the boat. as the rapid dwindled i began to look for emery, but was unable to see him, for it was now growing quite dark, but i could see a fire on shore that he had built. i tried to call but was strangled with the breaking waves; my voice was drowned in the roar of the rapid. one of the life-preservers was torn loose and floated ahead of me. finally i got an answer, and could see that emery had launched his boat. as he drew near i told him to save the life-preserver, which he did, then hurriedly pulled for me. i remarked with a forced laugh, to reassure him, "gee, emery, this water's cold." he failed to join in my levity, however, and said with feeling, "thank the good lord you are here!" and down in my heart i echoed his prayer of thanks. somehow i had lost all desire to successfully navigate the soap creek rapid. but our troubles were not entirely over. emery had pulled me in after a futile attempt or two, with a hold sometimes used by wrestlers, linking his arm in mine, leaning forward, and pulling me in over his back i was so numbed by the cold that i could do little to help him, after what, i suppose, was about a quarter of an hour's struggle in the water; although it seemed much longer than that to me. we then caught the _edith_ and attempted to turn her over, but before this could be done we were dragged into the next rapid. emery caught up the oars, while i could do nothing but hold to the upturned boat, half filled with water, striving to drag us against the wall on the left side of the stream. it was no small task to handle the two boats in this way, but emery made it; then, when he thought we were sure of a landing, the _edith_ dragged us into the river again. two more small rapids were run as we peered through the darkness for a landing. finally we reached the shore over a mile below the soap creek rapid. we were on the opposite side of the stream from that where we had unloaded the _defiance_. this material would have to stay where it was that night. while bailing the water from the _edith_ we noticed a peculiar odour, and thought for a while that it might be the body of the man who was drowned at the ferry, but later we found it came from a green cottonwood log that had become water-soaked, and was embedded in the sand, close to our landing. it was emery's turn to do the greater part of the camp work that night, while i was content to hug the fire, wrapped in blankets, waiting for the coffee to boil. chapter xviii marble halls and marble walls there was little of the spectacular in our work the next day as we slowly and laboriously dragged an empty boat upstream against the swift-running current, taking advantage of many little eddies, but finding much of the shore swept clean. i had ample opportunity to ponder on the wisdom of my attempt to save time by running the soap creek rapid instead of making a portage, while we carried our loads over the immense boulders that banked the stream, down to a swift piece of water, past which we could not well bring the boats or while we developed the wet plates from the ruined plate-holders. it was with no little surprise that we found all the plates, except a few which were not uniformly wet and developed unevenly, could be saved. it took a day and a half to complete all this work. marble canyon was now beginning to narrow up with a steep, boulder-covered slope on either side, three or four hundred feet high; with a sheer wall of dark red limestone of equal height directly above that. there was also a plateau of red sandstone and distant walls topped with light-coloured rock, the same formations with which we were familiar in the grand canyon. the inner gorge had narrowed from a thousand feet or more down to four hundred feet, the slope at the river was growing steeper and gradually disappearing, and each mile of travel had added a hundred feet or more to the height of the walls. soon after resuming our journey that afternoon, the slope disappeared altogether, and the sheer walls came down close to the water. there were few places where one could climb out, had we desired to do so. this hard limestone wall, which major powell had named the marble wall, had a disconcerting way of weathering very smooth and sheer, with a few ledges and fewer breaks. we made a short run that day, going over a few rapids, stopping an hour to make some pictures where an immense rock had fallen from the cliff above into the middle of the river bed, leaving a forty-foot channel on one side, and scarcely any on the other. below this we found a rapid so much like the soap creek rapid in appearance that a portage seemed advisable. it was evening when we got the _edith_ to the lower end of this rapid after almost losing her, as we lined her down, and she was wedged under a sloping rock that overhung the rapid. we had two ropes, one at either end, attached to the boat in this case. emery stood below the rock ready to pull her in when once past the rock. there was a sickening crackling of wood as the deck of the boat wedged under and down to the level of the water, and at emery's call i released the boat, throwing the rope into the river, and hurried to help him. he was almost dragged into the water as the boat swung around fortunately striking against a sand-bank, instead of the many rocks that lined the shore. we were working with a stream different from the green river, we found, and the _defiance_ was taken from the water the next day and slowly worked, one end at a time, over the rocks, up to a level sand-bank, twenty-five or thirty feet above the river. then we put rollers under her, and worked her down past the rapid. this work was little to our liking, for the boats, now pretty well water-soaked, weighed considerably more than their original five hundred pounds' weight. a few successful plunges soon brought back our former confidence, and we continued to run all other rapids that presented themselves. this afternoon we passed the first rapid we remembered having seen, where we could not land at its head before running it. a slightly higher stage of water, however, would have made many such rapids. just below this point we found the body of a bighorn mountain-sheep floating in an eddy. it was impossible to tell just how he came to his death. there was no sign of any great fall that we could see. he had a splendid pair of horns, which we would have liked to have had at home, but which we did not care to amputate and carry with us. on this day's travel, we passed a number of places where the marble--which had suggested this canyon's name to major powell--appeared. the exposed parts were checked, or seamed, and apparently would have little commercial value. we passed a shallow cave or two this day, then found another cave or hole, running back about fifteen feet in the wall, so suitable for a camp that we could not refuse the temptation to stop, although we had made but a very short run this day. the high water had entered it, depositing successive layers of sand on the bottom, rising in steps, one above the other, making convenient shelves for maps and journals, pots and pans; while little shovelling was necessary to make the lower level of sand fit our sleeping bags. a number of small springs, bubbling from the walls near by, gave us the first clear water that we had found for some time, and a pile of driftwood caught in the rocks, directly in front of our cave, added to its desirability for a camp. firewood was beginning to be the first consideration in choosing a camp, for in many places the high water had swept the shores clean, and spots which might otherwise have made splendid camps were rendered most undesirable for this reason. so camp number 47 was made in this little cave, with a violent rapid directly beneath us, making a din that might be anything but reassuring, were we not pretty well accustomed to it by this time. the next day, sunday, november the 12th, was passed in the same spot. the air turned decidedly cold this day, a hard wind swept up the river, the sky above was overcast, and we had little doubt that snow was falling on the kaibab plateau, which we could not see, but which we knew rose to the height of 5500 feet above us, but a few miles to the northwest of this camp. the sheer walls directly above the river dropped down considerably at this point, and a break or two permitted us to climb up as high as we cared to go on the red sandstone wall, which had lost its level character, and now rose in a steep slope over a thousand feet above us. these walls, with no growth but the tussocks of bunch-grass, the prickly pear cactus, the mescal, and the yucca, were more destitute of growth than any we had seen, excepting the upper end of desolation canyon, even the upper walls lacking the growth of piã±on pine and juniper which we usually associated with them. we were now directly below the painted desert, which lay to the left of the canyon, and no doubt a similar desert was on the right-hand side, in the form of a narrow plateau; but we had no means of knowing just how wide or narrow this was, before it raised again to the forest-covered buckskin mountains and the kaibab plateau. the rapid below our camp was just as bad as its roar, we found, on running it the next day. most of the descent was confined to a violent drop at the very beginning, but there was a lot of complicated water in the big waves that followed. emery was thrown forward in his boat, when he reached the bottom of the chute, striking his mouth, and bruising his hands, as he dropped his oars and caught the bulkhead. an extra oar was wrenched from the boat and disappeared in the white water, or foam that was as nearly white as muddy water ever gets. i nearly upset, and broke the pin of a rowlock, the released oar being jerked from my hand, sending me scrambling for an extra oar, when the boat swept into a swift whirlpool. emery caught my oar as it whirled past him; the other was found a half-mile below in an eddy. some of the rapids in the centre of marble canyon were not more than 75 feet wide, with a corresponding violence of water. the whirlpools in the wider channels below these rapids were the strongest we had seen, and had a most annoying way of holding the boats just when we thought we had evaded them. sometimes there would be a whirlpool on either side, with a sharply defined line of division in the centre, along which it was next to impossible to go without being caught on one side or the other. these whirlpools were seldom regarded as serious, for our boats were too wide and heavy to be readily overturned in them, although we saved ourselves more than one upset by throwing our weight to the opposite side. a small boat would have upset. on two occasions we were caught in small whirlpools, where a point of rock projected from the shore, turning upstream, splitting a swift current and making a very rapid and difficult whirl, where the boats were nearly smashed against the walls. below all such places were the familiar boils, or fountains, or shoots, as they are variously termed. these are the lower end of the whirlpools, emerging often from the quiet water below a rapid with nearly as much violence as they disappeared in the rapids above. these would often rise when least expected, breaking under the boats, the swift upshoot of water giving them such a rap that we sometimes thought we had struck a rock. if one happened to be in the centre of a boil when it broke, it would send them sailing down the stream many times faster than the regular current was travelling, rowing the boat having about as little effect on determining its course as if it was loaded on a flat-car. the other boat, at times just a few feet away, might be caught in the whirlpools that formed at the edge of the fountains, often opening up suddenly under one side of the boat, causing it to dip until the water poured over the edge, holding it to that one spot in spite of every effort to row away. then we would strike peaceful water again, a mile or perhaps, so quiet that a thin covering of clear water over the top of the silt-laden pool beneath, reflecting the tinted walls and the turquoise sky beneath its limpid surface. gems of sunlight sparkled on its bosom and scintillated in the ripples left behind by the oars. when seated with our backs to the strongest light, and when glancing along the top of such a pool instead of into it, the mirror-like surface gave way to a peculiar purplish tone which seemed to cover the pool, so that one would forget it was roily water, and saw only the iridescent beauty of a mountain stream. the wonderful marble walls--better known to the miners as the blue limestone walls--now rose from the water's edge to a height of eight or nine hundred feet, the surface of its light blue-gray rock being stained to a dark red, or a light red as the case might be, by the iron from the sandstone walls above. there were a thousand feet of these sandstone layers, red in all its varying hues, capped by the four-hundred foot cross-bedded sandstone wall, breaking sheer, ranging in tone from a soft buff to a golden yellow, with a bloom, or glow, as though illuminated from within. as we proceeded, another layer could be seen above this, the same limestone and with the same fossils--an examination of the rock-slides told us--as the topmost formation at the grand canyon. this was not unlike the cross-bedded sandstone in colour, but lacked its warmth and richness of tint. a close, examination of the rocks revealed many colours, that figured but little in the grand colour scheme of the canyon as a whole--the detailed ornamentation of the magnificent rock structure. a fracture of wall would show the true colour of the rock, beneath the stain; lime crystals studded its surface, like gems glinting in the sunlight; beautifully tinted jasper, resembling the petrified wood found in another part of arizona, was embedded in the marble wall,--usually at the point of contact with another formation,--polished by the sands of the turbid river. all this told us that we were coming into our own. four of the seven notable divisions of rock strata found in the grand canyon were now represented in marble canyon, and soon the green shale, which underlies the blue limestone, began to crop out by the river as the walls grew higher and the stream cut deeper. one turn of the canyon revealed a break where stanton hid his provisions in a cave--after a second fatality in which two more of this ill-fated expedition lost their lives--and climbed out on top. afterwards he re-outfitted with heavier boats and tackled the stream again. just below this break the scene changed as we made a sharp turn to the left. vasey's paradise--named by major powell after dr. geo. w. vasey, botanist of the united states department of agriculture--was disclosed to view. beautiful streams gushed from rounded holes, fifty yards above the river. the rock walls reminded one of an ivy-covered castle of old england, guarded by a moat uncrossed by any drawbridge. it was trellised with vines, maidenhair ferns, and water-moss making a vivid green background for the golden yellow and burnished copper leaves which still clung to some small cottonwood trees--the only trees we had seen in marble canyon. in our haste to push on, we left the brass motion-picture tripod head on an island, from which we pictured this lovely spot. a rapid was put behind us before we noticed our loss, and there was no going back then. another turn revealed a gothic arch, or grotto, carved at the bend of the wall by the high water, with an overhang of more than a hundred feet, and a height nearly as great, for the flood waters ran above the hundred-foot stage in this narrow walled section. then came a gloomy, prison-like formation, with a "bridge of sighs" two hundred feet above a gulch, connecting the dungeon to the perpendicular wall beyond; and with a hundred cave-like openings in its sheer sides like small windows, admitting a little daylight into its dark interior. the sullen boom of a rapid around the turn sounded like the march of an army coming up the gorge, so we climbed back into our boats after a vain attempt to climb up to some of the caves, and advanced to meet our foe. this rapid--the tenth for the day--while it was clear of rocks, had an abrupt drop, with powerful waves which did all sorts of things to us and to our boats; breaking a rowlock and the four pieces of line which held it, and flooding us both with a ton of water. we went into camp a short distance below this, in a narrow box canyon running back a hundred yards from the river, a gloomy, cathedral-like interior with sheer walls rising several hundred feet on three sides of us, and with the top of the south wall 2500 feet above us in plain sight of our camp, the one camp in marble canyon where our sleep was undisturbed by the roar of a rapid. but instead of the roar of a rapid, a howling wind swept down from the painted desert above, piling the mingled desert sands and river sands about our beds, scattering our camp material over the bottom of the narrow gorge. soon after this camp--the fourth and the last in marble canyon--was left behind us, the walls began to widen out, especially on the north-northwest, and by noon we had passed from the narrow, direct canyon, into one with slopes and plateaus breaking the sheer walls, the wall on the left or southeast side being much the lower of the two, and more nearly perpendicular, rising to a height of 3200 feet, while the northwest side lifted up to the kaibab plateau, one point--miles back from the river--rising 6000 feet above us. we halted at noon beside the nancoweep valley. a wide tributary heading many miles back in the plateau the right, with a ramified series of canyons running into it, and with great expanses of sage-covered flats between. deer tracks were found on these flats, deer which came down from the forest of the buckskin mountains. this was the point selected by major powell for the construction of a trail when he returned from his voyage of exploration to study the geology of this section. the trail, although neglected for many years, is still used by prospectors from kanab, utah, who make a yearly trip into the canyons to do some work on a mineral ledge a few miles below here. what a glorious, exhilarating run we had that day! from here to the end of marble canyon the rapids were almost continuous, with few violent drops and seldom broken by the usual quiet pools. it was the finest kind of water for fast travelling, and we made the most of it. the only previous run we had made that could in any way compare with it was in whirlpool and split mountain canyons, when the high water was on. as we travelled, occasional glimpses were had of familiar places on greenland point--that thirty-mile peninsula of the kaibab plateau extending between marble canyon and the grand canyon--where we had gone deer-hunting, or on photographic expeditions with rust. another valley from the right was passed, then a peak rose before us close to the river, with its flat top rising to a height equal to the south wall. this was chuar butte. once more we were in a narrow canyon, narrowing by this peak, but a canyon just the same. soon we were below a wall we once had photographed from the mouth of the little colorado; then the stream itself came into view and we were soon anchored beside it. this was the beginning of the grand canyon. chapter xix signalling our canyon home how long we had waited for this view! how many memories it recalled--and how different it seemed to our previous visit there! then, the high water was on, and the turquoise-tinted mineral water of the colorado chiquito was backed up by the turbid flood waters of the rio colorado, forty feet or more above the present level. now it was a rapid stream, throwing itself with wild abandon over the rocks and into the colorado. there was the same deserted stone hut, built by a french prospector, many years before, and a plough that he had packed in over a thirty-mile trail--the most difficult one in all this rugged region! there was the little grass-plot where we pastured the burro, while we made a fifteen-mile walk up the bed of this narrow canyon! what a hard, hot journey it had been! a year and a half ago we sat on that rock, and talked of the day when we should come through here in boats! even then we talked of building a raft, and of loading the burro on it for a spin on the flood waters. lucky for us and for the burro that we didn't! we understand the temper of these waters now. cape desolation, a point of the painted desert on the west side of the little colorado, was almost directly above us, 3200 feet high. chuar butte, equally as high and with walls just as nearly perpendicular, extended on into the grand canyon on the right side, making the narrowest canyon of this depth that we had seen. the navajo reservation terminated at the little colorado, although nothing but the maps indicated that we had passed from the land of the red man to that of the white. both were equally desolate, and equally wonderful. with the entrance of the new stream the canyon changes its southwest trend and turns directly west, and continues to hold to this general direction until the northwest corner of arizona is reached. but we must be on again! soon familiar segregated peaks in the grand canyon began to appear. there was wotan's throne on the right, and the "copper mine mesa" on the left. three or four miles below the junction a four-hundred foot perpendicular wall rose above us. the burro, on our previous visit, was almost shoved off that cliff when the pack caught on a rock, and was only saved by strenuous pulling on the neck-rope and pack harness. soon we passed some tunnels on both sides of the river where the mormon miners had tapped a copper ledge. at 4.15 p.m. we were at the end of the tanner trail, the outlet of the little colorado trail to the rim above. it had taken seven hours of toil to cover the same ground we now sped over in an hour and a quarter. major powell, in 1872, found here the remnant of a very small hut built of mesquite logs, but whether the remains of an indian's or white man's shelter cannot be stated. the trail, without doubt was used by the indians before the white man invaded this region. the canyon had changed again from one which was very narrow to one much more complex, greater, and grander. the walls on top were many miles apart; comanche point, to our left, was over 4000 feet above us; desert view, moran point, and other points on the south rim were even higher. on the right we could see an arch near cape final on greenland point, over 5000 feet up, that we had photographed, from the top, a few years before. pagoda-shaped temples--the formation so typical of the grand canyon--clustered on all sides. the upper walls were similar in tint to those in marble canyon, but here at the river was a new formation; the algonkian, composed of thousands of brilliantly coloured bands of rock, standing at an angle--the one irregularity to the uniform layers of rock--a remnant of thousands of feet of rock which once covered this region, then was planed away before the other deposits were placed. all about us, close to the river, was a deep, soft sand formed by the disintegration of the rocks above, as brilliantly coloured as the rocks from which they came. what had been a very narrow stream above here spread out over a thousand feet wide, ran with a good current, and seemed to be anything but a shallow stream at that. we had travelled far that day but still sped on,--with a few rapids which did not retard, but rather helped us on our way, and with a good current between these rapids,--only stopping to camp when a three-hundred foot wall rose sheer from the river's edge, bringing to an end our basin-like river bottom, where one could walk out on either side. it was not necessary to hunt for driftwood this evening, for a thicket of mesquite--the best of all wood for a camp-fire--grew out of the sand-dunes, and some half-covered dead logs were unearthed from the drifted sand, and soon reduced to glowing coals. meanwhile, we were enjoying one of those remarkable arizona desert sunsets. ominous clouds had been gathering in the afternoon, rising from the southwest, drifting across the canyon, and piling up against the north wall. a few fleecy clouds in the west partially obscured the sun until it neared the horizon, then a shaft of sunlight broke through once more, telegraphing its approach long before it reached us, the rays being visibly hurled through space like a javelin, or a lightning bolt, striking peak after peak so that one almost imagined they would hear the thunder roll. a yellow flame covered the western sky, to be succeeded in a few minutes by a crimson glow. the sharply defined colours of the different layers of rock had merged and softened, as the sun dropped from sight; purple shadows crept into the cavernous depths, while shafts of gold shot to the very tiptop of the peaks, or threw their shadows like silhouettes on the wall beyond. then the scene shifted again, and it was all blood-red, reflecting from the sky and staining the rocks below, so that distant wall and sky merged, with little to show where the one ended and the other began. that beautiful haze, which tints, but does not obscure, enshrouded the temples and spires, changing from heliotrope to lavender, from lavender to deepest purple; there was a departing flare of flame like the collapse of a burning building; a few clouds in the zenith, torn by the winds so that they resembled the craters of the moon, were tinted for an instant around the crater's rims; the clouds faded to a dove-like gray; they darkened; the gray disappeared; the purple crept from the canyon into the arched dome overhead; the day was ended, twilight passed, and darkness settled over all. we sat silently by the fire for a few minutes, then rose and resumed our evening's work. this camp was at a point that could be seen from the grand view hotel, fourteen miles from our home. we talked of building a signal fire on the promontory above the camp, knowing that the news would be telephoned to home if the fire was seen. but we gave up the plan. although less than twenty miles from bright angel trail, we were not safely through by any means. two boats had been wrecked or lost in different rapids less than six miles from this camp. the forty-foot fall in the hance or red canyon rapid was three miles below us; the sockdologer, the grapevine, and other rapids nearly as large followed those; we might be no more fortunate than the others, and a delay after once giving a signal would cause more anxiety than no signal at all we thought, and the fire was not built. particular attention was paid to the loading of the boats the next morning. the moving-picture film was tucked in the toes of our sleeping bags, and the protecting bags were carefully laced. we were not going to take any chances in this next plunge--the much-talked-of entrance to the granite gorge. a half-hour's run and a dash through one violent rapid landed us at the end of the hance trail--unused for tourist travel for several years--with a few torn and tattered tents back in the side canyon down which the trail wound its way. we half hoped that we would find some of the prospectors who make this section their winter home either at the tanner or the hance trail, but there was no sign of recent visitors at either place, unless it was the numerous burro tracks in the sand. these tracks were doubtless made by some of the many wild burros that roam all the lower plateaus in the upper end of the grand canyon. after a careful inspection of the hance rapid we were glad the signal fire was not built. it was a nasty rapid. while reading over our notes one evening we were amused to find that we had catalogued different rapids with an equal amount of fall as "good," "bad," or "nasty," the difference depending nearly altogether on the rocks in the rapids. the "good rapids" were nothing but a descent of "big water," with great waves,--for which we cared little, but rather enjoyed if it was not too cold,--and with no danger from rocks; the "bad rapids" contained rocks, and twisting channels, but with half a chance of getting through. a nasty rapid was filled with rocks, many of them so concealed in the foam that it was often next to impossible to tell if rocks were there or not, and in which there was little chance of running through without smashing a boat. the hance rapid was such a one. such a complication of twisted channels and protruding rocks we had not seen unless it was at hell's half mile. it meant a portage--nothing less--the second since leaving that other rapid in lodore. so we went to work, carrying our duffle across deep, soft sand-dunes, down to the middle of the rapid, where quieted for a hundred yards before it made the final plunge. the gathering dusk of evening found all material and one boat at this spot, with the other one at the head of the rapid, to be portaged the next day. but we did not portage this boat. a good night's rest, and the safeguard of a boat at the bottom of the plunge made it look much less dangerous, and five minutes after breakfast was finished, this boat was beside its mate, and we had a reel of film which we hoped would show just how we successfully ran this difficult rapid. while going over the second section, on the opposite side of the river, emery was thrown out of his boat for an instant when the _edith_ touched a rock in a twenty-five mile an hour current, similar to my first upset in the soap creek rapid--the old story: out again; in again; on again--landing in safety at the end of the rapid not one whit the worse for the spill. this rapid marks the place where the granite, or igneous rock, intrudes, rising at a sharp angle, sloping upward down the stream, reaching the height of 1300 feet about one mile below. it marks the end of the large deposit of algonkian. the granite, when it attains its highest point, is covered with a 200-foot layer of sedimentary rock called the tonto sandstone. the top of this formation is exposed by a plateau from a quarter of a mile to three miles in width, on either side of the granite gorge; the same walls which were found in marble canyon rise above this. the temples which are scattered through the canyon--equal in height, in many cases, to the walls--have their foundation on this plateau. these peaks contain the same stratified rock with a uniform thickness whether in peak or wall, with little displacement and little sign of violent uplift, nearly all this canyon being the work of erosion: 5000 feet from the rim to the river; the edges of six great layers of sedimentary rock laid bare and with a narrow 1300-foot gorge through the igneous rock below--the grand canyon of arizona. the granite gorge seemed to us to be the one place of all others that we had seen on this trip that would cause one to hesitate a long time before entering, if nothing definite was known of its nature. another person might have felt the same way of the canyons we had passed, lodore or marble canyon, for instance. a great deal depends on the nerves and digestion, no doubt; and the same person would look at it in a different light at different times, as we found from our own experiences. our digestions were in excellent condition just at that time, and we were nerved up by the thought that we were going "to the plate for a home run" if possible, yet the granite gorge had a decidedly sinister look. the walls, while not sheer, were nearly so; they might be climbed in many places to the top of the granite; but the tonto sandstone wall nearly always overhangs this, breaks sheer, and seldom affords an outlet to the plateaus above, except where lateral canyons cut through. the rocks are very dark, with dikes of quartz, and with twisting seams of red and black granite, the great body of rock being made up of decomposed micaceous schists and gneiss, a treacherous material to climb. the entrance to this gorge is made on a quiet pool with no shore on either side after once well in. but several parties had been through since major powell made his initial trip, so we did not hesitate, but pushed on with the current. now we could truly say that we were going home. the hance rapid was behind us; bright angel creek was about twelve miles away. soon we were in the deepest part of the gorge. great dikes and uplifts of jagged rocks towered above us; and up, up, up, lifted the other walls above that. bissell point, on the very top, could plainly be seen from our quiet pool. then came a series of rapids quite different from the hance rapid, and many others found above. those others were usually caused in part by the detritus or deposit from side canyons, which dammed the stream, and what might be a swift stream, with a continuous drop, was transformed to a succession of mill-ponds and cataracts, or rapids. in nearly every case, in low water such as we were travelling on, the deposit made a shore on which we could land and inspect the rapid from below. the swift water invariably makes a narrow channel if it has no obstruction in its way; it is the quiet stream that makes a wide channel. but the rapids we found this day were nearly all different. they were seldom caused by great deposits of rock, but appeared to be formed by a dike or ledge of hard rock rising from the softer rock--the same intrusion being sometimes found on both sides of the stream--forming a dam the full width of the channel, over which the water made a swift descent, with a long line of interference waves below. but for a cold wind which swept up the stream, this style of rapid was more to our fancy. these were "good rapids," the "best" we had seen. there were few rocks to avoid. some of the rapids were violent, but careful handling took us past every danger. there was little chance to make a portage at several of these places had we desired to do so. we gave them but a glance from the decks of the boats, then dropped into them. in one instance i saw the _edith_ literally shoot through a wave bow first, both ends of the boat being visible, while her captain was buried in the foam. we had learned to discriminate by its noise, long before we could see a rapid, whether it was filled with rocks, or was merely a descent of big water. the latter, often just as impressive as the former, had a sullen, steady boom; the rocky rapids had the same sound, punctuated by another sound, like the crack of regiments of musketry. all were greatly magnified in sound by the narrow, echoing walls. we became so accustomed to this noise that we almost forgot it was there, and it was only after the long, quiet stretches that the noise was noticed in a few instances only we noticed the shattering vibration of air that is associated with waterfalls. still there is noise enough in many rapids so that their boom can be heard several miles away from the top of the canyons. guided by these sounds, and aided by our method of holding the boat in mid-stream, while making a reconnaissance, we were quite well aware of what we were likely to find before we anchored above a rapid. we were never fearful of being drawn into a cataract without having a chance to land somewhere. the water is strangely quiet, to a comparatively close distance above nearly all rapids. we usually tied up anywhere from fifty feet to a hundred yards above a drop, before inspecting it. if it was a "big-water" rapid, we usually looked it over standing on the seat in the boats, then continued. by signals with the hands, the one first over would guide the other, if any hidden rocks or dangerous channel threatened. while we did not think much about it, we usually noted the places where one might climb out on the plateau. little could be told about the upper walls from the river. a chilling wind swept up the river, penetrating our soaked garments. but we paid little attention to this, only pulling the harder, not only to keep the circulation going, but every pull of the oars put us that much nearer home. we never paused in our rowing until we anchored at 4.30 p.m. under rust's tramway, close to the mouth of bright angel creek. according to the united states geological survey there is a descent of 178 feet from the head of the hance rapid to the end of bright angel trail one mile below the creek. we would have a very moderate descent in that mile. the run from the hance rapid had been made in less than five hours. our boats were tied in the shadow of the cage hanging from a cable sixty feet above. it stretched across a quiet pool, 450 feet across--for the river is dammed by dã©bris from the creek below, and fills the channel from wall to wall. hurriedly we made our way up to rust's camp,--closed for the winter; for heavy snows would cover the north rim in a few days or a few weeks at the farthest, filling the trails with heavy drifts and driving the cougar into the canyon where dogs and horses cannot follow. but the latch-string was out for us, we knew, had we cared to use the tents. our signal fire was built a mile above the camp, at a spot that was plainly visible on a clear day from our home on the other side, six miles away as the crow flies. we had often looked at this spot, with a telescope, from the veranda of our studio, watching the hunting and sight-seeing parties ride up the bed of the stream. we rather feared the drifting clouds and mists would hide the fire from view, but now and then a rift appeared, and we knew if they were looking they could see its light. camp no. 51 was made close to bright angel creek, that evening, thursday, october the 16th, two months and eight days from the time we had embarked on our journey. three or four hours were spent in packing our material the next morning, so it could be stored in a miners' tunnel, near the end of the trail. we would pack little of this out, as we intended to resume our river work in a week or ten days. a five-minute run took us over the rapid below bright angel creek, and down to a bend in the river, just above the cameron or bright angel trail. two men--guides from the hotel--called to us as our boats swept into view. we made a quick dash over the vicious little drop below the bend,--easy for our boats, but dangerous enough for lighter craft on account of a difficult whirlpool,--and were soon on shore greeting old friends. up on the plateau, 1300 feet above, a trail party of tourists and guides called down their welcome. the stores were put in the miners' tunnel as we had planned, and the boats were taken above the high-water mark; placed in dry dock one might say. the guides had good news for us and bad news too. emery's wife had been ill with appendicitis nearly all the time we were on our journey. we had received letters from her at every post-office excepting lee's ferry, but never a hint that all was not well. she knew it would break up the trip. pretty good nerve, we thought! ragged and weary, but happy; a little lean and over-trained, but feeling entirely "fit,"--we commenced our seven-mile climb up the trail, every turn of which seemed like an old friend. when 1300 feet above the river, our little workshop beside a stream on the plateau--only used at intervals when no water can be had on top, and closed for three months past--gave us our first cheerless greeting. although little more than a hundred feet from the trail, we did not stop to inspect it. cameron's indian garden camp was also closed for the day, and we were disappointed in a hope that we could telephone to our home, 3200 feet above. but the tents, under rows of waving cottonwoods, and surrounded by beds of blooming roses and glorious chrysanthemums, gave us a more cheerful welcome than our little building below. we only stopped to quench our thirst in the bubbling spring, then began the four-mile climb that would put us on top of the towering cliff. soon we overtook the party we had seen on the plateau. some of the tourists kindly offered us their mules, but mules were too slow for us, and they were soon far below us. calls, faint at first, but growing louder as we advanced, came floating down from above. on nearing the top our younger brother ernest, who had come on from pittsburg to look after our business, came running down the trail to greet us. one member of a troupe of moving-picture actors, in cowboy garb, remarked that we "didn't look like moving-picture explorers"; then little edith emerged from our studio just below the head of bright angel trail and came skipping down toward us, but stopped suddenly when near us, and said smilingly: "is that my daddy with all those whiskers?" chapter xx one month later naturally we were very impatient to know just what success we had met with in our photographic work. some of the motion pictures had been printed and returned to us. my brother, who meanwhile had taken his family to los angeles, sent very encouraging reports regarding some of the films. among the canyon visitors who came down to inspect the results of our trip were thomas moran, the famous artist, with his daughter, miss ruth, whose interest was more than casual. thomas moran's name, more than any other, with the possible exception of major powell's, is to be associated with the grand canyon. it was his painting which hangs in the capital at washington that first acquainted the american public with the wonders of the canyon. this painting was the result of a journey he made with major powell, from salt lake city to the north side of the canyon, thirty-eight years before. in addition he had made most of the cuts that illustrated major powell's government report; making his sketches on wood from photographs this expedition had taken with the old-fashioned wet plates that had to be coated and developed on the spot--wonderful photographs, which for beauty, softness, and detail are not excelled, and are scarcely equalled by more modern plates and photographic results. the only great advantage of the dry plates was the fact that they could catch the action of the water with an instantaneous exposure, where the wet plates had to have a long exposure and lost that action. thomas moran could pick up almost any picture that we made, and tell us at once just what section it came from and its identifying characteristics. his daughter, miss ruth, was just as much interested in our trip and its results. she was anxious to know when we would go on again and planned on making the trail trip down to the plateau to see us take the plunge over the first rough rapid. she was just a little anxious to see an upset, and asked if we could not promise that one would occur. a month passed before my brother returned from los angeles. his wife, who had remained there, was in good health again, and insisted on his finishing the trip at once. we were just as anxious to have it finished, but were not very enthusiastic about this last part on account of some very cold weather we had been having. on the other hand, we feared if the trip was not finished then it might never be completed. so we consoled ourselves with the thought that it was some warmer at the bottom than it was on top, and prepared to make the final plunge--350 miles to needles, with a 1600-foot descent in the 185 miles that remained of the grand canyon. a foot of snow had fallen two nights before we planned on leaving. the thermometer had dropped to zero, and a little below on one occasion, during the nights for a week past. close to the top the trail was filled with drifts. the walls were white with snow down to the plateau, 3200 feet below; something unusual, as it seldom descends as snow lower than two thousand feet, but turns to rain. but a week of cold, cloudy weather, accompanied by hard winds, had driven all warmth from the canyon, allowing this snow to descend lower than usual. under such conditions the damp cold in the canyon, while not registered on the thermometer as low as that on top, is more penetrating. very little sun reaches the bottom of the inner gorge in december and january. it is usually a few degrees colder than the inner plateau above it, which is open, and does get some sun. these were the conditions when we returned to our boats december the 19th, 1911, and found a thin covering of ice on small pools near the river. our party was enlarged by the addition of two men who were anxious for some river experience. one was our younger brother, ernest. we agreed to take him as far as the bass trail, twenty-five miles below, where he could get out on top and return to our home. the other was a young man named bert lauzon, who wanted to make the entire trip, and we were glad to have him. lauzon, although but 24 years old, had been a quartz miner and mining engineer for some years. coming from the mountains of colorado, he had travelled over most of the western states, and a considerable part of mexico, in his expeditions. there was no question in our minds about lauzon. he was the man we needed. to offset the weight of an extra man for each boat, our supplies were cut to the minimum, arrangements having been made with w.w. bass--the proprietor of the bass camps and of the mystic springs trail--to have some provisions packed in over his trail. what provisions we took ourselves were packed down on two mules, and anything we could spare from our boats was packed out on the same animals. as we were about ready to leave a friendly miner said: "you can't hook fish in the colorado in the winter, they won't bite nohow. you'd better take a couple of sticks of my giant-powder along. that will help you get 'em, and it may keep you from starving." under the circumstances it seemed like a wise precaution and we took his giant-powder, as he had suggested. the river had fallen two feet below the stage on which we quit a month before. a scale of foot-marks on a rock wall rising from the river showed that the water twenty-seven feet deep at that spot. no measurement was made in the middle of the river channel. the current here between two small rapids flows at five and three-fourths miles per hour. the width of the stream is close to 250 feet. the high-water mark here is forty-five feet above the low-water stage, then the river spreads to five hundred feet in width, running with a swiftness and strength of current and whirlpool that is tremendous. the highest authentic measurement in a narrow channel, of which we know, is one made by julius f. stone in marble canyon. he recorded one spot where the high-water mark was 115 feet above the low-water mark. these figures might look large at first, but if they are compared with some of the floods on the ohio river, for instance, and that stream were boxed in a two hundred foot channel the difference would not be great, we imagine. one of the young men who greeted us when we landed came down with a companion to see us embark. on the plateau 1300 feet above, looking like small insects against the sky-line, was a trail party, equally interested. they did not stand on the point usually visited by such parties but had gone to a point about a mile to the west, where they had a good view of a short, rough rapid, the little rapid below the trail, while it was no place that one would care to swim in, had no comparison with this other rapid in violence. we had promised the party that we would run this rapid that afternoon, so we spent little time in packing systematically, but hurriedly threw the stuff in and embarked. less than an hour later we had made the two-mile run and the dash through the short rapid, to the entire satisfaction of all concerned. we camped a short distance below the rapid, just opposite a grave of a man whose skeleton had been found halfway up the granite, five years before. judging by his clothes and hob-nailed shoes he was a prospector. he was lying in a natural position, with his head resting on a rock. an overcoat was buttoned tightly about him. no large bones were broken, but he might have had a fall and been injured internally. more likely he became sick and died. the small bones of the hands and feet had been taken away by field-mice, and no doubt the turkey-buzzards had stripped the flesh. his pockets contained los angeles newspapers of 1900; he was found in 1906. the pockets also contained a pipe and a pocket-knife, but nothing by which he could be identified. the coroner's jury--of which my brother was a member--buried him where he was found, covering the body with rocks, for there was no earth. such finds are not unusual in this rugged country. these prospectors seldom say where they are going, no track is kept of their movements, and unless something about their clothes tells who they are, their identity is seldom established. the proximity of this grave made us wonder how many more such unburied bodies there were along this river. we thought too of our friend smith, back in cataract canyon, and wondered if we would hear from him again. our helpers got a lot of experience in motion-picture making the next day, while we ran our boats through a number of good, strong rapids, well known locally as the salt creek rapid, granite falls or monument rapid, the hermit, the bouchere, and others. this was all new to the boys, and provided some thrilling entertainment for them. when a difficult passage was safely made bert would wave his hat and yell "hoo" in a deep, long call that would carry above the roar of the rapids, then he and ernest would follow along the shore with their cameras, as these rapids all had a shore on one side or the other. the sun shone on the river this day, and we congratulated ourselves on having made the most of our opportunities. in our first rapid the next morning, we had to carry our passengers whether we wanted to or not. there was no shore on either side. in such plunges they would lie down on the deck of the boat behind the oarsman, holding to the raised bulkhead, ducking their heads when an oncoming wave prepared to break over them. then they would shake themselves as a water-spaniel does, and bert with a grin would say, "young fellows, business is picking up!" ernest agreed, too, that he had never seen anything in pittsburg that quite equalled it. if the rapid was not bad, they sat upright on the deck, but this made the boats top-heavy, and as much of the oarsman's work depended on swinging his weight from side to side, it was important that no mistake should be made about this distribution of weight. often the bottom of a boat would show above the water as it listed to one side. at such a time a person sitting on the raised deck might get thrown overboard. before starting on this last trip we had thought it would be only right to give our younger brother a ride in a rapid that would be sure to give him a good ducking, as his experience was going to be short. but the water and the wind, especially in the shadows, was so very cold that we gave this plan up, and avoided the waves as much as possible. he got a ducking this morning, however, in a place where we least expected it. it was not a rapid, just smooth, very swift water, while close to the right shore there was one submerged rock with a foot of water shooting over it, in such a way that it made a "reverse whirl" as they are called in alaska--water rolling back upstream, and from all sides as well, to fill the vacuum just below the rock. this one was about twelve feet across; the water disappeared as though it was being poured down a manhole. the least care, or caution, would have taken me clear this place; but the smooth water was so deceptive, and was so much stronger than i had judged it to be, that i found myself caught sideways to the current, hemmed in with waves on all sides of the boat, knocked back and forth, and resisted in all my efforts to pull clear. the boat was gradually filling with the splashing water. ernest was lying on the deck, hanging on like grim death, slipping off, first on one side, then on the other, and wondering what was going to happen. so was i. to be held up in the middle of a swift stream was a new experience, and i was not proud of it. the others passed as soon as they saw what had happened, and were waiting in an eddy below. perhaps we were there only one minute, but it seemed like five. i helped ernest into the cockpit. about that time the boat filled with splashing water and sunk low, the stream poured over the rock and into the boat, and she upset instantly. ernest had on two life-preservers, and came up about thirty feet below, swimming very well considering that he was weighted with heavy clothes and high-topped shoes. the boys pulled him in before he was carried against a threatening wall. meanwhile, i held to the boat, which was forced out as soon as she was overturned, and climbed on top, or rather on the bottom. i was trying to make the best of things and was giving a cheer when some one said, "there goes your hatch cover and you've lost the motion-picture camera." perhaps i had. my cheering ceased. the camera had been hurriedly shoved down in the hatch a few minutes before. on being towed to shore, however, we found the camera had not fallen out. it had been shoved to the side less than one inch, but that little bit had saved it. it was filled with water, though, and all the pictures were on the unfinished roll in the camera, and were ruined. we had been in the ice-cold water long enough to lose that glow which comes after a quick immersion and were chilled through; but what bothered me more than anything else was the fact that i had been caught in such a trap after successfully running the bad rapids above. we made a short run after that so as to get out of sight of the deceptive place, then proceeded to dry out. the ruined film came in handy for kindling our camp-fire. we were now in the narrowest part of the upper portion of the grand canyon, the distance from rim to rim at one point being close to six miles. the width at bright angel varied from eight to fourteen miles. the peaks rising from the plateau, often as high as the canyon walls, and with flat tops a mile or more in width, made the canyon even narrower, so that at times we were in canyons close to a mile in depth, and little over four miles across at the tops. in this section of the granite there were few places where one could climb out. nearly all the lateral canyons ended quite a distance above the river, then fell sheer; the lower parts of the walls were quite often smooth-surfaced, where they were polished by the sands in the stream. the black granite in such cases resembled huge deposits of anthracite coal. sections of the granite often projected out of the water as islands, with the softer rock washed away, the granite being curiously carved by whirling rocks and the emery-like sands. holes three and four feet deep were worn by small whirling rocks, and grooves were worn at one place by growing willows working back and forth in the water, the sand, strange to say, having less effect on the limbs than it had on the hard rocks. about noon of the day following this upset we reached the end of the bass trail and another cable crossing, about sixty feet above the water. three men were waiting for us, and gave a call when we rowed in sight of their camp. one was lauzon's brother, another was cecil dodd, a cowboy who looked after bass' stock, and the breaking of his horses, the third was john norberg, an "old timer" and an old friend as well, engaged at that time in working some asbestos and copper claims. the granite was broken down at this point, and another small deposit of algonkian was found here. there were intrusions, faults, and displacements both in these formations and in the layers above. these fractures exposed mineral seams and deposits of copper and asbestos on both sides of the river, some of which bass had opened up and located, waiting for the day when there would be better transportation facilities than his burros afforded. this was not our first visit to this section. on other occasions we had descended by the mystic spring (or bass) trail, on the south side, crossed on the tramway and were taken by bass over some of his many trails, on the north side. we had visited the asbestos claims, where the edge of a blanket formation of the rock known as serpentine, containing the asbestos, lay exposed to view, twisting around the head of narrow canyons, and under beetling cliffs. we went halfway up the north rim trail, through shinumo and white canyons, our objective point on these trips being a narrow box canyon which contained a large boulder, rolled from the walls above, and wedged in the flume-like gorge far above our heads. this trail continues up to the top, going over the narrow neck which connects powell's plateau--a segregated section of thickly wooded surface several miles in extent--with the main extent of the kaibab plateau. ernest, though slightly affected with tonsillitis, was loath to leave us here. it was zero weather on top, we were told, and it looked it. the walls and peaks were white with snow. he would not have an easy trip. the drifted snow was only broken by the one party that we found at the river, and quite likely it would be very late when he arrived at the ranch. john went up with him a few miles to get a horse for the ride home the next day. ernest took with him a few hurriedly written letters and the exposed plates. the film we were going to save was lost in the upset. on inspecting the provisions which were packed in here we found the grocers had shipped the order short, omitting, besides other necessities, some canned baked beans, on which we depended a great deal. this meant one of two things. we would have to make a quicker run than we had planned on, or would have to get out of the canyon at one of the two places where such an exit could easily be made. the m. p. as our motion-picture camera was called--and which was re-christened but not abbreviated by bert, as "the member of parliament"--had to be cleaned before we could proceed. it took all this day, and much of the next, to get the moisture and sand out of the delicate mechanism, and have it running smoothly again. after it was once more in good condition emery announced that he wanted to work out a few scenes of an uncompleted "movie-drama." the action was snappy. the plot was brief, but harmonized well with the setting, and the "props." dodd, who was a big texan, was cast for the role of horse thief and bad man in general. bert's brother, morris lauzon, was the deputy sheriff, and had a star cut from the top of a tomato can to prove it. john was to be a prospector. he would need little rehearsing for this part. in addition, he had not been out where he could have the services of a barber for six months past, which was all the better. john had a kind, quiet, easy-going way that made friends for him on sight. he was not consulted about the part he was to play, but we counted on his good nature and he was cast for the part. emery, who was cast for the part of a mining engineer, arrived on the scene in his boat, after rounding the bend above the camp, tied up and climbed out over the cliffs to view the surrounding country. the hidden desperado, knowing that he was being hunted, stole the boat with its contents, and made his escape. the returning engineer arrived just in time to see his boat in the middle of the stream, and a levelled rifle halted him until the boat was hidden around the bend. at that moment the officer joined him, and a hurried consultation was held. then the other boat, which had been separated from its companion, pulled into sight, and i was hailed by the men on shore. they came aboard and we gave chase. could anything be better? the thief naturally thought he was safe, as he had not seen the second boat! after going over a few rapids, he saw a fire up in the cliffs, on the opposite side of the river. he landed, and climbed up to the camp where john was at work. john shared his camp fare with him, and directed him to a hidden trail. the pursuers, on finding the abandoned boat, quietly followed the trail, and surprised dodd in john's camp. he was disarmed and sent across the river in the tramway, accompanied by the deputy, and was punished as he richly deserved to be. this was the scenario. bert handled the camera. emery was the playwright, director, and producer. all rights reserved. everything worked beautifully. the film did not get balled up in the cogs, as sometimes happened. the light was good. belasco himself could not have improved on the stage-setting. the trail led over the wildest, and most picturesque places imaginable. dodd made a splendid desperado, and acted as if he had done nothing but steal horses and dodge the officers all his life. a pile of driftwood fifty feet high and with a tunnel underneath made a splendid hiding place for him while the first boat was being tied. being a cowpuncher, it may be that he did not handle the oars as well as an experienced riverman, but any rapid could be used for an insert. the deputy, though youthful, was determined and never lost sight of the trail. the engineer acted his part well and registered surprise and anger, when he found how he had been tricked. john, who had returned, humoured us, and dug nuggets of gold out of limestone rocks, where no one would have thought of looking for them. the fact that the tramway scene was made before any of the others did not matter. we could play our last act first if we wanted to. all we had to do was to cut the film and fasten it on to the end. emery was justly proud of his first efforts as a producer. we were sorry this film had not been sent out with ernest. this thrilling drama will not be released in the near future. one day later we found that a drop of water had worked into the lens cell at the last upset. this fogged the lens. we focussed with a scale and had overlooked the lens when cleaning the camera. nothing but a very faint outline showed on the film. we had all the film we needed for a week after this, for kindling our fires. chapter xxi what christmas eve brought in recording our various mishaps and upsets in these pages, it may seem to the reader as if i have given undue prominence to the part i took in them. if so, it has not been from choice, but because they happened in that way. no doubt a great deal of my trouble was due to carelessness. after i had learned to row my boat fairly well i sometimes took chances that proved to be anything but advisable, depending a good deal on luck, and luck was not always with me. my brother was less hasty in making his decisions, and was more careful in his movements, with the result that his boat had few marks of any kind, and he had been more fortunate than i with the rapids. it is my duty to record another adventure at this point, in which we all three shared, each in a different manner. this time i am going to give my brother's record of the happenings that overtook us about four o'clock in the afternoon of december the 24th, less than three hours after we left our friends at the bass trail with "best wishes for a merry christmas," and had received instructions from john "to keep our feet dry" my brother's account follows: "the fourth rapid below the bass trail was bad, but after looking it over we decided it could be run. we had taken chances in rapids that looked worse and came through unharmed; if we were successful here, it would be over in a few minutes, and forgotten an hour later. so we each made the attempt." "lauzon had gone near the lower end of the rapid, taking the left shore, for a sixty-foot wall with a sloping bench on top rose sheer out of the water on the right. the only shore on the right was close to the head of the rapid, a small deposit or bank of earth and rock. the inner gorge here was about nine hundred feet deep." "ellsworth went first, taking the left-hand side. i picked out a course on the right as being the least dangerous; but i was scarcely started when i found myself on a nest of jagged rocks, with violent water all about me, and with other rocks, some of them submerged, below me. i climbed out on the rocks and held the boat." "if the others could land below the rapid and climb back, they might get a rope to me and pull me off the rocks far enough to give me a new start, but they could not pull the boat in to shore through the rough water. a person thinks quickly under such circumstances, i had it all figured out as soon as i was on the rocks. the greatest trouble would be to hold the boat if she broke loose." "then i saw that the _defiance_ was in trouble. she caught in a reverse whirl in the very middle of the pounding rapid, bouncing back and forth like a great rubber ball. finally she filled with the splashing water, sank low, and the water pouring over the rock caught the edge of the twelve-hundred pound boat and turned her over as if she were a toy; my brother was holding to the gunwale when she turned. still she was held in the whirl, jumping as violently as ever, then turned upright again and was forced out. ellsworth had disappeared, but came up nearly a hundred feet below, struggling to keep on top but going down with every breaking wave. when the quieter water was reached, he did not seem to have strength enough to swim out, but floated, motionless, in a standing position, his head kept up by the life-preservers. the next rapid was not over fifty yards below. if he was to be saved it must be done instantly." "i pried the boat loose, jumped in as she swung clear, and pulled with all my might, headed toward the centre of the river. i was almost clear when i was drawn over a dip, bow first, and struck a glancing blow against another rock i had never seen. there was a crash, and the boards broke like egg-shells. it was all done in a few moments. the _edith_ was a wreck, i did not know how bad. my brother had disappeared. lauzon was frantically climbing over some large boulders trying to reach the head of the next rapid, where the boat was held in an eddy. my boat was not upset, but the waves were surging through a great hole in her side. she was drawn into an eddy, close to the base of the wall, where i could tie up and climb out. it seemed folly to try the lower end with my filled boat. climbing to the top of the rock, i could see half a mile down the canyon, but my brother was nowhere to be seen and i had no idea that he had escaped. i was returning to my wrecked boat when bert waved his arms, and pointed to the head of the rapid. going back once more, i saw him directly below me at the base of the sheer rock, in an opening where the wall receded. he had crawled out twenty feet above the next rapid. returning to my wrecked boat, i was soon beside him. he was exhausted with his struggle in the icy waves; his outer garments were frozen. i soon procured blankets from my bed, removed the wet clothes, and wrapped him up. lauzon, true to our expectations of what he would do when the test came, swam out and rescued the _defiance_ before she was carried over the next rapid. he was inexperienced at the oars and had less than two hours practice after he had joined us. it was a tense moment when he started across, above the rapid. but he made it! landing with a big grin, he exclaimed, 'young fellows, business is picking up!' then added, 'and we're losing lots of good pictures!'" "these experiences were our christmas presents that year. they were not done up in small packages." "we repaired the boat on christmas day. three smashed side ribs were replaced with mesquite, which we found growing on the walls. the hole was patched with boards from the loose bottom. this was painted; canvas was tacked over that and painted also, and a sheet of tin or galvanized iron went over it all. this completed the repair and the _edith_ was as seaworthy as before." this is emery's account of the "christmas rapid." i will add that the freezing temperature of the water and the struggle for breath in the breaking waves left me exhausted and at the mercy of the river. an eddy drew me out of the centre of the stream when i had given up all hope of any escape from the next rapid. i had seen my brother on the rock below the head of the rapid and knew there was no hope from him. as i was being drawn back into the current, close to the end of the sheer wall on the right, my feet struck bottom on some dã©bris washed down from the cliff. i made three efforts to stand but fell each time, and finally crawled out on my hands and knees. i had the peculiar sensation of seeing a rain-storm descending before my eyes, although i knew no such thing existed; every fibre in my body ached and continued to do so for days afterward; and the moment i would close my eyes to sleep i would see mountainous waves about me and would feel myself being whirled head over heels just as i was in that rapid; but this rapid, strange to say, while exceedingly rough and swift, did not contain any waves that we would have considered large up to this time. in other words, it depended on the circumstances whether it was bad or not. when standing on the shore, picking a channel, it appeared to be a moderately bad rapid, in which a person, aided with life-preservers, should have little difficulty in keeping on top, at least half the time. after my battle, in which, as far as personal effort went, i had lost, and after my providential escape, that one rapid appeared to be the largest of the entire series. it is difficult to describe the rapids with the foot-rule standard, and give an idea of their power. one unfamiliar with "white water" usually associates a twelve-foot descent or a ten-foot wave with a similar wave on the ocean. there is no comparison. the waters of the ocean rise and fall, the waves travel, the water itself, except in breakers, is comparatively still. in bad rapids the water is whirled through at the rate of ten or twelve miles an hour, in some cases much swifter; the surface is broken by streams shooting up from every submerged rock; the weight of the river is behind it, and the waves, instead of tumbling forward, quite as often break upstream. such waves, less than six feet high, are often dangers to be shunned. after being overturned in them we learned their tremendous power, a power we would never have associated with any water, before such an experience, short of a waterfall. there is a certain amount of danger in the canyons,--plenty of it. still, in most cases, with care and forethought, much of it can be avoided. we think we are safe in saying that half of the parties who have attempted a passage through these canyons have met with fatalities. most of these have occurred in cataract canyon, not because it is any worse than other sections,--certainly no worse than the grand canyon,--but because it is easily entered from the quiet, alluring water of the lower green river. without a doubt each successful expedition is responsible in a way for others' attempts. in nearly every instance the unfortunate ones have underestimated the danger, and have attempted the passage with inadequate boats, such as smith had for instance, undecked and without air chambers. both of these are imperative for safety. we had the benefit of the experiences of others. in addition, our years of work in the canyons had robbed them of their imaginary dangers, and--while we trust that we are not entirely without imagination--much of their weirdness and glamour with which they are inseparable to the idealist and the impressionist. each of these upsets could have been avoided by a portage had we desired to make one, but success in other rapids made us a little reckless and ready to take a chance. beyond getting our flour wet on the outside, we suffered very little loss to our cargo. we placed the two flour sacks beside the fires each evening, until the wet flour dried to a crust. we continued to use out of the centre of the sacks as though nothing had ever happened. bert and i each had a little cough the next morning, but it disappeared by noon. beyond that, we suffered no great inconvenience from our enforced bath. sleeping in the open, with plenty of healthful exercise, kept us physically fit. the cold air and the cold water did not seem to bother the others, but i could not get comfortably warm during this cold snap. added to this, it took me some time to get over my scare, and i could see all kinds of danger, in rapids, where emery could see none. i insisted on untying the photographic cases from the boats, and carrying them around a number of rapids before we ran them. it is hardly necessary to say that no upset occurred in these rapids. then came a cold day, with a raw wind sweeping up the river. a coating of ice covered the boats and the oars. we had turned directly to the north along the base of powell's plateau, and were nearing the end of a second granite gorge, with violent rapids and jagged rocks. emery made the remark that he had not had a swim for some time. in a half-hour we came to a rapid with two twelve-foot waves in the centre of the stream, with a projecting point above that would have to be passed, before we could pull out of the swift-running centre. emery got his swim there. i was just behind and was more fortunate. i never saw anything more quickly done. before the boat was fully overturned he swung an oar, so that it stuck out at an angle from the side of the boat, and used the oar for a step; an instant later he had cut the oar loose, and steered toward the shore. bert threw him a rope from the shore, and he was pulled in. he was wearing a thin rubber coat fitting tightly about his wrists, tied about his neck, and belted at the waist. this protected him so thoroughly that he was only wet from the waist down. if we were a little inclined to be proud of our record above bright angel we had forgotten all about it by this time. we were scarcely more than sixty miles from home and had experienced three upsets and a smashed boat, all in one week. just at the end of the second granite section we made our first portage since leaving bright angel. bert and i worked on the boats, while emery cooked the evening meal. hot rice soup, flavoured with a can of prepared meat, was easily and quickly prepared, and formed one of the usual dishes at these meals. it contained a lot of nutriment, and the rice took up but little space in the boats. sometimes the meat was omitted, and raisins were substituted. prepared baked beans were a staple dish, but were not in our supply on this last part of the trip. we often made "hot cakes" twice a day; an excuse for eating a great deal of butter and honey, or syrup. none of these things were luxuries. they were the best foodstuff we could carry. we seemed to crave sweet stuff, and used quantities of sugar. we could carry eggs, when packed in sawdust, without trouble but did not carry many. we had little meat; what we had was bacon, and prepared meats of the lunch variety. cheese was our main substitute for meat. it was easily carried and kept well. dried peaches or apricots were on the bill for nearly every meal, each day's allowance being cooked the evening before. we tried several condensed or emergency foods, but discarded them all but one, for various reasons. the exception was erbeswurst, a patent dried soup preparation. other prepared soups were carried also. i must not forget the morning cereal. it was cream of wheat, easily prepared; eaten--not served, perhaps devoured would be a better word--with sugar and condensed cream, as long as it lasted, then with butter. any remainder from breakfast was fried for other meals. each evening, we would make some baking-powder biscuit in a frying-pan. a dutch oven is better, but had too much weight. the appellation for such bread is "flapjack" or "dough-god." when i did the baking they were fearfully and wonderfully made. cocoa, which was nourishing, often took the place of coffee. in fact our systems craved just what was most needed to build up muscle and create heat. we found it was useless to try to catch fish after the weather became cold. the fish would not bite. on the upper end of our journey we carried no tobacco, as it happened that jimmy as well as ourselves were not tobacco users. there were no alcoholic stimulants. when bert joined us, a small flask, for medicinal purposes only, was taken along. the whiskey was scarcely touched at this time. bert enjoyed a pipe after his meals, but continued to keep good-natured even when his tobacco got wet, so tobacco was not absolutely necessary to him. uninteresting and unromantic these things may be, but they were most important to us. we were only sorry the supply was not larger. while we never stinted ourselves, or cut the allowance of food, the amount was growing smaller every day, and it was not a question any more whether we would go out or not, to get provisions, to "rustle" as bert called it, but where we would go out. we might go up cataract creek or ha va su creek, as it is sometimes called. we had been to the mouth of this canyon on foot, so there would be no danger of missing it. the ha va supai indians, about two hundred in number, lived in this lateral canyon about seven or eight miles from the river. an agent and a farmer lived with them, and might be able to sell us some provisions; if not, it would be fifty miles back to our home. the trail was much more direct than the river. the great drawback to this course was the fact that ha va su canyon, sheer-walled, deep, and narrow, contained a number of waterfalls, one of them about 175 feet high. the precipice over which it fell was nothing but a mineral deposit from the water, building higher every year. formerly this was impassable, until some miners, after enlarging a sloping cave, had cut a winding stairway in it, which allowed a descent to be made to the bottom of the fall. a recent storm had remodelled all the falls in cataract creek canyon, cutting out the travertine in some places, piling it up in others. a great mass of cottonwood trees were also mixed with the dã©bris. the village, too, had been washed away and was then being rebuilt. we had been told that the tunnel was filled up, and as far as we knew no one had been to the river since the flood. the other outlet was diamond creek canyon, much farther down the river. we would decide when we got to ha va su just what we would do. tapeets creek, one mile below our camp,--a stream which has masqueraded under the title of thunder river, and about which there has been considerable speculation,--proved to be a stream a little smaller than bright angel creek, flowing through a narrow slot in the rocks, and did not fall sheer into the river, as has been reported. perhaps a small cascade known as surprise falls which we passed the next day has been confused with tapeets creek. this stream corkscrews down through a narrow crevice and falls about two hundred feet, close to the river's edge. we are told that the upper end of tapeets creek is similar to this, but on a much larger scale. just opposite this fall a big mountain-sheep jumped from under an overhanging ledge close to the water, and stared curiously at us, as though he wondered what strange things those were coming down with the current. it is doubtful if he ever saw a human being before. this sight sent us scrambling in our cases for cameras and firearms; and it was not the game laws, but a rusted trigger on the six-shooter instead, that saved the sheep. he finally took alarm and scampered away over the rocks, and we had no mutton stew that night. we had one night of heavy rain, and morning revealed a little snow within three hundred feet of the river, while a heavy white blanket covered the upper cliffs. it continued to snow on top, and rained on us nearly all this day. emery took this opportunity to get the drop of moisture out of the lens, and put the camera in such shape that we could proceed with our picture making. a short run was made after this work was completed. the camp we were just leaving was about three miles above kanab canyon. the granite was behind us, disappearing with a steep descent much as it had emerged at the hance trail. there was also a small deposit of algonkian. this too had been passed, and we were back in the limestone and sandstone walls similar to the lower end of marble canyon. while the formations were the same, the canyon differed. the layers were thicker, the red sandstone and the marble walls were equally sheer; there was no plateau between. what plateau this canyon contained lay on top of the red sandstone. few peaks rose above this. the canyon had completed its northern run and was turning back again to the west-southwest with a great sweep or circle. less than an hour's work brought us to kanab canyon. chapter xxii short of provisions in a sunless gorge in the mud at kanab canyon we saw an old footprint of some person who had come down to the river through this narrow, gloomy gorge. it was here that major powell terminated his second voyage, on account of extreme high water. a picture they made showed their boats floated up in this side canyon. our stage was much lower than this. f.s. dellenbaugh, the author of "a canyon voyage," was a member of this second expedition. this book had been our guide down to this point; we could not have asked for a better one. below here we had a general idea of the nature of the river, and had a set of the government maps, but we had neglected to provide ourselves with detailed information such as this volume gave us. evening of the following day found us at cataract creek canyon, but with a stage of water in the river nearly fifty feet lower than that which we had seen a few years before. the narrow entrance of this great canyon gives no hint of what it is like a few miles above. the indian village is in the bottom of a 3000-foot canyon, half a mile wide and three miles long, covered with fertile fields, peach and apricot orchards. it even contained a few fig trees. below the village the canyon narrowed to a hundred yards, with a level bottom, covered with a tangle of wild grape vines, cactus, and cottonwood trees. this section contained the two largest falls, and came to an end about four miles below the first fall. then the canyon narrowed, deep and gloomy, until there was little room for anything but the powerful, rapidly descending stream. at the lower end it was often waist deep and fifteen or twenty feet wide. it was no easy task to go through this gorge. the stream had to be crossed several times. the canyon terminated in an extremely narrow gorge 2500 feet deep, dark and gloomy, one of the most impressive gorges we have ever seen. the main canyon was similar, with a few breaks on the sides, those breaks being ledges, or narrow sloping benches that would extend for miles, only to be brought to an abrupt end by side canyons. there are many mountain-sheep in this section, but we saw none either time. we could see many fresh tracks where they had followed these ledges around, and had gone up the narrow side canyon. it was cold in the main canyon, and no doubt the sheep could be found on the plateaus, which were more open, and would get sun when the sun shone. this plateau was 2500 feet above us. at the turn of the canyon we could see the other walls 2000 feet above that. the rapids in the section just passed had been widely separated and compared well with those of marble canyon, not the worst we had seen, but far from being tame. there was plenty of shore room at each of these rapids. cactus of different species was now a feature of the scenery. the ocotilla or candlewood with long, lash-like stalks springing from a common centre--that cactus, which, when dried, needs only a lighted match to set it afire--flourishes in the rocky ledges. a species of small barrel-cactus about the size of a man's head, with fluted sides, or symmetrical vertical rows of small thorned lumps converging at the top of the "nigger-head," as they are sometimes called, grows in great numbers in crevices on the walls. the delicate "pin cushion" gathered in clusters of myriad small spiny balls. the prickly pear, here in ha va su canyon, were not the starved, shrivelled, mineral-tinted cactus such as we found at the beginning of our trip. instead they were green and flourishing, with large fleshy leaves joining on to each other until they rise to a height of three feet or more and cover large patches of ground to the utter exclusion of all other growth. what a display of yellow and red these desert plants put forth when they are in bloom! a previous visit to ha va su was made in the month of may when every group of prickly pear was a riot of pure colour. all this prolific growth is made possible by the extreme heat of the summer months aided in the case of those plants and trees which flourish in the fertile soil of ha va su by the sub-irrigation and the spray from the fall. after making an inventory of our provisions we concluded not to try the tedious and uncertain trip up cataract creek. with care and good fortune we would have enough provisions to last us to diamond creek. with our run the next day the inner gorge continued to deepen, the walls drew closer together, so that we now had a narrow gorge hemming us in with 3000-foot walls from which there was no escape. they were about a fourth of a mile apart at the top. a boat at the foot of one of these walls was merely an atom. the total depth of the canyon was close to 4500 feet. there is nothing on earth to which this gorge can be compared. storm-clouds lowered into the chasm in the early morning. the sky was overcast and threatening. we were travelling directly west again, and no sunlight entered here, even when the sun shone. the walls had lost their brighter reds, and what colour they had was dark and sombre, a dirty brown and dark green predominating. the mythology of the ancients, with their inferno and their river styx, could hardly conjure anything more supernatural or impressive than this gloomy gorge. there were a few bad rapids. one or two had no shore, others had an inclination to run under one wall and had to be run very carefully. if we could not get down alongside of a rapid, we could usually climb out on the walls at the head of the rapid and look it over from that vantage point. the one who climbed out would signal directions to the others, who would run it at once, and continue on to the next rapid. they would have its course figured out when the last boat arrived. one canyon entered from the left, level on the bottom, and about one hundred feet wide; it might be a means of outlet from this canyon, but it is doubtful, for the marble has a way of ending abruptly and dropping sheer, with a polished surface that is impossible to climb. new year's eve was spent in this section. the camp was exceptionally good. a square-sided, oblong section of rock about fifty feet long had fallen forward from the base of the cliff. this left a cave-like opening which was closed at one end with our dark-room tent. high water had placed a sandy floor, now thoroughly dry, in the bottom. under the circumstances we could hardly ask for anything better. of driftwood there was none, and our camp-fires were made of mesquite which grew in ledges in the rocks; in one case gathered with a great deal of labour on the shore opposite our camp, and ferried across on our boats. if a suitable camp was found after 3.30 p.m., we kept it, rather than run the risk of not finding another until after dark. another day, january 1, 1912, brought us to the end of this gorge and into a wider and more open canyon, with the country above covered with volcanic peaks and cinder cones. blow-holes had broken through the canyon walls close to the top of the gorge, pouring streams of lava down its sides, filling the bottom of the canyon with several hundred feet of lava. this condition extended down the canyon for twenty miles or more. judging by the amount of lava the eruption must have continued for a great while. could one imagine a more wonderful sight--the turbulent stream checked by the fire flood from above! what explosions and rending of rocks there must have been when the two elements met. the river would be backed up for a hundred miles! each would be shoved on from behind! there was no escape! they must fight it out until one or the other conquered. but the fire could not keep up forever, and, though triumphant for a period, it finally succumbed, and the stream proceeded to cut down to the original level. two miles below the first lava flow we saw what we took to be smoke and hurried down wondering if we would find a prospector or a cattle rustler. we agreed, if it was the latter, to let them off if they would share with us. but the smoke turned out to be warm springs, one of them making quite a stream which fell twenty feet into the river. here in the river was a cataract, called lava falls, so filled with jagged pieces of the black rock that a portage was advisable. the weather had not moderated any in the last week, and we were in the water a great deal as we lifted and lined the boats over the rocks at the edge of the rapids. we would work in the water until numbed with the cold, then would go down to the warm springs and thaw out for a while. this was a little quicker than standing by the fire, but the relief was only temporary. this portage was finished the next morning. another portage was made this same day, and the wide canyon where major powell found some indian gardens was passed in the afternoon. the indians were not at home when the major called. his party felt they were justified in helping themselves to some pumpkins or squash, for their supplies were very low, and they could not go out to a settlement--as we expected to do in a day or two--and replenish them. we found the fish would not bite, just as our friend, the miner, had said, but we did succeed in landing a fourteen-pound salmon, in one of the deep pools not many miles from this point, and it was served up in steaks the next day. if our method of securing the salmon was unsportsmanlike, we excused ourselves for the methods used, just as major powell justified his appropriation of the indians' squash. if that fish was ever needed, it was then, and it was a most welcome addition to our rapidly disappearing stock of provisions. we were only sorry we had not taken more "bait." the next day we did see a camp-fire, and on climbing the shore, found a little old prospector, clad in tattered garments, sitting in a little dugout about five feet square which he had shovelled out of the sand. he had roofed it with mesquite and an old blanket. a rapid, just below, made so much noise that he did not hear us until we were before his door. he looked at the rubber coats and the life-preservers, then said, with a matter-of-fact drawl, "well, you fellows must have come by the river!" after talking awhile he asked: "what do you call yourselves?" this question would identify him as an old-time westerner if we did not already know it. at one time it was not considered discreet to ask any one in these parts what their name was, or where they were from. he gave us a great deal of information about the country, and said that diamond creek was about six miles below. he had come across from diamond creek by a trail over a thousand foot ridge, with a burro and a pack mule, a month before. he had just been out near the top on the opposite side, doing some assessment work on some copper claims, crossing the river on a raft, and stated that on a previous occasion he had been drawn over the rapid, but got out. when he learned that we had come through utah, he stated that he belonged near vernal, and had once been upset in the upper canyons, about twenty years before. he proved to be the snyder of whom we had heard at linwood, and also from the chews, who had given him a horse so he could get out over the mountains. yet here was, a thousand miles below, cheerful as a cricket, and sure that a few months at the most would bring him unlimited wealth. he asked us to "share his chuck" with him, but we could see nothing but a very little flour, and a little bacon, so pleaded haste and pushed on for diamond creek. the mouth of this canyon did not look unlike others we had seen in this section, and one could easily pass it without knowing that it ran back with a gentle slope for twenty miles, and that a wagon road came down close to the river. it contained a small, clear stream. the original tourist camp in the grand canyon was located up this canyon. we packed all our plates and films, ready to take them out. the supplies left in the boats when we went out the next morning were: 5 pounds of flour, partly wet and crusted. 2 pounds mildewed cream of wheat. 3 or 4 cans (rusty) of dried beef. less than one pound of sugar. we carried a lunch out with us. this was running a little too close for comfort. the mouth of diamond creek canyon was covered with a growth of large mesquite trees. cattle trails wound through this thorny thicket down to the river's edge. the trees thinned out a short distance back, and the canyon widened as it receded from the river. a half mile back from the river was the old slab building that had served as headquarters for the campers. here the canyon divided, one containing the small stream heading in the high walls to the southeast; while the other branch ran directly south, heading near the railroad at the little flag-station of peach springs, twenty-three miles distant. it was flat-bottomed, growing wider and more valley-like with every mile, but not especially interesting to one who had seen the glory of all the canyons. floods had spoiled what had once been a very passable stage road, dropping 4000 feet in twenty miles, down to the very depths of the grand canyon. some cattle, driven down by the snows, were sunning themselves near the building. our appearance filled them with alarm, and they "high tailed it" to use a cattle man's expression, scampering up the rocky slopes. a deer's track was seen in a snow-drift away from the river. on the sloping walls in the more open sections of this valley grew the stubby-thorned chaparral. the hackberry and the first specimens of the palo verde were found in this vicinity. the mesquite trees seen at the mouth of the canyon were real trees--about the size of a large apple tree--not the small bushes we had seen at the little colorado. all the growth was changing as we neared the lower altitudes and the mouth of the grand canyon, being that of the hot desert, which had found this artery or avenue leading to the heart of the rocky plateaus and had pushed its way into this foreign land. even the animal life of the desert has followed this same road. occasional gila monsters, which are supposed to belong to the hot desert close to the mexico line, have been found at diamond creek, and lizards of the mojave desert have been seen as far north as the foot of bright angel trail. but we saw little animal life at this time. there were occasional otters disporting themselves near our boats, in one instance unafraid, in another raising a gray-bearded head near our boat with a startled look in his eyes. then he turned and began to swim on the surface until our laughter caused him to dive. tracks of the civet-cat or the ring-tailed cat--that large-eyed and large-eared animal, somewhat like a raccoon and much resembling a weasel--were often seen along the shores. the gray fox, the wild-cat, and the coyote, all natives of this land, kept to the higher piã±on-covered hills. the beaver seldom penetrates into the deep canyons because of the lack of vegetation, but is found in all sections in the open country from the headwaters to the delta in mexico. we went out by this canyon on january the 5th, and returned sunday, january the 8th, bringing enough provisions to last us to the end of the big canyon. we imagined we would have no trouble getting what we needed in the open country below that. we sent some telegrams and received encouraging answers to them before returning. with us were two brothers, john and will nelson, cattle men who had given us a cattle man's welcome when we arrived at peach springs. there was no store at peach springs, and they supplied us with the provisions that we brought back. they drove a wagon for about half the distance, then the roads became impassable, so they unhitched and packed their bedding and our provisions in to the river. the nelsons were anxious to see us run a rapid or two. we found the nights to be just as cold on top as they ever get in this section--a little below zero--although the midday sun was warm enough to melt the snow and make it slushy. i arrived at the river with my feet so swollen that i had difficulty in walking, a condition brought on by a previous freezing they had received, being wet continually by the icy water in my boat--which was leaking badly since we left bright angel--and the walk out through the slush. i was glad there was little walking to do when once at the river, and changed my shoes for arctics, which were more roomy and less painful. on the upper part of our trip there were occasional days when emery was not feeling his best, while i had been most fortunate and had little complaint to make; now things seemed to be reversed. emery, and bert too, were having the time of their lives, while i was "getting mine" in no small doses.[6] we had always imagined that the grand canyon lost its depth and impressiveness below diamond creek. we were to learn our mistake. the colour was missing, that was true, for the marble and sandstone walls were brown, dirty, or colourless, with few of the pleasing tones of the canyon found in the upper end. but it was still the grand canyon. we were in the granite again--granite just as deep as any we had seen above, it may have been a little deeper, and in most cases it was very sheer. there was very little plateau, the limestone and sandstone rose above that, just as they had above kanab canyon. the light-coloured walls could not be seen. many of the rapids of this lower section were just as bad as any we had gone over; one or two have been considered worse by different parties. two hours after leaving the nelsons we were halted by a rapid that made us catch our breath. it was in two sections--the lower one so full of jagged rocks that it meant a wrecked boat. the upper part fell about twenty feet we should judge and was bad enough. it was a question if we could run this and keep from going over the lower part! if we made a portage, our boats would have to be taken three or four hundred feet up the side of the cliff. the rapid was too strong to line a boat down. we concluded to risk running the first part. bert climbed to the head of the second section of the rapid, where a projecting point of granite narrowed the stream, and formed a quiet eddy just above the foaming plunge. if we could keep out of the centre and land here we would be safe. our shoes were removed, our trousers were rolled to our knees and we removed our coats. if we had to swim there, we were going to be prepared. the life-preservers were well inflated, and tied; then we made the plunge, emery taking the lead, i following close behind. our plan was to keep as near the shore as possible. once i thought it was all over when i saw the _edith_ pulled directly for a rock in spite of all emery could do to pull away. nothing but a rebounding wave saved him. i went through the same experience. several times we were threatened with an upset, but we landed in safety. the portage was short and easy. flat granite rocks were covered with a thin coat of ice. the boats were unloaded and slid across, then dropped below the projecting rock. the _defiance_ skidded less than two feet and struck a projecting knob of rock the size of a goose egg. it punctured the side close to the stern, fortunately above the water line, and the wood was not entirely broken away. two miles below this we found another bad one. this was lined while bert got supper up in a little sloping canyon; about as uncomfortable a camp as we had found. many of the rapids run the next day were violent. the river seemed to be trying to make up for lost time. we passed a canyon coming from the south containing two streams, one clear, and one muddy. the narrowest place we had seen on the river was a rapid run this day, not over forty feet wide. evening brought us to a rapid with a lateral canyon coming in from each side, that on the right containing a muddy stream. the walls were sheer and jagged close to the rapid, with a break on the rugged slopes here and there. a sloping rock in the middle of the stream could be seen in the third section of the rapid. this was separation rapid, the point where the two howland brothers and dunn parted company with major powell and his party. from our camp at the left side we could easily figure out a way to the upper plateau. above that they would have a difficult climb as far as we could tell. that they did reach the top is well known. they met a tragic fate. the second day after getting out they were killed by some indians--the shewits utes--who had treated them hospitably at first and provided them with something to eat. that night a visiting indian brought a tale of depredations committed by some miners against another section of their tribe. these men were believed to be the guilty parties, and they were ambushed the next morning. their fate remained a mystery for a year; then a ute was seen with a watch belonging to one of the men. later a mormon who had a great deal of influence with the indians got their story from them, and reported to major powell what he had learned. it was a deplorable and a tragic ending to what otherwise was one of the most successful, daring, and momentous explorations ever undertaken on this continent. we find there is a current belief that it was cowardice and fear of this one rapid that caused these men to separate from the party. the more one hears of this separation, the more it seems that it was a difference of opinion on many matters, and not this one rapid, that caused them to leave. these men had been trappers and hunters, one might say pioneers, and one had been with major powell before the river exploration. they had gone through all the canyons, and had come through this far without a fatality. they had seen a great many rapids nearly as bad as this, and several that were worse, if one could judge by its nature when we found it. they were not being carried by others, but had charge of one boat. they did smash one boat in disaster rapid in lodore canyon, and at that time they claimed major powell gave them the wrong signal. this caused some feeling. at the time of the split, the food question was a serious one. there were short rations for a long time; in fact there was practically no food. after an observation, major powell informed them that they were within forty-five miles of the virgin river, in a direct line. much of the country between the end of the canyon and the virgin river was open, a few mormon settlements could be found up the virgin valley. he offered them half of the small stock of provisions, when they persisted in leaving, but they refused to take any provisions whatever, feeling sure that they could kill enough game to subsist on. this one instance would seem to be enough to clear them of the stigma of cowardice. the country on top was covered with volcanic cinders. there was little water to be found, and in many ways it was just as inhospitable as the canyon. the cook had a pan of biscuits, which he left on a rock for them, after the men had helped the party lift the boats over the rocks at the head of the rapid. after landing in safety around a bend which hid them from sight, the boating party fired their guns, hoping they would hear the report, and follow in the abandoned boat. it is doubtful if they could hear the sound of the guns, above the roar of the rapid. if they did, they paid no attention to it. the younger howland wished to remain with the party, but threw his lot with his brother, when he withdrew. while these men did not have the major's deep scientific interest in the successful completion of this exploration, they undoubtedly should have stayed with their leader, if their services were needed or desired. it is more than likely that they were insubordinate; they certainly made a misguided attempt, but in spite of these facts it scarcely seems just to brand them as cowards. two days after they left, the boating party was camped at the end of the canyons. chapter xxiii the last portage and the last rapids the first section of separation rapid was run the first thing in the morning, a manoeuvre that was accomplished by starting on the left shore and crossing the swift centre clear to the other shore. this allowed us to reach some quiet water near a small deposit of rock and earth at the base of the sheer wall. two feet of water would have covered this deposit; likewise two feet of water would have given us a clear channel over this second section. as it was, the rapid was rough, with many rocks very near the surface. directly across from us, close to the left shore, was what looked like a ten-foot geyser, or fountain of water. this was caused by a rock in the path of a strong current rebounding from the shore. the water ran up on the side near the wall, then fell on all sides. it was seldom the water had force enough to carry to the top of a rock as large as that. this portage of the second section was one of the easiest we had made. by rolling a few large rocks around we could get a stream water across our small shore large enough to float an empty boat with a little help, so we lightened them of the cargo and floated them through our canal. while running the third section the _edith_ was carried up on the sloping rock in the middle of the stream; she paused a moment, then came down like a shot and whirled around to the side without mishap. this made the thirteenth rapid in which both boats were lined or portaged. in three other rapids one boat was run through and one was portaged. half of all these rapids were located in the grand canyon. all this time we were anxiously looking forward to a rapid which mr. stone had described as being the worst in the entire series, also the last rapid we would be likely to portage and had informed us that below this particular rapid everything could be run with little or no inspection. naturally we were anxious to get that rapid behind us. it was described as being located below a small stream flowing from the south. the same rapid was described by major powell as having a bold, lava-capped escarpment at the head of the rapid, on the right. we had not seen any lava since leaving diamond creek, and an entry in my notes reads, "we have gone over stone's 'big rapid' three times and it is still ahead of us." the knowledge that there was a big rapid in the indefinite somewhere that was likely to cause us trouble seemed to give us more anxious moments than the many unmentioned rapids we were finding all this time. we wondered how high the escarpment was, and if we could take our boats over its top. we tried to convince ourselves that it was behind us, although sure that it could not be. but the absence of lava puzzled us. after one "bad" rapid and several "good" rapids we came to a sharp turn in the canyon. emery was ahead and called back, "i see a little stream"; bert joined with "i see the lava"; and the "bold escarpment rapid," as we had been calling it for some time, was before us. it was more than a nasty rapid, it was a cataract! what a din that water sent up! we had to yell to make ourselves heard. the air vibrated with the impact of water against rock. the rapid was nearly half a mile long. there were two sections near its head staggered with great rocks, forty of them, just above or slightly submerged under the surface of the water. our low stage of water helped us, so that we did not have to line the boats from the ledge, eighty feet above the water, as others had done. the rapid broke just below the lower end of the sheer rock, which extended twenty feet beyond the irregular shore. the _edith_ went first, headed upstream, at a slight angle nearly touching the wall, dropping a few inches between each restraining stroke of the oars. bert crouched on the bow, ready to spring with the rope, as soon as emery passed the wall and headed her in below the wall. jumping to the shore, he took a snub around a boulder and kept her from being dragged into the rapid. then they both caught the _defiance_ as she swung in below the rock, and half the battle was won before we tackled the rapid. our days were short, and we did not take the boats down until the next day; but we did carry much of the camp material and cargo halfway down over ledges a hundred feet above the river. for a bad rapid we were very fortunate in getting past it as easily as we did. logs were laid over rocks, the boats were skidded over them about their own length and dropped in again. logs and boats were lined down in the swift, but less riotous water, to the next barrier, which was more difficult. a ten-foot rounded boulder lay close to the shore, with smaller rocks, smooth and ice-filmed, scattered between. powerful currents swirled between these rocks and disappeared under two others, wedged closely together on top. three times the logs were snatched from our grasp as we tried to bridge them across this current, and they vanished in the foam, to shoot out end first, twenty feet below and race away on the leaping water. a boat would be smashed to kindling-wood if once carried under there. at last we got our logs wedged, and an hour of tugging, in which only two men could take part at the same time, landed both boats in safety below this barrier. we shot the remainder of the rapid on water so swift that the oars were snatched from our hands if we tried to do more than keep the boats straight with the current. that rapid was no longer the "bold escarpment," but the "last portage" instead, and it was behind us. the afternoon was half gone when we made ready pull away from the last portage. there were other rapids, but scarcely a pause was made in our two-hour run, and we camped away from the roar of water. the canyon was widening out a little at a time; the granite disappeared in the following day's run, at noon. grass-covered slopes, with seeping mineral springs, took the place of precipitous walls; they dropped to 2500 feet in height; numerous side canyons cut the walls in regular sections like gigantic city blocks, instead of an unbroken avenue. small rapids continued to appear, there were a few small islands, and divided currents, so shallow they sometimes kept us guessing which one to take, but we continued to run them all without a pause. we would have run out of the canyon that day but for one thing. five mountain-sheep were seen from our boats in one of the sloping grassy meadows above the river. we landed below, carried our cameras back, and spent half an hour in trying to see them again, but they had taken alarm. placer claim locations and fresh burro tracks were seen in the sand at our last grand canyon camp, and a half mile below us we could see out into open country. we found the walls, or the end of the table-land, to be about two thousand feet high, with the canyon emerging at a sharp angle so that a narrow ridge, or "hogs-back" lay on the left side of the stream. once out in the open the walls were seen to be quite steep, but could be climbed to the top almost any place without trouble. saturday, january the 13th, we were out of the canyon at last, and the towering walls, now friendly, now menacing, were behind us. three hundred and sixty-five large rapids, and nearly twice as many small rapids, were behind us and the dream of ten years was an accomplished fact. but best of all, there were no tragedies or fatalities to record. perhaps we did look a little the worse for wear, but a few days away from the river would repair all that. the boats had a bump here and there, besides the one big patch on the _edith_; a little mending and a little caulking would put both the _edith_ and _defiance_ in first-class condition. there is little of interest to record of our 175-mile run to needles, california. it was a land of desolation--an extension of the mojave desert on the south, and the alkaline flats and mineral mountains of nevada on the north, of death valley and the funeral mountains of california to the northwest--a burned-out land of grim-looking mountains extending north and south across our way; a dried-out, washed-out, and wind-swept land of extensive flats and arroyos; a land of rock and gravel cemented in marls and clay; ungraced with any but the desert plants,--cactus and thorny shrubs,--with little that was pleasing or attractive. a desert land it is true, but needing only the magic touch of water to transform much of it into a garden spot. even as it was, a few months later it would be covered with the flaming blossoms of the desert growth, which seem to try to make amends in one or two short months for nearly a year of desolation. a wash ran along the base of the plateau from which we had emerged. an abandoned road and ferry showed that this had once been a well-travelled route. the stream had a good current and we pulled away, only stopping once to see the last of our plateau before a turn and deepening banks hid it from view. we wondered if the water ever dropped in a precipitous fall over the face of the wall and worked back, a little every year, as it does at niagara. we could hardly doubt that there were some such falls back in the dim past when these canyons were being carved. in the middle of the afternoon we passed a ranch or a house with a little garden, occupied by two miners, who hailed us from the shore. a half-mile below was the scanlon ferry, a binding tie between arizona, on the south and what was now nevada, on the north, for we had reached the boundary line shortly after emerging from the canyon. we still travelled nearly directly west. the ferry was in charge of a cornishman who also had as pretty a little ranch as one could expect to find in such an unlikely place. a purling stream of water, piped from somewhere up in the hills, had caused the transformation. the ranch was very homey with cattle and horses, sheep and hogs, dogs and cats, all sleek and contented-looking. the garden proved that this country had a warm climate, although we were not suffering from heat at that time. an effort was being made to grow some orange trees, but with little promise of success; there were fig trees and date-palms, with frozen dates hanging on the branches, one effect of the coldest winter they had seen in this section. the rancher told us he could not sell us anything that had to be brought in, for it was seventy miles to the railroad, but we could look over such supplies as he had. it ended by his selling us a chicken, two dozen eggs, five pounds of honey, and ten pounds of flour,--all for $2.50. we did not leave until the next morning, then bought another jar of honey, for we had no sugar, and two-thirds of the first jar was eaten before we left the ferry. we pulled away in such a hurry the next morning that we forgot an axe that had been carried with us for the entire journey. a five-hour run brought us to the mouth of the virgin river, a sand-bar a mile wide, and with a red-coloured stream little larger than cataract creek winding through it. we had once seen this stream near its head waters, a beautiful mountain creek, that seemed to bear no relation to this repulsive-looking stream that entered from the north. a large, flat-topped, adobe building, apparently deserted, stood off at one side of the stream. this was the head of navigation for flat-bottomed steamboats that once plied between here and the towns on the lower end of the river. they carried supplies for small mines scattered through the mountains and took out cargoes of ore, and of rock salt which was mined back in nevada. it was here at the virgin river that major powell concluded his original voyage of exploration. some of his men took the boats on down to fort mojave, a few miles above needles; afterwards two of the party continued on to the gulf. the country below the virgin river had been explored by several parties, but previous to this time nothing definite was known of the gorges until this exploration by this most remarkable man. the difficulties of this hazardous trip were increased for him by the fact that he had lost an arm in the civil war. it is usually taken for granted that the united states government was back of this exploration. this was true of the second expedition, but not of the first. major powell was aided to a certain extent by the state college of illinois, otherwise he bore all the expense himself. we received $10,000 from the government to apply on the expenses of the second trip. we felt that we had some reason to feel a justifiable pride for having duplicated, in some ways, this arduous journey. it was impossible for us to do more than guess what must have been the feelings and anxieties of this explorer. added to the fact that we had boats, tested and constructed to meet the requirements of the river, and the benefit of others' experiences, was a knowledge that we were not likely to be precipitated over a waterfall, or if we lost everything and succeeded in climbing out, that there were a few ranches and distant settlements scattered through the country. but we had traversed the same river and the same canyons which change but little from year to year, and had succeeded beyond our fondest hopes in having accomplished what we set out to do. the black mountains, dark and forbidding, composed of a hard rock which gave a metallic clink, and decorated with large spots of white, yellow, vermilion, and purple deposits of volcanic ashes, were entered this afternoon. the peaks were about a thousand feet high. the passage between is known as boulder canyon. here we met two miners at work on a tunnel, or drift, who informed us that it was about forty miles to las vegas, nevada, and that it was only twenty-five miles from the mouth of las vegas wash, farther down the river, to this same town and the railroad. fort callville--an abandoned rock building, constructed by the directions of brigham young, without windows or roof, and surrounded by stone corrals--was passed the next day. at las vegas wash the river turned at right angles, going directly south, holding with very little deviation to this general direction until it empties into the gulf of california nearly five hundred miles away. the river seemed to be growing smaller as we got out in the open country. like all western rivers, when unprotected by canyons, it was sinking in the sand. sand-bars impeded our progress at such places as the mouth of the wash. but we had a good current, without rapids in black canyon, which came shortly below, and mile after mile was put behind us before we camped for the night. an old stamp-mill, closed for the time, but in charge of three men who were making preparations to resume work, was passed the next day. they had telephone communication with searchlight, nevada, twenty odd miles away, and we sent out some telegrams in that way. more sand-bars were encountered the next day, and ranches began to appear on both sides of the river. we had difficulty on some of these bars. in places the river bed was a mile wide, with stagnant pools above the sand, and with one deep channel twisting between. at fort mojave, now an indian school and agency, we telephoned to some friends in needles, as we had promised to do, telling them we would arrive about noon of the following day. we made a mistake in not camping at the high ground by the "fort" that night, for just below the river widened again and the channel turned out in the centre. it was getting dark and we had entered this before noticing which way it turned, and had a hard pull back to the shore, for we had no desire to camp out there in the quicksand. the shore was little more desirable. it was a marsh, covered with a growth of flags and tules but with the ground frozen enough so that we did not sink. our last camp--no. 76--was made in this marsh. there we spent the night, hidden like hunted savages in the cane-brake, while an indian brass band played some very good music for an officers' ball, less than half a mile away. we were up and away with the sun the next morning. on nearing needles, a friend met us on the outskirts of the town and informed us that they had arranged what he called an official landing and reception. at his request we deferred going down at once, but busied ourselves instead at packing our cargo, ready for shipping. our friend had secured the services of a motion-picture operator and our own camera was sent down to make a picture of the landing, which was made as he had arranged. we landed in needles january 18, 1912; one month from the time of our start from bright angel trail, with a total of one hundred and one days spent along the river. in that time our camps had been changed seventy-six times. our two boats, highly prized as souvenirs of our twelve hundred mile trip, and which had carried us through three hundred and sixty-five big rapids, over a total descent of more than five thousand feet, were loaded on cars ready for shipment; the _edith_ to los angeles, the _defiance_ to the grand canyon. among other mail awaiting us was the following letter, bearing the postmark of hite, utah: "kolb bros., "dear friends: "well i got here at last after seventeen days in cataract canyon. the old boat will stand a little quiet water but will never go through another rapid. i certainly played 'ring-a-round' some of those rocks in cataract canyon; i tried every scheme i had ever heard of, and some that were never thought of before. at the last rapid in cataract i carried all my stuff over the cliff, then tried to line the boat from the narrow ledge. the boat jerked me into the river, but i did not lose my hold on the chain and climbed on board. i had no oars, but managed to get through without striking any rocks, and landed a mile and a half below the supplies. i hope the 'movies' are good.[7] "sincerely yours, "chas. smith." conclusion. how i went to mexico chapter xxiv on the crest of a flood a westward-bound train was bearing me across the mojave desert one day in may. in a few swiftly passing hours we had made a six-thousand foot descent from the plateau with its fir and aspen-covered mountain, its cedar and piã±on-clothed foot-hills, and its extensive forests of yellow pine. crimson and yellow-flowered cactus, sage and chaparral, succeeded the pines. the cool mountains had given way to burned-out, umber-coloured hills, rock-ribbed arroyos, and seemingly endless desert; and the sun was growing hotter every minute. if the heat continued to increase, i doubted if i would care to take a half-planned colorado river trip down to the gulf. visions of the california beaches, of fishing at catalina and of horseback rides over the sierra's trails, nearly unsettled my determination to stop at needles, on the california side of the river. this was my vacation! why undergo all the discomfort of a voyage on a desert stream, when the pleasures and comforts of the pacific beckoned? one thing was sure, if i was not successful in securing a boat at needles, the very next train would find me on board, bound for the western slope. by mid-afternoon the chaparral had disappeared and only the cactus remained--the ocotilla, covered with a million flowers, wave upon wave of crimson flame, against the yellow earth. violet-veiled mountains appeared in the west, marking the southern trend of the colorado. the air was suffocating. the train-created wind was like a blast from a furnace; yet with the electric fans whirring, with blinds drawn and windows closed to keep the withering air _out_, it seemed a little less uncomfortable in the car, in spite of the unvitalized air, than under the scorching sun. we were beside the colorado at last. i had a good view of the stream below, as we crossed the bridge--the colorado in flood, muddy, turbulent, sweeping onward like an affrighted thing,--repulsive, yet with a fascination for me, born of an intimate acquaintance with the dangers of this stream. the river had called again! the heat was forgotten, the visions of the coast faded, for me the train could not reach needles, ten miles up the river, quickly enough. with my brother, i had followed this stream down to needles, through a thousand miles of canyon. i had seen how it carved its way through the mountains, carrying them on, in solution, toward the ocean. at last i would see what became of all these misplaced mountains. i would see the tidal bore as it swept in from the gulf. i had heard there were wild hogs which burrowed through the cane-brake. it may be that i would learn of a vessel at some port down on the mexican coast, which i might reach and which would take me around the lower california peninsula. i felt sure there was such a port. no doubt i could have found books to tell me exactly what i would see, but too much information would spoil all the romance of such an adventure. it was all very alluring. with the spring flood on, the river could not help but be interesting and exciting, a pretty good imitation of the rapids, perhaps. if i could only secure a boat! half an hour later i was meeting old acquaintances about the hotel, connected with the station. the genial hotel manager, with the irish name, was smilingly explaining to some newcomers that this was not hot; that "a dry heat at 110 degrees was not nearly as bad as 85 degrees back in chicago," "and as for heat," he continued, "why down in yuma"--then he caught sight of me, with a grin on my face, and perhaps he remembered that i had heard him say the same thing two years before, when it was even hotter; and he came over with out-stretched hand,--calling me uncomplimentary names, under his breath, for spoiling the effect of his explanation; all which was belied by his welcome. it takes an irishman to run a big hotel in the middle of the desert. a few inquiries brought out the information that i was not likely to get a boat. the stores did not keep them. i should have given my order two weeks before to an indian who built boats to order at $2.00 a foot. this was a new one on me. suppose a fellow wanted--well say, about $15.00 worth. it would look something like a tub, wouldn't it? perhaps it was to be the coast, for me, after all. the colorado river in flood is a terrible stream. unlike the eastern rivers, there are no populous cities--with apologies to needles and yuma--along its shores, to be inundated with the floods. unlike the rivers of the south, few great agricultural districts spread across its bottoms. along the upper seven hundred miles there are not a half-dozen ranches with twenty-five acres under cultivation. but if destructive power and untamed energy are terrible, the colorado river, in flood, is a terrible stream. after changing into some comfortable clothes i sauntered past the railway machine shops down to the river, and up to where a fight was being waged to save the upper part of the town from being torn away by the flood. for a month past, car after car of rock had been dumped along the river bank, only to disappear in the quicksands; and as yet no bottom had been reached. up to this point the fight was about equal. the flood would not reach its crest until two or three weeks later. beyond a fisherman or two there were few men by the river. the workmen had finished their day's labour. a ferryman said that i might talk an indian into selling his boat, but it was doubtful. my next job was to find such an indian. a big, greasy mojave buck lay on an uncovered, rusty bed spring, slung on a home-made frame, before his willow and adobe home, close to the colorado river. in answer to my repeated question he uncoiled and stretched the full length of his six foot six couch, grunted a few words in his native tongue to other indians without a glance in my direction, then indifferently closed his eyes again. a young indian in semi-cowboy garb,--not omitting a gorgeous silk handkerchief about his neck,--jabbered awhile with some grinning squaws, then said in perfectly understandable english, "he will sell his boat for $18.00. it is worth $30.00." this was decisive for an indian. it usually takes a half-day of bickering to get them to make any kind of a bargain. i told him i would take it in the morning. it was a well-constructed boat, almost new, built of inch pine, flat-bottomed, and otherwise quite similar in shape to the boats my brother and i had used on our twelve hundred mile journey through the canyons of the green and colorado rivers,--but without the graceful lines and swells that made those other boats so valuable to us in rapids. the boat was nearly new and well worth $30.00, as boat prices went in that town. why he was willing to sell it for $18.00, or at the rate of $1.00 a foot, i could not imagine. it was the first bargain an indian had ever offered me. but if i paid for it that evening, there were doubts in my mind if i should find it in the morning, so i delayed closing the bargain and went back again to inspect the boat. that evening i inquired among my acquaintances if there was any one who would care to accompany me. if so i would give them passage to yuma, or to the gulf of california in mexico, if they wished it. but no one could go, or those who could, wouldn't. one would have thought from the stories with which i was regaled, that the rapids of the grand canyon were below needles, and as for going to the gulf, it was suicide. i was told of the outlaws along the border, of the firearms and opium smugglers, who shot first and questioned afterward, and of the insurrectos of lower california. the river had no real outlet to the ocean, they said, since the break into salton sea, but spread over a cane-brake, thirty miles or more in width. many people had gone into these swamps and never returned, whether lost in the jungles or killed by the cocopah indians, no one knew. they simply disappeared. it was all very alluring. my preparations, the next day, were few. i had included a sleeping bag with my baggage. it would come in equally handy whether i went down on the colorado or up into the coast range. a frying-pan, a coffee-pot a few metal dishes and provisions for a week were all i needed. some one suggested some bent poles, and a cover, such as are used on wagons to keep off the sun. this seemed like a good idea; and i hunted up a carpenter who did odd jobs. he did not have such a one, but he did have an old wagon-seat cover, which could be raised or dropped at will. this was even better, for sometimes hard winds sweep up the river. the cover was fastened to the sides of the boat. the boat, meanwhile, had been thoroughly scrubbed. it looked clean before, but i was not going to take any chances at carrying indian live-stock along with his boat. my surplus baggage was sent on to los angeles, and twenty-four hours after i had landed in needles, i was ready to embark. my experience in camping trips of various sorts has been that the start from headquarters occupies more time than any similar preparation. once on the road, things naturally arrange themselves into some kind of a system, and an hour on the road in the evening means several hours gained the next morning. added to this, there are always a number of loafers about railroad towns, and small things have a way of disappearing. with this in mind, i determined to make my start that evening, and at 7 p.m. on the 23d of may, 1913, i embarked on a six to eight mile an hour current, paced by cottonwood logs, carried down by the flood from the head waters in wyoming, utah, and colorado. when sailing on the unruffled current one did not notice its swiftness--it sped so quietly yet at the same time with such deadly intent--until some half submerged cottonwood snags appeared, their jagged, broken limbs ploughing the stream exactly like the bow of a motor-driven boat, throwing two diverging lines of waves far down the stream. one would almost think the boat was motionless, it raced so smoothly,--and that the snags were tearing upstream as a river man had said, the day before, "like a dog with a bone in his teeth." a sunken stone-boat, with a cabin half submerged, seemed propelled by some unseen power and rapidly dwindled in the distance. so fascinating were these things that i forgot the approaching night. i first noticed it when the stream slackened its mad pace and spread over its banks into great wide marshes, in divided and subdivided channels and over submerged islands, with nothing but willow and fuzzy cattail tops to indicate that there was a bottom underneath. here there was no place to camp had i wished to do so. once i missed the main channel and had a difficult time in finding my way back in the dark. after two or three miles of this quiet current, the streams began to unite again, and the river regained its former speed. i was growing weary after the first excitement, and began to wish myself well out of it all and safely anchored to the shore. but i knew there was a level bank above the river close to the bridge, which would make a good camping place; so i rested on my oars facing down the stream with eyes and ears alert for the treacherous snags. then the stars began to appear, one by one, lighting up the cloudless sky; a moist, tropical-like breeze moved up the stream, the channel narrowed and deepened, the snags vanished, and the stream increased its swiftness. and with eyes wide open, but unseeing, i dozed. it was the lights of a passenger train crossing the bridge, just a short distance away, that made me realize where i was. the train thundered into the darkness; but louder than the roar of the train was that of the water directly ahead, and hidden in the impenetrable shadow over on the right shore was a noise much like that made by a grand canyon rapid. wide awake now, i pulled for the left, and after one or two attempts to land, i caught some willow tops and guided the boat to the raised bank. beyond the willows was a higher ground, covered with a mesquite thicket, with cattle trails winding under the thorny trees. here i unrolled my sleeping bag, then went up to interview the operator and the watchman, and to get a drink of clear water, for i had no desire to drink the liquid mud of the colorado until it was necessary. in answer to a question i told them of my little ride. one of the men exclaimed, "you don't mean to say that you came down on the flood after dark!" on being informed that i had just arrived, he exclaimed: "well i reckon you don't know what the colorado is. it's a wonder this whirlpool didn't break you against the pier. you ought to have brought some one with you to see you drown!" chapter xxv four days to yuma before sunrise the following morning, i had completed my few camp duties, finished my breakfast and dropped my boat into the whirlpool above the bridge. my two friends watched the manoeuvre as i pulled clear of the logs and the piers which caused the water to make such alarming sounds the night before; then they gave me a final word of caution, and the information that the parker bridge was sixty miles away and that yuma was two hundred and fifty miles down the stream. they thought that i should reach yuma in a week. it seemed but a few minutes until the bridge was a mile up the stream. now i was truly embarked for the gulf. by the time i had reached the spire-like mountainous rocks a few miles below the bridge, which gave the town of needles its name, the sun was well up and i was beginning to learn what desert heat was, although i had little time to think of it as i was kept so busy with my boat. here, the stream which was spread a mile wide above, had choked down to two hundred feet; small violent whirlpools formed at the abrupt turns in this so-called canyon and the water tore from side to side. in one whirl my boat was twice carried around the circle into which i had allowed it to be caught, then shot out on the pounding flood. soon the slag-like mountains were passed and the country began to spread, first in a high barren land, then with a bottom land running back from the river. the willow bushes changed to willow trees, tall and spindly, crowded in a thicket down to the river's edge. the chemehuevi indians have their reservation here. on rounding an abrupt turn i surprised two little naked children, fat as butterballs, dabbling in a mud puddle close to the stream. the sight, coupled with the tropical-like heat and the jungle, could well make one imagine he was in africa or india, and that the little brown bodies were the "alligator bait" of which we read. only the 'gators were missing. the unexpected sight of a boat and a white man trying to photograph them started them both into a frightened squall. then an indignant mother appeared, staring at me as though she would like to know what i had done to her offspring. farther along were other squaws, with red and blue lines pencilled on their childlike, contented faces, seated under the willows. their cotton garments, of red and blue bandanna handkerchiefs sewed together, added a gay bit of colour to the scene. below this were two or three cozy little ranch houses and a few scattered cattle ranches, with cattle browsing back in the trees. all this time it was getting hotter, and i was thankful for my sheltering cover. my lunch, prepared in the morning, was eaten as i drifted. except in a few quiet stretches i did little rowing, just enough to keep the boat away from the overhanging banks and in the strong current. the bottom lands began to build up again with banks of gravel and clay, growing higher with every mile. the deciduous trees gave way to the desert growths: the cholla, "the shower of gold," and the palo verde and the other acacias. here were the california or valley-quail; and lean, long-legged jack-rabbits. here too were the coyotes, leaner than the rabbits, but efficient, shifty-eyed, and insolent. one could admire but could hardly respect them. i had entertained hopes of reaching parker that evening, but supposed the hour would be late if i reached it at all. imagine my surprise, then, when at half-past four i heard the whistle of a train, and another turn revealed the parker bridge. i had been told by others that it had taken them three or four days to reach this point on a low stage of water. evidently the high water is much better for rapid and interesting travel. here at the bridge, which was a hundred feet above the river, was a dredge, and an old flat-bottomed steamboat, a relic of a few years past, before the government built the laguna dam above yuma, and condemned the colorado as a navigable stream. those were the days which the colorado steamboat men recall with as much fond remembrance as the old-time boatmen of the mississippi remember their palmy days. in spite of the fact that the boats were flat-bottomed and small, it was real steamboating of an exciting nature at least. at times they beat up against the current as far as the mouth of the rio virgin. in low water the channels shifted back and forth first choked with sand on one side of the stream, then on the other. while the total fall from fort mojave, a few miles above needles, to the gulf is only 525 feet, considerable of that fall came in short sections, first with a swift descent, then in a quiet stretch. even in the high-water stage i was finding some such places. parker stood a mile back from the river, on top of the level gravelly earth which stretched for miles on either side of the river clear to the mountains. this earth and gravel mixture was so firmly packed that even the cactus had a scant foothold. the town interested me for one reason only, this being, that i could get my meals for the evening and the following morning, instead of having to cook them myself. after i had eaten them, however, there was a question in my mind if my own cooking, bad as it was, would not have answered the purpose just as well. the place was a new railroad town on an indian reservation, a town of great expectations, somewhat deferred. it was not as interesting to me as my next stop at ahrenburg, some fifty miles below parker. this place while nothing but a collection of dilapidated adobe buildings, had an air of romance about it which was missing in the newer town. ahrenburg had seen its day. many years ago it was a busy mining camp, and the hope is entertained by the faithful who still reside in its picturesque adobe homes that it will come back with renewed vigour. here at ahrenburg i met a character who added greatly to the interest of my stay. he was a gigantic, raw-boned frenchman, at that time engaged in the construction of a motor boat; but a miner, a sailor, and a soldier of fortune in many ways, one who had pried into many of the hidden corners of the country and had a graphic way of describing what he had seen. i was his guest until late that night, and was entertained royally on what humble fare he had to offer. we both intended to renew our acquaintance in the morning, but some prowling mexicans near my boat, croaking frogs, and swarms of mosquitos gave me a restless night. with the first glimmer of daylight i was up, and half an hour later i was away on the flood. this was my big day. the current was better than much of that above; i was getting used to the heat, and, instead of idly drifting, i pulled steadily at the oars. the river twisted back and forth in great loops with the strong current, as is usual, always on the outside of the loops, close to the overhanging banks. i would keep my boat in this current, with a wary lookout over my shoulder for fallen trees and sudden turns, which had a way of appearing when least expected. at some such places the stream was engaged at undermining the banks which rose eight and ten feet above the water. occasional sections, containing tons of earth and covered with tall, slender willow trees, would topple over, falling on the water with the roar of a cannon or a continued salute of cannons; for the falling, once started, quite often extended for half a mile down the stream. at one such place eighteen trees fell in three minutes, and it would be safe to say that a hundred trees were included in the extended fall. the trees, sixty feet high, resembled a field of gigantic grass or unripened grain; the river was a reaper, cutting it away at the roots. over they tumbled to be buried in the stream; the water would swirl and boil, earth and trees would disappear; then the mass of leaf-covered timber, freed of the earth, would wash away to lodge on the first sand-bar, and the formation of a new island or a new shore would begin. then again, the banks were barren, composed of gravel and clay, centuries older than the verdure-covered land, undisturbed, possibly, since some glacial period deposited it there. but a shifting of the channel directed the attack against these banks. here the swift current would find a little irregularity on the surface and would begin its cutting. the sand-laden water bored exactly like an auger, in fast-cutting whirls. one such place i watched for a half-hour from the very beginning, until the undermined section, fourteen feet high, began to topple, and i pulled out to safety, but not far enough to escape a ducking in the resulting wave. below this, instead of a firm earth, it was a loose sand and gravel mixture twenty feet above the river. here for half a mile the entire bank was moving, slowly at the top, gathering speed at the bottom. while close to this i heard a peculiar hissing as of carbonated water all about me. at first i thought there were mineral springs underneath, but found the noise was caused by breaking air bubbles carried under the stream with the sands. all this day such phenomena continued, sliding sand-banks and tumbling jungles. in these latter places some cattle had suffered. their trails ran parallel with the stream. no doubt they had one or two places where they drank cut down to the stream knowing nothing of the cutting underneath, they had been precipitated into the flood, and now their carcasses were food for swarms of vultures gathered for an unholy feast. what powerful, graceful birds these scavengers are, stronger than the eagle even, tireless and seemingly motionless as they drift along searching every nook and cranny for their provender! but aside from a grudgingly given tribute of admiration for their power, one has about as much respect for them as for the equally graceful rattlesnake, that other product of nature which flourishes in this desert land. the bird life along this lower part of the river was wonderful in its variety. the birds of the desert mingled with those of the fertile lands. the song-birds vied with those of gorgeous plume. water-birds disported themselves in the mud-banks and sloughs. the smaller birds seemed to pay little attention to the nearness of the hawks. kingfisher perched on limbs overhanging the quiet pools, ready to drop at the faintest movement on the opaque water; the road-runner chased the festive lizard on the desert land back of the willows. here also in the mesquite and giant cactus were thrush and western meadow-larks and mocking-birds mimicking the call of the cat-bird. down in the brush by the river was the happy little water-ousel, as cheerful in his way as the dumpy-built musical canyon wren. the mexican crossbill appeared to have little fear of the migrating northern shrike. there were warblers, cardinals, tanagers, waxwings, song-sparrows, and chickadees. flitting droves of bush-tit dropped on to slender weeds, scarcely bending them, so light were they. then in a minute they were gone. in the swamps or marshes were countless red-winged blackbirds. the most unobservant person could not help but see birds here. i had expected to find water-fowl, for the colorado delta is their breeding place; but i little expected to find so many land birds in the trees along the river. instead of having a lonesome trip, every minute was filled with something new, interesting, and beautiful and i was having the time of my life. i camped that night at picachio,--meaning the pocket,--eighty miles below ahrenburg. this is still a mining district, but the pockets containing nuggets of gold which gave the place its name seem to have all been discovered at the time of the boom; the mining now done is in quartz ledges up on the sides of grim, mineral-stained hills. i was back in the land of rock again, a land showing the forces of nature in high points of foreign rock, shot up from beneath, penetrating the crust of the earth and in a few places emerging for a height of two hundred feet from the river itself, forming barren islands and great circling whirlpools, as large as that in the niagara gorge, and i thought, for a while, almost as powerful. in one i attempted to keep to the short side of the river, but found it a difficult job, and one which took three times as long to accomplish as if i had allowed myself to be carried around the circle. then the land became level again, and the chocolate mountains were seen to the west. a hard wind blew across the stream, so that i had to drop my sunshade to prevent being carried against the rocks. this day i passed a large irrigation canal leading off from the stream, the second such on the entire course of the colorado. here a friendly ranchman called to me from the shore and warned me of the laguna dam some distance below. he said the water was backed up for three miles, so i would know when i was approaching it. in spite of this warning, i nearly came to grief at the dam. the wind had shifted until it blew directly down the stream. the river, nearly a mile wide, still ran with a powerful current; i ceased rowing and drifted down, over waves much like those one would find on a lake driven by a heavy wind. i saw some high poles and a heavy electric cable stretched across the stream, and concluded that this was the beginning of the dam. i began to look ahead for some sign of a barrier across the stream, far below, but i could see nothing of the kind; then as i neared the poles it suddenly dawned on me that there was no raised barrier which diverted all the water through a sluice, but a submerged dam, over which the flood poured, and that the poles were on that dam. my sail-like sunshade was dropped as quickly as i could do it, and, grabbing the oars, i began to pull for the california shore. it was fortunate for me that i happened to be comparatively near the shore when i began rowing. as it was, i landed below the diverting canal, and about a hundred yards above the dam. on examination the dam proved to be a slope about fifty feet long. a man in charge of the machinery controlling the gates told me that the dam lacked seven feet of being a mile wide, and that approximately seven feet of water was going over the entire dam. great cement blocks and rocks had been dropped promiscuously below the dam to prevent it from being undermined. even without the rocks it was doubtful if an uncovered boat could go through without upsetting. the great force of the water made a trough four or five feet lower than the river level, all water coming down the slope shooting underneath, while the river rolled back upstream. on two occasions boatmen had been carried over the dam. in each case the boat was wrecked, but the occupants were thrown out and escaped uninjured. i could not help but be amused, and feel a little uncomfortable too, when i saw how nearly i came to being wrecked here, after having escaped that fate in the rapids of the canyons. i ran my boat back to the diverting canal, then rowed down to the massive cement gates, which looked to me like a small replica of some of the locks on the panama canal. with the help of an indian who was ready for a job my boat was taken out, rolled around the buildings on some sections of pipe, and slid over the bank into the canal below the gates. in spite of a desire to spend some time inspecting the machinery of this great work,--which, with the canal and other improvements, had cost the government over a million dollars--i immediately resumed my rowing. it was mid-afternoon, and measured by the canal, which was direct, it was twelve miles to yuma. but i soon learned that great winding curves made it much farther by the river. in some cases it nearly doubled back on itself. the wind had shifted by this time and blew against me so hard that it was almost useless to attempt rowing. in another place there were no banks, and the water had spread for three miles in broken sloughs and around half-submerged islands, the one deep channel being lost in the maze of shallow ones. with these things to contend with it was dusk long before i neared the town, the twelve miles having stretched to twenty. finally i saw a windmill partly submerged. some distance away was a small ranch house also in the water. the house, with lights in the upper story, was a cheering sight; the windmill looked out of place in the midst of all this desolation of water. soon other houses appeared with lights showing through the windows. once i lost my way and spent a half hour in getting back to the right channel. somewhere in the dark, i never knew just when, i passed the mouth of the gila river. in a similar way in broad daylight i had passed the bill williams fork above ahrenburg. at last i neared the town. i could discern some buildings on top of a small hill, evidently one of the back streets of yuma. after tying my boat, i hid my small load in some mesquite trees, then climbed the hill and passed between two peculiar stone houses dark as dungeons. they puzzled me from the outside, but when once past them, i was no longer in doubt. i had entered the open gateway leading to the courtyard of the yuma penitentiary. no wonder the buildings looked like dungeons. this was a new experience for me, but somehow i had always imagined just how it would look. i was considering beating a retreat when a guard hailed me and asked me if i was not lost. with the assistance of the guard, i escaped from the pen and found my way to the streets of yuma, just four days after leaving the needles bridge. chapter xxvi across the mexico border "mexico is a good place to keep away from just at present." this was the invariable answer to a few casual inquiries concerning what i would be likely to meet with in the way of difficulties, a possible companion for the voyage to the gulf, and how one could get back when once there. i received little encouragement from the people of yuma. the cautions came not from the timid who see danger in every rumour, but from the old steamboat captains, the miners, and prospectors who knew the country and had interests in mineral claims across the border. these claims they had lost in many cases because they had failed for the last two years to keep up their assessment work. there were vague suggestions of being stood up against an adobe wall with a row of "yaller bellies" in front, or being thrown into damp dungeons and held for a ransom. the steamboat men could give me little information about the river. the old channel had filled with silt, and the river was diverted into a roundabout course little more than a creek in width, then spread over whole delta. the widely spread water finally collected into an ancient course of the colorado, known as the hardy or false colorado. as nearly as i could learn no one from yuma had been through this new channel beyond a certain point called volcanic lake. two or three parties had come back with stories of having attempted it, but found themselves in the middle of a cane-brake with insufficient water to float a boat. with a desire to be of real assistance to me, one old captain called a yuma indian into his office and asked him his opinion, suggesting that he might go along. "mebbe so get lost in the trees, mebbe so get shot by the cocopah," the indian replied as he shook his head. the captain laughed at the last and said that the yuma and cocopah indians were not the best of friends, and accused each other of all sorts of things which neither had committed. some mexicans and certain outlawed whites who kept close to the border for different reasons, and the possibilities of bogging in a cane-brake were the only uncertainties. in so many words he advised me against going. still i persevered. i had planned so long on completing my boating trip to the gulf, that i disliked to abandon the idea altogether. i felt sure, with a flood on the colorado, there would be some channel that a flat-bottomed boat could go through, when travelling with the current; but the return trip and the chances of being made a target for some hidden native who had lived on this unfriendly border and had as much reason for respecting some citizens of the united states as our own indians had in the frontier days, caused me considerable concern. i knew it was customary everywhere to make much of the imaginary dangers, as we had found in our other journeys; but it is not difficult to discriminate between sound advice and the croakings which are based on lack of real information. i knew this was sound advice, and as usual i disliked to follow it. at last i got some encouragement. it came from a retired wild west showman,--the real thing, one who knew the west from its early days. he laughed at the idea of danger and said i was not likely to find any one, even if i was anxious to do so, until i got to the la bolso ranch near the gulf. they would be glad to see me. he thought it was likely to prove uninteresting unless i intended to hunt wild hogs, but that was useless without dogs, and i would have trouble getting a gun past the custom officers. his advice was to talk with the mexican consul, as he might know some one who could bring me back by horseback. in the consul i found a young spaniard, all affability, bows, and gestures; and without being conscious of it at first i too began making motions. he deplored my lack of knowledge of the spanish language, laughed at any suggestion of trouble, as all trouble was in eastern sonora, he said, separated from the coast by two hundred miles of desert, and stated that the non-resident owner of the la bolsa cattle ranch happened to be in the building at that moment. in a twinkling he had me before him and explained the situation. this gentleman, the owner of a 600,000-acre grant, and the fishing concession of the gulf, stated that the ranch drove a team to yuma once a week, that they would bring me back; in the interval i must consider myself the guest of the rancho la bolsa. the consul gave me a passport, and so it was all arranged. in spite of the consul's opinion, there were many whispered rumours of war, of silent automobiles loaded with firearms that stole out of town under cover of the night and returned in four days, and another of a river channel that could be followed and was followed, the start being made, not from yuma, but from another border town farther west. a year before there had been an outbreak at this place of certain restless spirits,--some whites included,--and they went along the northern line of mexico, sacking the ranches and terrorizing the people. the la bolsa ranch was among those that suffered. the party contained some discharged vaqueros who were anxious to interview the ranch foreman, but fortunately for him he was absent. then they turned south to chihuahua and joined the army of madero. war, to them, meant license to rob and kill. they were not insurrectos, but bandits, and this was the class that was most feared. meanwhile i had not given up the idea of a possible companion. before coming to yuma i had entertained hopes of getting some one with a motor boat to take me down and back, but there were no motor boats, i found. the nearest approach to a power boat was an attempt that was being made to install the engine from a wrecked steam auto on a sort of flat-bottomed scow. i heard of this boat three or four times, and in each case the information was accompanied by a smile and some vague remarks about a "hybrid." i hunted up the owner,--the proprietor of a shooting gallery,--a man who had once had aspirations as a heavy-weight prize fighter, but had met with discouragement. so he had turned his activities to teaching the young idea how to shoot--especially the "mexican idea" and those other border spirits who were itching for a scrap. the proprietor of the shooting gallery drove a thriving trade. since he had abandoned his training he had taken on fat, and i found him to be a genial sort of giant who refused to concern himself with the serious side of life. even a lacing he had received in san francisco at the hands of a negro stevedore struck him as being humorous. he did not seem to have much more confidence in his "power boat" than the others, but said i might talk with the man who was putting it together, ending with the remark "phillipps thinks he can make her run, and he has always talked of going to the gulf." on investigation i found al phillipps was anxious to go to the gulf, and would go along if i would wait until he got his boat in shape. this would take two days. phillipps, as he told me himself, was a jayhawker who had left the farm in kansas and had gone to sea for two years. he was a cowboy, but had worked a year or two about mining engines. in yuma he was a carpenter, but was anxious to leave and go prospecting along the gulf. phillipps and i were sure to have an interesting time. he spoke spanish and did not fear any of the previously mentioned so-called dangers; he had heard of one party being carried out to sea when the tide rushed out of the river, but as we would have low tide he thought that, with caution, we could avoid that. at last all was ready for the momentous trial. the river bank was lined with a crowd of men who seemed to have plenty of leisure. some long-haired yuma indians, and red and green turbaned papagos, gathered in a group off a little to one side. a number of darkies were fishing for bullheads, and boys of three colors besides the mexicans and a lone chinaman clambered over the trees and the boats along the shore. it was a moment of suspense for phillipps. his reputation as an engineer and a constructor of boats hung in the balance. he also had some original ideas about a rudder which had been incorporated in this boat. now was his chance to test them out, and his hour of triumph if they worked. the test was a rigid one. the boat was to be turned upstream against an eight-mile current with big sand-waves, beginning about sixty feet from the shore, running in the middle of the river. if the engine ran, and the stern paddle-wheel turned, his reputation was saved. if she was powerful enough to go against the current, it was a triumph and we would start for the gulf at once. on board were phillipps, a volunteer, and myself. before turning the boat loose, the engine was tried. it was a success. the paddle-wheel churned the water at a great rate, sending the boat upstream as far as the ropes would let her go. we would try a preliminary run in the quiet water close to the shore, before making the test in the swift current. the order was given to cast off, and for two men, the owner and another, to hold to the ropes and follow on the shore. the engine was started, the paddle-wheel revolved, slowly at first but gathering speed with each revolution. we began to move gently, then faster, so that the men on shore had difficulty in keeping even with us, impeded as they were with bushes and sloping banks. flushed with success, the order was given to turn her loose, and we gathered in the ropes. now we were drifting away from the shore and making some headway against the swift current. the crowd on shore was left behind. but as we left the bank the river increased in speed and the boat gradually lost. then she stood still, but began to turn slowly, broadside to the current. this was something we had not foreseen. with no headway the rudder was of no avail. there was no sweep-oar; we had even neglected to put an oar on the boat. with pieces of boards the stranger and i paddled, trying to hold her straight, but all the time, in spite of our efforts, she drifted away from the land and slowly turned. a big sand-wave struck her, she wheeled in her tracks and raced straight for a pier, down the stream. about this time our engineer began having trouble with his engine. at first we feared it would not run, now it seemed it would not stop. a great shout went up from the shore, and a bet was made that we would run to the gulf in less than a day. a darky boy fell off a boat in the excitement, the indians did a dance, men pounded each other and whooped for joy. then a bolt came loose, and the engine ran away. driving-rod and belts were whirled "regardless," as the passenger afterwards said, about our heads. then the crash came. our efforts to escape the pier were of no avail. i made a puny effort to break the impact with a pole, but was sent sprawling on the deck. al tumbled headlong on top of the engine, which he had stopped at last, our passenger rolled over and over, but we all stayed with the ship. each grabbing a board, we began to paddle and steered the craft to the shore. with the excitement over, the crowd faded away. only two or three willing hands remained to help us line the craft back to the landing. the owner, who had to run around the end of the bridge, came down puffing and blowing, badly winded, at the end of the first round. without a word from any one we brought the boat back to the landing. al was the first to speak. "well, what are you going to do?" he asked. "me? i'm going to take my boat and start for the gulf in ten minutes. i'll take nothing that i cannot carry. if i have to leave the river i will travel light across the desert to calexico. i think that i can get through. if you want to go along, i'll stick with you until we get back. what do you think about it?" it was a long speech and a little bitter perhaps. i felt that way. the disappointment on top of the three days' delay when time was precious could not be forgotten in a moment. and when my speech was said i was all through. al said he would be ready in half an hour. our beds were left behind. al had a four-yard square of canvas for a sail. this would be sufficient covering at night in the hot desert. we had two canteens. the provisions, scarcely touched before arriving here, were sufficient for five days. i was so anxious to get started that i did not take the time to replenish them in yuma, intending to do so at the custom-house on the arizona side twelve miles below, where some one had told me there was a store. i counted on camping there. after a hurriedly eaten luncheon we were ready to start, the boat was shoved off, and we were embarked for mexico. half an hour later we passed the abandoned imperial canal, the man-made channel which had nearly destroyed the vast agricultural lands which it had in turn created. just such a flood as that on which we were travelling had torn out the insufficiently supported head-gates. the entire stream, instead of pushing slowly across the delta, weltering in its own silt to the gulf, poured into the bottom of the basin nearly four hundred feet below the top of this silt-made dam. in a single night it cut an eighty-foot channel in the unyielding soil, and what had once been the northern end of the california gulf was turned into an inland sea, filled with the turbid waters of the colorado, instead of the sparkling waters of the ocean. nothing but an almost superhuman fight finally rescued the land from the grip of the water. a short distance below, just across the mexican line, on the california side, was the new canal, dug in a firmer soil and with strongly built gates anchored in rock back from the river. half a mile away from the stream, on a spur railway, was the mexican custom-house. i had imagined that it would be beside the river, and that guards would be seen patrolling the shore. but aside from an indian fishing, there was no one to be seen. we walked out to the custom-house, gave a list of the few things which we had, assured them that we carried no guns, paid our duty, and departed. we had imagined that our boat would be inspected, but no one came near. the border line makes a jog here at the river and the arizona-mexico line was still a few miles down the stream. we had passed the mouth of the old silt-dammed colorado channel, which flowed a little west of south; and we turned instead to the west into the spreading delta or moraine. about this time i remarked that i had seen no store at the custom-house and that i must not neglect to get provisions at the next one or we would be rather short. "we passed our last custom-house back there." al replied, "that's likely the last place we will see until we get to the ranch by the gulf." no custom-house! no store! this was a surprise. what was a border for if not to have custom-houses and inspectors? with all the talk of smuggling i had not thought of anything else. and i could tell by al's tone that his estimation of my foresight had dropped several degrees. this was only natural, for his disappointment and the jibes still rankled. at last we were wholly in mexican territory. with the states behind, all of our swiftly running water had departed, and we now travelled on a stream that was nearly stagnant. all the cottonwood logs which had finally been carried down the stream after having been deposited on a hundred shores, found here their final resting place. about each cluster of logs an island was forming, covered with a rank grass and tules. ramified channels wound here and there. two or three times we found ourselves in a shallow channel, and with some difficulty retraced our way. all channels looked alike, but only one was deep. then the willow trees which were far distant on either shore began to close in and we travelled in a channel not more than a hundred feet wide, growing smaller with every mile. this new channel is sometimes termed the bee river. it parallels the northern mexico line; it also parallels a twenty-five mile levee which the united states government has constructed along the northern edge of this fifty-mile wide dam shoved across the california gulf by the stream, building higher every year. except for the river channel the dam may be said to reach unbroken from the arizona-sonora mesa to the cocopah mountains. the levee runs from a point of rocks near the river to lone mountain, a solitary peak some distance east of the main range. this levee, built since the trouble with the canal, is all that prevents the water from breaking into the basin in a dozen places. we saw signs of two or three camp-fires close to the stream, and with the memory of the stories haunting us a little we built only a small fire when we cooked our evening meal, then extinguished it, and camped on a dry point of land a mile or two below. i think we were both a little nervous that night; i confess that i was, and if an unwashed black-bearded individual had poked his head out from the willows and said, "woof!" or whatever it is that they say when they want to start up a jack-rabbit, we would both have stampeded clear across the border. in fact i felt a little as i did when i played truant from school and wondered what would happen when i was found out. daybreak found us ready to resume our journey, and with a rising sun any nervousness vanished. what could any one want with two men who had nothing but a flat-bottomed boat? all the morning we travelled west, the trees ever drawing closer as our water departed on the south, running through the willows, arrow-weed, and cat-tails. then the channel opened into volcanic lake, a circular body of water, which is not a lake but simply a gathering together of the streams we had been losing, and here the water stands, depositing its mud. all the way across had no depth but a bottomless mud, so soft it would engulf a person if he tried to wade across. on the west there was no growth. the shore was nothing but an ash-like powder, not a sand, but a rich soil blown here and there, building in dunes against every obstruction, ever moving before the wind. here were boiling, sputtering mud pots and steam vents building up and exhausting through mud pipe-stems, rising a foot or two above the springs. here was a shelter or two of sun-warped boards constructed by those who come here crippled with rheumatism and are supposed to depart, cured. here we saw signs of a wagon track driven toward calexico, the border town directly north of the lake. the heat was scorching, the sun, reflected from the sand and water, was blistering, and we could well imagine what a walk across that ash-like soil would mean. mirages in the distance beckoned, trees and lakes were seen over toward the mountains where we had seen nothing but desert before; heat waves rose and fell. our mouths began to puff from the reflected sun, our faces burned and peeled, black and red in spots. there was no indication of the slightest breeze until about three o'clock, when the wind moved gently across the lake. we had skirted the northern part of the circle, passing a few small streams and then found one of the three large channels which empty the lake. as it happened we took the one on the outside, and the longest. the growth grew thicker than ever, the stream choked down to fifty feet. now it began to loop backward and forward and back again, as though trying to make the longest and crookedest channel possible in the smallest space. the water in the channel was stagnant, swift streamlets rushed in from the tules on the north, and rushed out again on the south. it was not always a simple matter to ascertain which was the main channel. others just as large were diverted from the stream. twice we attempted to cut across, but the water became shallow, the tules stalled our boats, and we were glad to return, sounding with a pole when in doubt. then we began to realize that we were not entirely alone in this wilderness of water. we saw evidence of another's passage, in broken cat-tails and blazed trees. in many places he had pushed into the thickets. we concluded it must be a trapper. at last, to our surprise, we saw a telephone equipment, sheltered in a box nailed on a water-surrounded tree. the line ran directly across the stream. here also we could see where a boat had forced a way through, and the water plants had been cut with a sharp instrument. what could it be? we were certain no line ran to the only ranch at the gulf. we had information of another ranch directly on the border line, but did not think it came below the levee, and as far as we had learned, there were no homes but the wickiups of the cocopah in the jungles. it was like one of those thrilling stories of old sleuth and dead shot dick which we read, concealed in our schoolbooks, when we were supposed to be studying the physical geography of mexico. but the telephone was no fiction, and had recently been repaired, but for what purpose it was there we could not imagine. after leaving the lake there was no dry land. at night our boat, filled with green tules for a bed, was tied to a willow tree, with its roots submerged in ten feet of water. never were there such swarms of mosquitos. in the morning our faces were corrugated with lumps, not a single exposed spot remaining unbitten. the loops continued with the next day's travel, but we were gradually working to the southwest, then they began to straighten out somewhat, as the diverted streams returned. we thought early in the morning that we would pass about ten miles to the east of the coast range, but it was not to be. directly to the base of the dark, heat-vibrating rocks we pulled, and landed on the first shore that we had seen for twenty-four hours. here was a recently used trail, and tracks where horses came down to the water. here too was the track of a barefooted cocopah, a tribe noted for its men of gigantic build, and with great feet out of all proportion to their size. if that footprint was to be fossilized, future generations would marvel at the evidence of some gigantic prehistoric animal, an alligator with a human-shaped foot. these indians have lived in these mud bottoms so long, crossing the streams on rafts made of bundles of tules, and only going to the higher land when their homes are inundated by the floods, that they have become a near approach to a web-footed human being. our stream merely touched the mountain, then turned directly to the southeast in a gradually increasing stream. now we began to see the breeding places of the water-birds of which we had heard. there was a confusion of bird calls, sand-hill cranes were everywhere; in some cases with five stick-built nests in a single water-killed tree. a blue heron flopped around as though it had broken a wing, to decoy us from its nest. the snowy white pelican waddled along the banks and mingled with the cormorants. there were great numbers of gulls, and occasional snipe. we were too late to see the ducks which come here, literally by the million, during the winter months. there were hawks' nests in the same groups of trees as the cranes, with the young hawks stretching their necks for the food which was to be had in such abundance. and on another tree sat the parent hawks, complacently looking over the nests of the other birds, like a coyote waiting for a horse to die. at cocopah mountain a golden eagle soared, coming down close to the ground as we rested under the mesquite. then as we travelled clear streams of water began to pour in from the north and east, those same streams we had lost above, but cleared entirely of their silt. now the willows grew scarce, and instead of mud banks a dry, firm earth was built up from the river's edge, and the stream increased in size. soon it was six or seven hundred feet wide and running with a fair current. this was the hardy river. we noticed signs of falling water on the banks as though the stream had dropped an inch or two. in a half-hour the mark indicated a fall of eight inches or more; then we realized we were going out with the tide. a taste of water proved it. the river water was well mixed with a weak saline solution. we filled our canteens at once. we saw a small building and a flagpole on the south shore, but on nearing the place found it was deserted. a few miles below were two other channels equally as large as that on which we travelled, evidently fed by streams similar to our own. there were numerous scattered trees, some of them cottonwood, and we saw some grazing cattle. we began to look for the ranch house, which some one had said was at the point where the colorado and the hardy joined, and which others told us was at the gulf. chapter xxvii the gulf of california that the head of the gulf of california has a big tide is well known. choked in a narrowing cone, the waters rise higher and higher as they come to the apex, reaching twenty-five feet or over in a high tide. this causes a tidal bore to roll up the colorado, and from all reports it was something to be avoided. the earliest spanish explorers told some wonderful tales of being caught in this bore and of nearly losing their little sailing vessels. this was my first experience with river tides. it was somewhat of a disappointment to me that i could not arrange to be here at a high tide, for we had come at the first quarter of the moon. out on the open sea one can usually make some headway by rowing against the ebb or flow of the tide: here on the colorado, where it flowed upstream at a rate of from five to eight miles an hour, it was different. when we reached the head of the tide, it was going out. unfortunately for us the day was gone when the current began to run strong. it hardly seemed advisable to travel with it after dark. we might pass the ranch, or be carried against a rock-bound coast, or find difficulty in landing and be overwhelmed by the tidal bore. so when darkness fell we camped pulling our boat out in a little slough to prevent it from being carried away. evidently we were too near the headwaters for a tidal bore, for at eleven p.m. the waters turned and came back as quietly as they ran out. we launched our boat before the break of day, and for four hours we travelled on a good current. the channel now had widened to a half-mile, with straight earthy banks, about fifteen feet high. still there was no sign of a ranch, and it began to look to us as if there was little likelihood of finding any. the land was nearly level and except for a few raised hummocks on which grew some scattered trees, it was quite bare. this was not only because it did not get the life-giving water from the north, but because at times it was submerged under the saline waters from the south. near the shores of the river, and extending back for fifty feet, was a matted, rank growth of grass; beyond that the earth was bare, baked and cracked by the burning sun. this grass, we found, was a favorite resort of rattlesnakes. we killed two of them, a large one and a vicious little flat-headed sidewinder. all this land was the south rim of the silt dam, which extended from the line of cliffs or mesa on the east to the mountains on the west. the other rim, a hundred feet higher, lay at least fifty miles to the north. here was the resting-place of a small portion of the sediment carved away by the colorado's floods. how deep it is piled and how far it extends out under the waters of the gulf would be hard to say. we felt sure that we would get to the gulf with this tide, but when the time came for it to turn we were still many miles away. there was nothing to do but to camp out on this sun-baked plain. we stopped a little after 9.30 a.m. now that we were nearing the gulf we were sure there would be a tidal bore. as we breakfasted a slight rushing sound was heard, and what appeared to be a ripple of broken water or small breaker came up the stream and passed on. this was a disappointment. with high water on the river and with a low tide this was all the tidal bore we would see. in four hours the water rose fourteen feet, then for two hours the rise was slower. within three feet of the level it came. the opposite side, rounded at the edges, looked like a thread on top of the water, tapered to a single silken strand and looking toward the gulf, merged into the water. to all appearances it was a placid lake spread from mountain to mesa. our smaller canteen was still filled with the fresh water secured the evening before. the other had been emptied and was filled again before the return of the tide, but considerable taste of the salt remained. what we did now must be done with caution. so far we had not seen the ranch. we were in doubt whether it was somewhere out on the coast or back on one of the sloughs passed the evening before. we had heard of large sail-boats being hauled from yuma and launched by the ranch. this would seem to indicate that it was somewhere on the gulf. we had provisions sufficient for one day, one canteen of fresh water, and another so mixed with the salt water that we would not use it except as a last resort. a little after 3.30 p.m. the tide changed; we launched our boat and went out with the flood. as we neared the mouth of the stream we found that the inrush and outrush of water had torn the banks. here the river spread in a circular pool several miles across. it seemed almost as if the waters ran clear to the line of yellow cliffs and to the hazy mountain range. then the shores closed in again just before the current divided quite evenly on either side of a section of the barren plain named montague island. we took the channel to the east. our last hope of finding the ranch was in a dried-out river channel, overgrown with trees. but although we looked carefully as we passed, there was no sign of a trail or of human life. some egrets preened their silken feathers on the bank; sand-hill cranes and two coyotes, fat as hogs and dragging tails weighted with mud, feasted on the lively hermit-crabs, which they extracted from their holes--and that was all. the sun, just above the lilac-tinted mountains, hung like a great suspended ball of fire. the cloudless sky glared like a furnace. deep purple shadows crept into the canyons slashing the mountain range. the yellow dust-waves and the mirages disappeared with the going down of the sun. still we were carried on and on. we would go down with the tide. now the end of the island lay opposite the line of cliffs; soon we would be in the gulf. so ended the colorado. two thousand miles above, it was a beautiful river, born of a hundred snow-capped peaks and a thousand crystal streams; gathering strength, it became the masterful river which had carved the hearts of mountains and slashed the rocky plateaus, draining a kingdom and giving but little in return. now it was going under, but it was fighting to the end. waves of yellow struggled up through waves of green and were beaten down again. the dorsal fins of a half-dozen sharks cut circles near our craft. with the last afterglow we were past the end of the island and were nearing the brooding cliffs. still the current ran strong. the last vestige of day was swallowed in the gloom, just as the colorado was buried 'neath the blue. a hard wind was blowing, toward the shore; the sea was choppy. a point of rocks where the cliffs met the sea was our goal. would we never reach it? even in the night, which was now upon us, the distance was deceptive. at last we neared the pile of rocks. the sound of waters pounding on the shore was heard, and we hurriedly landed, a half-mile above it, just as the tide turned. the beach was a half-mile wide, covered with mud and sloughs. there was no high shore. but an examination showed that the tide ran back to the cliffs. one of us had to stay with the boat. telling phillipps to get what sleep he could, i sat in the boat, and allowed the small breakers which fox-chased each other to beat it in as the tide rose. an arctic explorer has said that having an adventure means that something unexpected or unforeseen has happened; that some one has been incompetent. i had the satisfaction of knowing that the fault of this adventure, if such it could be called, was mine. here we were, at our goal in mexico, supposed to be a hostile land, with scant provisions for one day. it was a hundred miles along the line of cliffs, back to yuma. so far, we had failed to find the ranch. it was not likely that it was around the point of rocks. we knew now that the colorado channel was fifteen miles from the mouth of the river, and was not a slough as we had supposed. doubtless the ranch was up there. our best plan was to return to the head of the tide, going up the colorado, then if we did not find the ranch we would abandon the boat, snare some birds, keep out of the scorching heat, and travel in the morning and evening. two active men should be able to do that without difficulty. so the hours passed, with the breakers driving the boat toward the line of cliffs. when it had reached its highest point, i pulled into a slough and tied up, then woke al as we had agreed. while i slept, he climbed the cliffs to have a last look. an hour after daybreak he returned. nothing but rock and desert could be seen. we dragged the boat down in the slime of the slough until we caught the falling tide. then al rigged up his sail. with the rising sun a light breeze blew in from the gulf. here was our opportunity. slowly we went up against the falling tide. then as the breeze failed, the tide returned. fifty feet away a six foot black sea bass floated; his rounded back lifted above the water. with the approach of the boat he was gone. the sharks were seen again. two hours later we had entered the mouth of the river carried by the rising tide. several miles were left behind. another breeze came up as the tide failed, and the sail was rigged up again. things were coming our way at last. al knew how to handle a boat. running her in close to the top of the straight falling banks i could leap to the land, take a picture, then run and overtake the boat, and leap on again. then the wind shifted, the tide turned, and we tied up, directly opposite the point where we had camped the afternoon before. it was the hottest day we had seen whirlwinds, gathering the dust in slender funnels, scurried across the plains. mirages of trees bordering shimmering lakes and spreading water such as we had come through below yuma were to be seen, even out towards the sea. then over toward the cliffs where the old colorado once ran we saw a column of distant smoke. perhaps it was a hunter; it could hardly be the ranch. as we could do nothing with the boat, we concluded to walk over that way. it was many miles distant. taking everything we had, including our last lunch, we started our walk, leaving a cloth on a pole to mark the point where our boat was anchored. but after going four miles it still seemed no nearer than before, so we returned. it was evening. the water was drinkable again; that was something to be thankful for. by ten o'clock that night the tide would come up again. after dark we found that our boat was being beached. so we ran it down and began pulling it along over a shoal reaching far out from the shore. as we tugged i was sure i heard a call somewhere up the river. what kind of a land was this! could it be that my senses were all deceiving me as my eyes were fooled by the mirage? i had heard it, al had not, and laughed when i said that i had. we listened and heard it again, plainly this time, "can't you men find a landing? we have a good one up here," it said. we asked them to row down, advising them to keep clear of the shoal. we waded out, guided by their voices, in the pitch darkness and neared the boat. one shadowy form sat in either end of a flat-bottomed boat. there was a mast, and the boat was fitted for two oarsmen as well. evidently the load was heavy, for it was well down in the water. the sail cloth was spread over all the boat, excepting one end where there was a small sheet-iron stove, with a pan of glowing wood coal underneath. the aroma of coffee came from a pot on the stove. as i steadied myself at the bow i touched a crumpled flag,--mexican, i thought,--but i could not see. both figures sat facing us, with rifles in their hands, alert and ready for a surprise. smugglers! i thought; guns, i imagined. they could not see our faces in the dark, neither could we distinguish theirs. judging by their voices they were young men. i thought from the first that they were mexicans, but they talked without accent. they could see that we carried no arms, but their vigilance was not relaxed. they asked what our trouble was and we told them of the beached boat, what we had been doing, and why we were there. they said they were out for a little sight-seeing trip down in the gulf. they might go to tiburone island. one of them wondered if it was true that the natives were cannibals. he said he would not care about being shot, but he would hate to be put in their stew-pot. we asked them how much water they carried. a fifteen-gallon keg was all they hoped to get more along the coast. it is quite well known there is none. they professed to be uninformed about the country, did not know there was a ranch or a tidal bore, and thanked us for our information about the tides, and the advice to fill their keg when the water was lowest, which would be in half an hour. they could not sell any provisions, but gave us a quart of flour. as we talked an undermined bank toppled over, sounding like shots from a gun. one cocked his rifle on the impulse, then laughed when he realized what it was. just before we parted one of them remarked, "you came through the bee river four days ago, near a telephone, didn't you?" "yes, but we didn't see any one," i replied. "no? but we saw you!" and we felt the smiles we could not see. they said the large ranch had some chinamen clearing the highest ground, and building levees around it to keep the water out. the telephone and a motor boat connected the different ranches. their advice to us was to keep to the river, not to look for the ranch, but to get on the telephone and raise a racket until some one showed up. then we parted to go to our respective landings, with mutual wishes for a successful journey. the boat was pulled down. the tide was on the point of turning, but it would be an hour before there would be any strength to it. i went to shore and built a fire of some driftwood, for the long stand in the water had chilled me. al stayed with the boat. earlier in the day, i cautiously shook the sticks loose from the matted grass, fearing the rattlers which were everywhere. in this case nothing buzzed. but i had no sooner got my fire well started when a rattler began to sing, roused by the light and the heat, about twenty feet away. my fire was built beside one of the many sloughs which cut back through the grass and ended in the barren soil. these sloughs were filled with water when the tide was in and made ideal landing places, especially if one had to avoid a big tidal bore. getting on the opposite side of the fire, i tossed a stick occasionally to keep him roused. soon another joined, and between them they made the air hum. by this time i was thoroughly warmed and felt that the boat would be the best place for me. carefully extinguishing my fire, i went down to the river just as the tide returned. without any sign or call from the shore we were carried up with the tide. we were both weary but i dared not sleep, so i merely kept the boat away from the shores and drifted, while phillipps slept. i had picked out a guiding star which i little needed while the current was running strong, but which would give us our course when the tide changed, for we could be carried out just as easily. but an hour after we left our camp another light appeared, growing larger and larger. it was one of two things. either my fire was not extinguished, or a match thrown down by one of the others had fired the deep dry grass. i consoled myself that it could not spread, for the sloughs and the barren soil would cut it off. i had a grim satisfaction when i thought of the snakes and how they would run for the desert land. this was a real guiding star, growing larger and larger as we were carried up the stream. i slept on shore when the tide would take us no farther. phillipps got breakfast. we were now about three miles from the slough. after breakfast we alternately towed the boat, for there was no wind to carry us up this morning, and two hours later arrived at the diverging streams. near by we saw some mules showing evidence of having been worked. it was clear now that the ranch was near. there was still a chance that we would take the wrong stream. over on the opposite side was a tall cottonwood tree. this i climbed, and had the satisfaction of seeing some kind of a shed half a mile up the east stream. the land between proved to be a large island. as we neared the building two swarthy men emerged and came down to the shore. "buenos dã­as," al called as we pulled in to the landing. "buenos dã­as, seã±or," they answered with a smile. they were employees of the rancho la bolso, which was a half-mile up the stream. did we make the big fire which had burned until morning? our answer seemed to relieve their minds. what would we do with our boat? it was theirs to do with as they pleased. leading two horses from out of the building, they mounted and told us to climb on behind, and away we rode across some water-filled sloughs. hidden in the trees we came to the buildings--three or four flat-topped adobe houses. some little brown children scattered to announce our coming. as we dismounted two white men approached. "why, hello, phillipps!" the ranch boss said when he saw my companion. "this is a long walk from yuma. you fellows are just in time to grub!" notes [footnote 1: the various expeditions which are credited with continuous or complete journeys through all the canyons and the dates of leaving green river, wyoming, are as follows: major powell, 1st journey. may 24, 1869. major powell, 2nd journey. may 22, 1871. discontinued at kanab canyon in the grand canyon. galloway. sept. 20, 1895 and 1896. flavell. aug. 27, 1896. stone. sept. 12, 1909. kolb. sept. 8, 1911. for a more complete record of the earlier parties see appendix.] [footnote 2: the initials e.c. apply to my brother, emery c. kolb; e.l. to myself. these initials are frequently used in this text. for several years the nick-name "ed" has been applied to me, and in my brothers' narratives i usually figure as ed.] [footnote 3: it is not unusual for certain individual animals to be outlawed or to have a price set on their heads by the stockmen's associations, in addition to the regular bounty paid by the counties. at the time this is written there is a standing reward of $200 for a certain "lobo," or timber wolf which roams over the kaibab forest directly opposite our home in the grand canyon. in addition to this there is a bounty of $10 offered by the county. this wolf has taken to killing colts and occasional full-grown horses, in addition to his regular diet of yearling calves.] [footnote 4: brown-stanton. may 25, 1889. russell-monnette. sept. 20, 1907. for a more complete record of these expeditions, as well as others who attempted the passage of the canyons below this point, see appendix.] [footnote 5: left by the stone expedition.] [footnote 6: while major powell was making his second voyage of exploration, another party was toiling up these canyons towing their boats from the precipitous shores. this party was under the leadership of lieutenant wheeler of the u.s. army. the party was large, composed of twenty men, including a number of mojave indians, in the river expedition, while others were sent overland with supplies to the mouth of diamond creek. by almost superhuman effort they succeeded in getting their boats up the canyon as far as diamond creek. while there is no doubt that they reached this point, there were times when we could hardly believe it was possible when we saw the walls they would have to climb in this granite gorge. in some places there seemed to be no place less than five hundred feet above the river where they could secure a foothold. their method was to carry a rope over these places, then pull the boats up through the rapids by main force. it would be just as easy to pull a heavy rowboat up the gorge of niagara, as through some of these rapids. their best plan, by far, would have been to haul their boats in at diamond creek and make the descent, as they did after reaching this point. the only advantage their method gave them was a knowledge of what they would meet with on the downstream run. lieutenant wheeler professed to disbelieve that major powell had descended below diamond creek, and called his voyage the completion of the exploration of the colorado river. in a four days' run they succeeded in covering the same distance that had taken four weeks of endless toil, to bring their boats up to this point.] [footnote 7: see appendix, history of cataract canyon.] by f. s. dellenbaugh the north-americans of yesterday a comparative study of north-american indian life, customs, and products, on the theory of the ethnic unity of the race. 8º. fully illustrated. net, $4.00 the romance of the colorado river a complete account of the discovery and of the explorations from 1540 to the present time, with particular reference to the two voyages of powell through the line of the great canyons. 8º. fully illustrated. net, $3.50 breaking the wilderness the story of the conquest of the far west, from the wanderings of cabeza de vaca to the first descent of the colorado by powell, and the completion of the union pacific railway, with particular account of the exploits of trappers and traders. 8º. fully illustrated. net, $3.50 a canyon voyage the narrative of the second powell expedition down the green-colorado river from wyoming, and the explorations on land in the years 1871 and 1872. 8º. fully illustrated. net, $3.50 g. p. putnam's sons new york london [illustration: the grand canyon looking south from the kaibab plateau, north rim, near the head of bright angel creek, the canyon of which is seen in the foreground. the san francisco mountains are in the distance. on the south rim to the right, out of the picture, is the location of the hotel tovar. the width of the canyon at the top in this region is about twelve miles, with a depth of near 6000 feet on the north side, and over 5000 on the south. total length, including marble canyon division, 283 miles. sketch made in colour on the spot by f. s. dellenbaugh, june 4, 1903.] a canyon voyage the narrative of the second powell expedition down the green-colorado river from wyoming, and the explorations on land, in the years 1871 and 1872 by frederick s. dellenbaugh artist and assistant topographer of the expedition "come on, sir; here's the place. stand still. how fearful and dizzy 't is to cast one's eyes so low!" _king lear._ with fifty illustrations g. p. putnam's sons new york and london the knickerbocker press 1908 copyright, 1908 by frederick s. dellenbaugh the knickerbocker press, new york to h. o. d. my companion on the voyage of life. preface this volume presents the narrative, from my point of view, of an important government expedition of nearly forty years ago: an expedition which, strangely enough, never before has been fully treated. in fact in all these years it never has been written about by any one besides myself, barring a few letters in 1871 from clement powell, through his brother, to the chicago _tribune_, and an extremely brief mention by major powell, its organiser and leader, in a pamphlet entitled _report of explorations in 1873 of the colorado of the west and its tributaries_ (government printing office, 1874). in my history, _the romance of the colorado river_, of which this is practically volume two, i gave a synopsis, and in several other places i have written in condensed form concerning it; but the present work for the first time gives the full story. in 1869, major powell made his famous first descent of the green-colorado river from the union pacific railway in wyoming to the mouth of the virgin river in nevada, a feat of exploration unsurpassed, perhaps unequalled, on this continent. several of the upper canyons had been before penetrated, but a vague mystery hung over even these, and there was no recorded, or even oral, knowledge on the subject when powell turned his attention to it. there was a tale that a man named james white had previously descended through the great canyons, but mr. robert brewster stanton has thoroughly investigated this and definitely proven it to be incorrect. powell's first expedition was designed as an exploration to cover ten months, part of which was to be in winter quarters; circumstances reduced the time to three. it was also more or less of a private venture with which the government of the united states had nothing to do. it became necessary to supplement it then by a second expedition, herein described, which congress supported, with, of course, major powell in charge, and nominally under the direction of the smithsonian institution, of which professor henry was then secretary and professor baird his able coadjutor, the latter taking the deeper interest in this venture. powell reported through the smithsonian; that was about all there was in the way of control. the material collected by this expedition was utilised in preparing the well-known report by major powell, _exploration of the colorado river of the west, 1869-1872_, the second party having continued the work inaugurated by the first and enlarged upon it, but receiving no credit in that or any other government publication. as pointed out in the text of this work, a vast portion of the basin of the colorado was a complete blank on the maps until our party accomplished its end; even some of the most general features were before that not understood. no canyon above the virgin had been recorded topographically, and the physiography was unknown. the record of the first expedition is one of heroic daring, and it demonstrated that the river could be descended throughout in boats, but unforeseen obstacles prevented the acquisition of scientific data which ours was specially planned to secure in the light of the former developments. the map, the hypsometric and hydrographic data, the geologic sections and geologic data, the photographs, ethnography, and indeed about all the first information concerning the drainage area in question were the results of the labours of the second expedition. owing, perhaps, to major powell's considering our work merely in the line of routine survey, no special record, as mentioned above, was ever made of the second expedition. we inherited from the first a plat of the river itself down to the mouth of the paria, which, according to professor thompson, was fairly good, but we did not rely on it; from the mouth of the paria to catastrophe rapid, the point below diamond creek where the howlands and dunn separated from the boat party, a plat that was broken in places. this was approximately correct as far as kanab canyon, though not so good as above the paria. from the kanab canyon, where we ended our work with the boats, to the mouth of the virgin we received fragments of the course owing to the mistake made in dividing the notes at the time of the separation; a division decided on because each group thought the other doomed to destruction. thus howland took out with him parts of both copies which were destroyed by the shewits when they killed the men. after howland's departure, the major ran in the course to the mouth of the virgin. professor thompson was confident that our plat of the course, which is the basis of all maps to-day, is accurate from the union pacific railway in wyoming to catastrophe rapid, for though we left the river at the kanab canyon, we were able by our previous and subsequent work on land to verify the data of the first party and to fill in the blanks, but he felt ready to accept corrections below catastrophe rapid to the virgin. for a list of the canyons, height of walls, etc., i must refer to the appendix in my previous volume. while two names cover the canyon from the paria to the grand wash, the gorge is practically one with a total length of 283 miles. i have not tried to give geological data for these are easily obtainable in the reports of powell, dutton, gilbert, walcott, and others, and i lacked space to introduce them properly. in fact i have endeavored to avoid a mere perfunctory record, full of data well stated elsewhere. while trying to give our daily experiences and actual camp life in a readable way, i have adhered to accuracy of statement. i believe that any one who wishes to do so can use this book as a guide for navigating the river as far as kanab canyon. i have not relied on memory but have kept for continual reference at my elbow not only my own careful diary of the journey, but also the manuscript diary of professor thompson, and a typewritten copy of the diary of john f. steward as far as the day of his departure from our camp. i have also consulted letters that i wrote home at the time and to the buffalo _express_, and a detailed draft of events up to the autumn of 1871 which i prepared in 1877 when all was still vividly fresh in mind. in addition, i possess a great many letters which professor thompson wrote me up to within a few weeks of his death (july, 1906), often in reply to questions i raised on various points that were not clear to me. each member of the party i have called by the name familiarly used on the expedition, for naturally there was no "mistering" on a trip of this kind. powell was known throughout the length and breadth of the rocky mountain region as "the major," while thompson was quite as widely known as "prof." some of the geographic terms, like dirty devil river, unknown mountains, etc., were those employed before permanent names were adopted. in my other books i have used the term amerind for american indian, and i intend to continue its use, but in the pages of this volume, being a narrative, and the word not having been used or known to us at that time, it did not seem exactly appropriate. some readers may wish to provide themselves with full maps of the course of the river, and i will state that the u. s. geological survey has published map-sheets each 20 by 16-1/2 inches, of the whole course of the green-colorado. these sheets are sent to any person desiring them who remits the price, five cents the sheet, by post-office money order addressed: "director u. s. geological survey, washington, d. c.," with the names of the sheets wanted. the names of the seventeen sheets covering the canyoned part are: green river(?), ashley, yampa,(?) price river, east tavaputs, san rafael, la sal, henry mountains, escalante, echo cliffs, san francisco mountains, kaibab, mount trumbull, chino, diamond creek, st. thomas, and camp mohave. several parties have tried the descent through the canyons since our voyage. some have been successful, some sadly disastrous. the river is always a new problem in its details, though the general conditions remain the same. major powell was a man of prompt decision, with a cool, comprehensive, far-reaching mind. he was genial, kind, never despondent, always resolute, resourceful, masterful, determined to overcome every obstacle. to him alone belongs the credit for solving the problem of the great canyons, and to professor thompson that for conducting most successfully the geographic side of the work under difficulties that can hardly be appreciated in these days when survey work is an accepted item of government expenditure and congress treats it with an open hand. i am indebted to mr. robert brewster stanton, who completed the brown expedition triumphantly, for valuable information and photographs and for many interesting conversations comparing his experiences with ours; to the geological survey for maps and for the privilege of using photographs from negatives in the possession of the survey; and to mr. john k. hillers for making most of the prints used in illustrating this book. my thanks are due to brigadier-general mackenzie, u. s. engineers, for copies of rare early maps of the region embraced in our operations, now nearly impossible to obtain. in 1902 when i informed major powell that i was preparing my history of the colorado river, he said he hoped that i would put on record the second trip and the men who were members of that expedition, which i accordingly did. he never ceased to take a lively interest in my affairs, and the year before he wrote me: "i always delight in your successes and your prosperity, and i ever cherish the memory of those days when we were on the great river together." professor thompson only a month before he died sent me a letter in which he said: "you are heir to all the colorado material and i am getting what i have together." these sentiments cause me to feel like an authorised and rightful historian of the expedition with which i was so intimately connected, and i sincerely hope that i have performed my task in a way that would meet the approval of my old leader and his colleague, as well as of my other comrades. one learns microscopically the inner nature of his companions on a trip of this kind, and i am happy to avow that a finer set of men could not have been selected for the trying work which they accomplished with unremitting good-nature and devotion, without pecuniary reward. professor thompson possessed invaluable qualities for this expedition: rare balance of mind, great cheerfulness, and a sunny way of looking on difficulties and obstacles as if they were mere problems in chess. his foresight and resourcefulness were phenomenal, and no threatening situation found him without some good remedy. some of the illustrations in powell's _report_ are misleading, and i feel it my duty to specially note three of them. the one opposite page 8 shows boats of the type we used on the second voyage with a middle cabin. the boats of the first expedition had cabins only at the bow and stern. the picture of the wreck at disaster falls, opposite page 27, is nothing like the place, and the one opposite page 82 gives boats in impossible positions, steered by rudders. a rudder is useless on such a river. long steering sweeps were used. time's changes have come to pass. you may now go by a luxurious santa fé train direct to the south rim of the greatest chasm of the series, the grand canyon, and stop there in a beautiful hotel surrounded by every comfort, yet when we were making the first map no railway short of denver existed and there was but one line across the rocky mountains. perhaps before many more years are gone we will see mr. stanton's denver, colorado canyon, and pacific railway accomplished through the canyons, and if i then have not "crossed to killiloo" i will surely claim a free pass over the entire length in defiance of all commerce-regulating laws. frederick s. dellenbaugh. cragsmoor, august, 1908 contents chapter i a river entrapped--acquaintance not desired--ives explores the lower reaches--powell the conqueror--reason for a second descent--congressional appropriation--preparation--the three boats--the mighty wilderness--ready for the start 1 chapter ii into the wilderness--the order of sailing--tobacco for the indians comes handy--a lone fisherman and some trappers--jack catches strange fish--the snow-clad uintas in view--a larder full of venison--entrance into flaming gorge 9 chapter iii the first rapid--horseshoe and kingfisher canyons--a rough entrance into red canyon--capsize of the _nell_--the grave of a bold navigator--discovery of a white man's camp--good-bye to frank--at the gate of lodore 19 chapter iv locked in the chasm of lodore--rapids with railway speed--a treacherous approach to falls of disaster--numerous loadings and unloadings--over the rocks with cargoes--library increased by _putnam's magazine_--triplet falls and hell's half mile--fire in camp--exit from turmoil to peace 34 chapter v a remarkable echo--up the canyon of the yampa--steward and clem try a moonlight swim--whirlpool canyon and mountain sheep--a grand fourth-of-july dinner--a rainbow-coloured valley--the major proceeds in advance--a split mountain with rapids a plenty--enter a big valley at last 49 chapter vi a lookout for redskins--the river a sluggard--a gunshot!--someone comes!--the tale of a mysterious light--how, how! from douglas boy--at the mouth of the uinta--a tramp to goblin city and a trip down white river on a raft--a waggon-load of supplies from salt lake by way of uinta agency--the major goes out to find a way in 61 chapter vii on to battle--a concert repertory--good-bye to douglas boy--the busy, busy beaver--in the embrace of the rocks once more--a relic of the cliff-dwellers--low water and hard work--a canyon of desolation--log-cabin cliff--rapids and rapids and rapids--a horse, whose horse?--through gray canyon to the rendezvous 72 chapter viii return of the major--some mormon friends--no rations at the elusive dirty devil--captain gunnison's crossing--an all-night vigil for cap. and clem--the land of a thousand cascades--a bend like a bow-knot and a canyon labyrinthian--cleaving an unknown world--signs of the oldest inhabitant--through the canyon of stillwater to the jaws of the colorado 94 chapter ix a wonderland of crags and pinnacles--poverty rations--fast and furious plunging waters--boulders boom along the bottom--chilly days and shivering--a wild tumultuous chasm--a bad passage by twilight and a tornado with a picture moonrise--out of one canyon into another--at the mouth of the dirty devil at last 115 chapter x the _cañonita_ left behind--shinumo ruins--troublesome ledges in the river--alcoves and amphitheatres--the mouth of the san juan--starvation days and a lookout for rations--el vado de los padres--white men again--given up for lost--navajo visitors--peaks with a great echo--at the mouth of the paria 135 chapter xi more navajos arrive with old jacob--the lost pack-train and a famished guide--from boat to broncho--on to kanab--winter arrives--wolf neighbours too intimate--preparing for geodetic work--over the kaibab to eight-mile spring--a frontier town--camp below kanab--a mormon christmas dance 152 chapter xii reconnoitring and triangulating--a pai ute new year's dance--the major goes to salt lake--snowy days on the kaibab--at pipe spring--gold hunters to the colorado--visits to the uinkaret county--craters and lava--finding the hurricane ledge--an interview with a cougar--back to kanab 174 chapter xiii off for the unknown country--a lonely grave--climbing a hog-back to a green grassy valley--surprising a ute camp--towich-a-tick-a-boo--following a blind trail--the unknown mountains become known--down a deep canyon--to the paria with the _cañonita_--john d. lee and lonely dell 195 chapter xiv a company of seven--the _nellie powell_ abandoned--into marble canyon--vasey's paradise--a furious descent to the little colorado--a mighty fall in the dismal granite gorge--caught in a trap--upside down--a deep plunge and a predicament--at the mouth of the kanab 215 chapter xv a new departure--farewell to the boats--out to the world through kanab canyon--a midnight ride--at the innupin picavu--prof. reconnoitres the shewits country--winter quarters in kanab--making the preliminary map--another new year--across a high divide in a snow-storm--down the sevier in winter--the last summons 242 index 269 illustrations facing page the grand canyon _frontispiece_ looking south from the kaibab plateau, north rim, near the head of bright angel creek, the canyon of which is seen in the foreground. the san francisco mountains are in the distance. on the south rim to the right, out of the picture, is the location of the hotel tovar. the width of the canyon at top in this region is about twelve miles, with a depth of near 6000 feet on the north side, and over 5000 on the south. total length, including marble canyon division, 283 miles. sketch made in colour on the spot by f. s. dellenbaugh, june 4, 1903. the toll 1 unidentified skeleton found april, 1906, by c. c. spaulding in the grand canyon 300 feet above the river, some miles below bright angel trail. there were daily papers in the pocket of the clothes of the early spring of 1900. photograph by kolb bros. 1906, grand canyon, arizona. red canyon 6 photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. before the start at green river city, wyoming 9 the dark box open. andy, clem, beaman, prof. steward, cap., frank, jones, jack, the major, fred, _cañonita_, _emma dean_, _nellie powell_. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. flaming gorge 17 the beginning of the colorado river canyons, n. e. utah. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. horseshoe canyon 21 photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. red canyon 25 photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. red canyon 28 ashley falls from below. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. in red canyon park 29 photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. the head of the canyon of lodore 34 just inside the gate. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. canyon of lodore 37 low water. photograph by j. k. hillers, 1874. the heart of lodore 40 f. s. dellenbaugh. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. canyon of lodore--dunn's cliff 43 2800 feet above river. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. canyon of lodore 44 jones, hillers, dellenbaugh. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. echo park 49 mouth of yampa river in foreground, green river on right. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. whirlpool canyon 54 mouth of bishop creek--fourth of july camp. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. split mountain canyon 59 photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. canyon of desolation 81 steward. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. colorado river white salmon 98 photograph by the denver, colorado canyon and pacific railway survey under robert brewster stanton, 1889. dellenbaugh butte 102 near mouth of san rafael. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. labyrinth canyon--bowknot bend 108 the great loop is behind the spectator. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. stillwater canyon 110 photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. cataract canyon 119 clement powell. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. cataract canyon 128 photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. narrow canyon 133 photograph by best expedition, 1891. mouth of the fremont river (dirty devil) 135 photograph by the brown expedition, 1889. glen canyon 140 photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. looking down upon glen canyon 142 cut through homogeneous sandstone. photograph by j. k. hillers, u. s. colo. riv. exp. tom 147 a typical navajo. tom became educated and no longer looked like an indian. photograph by wittick. glen canyon 149 sentinel rock--about 300 feet high. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871. the grand canyon 162 from havasupai point, south rim, showing inner gorge. from a sketch in colour by f. s. dellenbaugh, 1907. the grand canyon 168 from south rim near bright angel creek. the grand canyon 174 from part way down south side above bright angel creek. winsor castle, the defensive house at pipe springs 186 photograph by h. arthur pomroy, 1903. little zion valley, or the mookoontoweap, upper virgin river 186 photograph by h. arthur pomroy, 1903. in the unknown country 195 photograph by j. k. hillers, 1872. navajo mountain from near kaiparowits peak 201 photograph by j. k. hillers, 1872. tantalus creek 206 tributary of fremont river. photograph by j. k. hillers. example of lakes on the aquarius plateau 211 photograph by j. k. hillers. the grand canyon 215 near mouth of shinumo creek. the river is in flood and the water is "colorado." sketch made in colour on the spot by f. s. dellenbaugh, july 26, 1907. marble canyon 219 thompson. photograph by j. k. hillers, 1872. canyon of the little colorado 222 photograph by c. barthelmess. the grand canyon 224 from just below the little colorado. photograph by j. k. hillers, 1872. the grand canyon 227 running the sockdologer. from a sketch afterwards by f. s. dellenbaugh. the grand canyon 232 from top of granite, south side near bright angel creek. the grand canyon 238 character of river in rapids. photograph by f. s. dellenbaugh, 1907. the grand canyon 242 at a rapid--low water. the grand canyon 248 at the bottom near foot of bass trail. the grand canyon 254 from north side near foot of toroweap valley, uinkaret district. photograph by j. k. hillers. the grand canyon 258 storm effect from south rim. maps a. map by the u. s. war department, 1868. supplied by the courtesy of general mackenzie, u. s. a., showing the knowledge of the colorado river basin just before major powell began operations. the topography above the junction of the green and grand is largely pictorial and approximate. the white space from the san rafael to the mouth of the virgin is the unknown country referred to in this volume which was investigated in 1871-72-73. preliminary maps b, c, and d at pages 244-46, and 207 respectively, partly give the results of the work which filled in this area. 95 b. preliminary map of a portion of the southern part of the unknown country indicated by blank space on map a, at page 95, showing the hurricane ledge, uinkaret and shewits mountains and the course of the grand canyon from the mouth of kanab canyon to the grand wash. the howlands and dunn left the first expedition at catastrophe rapid at the sharp bend a few miles below the intersection of the river and longitude 113° 30', climbed out to the north and were killed near mt. dellenbaugh. 244 c. preliminary map of a portion of the central part of the unknown country indicated by the blank space on map a, at page 95, showing the kaibab plateau, mouth of the paria, echo peaks, house rock valley and the course of part of glen canyon and of marble canyon and the grand canyon to the mouth of the kanab canyon. el vado is at the western intersection of the 37th parallel and the colorado river, and kanab is in the upper left-hand corner of the map--just above the 37th parallel which is the boundary between utah and arizona. the words "old spanish trail from santa fé to los angeles" near el vado were added in washington and are incorrect. the old spanish trail crossed at gunnison crossing far north of this point which was barely known before 1858. 246 d. preliminary map of a portion of the northern part of the unknown country indicated by the blank space on map a, at page 95, showing the course of part of glen canyon, the mouth of the fremont (dirty devil) river, the henry (unknown) mountains, and the trail of the first known party of white men to cross this area. the escalante river which was mistaken for the dirty devil enters the colorado just above the first letter "o" of colorado at the bottom of the map. the dirty devil enters from the north at the upper right-hand side. 207 e. showing results of recent re-survey of part of the grand canyon near bright angel creek by the geological survey with ample time for detail. compare with map c at page 246--the south end of kaibab plateau. 250 a canyon voyage chapter i a river entrapped--acquaintance not desired--ives explores the lower reaches--powell the conqueror--reason for a second descent--congressional appropriation--preparation--the three boats--the mighty wilderness--ready for the start. the upper continuation of the colorado river of the west is green river which heads in the wind river mountains at frémont peak. from this range southward to the uinta mountains, on the southern boundary of wyoming, the river flows through an open country celebrated in the early days of western exploration and fur trading as "green river valley," and at that period the meeting ground and "rendezvous" of the various companies and organisations, and of free trappers. by the year 1840 the vast region west of the missouri had been completely investigated by the trappers and fur-hunters in the pursuit of trade, with the exception of the green-and-colorado river from the foot of green river valley to the termination of the now famous grand canyon of arizona. the reason for this exception was that at the southern extremity of green river valley the solid obstacle of the uinta range was thrown in an easterly and westerly trend directly across the course of the river, which, finding no alternative, had carved its way, in the course of a long geological epoch, through the foundations of the mountains in a series of gorges with extremely precipitous sides; continuous parallel cliffs between whose forbidding precipices dashed the torrent towards the sea. having thus entrapped itself, the turbulent stream, by the configuration of the succeeding region, was forced to continue its assault on the rocks, to reach the gulf, and ground its fierce progress through canyon after canyon, with scarcely an intermission of open country, for a full thousand miles from the beginning of its entombment, the entrance of flaming gorge, at the foot of the historical green river valley. some few attempts had been made to fathom the mystery of this long series of chasms, but with such small success that the exploration of the river was given up as too difficult and too dangerous. ashley had gone through red canyon in 1825 and in one of the succeeding winters of that period a party had passed through lodore on the ice. these trips proved that the canyons were not the haunt of beaver, that the navigation of them was vastly difficult, and that no man could tell what might befall in those gorges further down, that were deeper, longer, and still more remote from any touch with the outer world. indeed it was even reported that there were places where the whole river disappeared underground. the indians, as a rule, kept away from the canyons, for there was little to attract them. one bold ute who attempted to shorten his trail by means of the river, shortened it to the happy hunting grounds immediately, and there was nothing in his fate to inspire emulation. the years then wore on and the colorado remained unknown through its canyon division. ives had come up to near the mouth of the virgin from the gulf of california in 1858, and the portion above flaming gorge, from the foot of green river valley, was fairly well known, with the union pacific railway finally bridging it in wyoming. one james white was picked up (1867) at a point below the mouth of the virgin in an exhausted state, and it was assumed that he had made a large part of the terrible voyage on a raft, but this was not the case, and the colorado river canyons still waited for a conqueror. he came in 1869 in the person of john wesley powell, a late major[1] in the civil war, whose scientific studies had led him to the then territory of colorado where his mind became fired with the intention of exploring the canyons. the idea was carried out, and the river was descended from the union pacific railway crossing to the mouth of the virgin, and two of the men went on to the sea. thus the great feat was accomplished--one of the greatest feats of exploration ever executed on this continent.[2] [illustration: the toll. unidentified skeleton found april 1906 by c. c. spaulding in the grand canyon 300 feet above the river, some miles below bright angel trail. there were daily papers of the early spring of 1900 in the pocket of the clothes. photograph 1906 by kolb bros.] circumstances had rendered the data collected both insufficient and incomplete. a second expedition was projected to supply deficiencies and to extend the work; an expedition so well equipped and planned that time could be taken for the purely scientific side of the venture. this expedition was the first one under the government, the former expedition having been a more or less private enterprise. congress made appropriations and the party were to start in 1870. this was found to be inexpedient for several reasons, among which was the necessity of exploring a route by which rations could be brought in to them at the mouth of what we called dirty devil river--a euphonious title applied by the men of the first expedition. this stream entered the colorado at the foot of what is now known as narrow canyon, a little below the 38th parallel,--the frémont river of the present geographies. arrangements for supplies to be brought in to the second expedition at this place were made by the major during a special visit to southern utah for the purpose. by great good fortune i became a member of the second expedition. scores of men were turned away, disappointed. the party was a small one, and it was full. we were to begin our voyage through the chain of great canyons, at the same point where the first expedition started, the point where the recently completed union pacific railway crossed green river in wyoming, and we arrived there from the east early on the morning of april 29, 1871. we were all ravenous after the long night on the train and breakfast was the first consideration, but when this had re-established our energy we went to look for the flat car with our boats which had been sent ahead from chicago. the car was soon found on a siding and with the help of some railroad employés we pushed it along to the eastern end of the bridge over green river and there, on the down side, put the boats into the waters against whose onslaughts they were to be our salvation. it was lucky perhaps that we did not pause to ponder on the importance of these little craft; on how much depended on their staunchness and stability; and on our possible success in preventing their destruction. the river was high from melting snows and the current was swift though ordinarily it is not a large river at this point. this season had been selected for the start because of the high water, which would tide us over the rocks till tributary streams should swell the normal volume; for our boats were to be well loaded, there being no chance to get supplies after leaving. we had some trouble in making a landing where we wanted to, in a little cove on the east side about half a mile down, which had been selected as a good place for our preparatory operations. here the three boats were hauled out to receive the final touches. they were named _emma dean_, _nellie powell_, and _cañonita_. a space was cleared in the thick willows for our general camp over which andy was to be master of ceremonies, at least so far as the banqueting division was concerned, and here he became initiated into the chemistry necessary to transform raw materials into comparatively edible food. but it was not so hard a task, for our supplies were flour, beans, bacon, dried apples, and dried peaches, tea and coffee, with, of course, plenty of sugar. canned goods at that time were not common, and besides, would have been too heavy. bread must be baked three times a day in the dutch oven, a sort of skillet of cast iron, about three inches deep, ten or twelve inches in diameter, with short legs, and a cast-iron cover with a turned-up rim that would hold hot coals. we had no other bread than was made in this oven, or in a frying-pan, with saleratus and cream of tartar to raise it. it was andy's first experience as a cook, though he had been a soldier in the civil war, as had almost every member of the party except the youngest three, clem, frank, and myself, i being the youngest of all. for sleeping quarters we were disposed in two vacant wooden shanties about two hundred yards apart and a somewhat greater distance from the cook-camp. these shanties were mansions left over, like a group of roofless adobe ruins near by, from the opulent days of a year or two back when this place had been the terminus of the line during building operations. little remained of its whilom grandeur; a section house, a railway station, a number of canvas-roofed domiciles, field's "outfitting store," and the aforesaid shanties in which we secured refuge, being about all there was of the place. the region round about suggested the strangeness of the wild country below, through the midst of which led our trail. arid and gravelly hills met the eye on all sides, accentuated by huge buttes and cliffs of brilliant colours, which in their turn were intensified by a clear sky of deep azure. in the midst of our operations, we found time to note the passing of the single express train each way daily. these trains seemed very friendly and the passengers gazed wonderingly from the windows at us and waved handkerchiefs. they perceived what we were about by the sign which i painted on cloth and fastened across the front of our house, which was near the track: "powell's colorado river exploring expedition." above this was flying our general flag, the stars and stripes. the white boats were thoroughly gone over with caulking-iron and paint. upon the decks of the cabins, canvas, painted green, was stretched in such a way that it could be unbuttoned at the edges on three sides and thrown back when we wanted to take off the hatches. when in place this canvas kept the water, perfectly, out of the hatch joints. each boat had three compartments, the middle one being about four feet long, about one-fifth the length of the boat, which was twenty-two feet over the top. two places were left for the rowers, before and abaft the middle compartment, while the steersman with his long oar thrust behind was to sit on the deck of the after-cabin, all the decks being flush with the gunwale, except that of the forward cabin the deck of which was carried back in a straighter line than the sheer of the boat and thus formed a nose to help throw off the waves. it was believed that when the hatches were firmly in place and the canvases drawn taut over the decks, even if a boat turned over, as was expected sometimes might be the case, the contents of these cabins would remain intact and dry. as so much depended on keeping our goods dry, and as we knew from powell's previous experience that the voyage would be a wet one, everything was carefully put in rubber sacks, each having a soft mouth inside a double lip with a row of eyelets in each lip through which ran a strong cord. when the soft mouth was rolled up and the bag squeezed, the air was forced out, and the lips could be drawn to a bunch by means of the cord. when in this condition the bag could be soaked a long time in water without wetting the contents. each rubber bag was encased in a heavy cotton one to protect it; in short, we spared no effort to render our provisions proof against the destroying elements. at first we put the bacon into rubber, but it spoiled the rubber and then we saw that bacon can take care of itself, nothing can hurt it anyhow, and a gunny-sack was all that was necessary. though the boats were five feet in the beam and about twenty-four inches in depth, their capacity was limited and the supplies we could take must correspond. each man was restricted to one hundred pounds of baggage, including his blankets. he had one rubber bag for the latter and another for his clothing and personal effects. in the provision line we had twenty-two sacks of flour of fifty pounds each. there was no whiskey, so far as i ever knew, except a small flask containing about one gill which i had been given with a ditty-bag for the journey. this flask was never drawn upon and was intact till needed as medicine in october. smoking was abandoned, though a case of smoking tobacco was taken for any indians we might meet. our photographic outfit was extremely bulky and heavy, for the dry plate had not been invented. we had to carry a large amount of glass and chemicals, as well as apparatus. the numerous scientific instruments also were bulky, as they had to be fitted into wooden cases that were covered with canvas and then with rubber. rations in quantity were not obtainable short of salt lake or fort bridger, and we had congressional authority to draw on the military posts for supplies. the major and his colleague, professor thompson, went to fort bridger and to salt lake to secure what was necessary, and to make further arrangements for the supplies which were to be brought in to us at the three established points: the mouth of the uinta, by way of the uinta indian agency; the mouth of the dirty devil; and the place where escalante had succeeded in crossing the colorado in 1776, known as the crossing of the fathers, about on the line between utah and arizona. [illustration: red canyon. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] mrs. thompson and mrs. powell, who had come out on the same train with us, had gone on to salt lake, where they were to wait for news from the expedition, when we should get in touch with the uinta agency at the mouth of the uinta river, something over two hundred miles further down. at length all was provided for and the major and prof. returned to our camp from salt lake bringing a new member of the party, jack hillers, to take the place of jack sumner of the former party who was unable to get to us on account of the deep snows in the mountains which surrounded the retreat where he had spent the winter trapping. prof. brought back also an american flag for each boat with the name of the boat embroidered in the field of blue on one side while the stars were on the other. we all admired these flags greatly, especially as they had been made by mrs. thompson's own hands. we had with us a diary which jack sumner had kept on the former voyage, and the casual way in which he repeatedly referred to running through a "hell of foam" gave us an inkling, if nothing more, of what was coming. our careful preparations gave us a feeling of security against disaster, or, at least, induced us to expect some degree of liberality from fortune. we had done our best to insure success and could go forward in some confidence. a delay was caused by the non-arrival of some extra heavy oars ordered from chicago, but at length they came, and it was well we waited, for the lighter ones were quickly found to be too frail. our preparations had taken three weeks. considering that we were obliged to provide against every contingency that might occur in descending this torrent so completely locked in from assistance and supplies, the time was not too long. below green river city, wyoming, where we were to start, there was not a single settler, nor a settlement of any kind, on or near the river for a distance of more than a thousand miles. from the river out, a hundred miles in an air line westward, across a practically trackless region, would be required to measure the distance to the nearest mormon settlements on the sevier, while eastward it was more than twice as far to the few pioneers who had crossed the backbone of the continent. the uinta indian agency was the nearest establishment to green river. it was forty miles west of the mouth of the uinta. in southern utah the newly formed mormon settlement of kanab offered the next haven, but no one understood exactly its relationship to the topography of the colorado, except from the vicinity of the crossing of the fathers. thus the country through which we were to pass was then a real wilderness, while the river itself was walled in for almost the entire way by more or less unscalable cliffs of great height. finally all of our preparations were completed to the last detail. the cabins of the boats were packed as one packs a trunk. a wooden arm-chair was obtained from field and fastened to the middle deck of our boat by straps, as a seat for the major, and to the left side of it--he had no right arm--his rubber life-preserver was attached. each man had a similar life-preserver in a convenient place, and he was to keep this always ready to put on when we reached particularly dangerous rapids. on the evening of the 21st of may nothing more remained to be done. the second powell expedition was ready to start. [illustration: before the start at green river city, wyoming. the dark box open. _cañonita_; andy, clem, beaman. _emma dean_; jones, jack, the major, fred. _nellie powell_; prof., steward, cap., frank. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] footnotes: [footnote 1: powell had received an appointment as colonel before he left the volunteer service, but he was always called major.] [footnote 2: for the history of the colorado river the reader is referred to _the romance of the colorado river_, by f. s. dellenbaugh.] chapter ii into the wilderness--the order of sailing--tobacco for the indians comes handy--a lone fisherman and some trappers--jack catches strange fish--the snow-clad uintas in view--a larder full of venison--entrance into flaming gorge. the 22d of may, 1871, gave us a brilliant sun and a sky of sapphire with a sparkling atmosphere characteristic of the rocky mountain region. the great buttes near the station, which moran has since made famous, shone with a splendour that was inspiring. to enable us to pick up the last ends more easily and to make our departure in general more convenient, we had breakfast that morning at field's outfitting place, and an excellent breakfast it was. it was further distinguished by being the last meal that we should eat at a table for many a month. we were followed to the cove, where our loaded boats were moored, by a number of people; about the whole population in fact, and that did not make a crowd. none of the chinamen came down, and there were no indians in town that day. the only unpleasant circumstance was the persistent repetition by a deaf-mute of a pantomimic representation of the disaster that he believed was to overwhelm us. "dummy," as we called him, showed us that we would be upset, and, unable to scale the cliffs, would surely all be drowned. this picture, as vividly presented as possible, seemed to give him and his brother great satisfaction. we laughed at his prophecy, but his efforts to talk were distressing. it may be said in excuse for him, that in some paddling up the river from that point, he had arrived at perhaps an honest conviction of what would happen to any one going below; and also, that other wise men of the town predicted that we would never see "brown's hole," at the end of red canyon. at ten o'clock we pushed out into the current. there were "good-bye and god-speed" from the shore with a cheer, and we responded with three and then we passed out of sight. the settlement, the railway, the people, were gone; the magnificent wilderness was ours. we swept down with a four-mile current between rather low banks, using the oars mainly for guidance, and meeting no difficulty worse than a shoal, on which the boats all grounded for a few moments, and the breaking of his oar by jones who steered our boat. about noon having run three miles, a landing was made on a broad gravelly island, to enable andy to concoct a dinner. a heavy gale was tearing fiercely across the bleak spot. the sand flew in stinging clouds, but we got a fire started and then it burned like a furnace. andy made another sample of his biscuits, this time liberally incorporated with sand, and he fried some bacon. the sand mainly settled to the bottom of the frying pan, for this bacon was no fancy breakfast table variety but was clear fat three or four inches thick. but how good it was! and the grease poured on bread! and yet while at the railway i had scorned it; in fact i had even declared that i would never touch it, whereat the others only smiled a grim and confident smile. and now, at the first noon camp, i was ready to pronounce it one of the greatest delicacies i had ever tasted! they jeered at me, but their jeers were kind, friendly jeers, and i recall them with pleasure. in warm-hearted companionship no set of men that i have ever since been associated with has been superior to these fellow voyageurs, and the major's big way of treating things has been a lesson all my life. we had all become fast true friends at once. with the exception of the major, whom i had first met about two months before, and frank whom i had known for a year or two, i had been acquainted with them only since we had met on the train on the way out. in the scant shelter of some greasewood bushes we devoured the repast which the morning's exercise and the crisp air had made so welcome, and each drank several cups of tea dipped from the camp-kettle wherein andy had boiled it. we had no formal table. when all was ready, the magic words, "well go fur it, boys," which andy uttered stepping back from the fire were ceremony enough. each man took a tin plate and a cup and served himself. clem and frank were sent back overland to the town for a box of thermometers forgotten and for an extra steering oar left behind, and the _cañonita_ waited for their return. during the afternoon, as we glided on, the hills began to close in upon us, and occasionally the river would cut into one making a high precipitous wall, a forerunner of the character of the river banks below. the order of going was, our boat, the _emma dean_, first, with major powell on the deck of the middle cabin, or compartment, sitting in his arm-chair, which was securely fastened there, but was easily removable. s. v. jones was at the steering oar, jack hillers pulled his pair of oars in the after standing-room, while i was at the bow oars. the second in line was the _nellie powell_, professor a. h. thompson steering, j. f. steward rowing aft, captain f. m. bishop forward, and frank richardson sitting rather uncomfortably on the middle deck. the third and last boat was the _cañonita_, which e. o. beaman, the photographer steered, while andrew hattan, rowed aft, and clement powell, assistant photographer, forward. this order was preserved, with a few exceptions, throughout the first season's work. it was the duty of prof. and jones to make a traverse (or meander) of the river as we descended. they were to sight ahead at each bend with prismatic compasses and make estimates of the length of each sight, height of walls, width of stream, etc., and cap was to put the results on paper. the major on his first boat, kept a general lookout and gave commands according to circumstances. he remembered the general character of the river from his former descent, but he had to be on the _qui-vive_ as to details. besides every stage of water makes a change in the nature of the river at every point. in addition to this outlook, the major kept an eye on the geology, as he was chief geologist; and steward, being assistant geologist did the same. richardson was assistant to steward. jack was general assistant and afterwards photographer. i was artist, and later, assistant topographer also. it was my duty to make any sketch that the geologists might want, and of course, as in the case of everybody, to help in the navigation or anything else that came along. each man had a rifle and some had also revolvers. most of the rifles were winchesters.[3] we had plenty of ammunition, and the rifles were generally kept where we could get at them quickly. in this order, and with these duties, we ran on down the green, and so far at least as i was concerned, feeling as if we had suddenly stepped off into another world. late in the afternoon we were astonished to discover a solitary old man sitting on the right bank fishing. who he was we did not know but we gave him a cheer as we dashed by and were carried beyond his surprised vision. as the sun began to reach the horizon a lookout was kept for a good place for camp. i, for one, was deeply interested, as i had never yet slept in the open. at length we reached a spot where the hills were some distance back on the right leaving quite a bottom where there were a number of cottonwood trees. a deserted log cabin silently invited us to land and, as this was cordial for the wilderness, we responded in the affirmative. the sky had a look of storm about it and i was glad of even this excuse for a roof, though the cabin was too small to shelter our whole party, except standing up, and the beds were all put down on the ground outside. the night was very cold and the fire which we made for andy's operations was most comforting. we had for supper another instalment of bacon, saleratus-bread, and tea, which tasted just as good as had that prepared at noon. sitting on rocks and stumps we ate this meal, and presently the raw air reminded some of the smokers that, while they had thrown their tobacco away there was, in the boats, the quite large supply designed for our red friends, should we meet any. of course we had more than was absolutely necessary for them, and in a few minutes the pipes which had been cast away at green river appeared well filled and burning. perhaps we had pipes for the indians too! i had not thrown my pipe away for it was a beautifully carved meerschaum--a present. i knew just where it was and lighted it up, though i was not a great smoker. the indians did not get as much of that tobacco as they might have wished. to make our blankets go farther we bunked together two and two, and jones and i were bed-fellows. it was some time before i could go to sleep. i kept studying the sky; watching the stars through the ragged breaks in the flying clouds. the night was silent after the gale. the river flowed on with little noise. the fire flickered and flickered, and the cottonwoods appeared dark and strange as i finally went to sleep. i had not been long in that happy state before i saw some men trying to steal our boats on which our lives depended and i immediately attacked them, pinning one to the ground. it was only jones i was holding down, and his shouts and struggles to reach his pistol woke me, and startled the camp. he believed a real enemy was on him. there was a laugh at my expense, and then sleep ruled again till about daylight when i was roused by rain falling on my face. all were soon up. the rain changed to snow which fell so heavily that we were driven to the cabin where a glorious fire was made on the hearth, and by it andy got the bread and bacon and coffee ready for breakfast, and also for dinner, for the snow was so thick we could not venture on the river till it stopped, and that was not till afternoon. the country through which we now passed was more broken. cliffs, buttes, mesas, were everywhere. sometimes we were between high rocky banks, then we saw a valley several miles wide, always without a sign of occupation by white men, even though as yet we were not far from the railway in a direct course. very late in the afternoon we saw something moving in the distance on the right. our glasses made it out to be two or three men on horseback. a signal was made which they saw, and consequently stopped to await developments, and a bag of fossils, the major had collected, was sent out to them with a request to take it to green river station, in which direction they were headed. they proved to be a party of prospectors who agreed to deliver the fossils, and we went on our way. the mornings and evenings were very cold and frosty, but during the day the temperature was perfectly comfortable, and this was gratifying, for the river in places spread into several channels, so that no one of them was everywhere deep enough for the boats which drew, so heavily laden, sixteen or eighteen inches. the keels grated frequently on the bottom and we had to jump overboard to lighten the boats and pull them off into deep water. we found as we went on that we must be ready every moment, in all kinds of water, to get over into the river, and it was necessary to do so with our clothes on, including our shoes, for the reason that the rocky bottom would bruise and cut our feet without the shoes, rocks would do the same to our legs, and for the further reason that there was no time to remove garments. in the rapids further on we always shipped water and consequently we were wet from this cause most of the time anyhow. we had two suits of clothes, one for wear on the river in the day time, and the other for evening in camp, the latter being kept in a rubber bag, so that we always managed to be dry and warm at night. on making camp the day suit was spread out on rocks or on a branch of a tree if one were near, or on a bush to dry, and it was generally, though not always, comfortably so, in the morning when it was again put on for the river work. sometimes, being still damp, the sensation for a few moments was not agreeable. we snapped several of the lighter oars in the cross currents, as the boats were heavy and did not mind quickly, and to backwater suddenly on one of the slender oars broke it like a reed. some of the longer, heavier oars were then cut down to eight feet and were found to be entirely serviceable. the steering oars were cut down from eighteen to sixteen feet. extra oars were carried slung on each side of the boats just under the gunwales, for the major on the former journey had been much hampered by being obliged to halt to search for timber suitable for oars and then to make them. there was one thing about the boats which we soon discovered was a mistake. this was the lack of iron on the keels. the iron had been left off for the purpose of reducing the weight when it should be necessary to carry the boats around bad places, but the rocks and gravel cut the keels down alarmingly, till there was danger of wearing out the bottoms in the long voyage to come.[4] jack was a great fisherman, and it was not long before he tried his luck in the waters of the green. no one knew what kind of fish might be taken--at least no one in our party--and he began his fishing with some curiosity. it was rewarded by a species of fish none of us had ever before seen, a fish about ten to sixteen inches long, slim, with fine scales and large fins. their heads came down with a sudden curve to the mouth, and their bodies tapered off to a very small circumference just before the tail spread out. they were good to eat, and formed a welcome addition to our larder. we were all eager for something fresh, and when we saw a couple of deer run across the bluffs just before we reached our fourth camp, our hopes of venison were roused to a high degree. camp number four was opposite the mouth of black's fork at an altitude above sea level of 5940 feet, a descent of 135 feet from the railway bridge. after this the channel was steadier and the water deeper, black's fork being one of the largest tributaries of the upper river. we now came in view of the snowy line of the uinta range stretching east and west across our route and adding a beautiful alpine note to the wide barren array of cliffs and buttes. it was twenty or thirty miles off, but so clear was the air that we seemed to be almost upon it. as we were drifting along with a swift current in the afternoon, the day after passing black's fork, one of the party saw a deer on an island. a rifle shot from our boat missed, and the animal dashing into the river swam across and disappeared in the wide valley. but another was seen. a landing was made immediately, and while some of the men held the boats ready to pick up a prize, the others beat the island. i was assigned to man our boat, and as we waited up against the bank under the bushes, we could hear the rifles crack. then all was still. suddenly i heard a crashing of bushes and a hundred yards above us a superb black-tail sprang into the water and swam for the east bank. my sensation was divided between a desire to see the deer escape, and a desire to supplant the bacon with venison for a time. my cartridges were under the hatches as it chanced, so i was unable to take action myself. with deep interest i watched the animal swim and with regret that our fresh meat was so fortunate, for it was two-thirds of the way across, before a rifle cracked. the deer's efforts ceased instantly and she began to drift down with the current. we ran our boat out and hauled the carcass on board. at the same time as we were being carried down by the swift current we got a view of the other side of the island where cap. up to his arms in the stream was trying to pull another deer ashore by the horns. it looked as if both deer and cap. would sail away and forever, till another boat went to his rescue. presently the third boat came down bearing still another deer. the successful shots were from prof., andy, and steward. our prospects for a feast were bright, and we had it. the deer were speedily dressed, frank displaying exceptional skill in this line. had we been able to stay in this region we would never have been in want of fresh meat, but when we entered the canyons the conditions were so different and the task of pursuing game so baffling and exhausting that we never had such success again. the whole of the next day we remained in a favourable spot at the foot of a strangely tilted ledge, where we jerked the venison by the aid of sun and fire to preserve it. near this point as observations showed later we passed from wyoming into utah. about dusk we were surprised to discover a small craft with a single individual aboard coming down the river. then we saw it was a raft. we watched its approach with deep interest wondering who the stranger could be, but he turned out to be steward who had gone geologising and had taken this easier means of coming back. he tried it again farther down and met with an experience which taught him to trust to the land thereafter. [illustration: flaming gorge. the beginning of the colorado river canyons, n. e. utah. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] the next day our boat was held back for some special work while the others proceeded toward a high spur of the uintas, directly in front of us. we followed with a fierce and blinding gale sweeping the river and filling our eyes with sharp sand. nevertheless we could see high up before us some bright red rocks marking the first canyon of the wonderful series that separates this river from the common world. from these bright rocks glowing in the sunlight like a flame above the grey-green of the ridge, the major had bestowed on this place the name of flaming gorge. as we passed down towards the mountain it seemed that the river surely must end there, but suddenly just below the mouth of henry's fork it doubled to the left and we found ourselves between two low cliffs, then in a moment we dashed to the right into the beautiful canyon, with the cliffs whose summit we had seen, rising about 1300 feet on the right, and a steep slope on the left at the base of which was a small bottom covered with tall cottonwood trees, whose green shone resplendent against the red rocks. the other boats were swinging at their lines and the smoke of andy's fire whirling on the wind was a cheerful sight to the ever-hungry inner-man. constant exercise in the open air produces a constant appetite. as long as we could protect our cargoes, and make our connections with our supplies as planned, we would surely not have to go hungry, but we had to consider that there was room for some variation or degree of success. there was at least one comforting feature about the river work and that was we never suffered for drinking water. it was only on side trips, away from the river that we met this difficulty, so common in the rocky mountain region and all the south-west. when the barometrical observations were worked out we found we had now descended 262 feet from our starting-point. that was four and a quarter feet for each mile of the sixty-two we had put behind. we always counted the miles put behind, for we knew they could not be retraced, but it was ever the miles and the rapids ahead that we kept most in our minds. we were now at the beginning of the real battle with the "sunken river." henceforth, high and forbidding cliffs with few breaks, would imprison the stream on both sides. a loss of our provisions would mean a journey on foot, after climbing out of the canyon, to green river (wyoming) to salt lake city or to the uinta indian agency. there was a trail from brown's hole (now brown's park) back to the railway, but the difficulty would be to reach it if we should be wrecked in red canyon. we did not give these matters great concern at the time, but i emphasise them now to indicate some of the difficulties of the situation and the importance of preventing the wreck of even one boat. footnotes: [footnote 3: two were of the original henry pattern.] [footnote 4: for further description of these boats the reader is referred to _the romance of the colorado river_, page 236, by f. s. dellenbaugh.] chapter iii the first rapid--horseshoe and kingfisher canyons--a rough entrance into red canyon--capsize of the _nell_--the grave of a bold navigator--discovery of a white man's camp--good-bye to frank--at the gate of lodore. prof. now took observations for time and latitude in order to fix with accuracy the geographical location of the camp in flaming gorge, and to check the estimates of the topographers as they sighted the various stretches of the river. it has been found that estimates of this kind are quite accurate and that the variation from exactness is generally the same in[5] the same individual. hence one man may underestimate and another may overestimate, but each will always make the same error, and this error can be readily corrected by frequent observations to determine latitude and longitude. a series of barometrical observations was kept going whether we were on the move or not. that is, a mercurial barometer was read three times a day, regularly, at seven, at one, and at nine. we had aneroid barometers for work away from the river and these were constantly compared with and adjusted to the mercurials. the tubes of mercury sometimes got broken, and then a new one had to be boiled to replace it. i believe the boiling of tubes has since that time been abandoned, as there is not enough air in the tube to interfere with the action of the mercury, but at that time it was deemed necessary for accuracy, and it gave prof. endless trouble. the wind was always blowing, and no tent we could contrive from blankets, and waggon sheets (we had no regular tents), sufficed to keep the flame of the alcohol lamp from flickering. nevertheless, prof. whose patience and dexterity were unlimited, always succeeded. the mercurial barometers were of the kind with a buckskin pocket at the bottom of the cistern with a screw for adjusting the column of mercury to a fixed point. most of the men climbed out in various directions and for various objects. prof. reached a high altitude whence he obtained a broad view of the country, a grand sight with the quiet river below and snow-capped mountains around, with rolling smoke and leaping flame, for there were great mountain fires not far off. the major and steward went geologising. steward was rewarded by discovering a number of fossils, among them the bones of an immense animal of the world's early day, with a femur ten inches in diameter, and ribs two inches thick and six inches wide. these bones were much exposed and could have been dug out, but we had no means of transporting them. flaming gorge is an easy place to get in and out of, even with a horse, and doubtless in the old beaver-hunting days it was a favourite resort of trappers. i am inclined to think that the double turn of the swirling river where it enters flaming gorge is the place known at that time as the green river suck. our camp under the cottonwoods was delightful. we took advantage of the halt to write up notes, clean guns, mend clothes, do our washing, and all the other little things incident to a breathing spell on a voyage of this kind. it was sunday too, and when possible we stopped on that account, though, of course, progress could not be deferred for that reason alone. monday morning we left the pleasant camp in the grove and went on with the tide. the river was rough from a heavy gale, but otherwise offered no obstacle. at a sudden bend we cut to the left deeper into the mountain till on both sides we were enclosed by almost perpendicular precipices of carboniferous formation, limestone, about 1600 feet high. the canyon was surprisingly beautiful and romantic. the river seemed to change its mood here, and began to flow with an impetus it had exhibited nowhere above. it swept on with a directness and a concentration of purpose that had about it something ominous. and just here, at the foot of the right hand wall which was perpendicular for 800 feet, with the left more sloping, and clothed with cedar shrubs, we beheld our first real rapid, gleaming like a jewel from its setting in the sunlight which fell into the gorge, and it had as majestic a setting as could be desired. for myself i can say that the place appeared the acme of the romantic and picturesque. the rapid was small and swift, a mere chute, and perhaps hardly worthy of mention had it not been the point where the character of the river current changes making it distinguished because of being the first of hundreds to come below. the river above had held a continual descent accelerating here and retarding there with an average current of two and a half miles an hour, but here began the quick drops for which the canyons are now famous. there was one place where prof. noted a small rapid but it was not like this one, and i did not count it at all. [illustration: horseshoe canyon. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] the gorge we ran into so suddenly was short and by dinner-time we had emerged into a wider, more broken place, though we were still bound in by tremendous heights. we saw that we had described a complete horseshoe and this fact determined the canyon's name--number two of the series. when we landed for dinner, an examination was made of the locality from that base before we dropped down a little distance to the mouth of a fine clear creek coming in from the right. this was a fascinating place. the great slopes were clothed with verdure and trees, and the creek ran through luxuriant vegetation. a halt of a day was made for observation purposes. the air was full of kingfishers darting about and we immediately called the creek by their name. i was sent with steward on a geological expedition out over the right or western cliffs. we consumed two hours in getting out, having to climb up about 1000 feet over a difficult way. after a good deal of going up and down across rough ridges, we finally worked our way around to the head of flaming gorge. here we reckoned up and found that eight steep ridges intervened between us and camp by the way we had come, and we concluded that we could get back easier through flaming gorge and thence by climbing over the tongue or base of the horseshoe which was lower than the end. steward grew decidedly weary and i felt my legs getting heavy too. rain had fallen at intervals all day and we were wet as well as tired and famished. we struck an old trail and followed it as long as it went our way. then it became too dark to see which way it went and we climbed on as best we could. it was about half-past eight when we reached our camp to find a splendid fire burning and a good supper waiting for us. the new canyon which closed in the next day had walls about 1500 feet in height, that being the general height of the spur of the uintas through which we were travelling. the changes from one canyon to another were only changes in the character of the bounding mountain walls, for there was no break into open country. the name of kingfisher we gave to the new gorge for the same reason we had called the creek at our camp by that name, and so numerous were these birds at one rounded promontory that there was no escape from calling it beehive point, the resemblance to a gigantic hive being perfect. kingfisher canyon like its two predecessors was short, all three making a distance by the river of only about ten miles. flaming gorge is the gateway, horseshoe the vestibule, and kingfisher the ante-chamber to the whole grand series. at the foot of kingfisher the rocks fell back a little and steep slopes took their place. where the rocks closed in again, we halted on the threshold of the next gorge, in a fine grove of cottonwoods. a significant roar came to us out of the gate to red canyon, rolling up on the air with a steady, unvarying monotony that had a sinister meaning. it was plain that we were nearing something that was no paltry gem like the rapid we had so much admired in horseshoe canyon. the remainder of that day and all the next, which was june 1st, we stayed at this camp completing records, investigating the surroundings, and preparing for rough work ahead. on friday morning the cabins were packed carefully, the life preservers were inflated, and we pulled out into the current. the cliffs shot up around us and rough water began at once. the descent was almost continuous for a considerable distance, but we divided it into three rapids in our notes, before we reached a sharp turn to the right, and then one just as sharp to the left, with vertical walls on both sides and a roaring torrent, broken by rocks, whirling between. our boat shot down with fierce rapidity and would have gone through without a mishap had not the current dashed us so close to the right-hand wall that jack's starboard row-lock was ripped off by a projection of the cliff as we were hurled along its rugged base. at the same moment we saw the _nell_ upsetting against some rocks on the left. then we swept out of view and i was obliged to pull with all my strength, jack's one oar being useless. we succeeded in gaining a little cove on the left, and jumped out as soon as shallow enough, the major immediately climbing the cliffs to a high point where he could look down on the unfortunate second boat. prof., it seems, had misunderstood the major's signal and had done just what he did not think he ought to do. he thought it meant to land on the left and he had tried to reach a small strip of beach, but finding this was not possible he turned the boat again into the current to retrieve his former position, but this was not successful and the _nell_ was thrown on some rocks projecting from the left wall, in the midst of wild waters, striking hard enough to crush some upper planks of the port side. she immediately rolled over, and frank slid under. prof. clutched him and pulled him back while the men all sprang for the rocks and saved themselves and the boat from being washed away in this demoralised condition. with marvellous celerity cap. took a turn with a rope around a small tree which he managed to reach, while steward jumped to a position where he could prevent the boat from pounding. in a minute she was righted and they got her to the little beach where they had tried to land. here they pulled her out and, partially unloading, repaired her temporarily as well as they could. this done they towed up to a point of vantage and made a fresh start and cleared the rapid with no further incident. meanwhile the _cañonita_ had come in to where we were lying, and both boats were held ready to rescue the men of the other. after about three-quarters of an hour the unfortunate came down, her crew being rather elated over the experience and the distinction of having the first capsize. setting out on the current again we passed two beautiful creeks entering from the right, and they were immediately named respectively, compass and kettle creeks, to commemorate the loss of these articles in the capsize. at the mouth of kettle creek, about a mile and a half below the capsize rapid, we stopped for dinner. then running several small drops, we arrived at a long descent that compelled careful action. we always landed, where possible, to make an examination and learn the trend of the main current. our not being able to do this above was the cause of the _nell's_ trouble. we now saw that we had here landed on the wrong side and would have to make a somewhat hazardous crossing to the opposite, or right bank. our boat tried it first. in spite of vigorous pulling we were carried faster down towards the rapid than to the objective landing. when we reached water about waist deep we all sprang overboard, and i got to shore with the line as quickly as i could. we were able to turn and catch the _nell_ as she came in, but the _cañonita_ following ran too far down. we all dashed into the stream almost at the head of the rapid, and there caught her in time. the load was taken out of our boat and she was let down by lines over the worst part. loading again we lowered to another bad place where we went into camp on the same spot where the major had camped two years before. we unloaded the other boats and got them down before dark, but we ate supper by firelight. the river averaged about 250 feet wide, with a current of not less than six miles an hour and waves in the rapids over five feet in vertical height. these waves broke up stream as waves do in a swift current, and as the boats cut into them at a high velocity we shipped quantities of water and were constantly drenched, especially the bow-oarsmen. the cliffs on each side, wonderfully picturesque, soon ran up to 1200 or 1500 feet, and steadily increased their altitude. owing to the dip of the strata across the east and west trend of the canyon the walls on the north were steeper than those on the south, but they seldom rose vertically from the river. masses of talus, and often alluvial stretches with rocks and trees, were strung along their base, usually offering numerous excellent landings and camping places. we were able to stop about as we wished and had no trouble as to camps, though they were frequently not just what we would have preferred. there was always smooth sand to sleep on, and often plenty of willows to cut and lay in rows for a mattress. it must not be imagined that these great canyons are dark and gloomy in the daytime. they are no more so than an ordinary city street flanked with very high buildings. some lateral canyons are narrow and so deep that the sun enters them but briefly, but even these are only shady, not dark. [illustration: red canyon. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] we remained on the major's old camp ground a day so that jones and cap. could climb to the top of the cliff to get the topography. the next morning though it was sunday was not to be one of rest. we began by lowering the boats about forty rods farther and there pulled out into the stream and were dashed along by a fierce current with rapid following rapid closely. the descent was nearly continuous with greater declivities thrown in here and there. as usual we took in a good deal of water and were saturated. we were growing accustomed to this, and the boats being built to float even when the open parts were full, we did not mind sitting with our legs in cold water till opportunity came to bail out with the camp kettle left in each open space for the purpose. one rapid where theodore hook, of cheyenne, was drowned in 1869, while attempting to follow the first party, gave us no trouble. we sailed through it easily. hook had declared that if powell could descend the river he could too, and he headed a party to follow.[6] the motive i believe was prospecting. i do not know how far they expected to go but this was as far as they got. their abandoned boats, flat-bottomed and inadequate, still lay half buried in sand on the left-hand bank, and not far off on a sandy knoll was the grave of the unfortunate leader marked by a pine board set up, with his name painted on it. old sacks, ropes, oars, etc., emphasised the completeness of the disaster. not far below this we made what we called a "line portage," that is, the boats were worked along the edge of the rapid, one at a time, in and out among the boulders with three or four men clinging to them to fend them off the rocks and several more holding on to the hundred-foot hawser, so that there was no possibility of one getting loose and smashing up, or leaving us altogether. it was then noon and a camp was made for the remainder of the day on the left bank in a very comfortable spot. we had accomplished three and a half miles, with four distinct rapids run and one "let-down." i went up from the camp along a sandy stretch and was surprised to discover what i took to be the fresh print of the bare foot of a man. mentioning this when i returned, my companions laughed and warned me to be cautious and give this strange man a wide berth unless i had my rifle and plenty of ammunition. it was the track of a grizzly bear. i saw many tracks on this expedition and on others afterwards but i have never seen a bear yet, except in captivity. the grizzly seemed to shun me; but i believe they will not often attack a man unprovoked, and will lie perfectly still while one may pass within a few feet of their hiding-place. three or four deer were seen but with no opportunity to get a shot. all through these upper canyons there was then a great abundance of game of every description, and had our object been to kill for sport, we undoubtedly could have made a pile of carcasses. one or two deer would have been welcome but we had no time to pursue them. steward came in towards night from his geologising with a splendid bouquet of wild flowers which was greatly admired. prof. and the major climbed west of camp to a height of 1200 feet where they obtained a wide outlook and secured valuable notes on the topography. the view was superb as it is anywhere from a high point in this region. when they came back, the major entertained us by reading aloud _the lay of the last minstrel_, thus delightfully closing a beautiful sunday which every man had enjoyed. in the morning soon after leaving this camp a dull roar ahead told of our approach to ashley falls, for which we were on the lookout. the left bank was immediately hugged as closely as possible and we dropped cautiously down to the head of the descent. an immense rock stuck up in the middle of the river and the water divided on this and shot down on each side in a sharp fall of about eight feet. each was a clear chute and not dangerous to look at, but the effect of so sudden a plunge on one of our loaded boats was too much of a problem for trial. a portage was decided on. the left bank where we were was a mass of enormous broken rocks where it seemed next to impossible to haul a boat. a foot trail was first built which led up some fifty feet above the river, and over, under and around huge boulders to a place down below where it was proposed to carry the boats on skids. the cargoes were first taken over on our backs and when this was done we were about tired out. our united strength was required to work the _dean_ down to the selected haven without injury. this was such extremely hard work that the major and prof. concluded to shoot the _cañonita_ through, light, with no men in her, but controlled by one of our hundred-foot hawsers attached to each end. she was started down and went through well enough, but filling with water and knocking on hidden rocks. prudence condemned this method and we resorted to sliding and carrying the _nell_ over the rocks as we had done with the _dean_, certain that sleep and food would wipe out our weariness, but not injury to the boats which must be avoided by all means in our power. by the time we had placed the _nell_ beside the other boats at the bottom it was sunset and too late to do anything but make a camp. just above the head of the fall was a rather level place in a clump of pines at the very edge of the river forming as picturesque a camp-ground as i have ever seen. a brilliant moon hung over the canyon, lighting up the foam of the water in strong contrast to the red fire crackling its accompaniment to the roar of the rapid. a lunar rainbow danced fairy-like in the mists rising from the turmoil of the river. the night air was calm and mild. prof. read aloud from _hiawatha_ and it seemed to fit the time and place admirably. we had few books with us; poems of longfellow, whittier, emerson, and scott, are all i remember, except a bible my mother had given me. i suppose cap. had a bible also, as he was very religious. the huge boulders which dammed the river had fallen from the cliffs on the left within a comparatively recent time, transforming an ordinary rapid into the fall; actually damming the water till it is smooth for half a mile above. the largest block of stone is the one in the middle. it is about twenty five feet square. the only white men on record to reach this place except the major's other party, was general ashley, the distinguished fur trader with a number of trappers. in his search for fresh beaver grounds he led his party in rude buffalo-skin boats through this canyon in 1825. they had a hard time and nearly starved to death as they depended for food on finding beaver and other game, in which they were disappointed. on one of my trips over the rocks with cargo i made a slight detour on the return to see the boulder where the major had discovered ashley's name with a date. the letters were in black, just under a slight projection and were surprisingly distinct considering the forty-six years of exposure. the "2" was illegible and looked like a "3." none of our party seemed to know that it could have been only a "2" for by the year 1835 ashley had sold out and had given up the fur business in the mountains. considering his ability, his prominence, his high character, and his identification with the early history of the west, there ought to be greater recognition of him than there has been. [illustration: red canyon. ashley falls from below. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] below ashley falls the declivity of the river was very great with a correspondingly swift current, in one rapid reaching a velocity of at least fifteen miles an hour, and with waves that tossed our heavy boats like feathers. these were the most violent rapids we had yet met, not excepting the ones we had portaged. the cliffs, about 2500 feet high, of red sandstone, were often almost perpendicular on both sides, or at least they impressed us so at the time. there was much vegetation, pine, spruce, willow-leaved cottonwood, aspens, alder, etc., which added to the beauty and picturesqueness of the wild scenery. beaman stopped each day where possible and desirable to take photographs, and at these times the others investigated the surroundings and climbed up side canyons when they existed. late in the afternoon we came out suddenly into a small valley or park formerly called little brown's hole, a noted rendezvous for trappers, and which we rechristened red canyon park. this was a beautiful place bounded by round mountains, into which our great cliffs had temporarily resolved themselves, particularly on the right, the left side remaining pretty steep. our camp was pitched under two large pine trees and every one was prepared, in the intervals of other duties, to take advantage of this respite to patch up clothing, shoes, etc., as well as to do what laundering was necessary. the river ran so quietly that we felt oppressed after the constant roaring since we had entered red canyon. i remember climbing up at evening with one of my companions, to a high altitude where the silence was deathlike and overpowering. prof. and some of the others climbed to greater heights for topographical purposes, easily reaching an altitude of about 4000 feet above the river in an air-line distance of about five miles. here they obtained a magnificent panorama in all directions, limited on the west by the snowy chain of the wasatch, and on the north by the wind river range like white clouds on the horizon 200 miles away, and they could trace the deep gorges of the river as they cleave the mountains from distance to distance. here we saw signs of abundant game, elk, deer, bear, etc., but we had no time to go hunting as a business and the game refused to come to us. each man had his work to accomplish so that we could get on. it was impracticable to go wandering over the mountains for game, much as we would have enjoyed a change from our bacon and beans. one day, only, was spent here for all purposes, geologising, topographic climbing, and working out the notes from up the river, making repairs and all the other needful things that crowded upon us. here it was that i did my first tailoring and performed a feat of which i have ever since been proud; namely, transferring some coattails, from where they were of no use, to the knees and seat of my trousers where they were invaluable. on june 8th, we left this "camp number 13" regretfully and plunged in between the cliffs again for about eight miles, running five rapids, when we emerged into a large valley known as brown's hole, where our cliffs fell back for two or three miles on each side and became mountain ranges. pulling along for a couple of miles on a quiet river we were surprised to discover on the left a white man's camp. quickly landing we learned that it was some cattlemen's temporary headquarters (harrell brothers), and some of the men had been to green river station since our departure from that place, the distance by trail not being half that by river. they were expecting us and had brought some mail which was a glad sight for our eyes. these men had wintered about 2000 head of texas cattle in this valley, noted for the salubrity of its winter climate since the days of the fur-hunters, and were on their way to the pacific coast. we made a camp near by, with a cottonwood of a peculiar "y" shape, more stump than tree, to give what shade-comfort it could, and enjoyed the relaxation which came with the feeling that we had put twenty-five miles of hard canyon behind, and were again in touch, though so briefly and at long range, with the outer world. as some of these men were to go out to the railway the following sunday and offered to carry mail for us, we began to write letters to let our friends know how we were faring on our peculiar voyage. this "brown's hole" was the place selected by a man who pretended to have been with the former party, for the scene of that party's destruction which he reported to the newspapers. he thought as it was called a "hole" it must be one of the worst places on this raging river, not knowing that in the old trapper days when a man found a snug valley and dwelt there for a time it became known as his "hole" in the nomenclature of the mountains. the major did not think this a satisfactory name and he changed it to "brown's park" which it now bears. i met an "old timer" on a western train several years afterward, who was greatly irritated because of this liberty which the major took with the cherished designation of the early days. fort davy crockett of the fur-trading period was located somewhere in this valley. [illustration: in red canyon park. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] the next morning after reaching harrell's camp we were told that, as frank did not seem able to stand the voyage he was to leave us here, to go over the mountains back to the railway, whence he would go home. we were all sorry to hear this and doubly sorry when on sunday the 11th he mounted a mule and regretfully rode away with mr. harrell. the latter was to telegraph to salt lake to mrs. powell, to send our mail back to green river station so that it could be brought out to us on mr. harrell's return. meanwhile we dropped down the river, now tranquil as a pond, with low banks covered with cottonwood groves. there were two small canyons the first of which we called "little" about one-half mile long, and the second "swallow," about two miles long. the cliffs were red sandstone about three hundred feet high, often vertical on both sides. thousands of swallows swarmed there, and we did not resist giving it an obvious name. below this the water spread out more and was full of islands. the current was sluggish, two miles an hour perhaps, and we indulged in the novelty of rowing the boats, though we did not try to make speed, for we had to wait for mr. harrell's return anyhow. the boats had been lightened by trading to harrell some of our flour, of which we had an over abundance when it came to portages, for fresh beef, of which we were very much in need. at a convenient place we landed where there was a fine cottonwood grove and remained while prof. made a climb and to jerk the beef. it was cut into thin strips and hung on a willow framework in the sun with a slow fire beneath. as the thermometer now stood at ninety-nine in the shade the beef was fairly well cured by the 13th and we went on, seeing one of the cattlemen and a mexican boy on the left bank. in this neighbourhood we passed from utah into colorado. the river was six hundred feet broad and about six feet deep. we had no trouble from shoals, and finally lashed the three boats side by side and let them drift along in the slow current. the major sitting in his arm-chair on the middle boat read aloud selections from _the lady of the lake_ which seemed to fit the scene well. steward and andy amused themselves by swimming along with the boats and occasionally diving under them. from our noon camp in a grove of cottonwoods opposite the mouth of vermilion river, we could plainly see the great portal a mile or two away, the gate of lodore, where all this tranquillity would end, for the river cuts straight into the heart of the mountains forming one of the finest canyons of the series where the water comes down as southey described it at lodore, and the major gave it that name. before night we were at the very entrance and made our camp there in a grove of box-elders. every man was looking forward to this canyon with some dread and before losing ourselves within its depths we expected to enjoy the letters from home which mr. harrell was to bring back from the railway for us. myriads of mosquitoes gave us something else to think of, for they were exceedingly ferocious and persistent, driving us to a high bluff where a smudge was built to fight them off. we were nearly devoured. i fared best, a friend having given me a net for my head, and this, with buckskin gloves on my hands enabled me to exist with some comfort. the mountains rose abruptly just beyond our camp, and the river cleaved the solid mass at one stroke, forming the extraordinary and magnificent portal we named the "gate of lodore," one of the most striking entrances of a river into mountains to be found in all the world. it is visible for miles. prof. climbed the left side of the gate and also took observations for time. i was sent back to the valley to make some sketches and also to accompany steward on a geological tramp. we had an uncomfortable experience because of the excessive heat and aridity. i learned several things about mountaineering that i never forgot, one of which was to always thoroughly note and mark a place where anything is left to be picked up on a return, for, leaving our haversack under a cedar it eluded all search till the next day, and meanwhile we were compelled to go to the river two or three miles away for water. we had a rubber poncho and a blanket. using the rubber for a mattress and the blanket for a covering we passed the night, starting early for the mountains, where at last we found our food bag. after eating a biscuit we went back to the river and made tea and toasted some beef on the end of a ramrod, when we struck for the main camp, arriving at dinner-time. the gate of lodore seemed naturally the beginning of a new stage in our voyage to which we turned with some anxiety, for it was in the gorge now before us that on the first trip a boat had been irretrievably smashed. we were now 130 miles by river from the union pacific railway crossing, and in this distance we had descended 700 feet in altitude, more than 400 feet of it in red canyon. lodore was said to have an even greater declivity. footnotes: [footnote 5: three points on green river below the union pacific crossing had been determined by previous explorers, the mouth of henry's fork, the mouth of the uinta, and gunnison crossing.] [footnote 6: i do not know the number of men composing this party.] chapter iv locked in the chasm of lodore--rapids with railway speed--a treacherous approach to falls of disaster--numerous loadings and unloadings--over the rocks with cargoes--library increased by _putnam's magazine_--triplet falls and hell's half mile--fire in camp--exit from turmoil to peace. on saturday the 17th of june, the member of the harrell party who was to travel overland from green river station with mail for us from salt lake arrived with only two letters. the despatch had been too late to stop the packet which already had been started for the uinta indian agency, whence it would reach us at the mouth of the uinta river. it would be another month, at least, before we could receive those longed for words from home. there was nothing now to delay us further, and after dinner the boats were prepared for canyon work again. through brown's park we had not been obliged to pay much attention to "ship-shape" arrangements, but now the story was to be different. the cabins were packed with unusual care, the life-preservers were inflated and put where they could be quickly seized on the approach to a bad descent, and at four o'clock we were afloat. the wide horizon vanished. the cliffs, red and majestic, rose at one bound to a height of about 2000 feet on each side, the most abrupt and magnificent gateway to a canyon imaginable. we entered slowly, for the current in the beginning is not swift, and we watched the mighty precipices while they appeared to fold themselves together behind and shut us more than ever away from the surrounding wilderness. for a short time the stream was quite tame. then the murmur of distant troubled waters reached us and we prepared for work. the first rapid was not a bad one; we ran it without halting and ran three more in quick succession, one of which was rather ugly. [illustration: the head of the canyon of lodore. just inside the gate. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] this success caused some of us prematurely to conclude that perhaps "the way the water comes down at lodore," was not so terrific as had been anticipated. the major said nothing. he kept his eyes directed ahead. the river ran about 300 feet wide, with a current of 10 to 15 miles an hour in the rapids. at every bend new vistas of beauty were exhibited, and the cliffs impressed us more and more by their increasing height and sublimity. landing places were numerous. presently there came to our ears a roar with an undertone which spoke a language now familiar, and we kept as close to the right bank as possible, so that a stop could be instantly made at the proper moment. when this moment arrived a landing was effected for examination, and it revealed a furious descent, studded with large rocks, with a possibility of safely running through it if an exact course could be held, but the hour being now late a camp was made at the head and further investigation deferred till the next morning. this morning was sunday, and the sun shone into the canyon with dazzling brilliancy, all being tranquil except the foaming rapid. the locality was so fascinating that we lingered to explore, finding especial interest in a delightful grotto carved out of the red sandstone by the waters of a small brook. the entrance was narrow, barely 20 feet, a mere cleft in the beginning, but as one proceeded up it between walls 1500 feet high, the cleft widened, till at 15 rods it ended in an amphitheatre 100 feet in diameter, with a domed top. clear, cold water trickled and dropped in thousands of diamond-like globules from everything. mosses and ferns filled all the crevices adding a brilliant green to the picture, while far up overhead a little ribbon of blue sky could be seen; and, beyond the mouth, the yellow river. it was an exquisite scene. at the request of steward, it's discoverer, it was named after his little daughter, "winnie's grotto." so charming was it here that we did not get off till ten o'clock, beaman meanwhile taking several views. it was decided to run the rapid, for there was a comparatively straight channel about ten feet wide, and it was only a question of steering right. as our boat was to take it first the other crews came to a point where they could watch us to advantage and profit by our experience. sticks, as usual, had been thrown in to determine the trend of the main current which must always be considered in dealing with any rapid. if it dashes against a cliff below, means must be found to cut across before reaching that point. on the other hand, if the main current has a comparatively clear chute, running through is not a difficult matter as in the present case. we pulled up-stream a short distance before putting out into the middle. then we took the rapid as squarely as possible. we saw that we would have to go sharply to the left to avoid one line of rocks, and then to the right to clear another, both of which actions were successfully accomplished. then we waited below for the others. they had no trouble either, and the three boats sped on and on into the greater depths beyond where wilder waters were foaming. all rapids have "tails" of waves tapering out below, that is the waves grow smaller as they increase the distance from the initial wave. these waves are the reverse of sea waves, the form remaining in practically one place while the water flies through. in many rapids there is an eddy on each side of this tail in which a current runs up-river with great force. if a boat is caught in this eddy it may be carried a second time through a part of the rapid. we soon arrived at another rapid in which this very thing happened to our boat. we were caught by the eddy and carried up-stream to be launched directly into the path of the _nell_, which had started down. prof. skilfully threw his boat to one side and succeeded in avoiding a collision. nothing could be done with our boat but to let her go where she would for the moment. we then ran two other rapids, rough ones too, but there was no trouble in them for any of the boats. the velocity at this stage of water was astonishing, and the opportunities to land in quiet water between the rapids now were few. [illustration: canyon of lodore. low water. photograph by j. k. hillers, 1874.] about dinner-time as we emerged at high speed from one rapid we saw immediately below lying in ominous shadow, another. it had a forbidding look. in red canyon owing to the east-and-west trend the sun fell to the bottom for many more hours than in lodore which has a north-and-south trend. hence here even at high noon, one side or the other might be in deep shadow. in this particular case it was the left wall which came down very straight to the river, the outside of a bend. opposite was a rocky, wooded point. between these the rapid swept down. there was no slack water separating the end of the rapid we left from the beginning of this one so obscurely situated. landing was no easy task at the speed with which we were flying, but it would not do to try to run the rapid without an examination. the only possible place to stop was on the right where there was a cove with a little strip of beach, and we headed for it instantly, pulling with every muscle. yet we continued going on down at railway speed. when at last we arrived within a few feet of the bank the problem was how to stop. the water appeared shallow, though we could not see bottom on account of its murky character, and there was only one course, which was to jump out and make anchors of our legs. as we did so we sank to our waists and were pulled along for a moment but our feet, braced against the large rocks on the bottom, served the purpose and the momentum was overcome. once the velocity was gone it was easy to get the boat to the beach, and she was tied there just in time to allow us to rush to the help of the _nell_.[7] scarcely had the _nell_ been tied up than the _cañonita_ came darting for the same spot like a locomotive. with the force on hand she was easily controlled, and the fact that she carried the cook outfit as well as the cook added to our joy at having her so speedily on the beach. andy went to work immediately to build a fire and prepare dinner while the rest overhauled the boats, took observations, plotted notes, or did other necessary things, and the major and prof. went down to take a close look at the rapid which had caused us such sudden and violent exertion. they reported a clear channel in the middle, and when we continued after dinner, we went through easily and safely, as of course we could have done in the first place if the major had been willing to take an unknown risk. but in the shadow the fall might have been almost anything and it would have been foolhardy to run it without examination, even though we found it so hard to stop. below the rapid that had halted us so abruptly there was nothing for about a mile but easy running, when we stopped in a cove to examine another rapid. prof. here started up eleven mountain sheep, but by the time he had come back to the boats for a gun they were beyond reach. though this rapid could be easily run, there was just below it only a short distance the fall where the _no-name_ was wrecked on the first trip, and we would have to be cautious, for the approach to that fall we knew was treacherous. the river comes at this point from the east, bends south, then west, and it is just at the western bend that the steep rush of the big fall begins and continues for three-quarters of a mile. on the right the waters beat fiercely against the foot of the perpendicular wall, while on the left they are confined by a rocky point, the end of which is composed of enormous blocks. the space for the stream between this point and the opposite cliff is narrow, while the river above it spreads rather wide with a deep bay on the left where there is quiet water. this bay is protected a quarter of a mile up by a jutting point, and is merely back water. just off the point the whole river suddenly becomes saucer-like, and quite smooth, with all the currents drawing strongly in from every direction and pouring toward and over the falls. an object once within the grip of this "sag," as we called it, is obliged to pass over the falls. the situation is peculiar and it occurs nowhere else on the whole river. not being understood on the first voyage one of the boats, the _no-name_, was trapped, driven over the falls, and broken to fragments, though the men were rescued below. the disaster was the cause of some unpleasantness on that voyage, the men blaming the major for not signalling properly and he blaming them for not landing quickly when he signalled. we were on the lookout for it and the major having the wreck to emphasise the peculiarities of the "sag" desired to have every boat turn the point at the correct moment. ours ran through the preliminary rapid easily and we dropped cautiously down upon our great enemy, hugging the left bank as closely as we could to reach the jutting point around which the boat must pass to arrive in the safe waters of the bay. we turned the point with no difficulty, and proceeded a distance across the bay where we landed on a beach to watch for the other boats, the steersmen having been informed as to the precariousness of the locality. nevertheless it was so deceptive that when the _nell_ came in sight she was not close enough to the left shore for safety. the major signalled vigorously with his hat, and prof. took the warning instantly and turned in, but when the _cañonita_ appeared we saw at once that she was altogether too far out and for some seconds we stood almost petrified while the major again signalled with all his might. it seemed an even chance; then she gained on the current and finally reached good water whence she came to our position. beaman had been a pilot on the great lakes and was expert with a steering-oar, and probably for that reason he was somewhat careless. there was hardly an excuse in this instance for a boat not to take the proper course for the experience of the _no-name_ told the whole story, yet the place is so peculiar and unusual that one even forewarned may fail. across the bay pulling was safe and we ran to a beach very close to the head of the falls where we made our camp, the sun now being low and the huge cliffs casting a profound and sombre shadow into the bottom. it was a wild, a fierce, an impressive situation. the unending heavy roar of the tumbling river, the difficulty if not impossibility of turning back even if such a thing had been desired, the equal difficulty if not impossibility of scaling the walls that stood more than 2000 feet above us, and the general sublimity of the entire surroundings, rendered our position to my mind intensely dramatic. two years before, on this identical spot the major had camped with the loss of one of his boats bearing heavily on his mind, though his magnificent will, his cheerful self-reliance, and his unconquerable determination to dominate any situation gave him power and allied him to the river itself. the place practically chose its own name, disaster falls, and it was so recorded by the topographers. a hard portage was ahead of us and all turned in early to prepare by a good sleep for the long work of the next day. no tent as a rule was erected unless there was rain, and then a large canvas from each boat was put up on oars or other sticks, the ends being left open. in a driving storm a blanket would answer to fill in. as there was now no indication of a storm our beds were placed on the sand as usual with the sides of the canyon for chamber walls and the multitudinous stars for roof. a short distance below the great rapid near which we were camped was a second equally bad, the two together making up the three-quarter mile descent of disaster falls. between them the river became level for a brief space and wider, and a deposit of boulders and gravel appeared there in the middle above the surface at the present stage of water. it was this island which had saved the occupants of the _no-name_, and from which they were rescued. we were up very early in the morning, and began to carry the cargoes by a trail we made over and around the huge boulders to a place below the bad water of the first fall. the temperature was in the 90's and it was hot work climbing with a fifty-pound sack on one's back, but at last after many trips back and forth every article was below. then the empty boats were taken one at a time, and by pulling, lifting, and sliding on skids of driftwood, and by floating wherever practicable in the quieter edges of the water, we got them successfully past the first fall. here the loads were replaced, and with our good long and strong lines an inch thick, the boats were sent down several hundred yards in the rather level water referred to intervening between the foot of the upper fall and the head of the lower, to the beginning of the second descent. this all occupied much time, for nothing could be done rapidly, and noon came, in the midst of our work. anticipating this event andy had gone ahead with his cook outfit and had baked the dinner bread in his dutch oven. with the usual fried bacon and coffee the inner man was speedily fortified for another wrestle with the difficult and laborious situation. the dinner bread was baked from flour taken out of a hundred-pound sack that was found lying on top of an immense boulder far above the river. this was flour that had been rescued by the former party from the wreckage of the _no-name_, but as they could not add it to their remaining heavily laden boats, the major had been compelled to leave it lying here. they needed it badly enough towards the end. it was still sweet and good, but we could not take it either. we were so much better provisioned than the former party that it was, besides, not necessary for us, and we also left it where it was. our supplies were not likely to fail us at the mouth of the uinta, and beyond that there was not yet need to worry. although there were only two points below gunnison crossing in a distance of nearly 600 miles where it was known that the river could be reached, the crossing of the fathers and the mouth of the paria not far below it, we felt sure that those who had been charged with the bringing of supplies to the mouth of the "dirty devil" would be able to get there, and as we were to stop for the season at the paria, we would have time to plan for beyond. in any case our boats were carrying now all they could, and without a regret we turned our backs on the outcast flour. it was an ordinary sack of bolted wheat flour, first in a cotton bag then in a gunny bag and had been lying unbroken for two years. the outside for half an inch was hard, but inside of that the flour was in excellent condition. two oars were also found. they were doubtless from the _no-name_. [illustration: f. s. dellenbaugh the heart of lodore. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] after dinner we once more unloaded the boats and carried everything on our backs up and across a long rocky hill, or point, down to a spot, about a third of a mile altogether, where the goods were piled on a smooth little beach at the margin of a quiet bay. it took many trips, and it was exhausting work, but in addition to bringing the cargoes down, we also by half past five got one of the boats there, by working it over the rocks and along the edge. here we camped and had supper as soon as andy could get it ready. it may be asked by some not familiar with scientific work, how we always knew the time, but as we had the necessary instruments for taking time astronomically, there was nothing difficult about it. we also carried fine chronometers, and had a number of watches. in the sand near the camp, which place at highest water might have formed an eddy behind some huge rocks, a few old knives, forks, a rusty bake oven, and other articles were found, the wreckage from some party prior to that of the major's first. he said they had not left anything of that sort, and he had noticed the same things on the former trip. the total fall of the river here is about fifty feet, and no boat could get through without smashing. the morning of june 20th found us early at work bringing down the two boats we had left, and as soon as this was accomplished the cargoes were put on once more, and we lowered the three one at a time, along the left bank by means of our hundred-foot hawsers, with everything in them, about a quarter of a mile to another bad place which we called lower disaster falls. here we unloaded and made a short portage while andy was getting dinner. when we had disposed of this and reloaded, we pulled into the river, which averaged about 350 feet wide, with a current in places of 15 miles or more, and quickly arrived at three bad rapids in succession, all of which we ran triumphantly, though the former party made portages around them. in the third our boat took in so much water that we made a landing in order to bail out. continuing immediately we reached another heavy rapid, but ran it without even stopping to reconnoitre, as the way seemed perfectly clear. we took the next rapid with equal success, though our boat got caught in an eddy and was turned completely round, while the others ran past us. they landed to wait, and there we all took a little breathing spell before attempting to run another rapid just below which we made camp in a grove of cedars, at the beginning of a descent that looked so ugly it was decided to make a "let-down" on the following day. everybody was wet to the skin and glad to get on some dry clothes, as soon as we could pull out our bags. the cliffs had now reached an altitude of at least 2500 feet, and they appeared to be nearly perpendicular, but generally not from the water's edge where there was usually a bank of some kind or the foot of a steep talus. there were box-elder and cottonwood trees here and there, and cedars up the cliffs wherever they could find a footing. on the heights tall pine trees could be seen. the cliff just opposite camp was almost vertical from the rapid at its foot to the brink 2500 feet above, and flame red. after supper as we all sat in admiration and peering with some awe at the narrow belt of sky, narrower than we had before seen it, the stars slowly came out, and presently on the exact edge of the magnificent precipice, set there like a diadem, appeared the constellation of the harp. it was an impressive sight, and immediately the name was bestowed "the cliff of the harp."[8] prof. read _marmion_ aloud, and jack gave us a song or two, before we went to sleep feeling well satisfied with our progress into the heart of lodore. this portion of the river has a very great declivity, the greatest as we afterwards determined on the entire green and colorado with the exception of a section of cataract and a part of the first granite gorge of the grand canyon, where the declivity is much the same, with cataract canyon in the lead. a quarter-mile above our camp a fine little stream, cascade creek, came in on the right. beaman made some photographs in the morning, and we began to work the boats down along the edge of the rapid beside which we had camped. this took us till noon, and we had dinner before venturing on. when we set forth we had good luck, and soon put four rapids behind, running the first, letting down past two and running the fourth which was a pretty bad one. three-quarters of a mile of smooth water then gave us a respite much appreciated, when we arrived at a wild descent about as bad as disaster falls, though more safely approached. this was called triplet falls by the first party. we went into camp at the head of it on the left bank. this day we found a number of fragments of the _no-name_ here and there, besides an axe and a vise abandoned by the first party, and a welcome addition to our library in a copy of _putnam's magazine_. this was the first magazine ever to penetrate to these extreme wilds. the river was from 300 to 400 feet wide, and the walls ran along with little change, about 2500 feet high. opposite camp was dunn's cliff, the end of the sierra escalante, about 2800 feet high, named for one of the first party who was killed by the indians down in arizona. we remained a day here to let the topographers climb out if they could. they had little trouble in doing this, and after a pleasant climb reached the top through a gulch at an altitude above the river of 3200 feet. the view was extensive and their efforts were rewarded by obtaining much topographical information. late in the day the sky grew dark, the thunder rolled, and just before supper we had a good shower. [illustration: canyon of lodore--dunn's cliff. 2800 feet above river. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] on the 23d progress was continued and every one felt well after the cessation for a day of the knocking about amidst the foam and boulders. it took us, with hard work, till two o'clock to get past triplet falls by means of a double portage. about half a mile below this we were confronted by one of the worst looking places we had yet seen, and at the suggestion of steward it received the significant name of "hell's half mile." the entire river for more than half a mile was one sheet of white foam. there was not a quiet spot in the whole distance, and the water plunged and pounded in its fierce descent and sent up a deafening roar. the only way one could be heard was to yell with full lung power. landing at the head of it easily we there unloaded the _dean_ and let her down by line for some distance. in the worst place she capsized but was not damaged. then the water, near the shore we were on, though turbulent in the extreme became so shallow on account of the great width of the rapid here that when we had again loaded the _dean_ there were places where we were forced to walk alongside and lift her over rocks, but several men at the same time always had a strong hold on the shore end of the line. in this way we got her down as far as was practicable by that method. at this point the river changed. the water became more concentrated and consequently deeper. it was necessary to unload the boat again and work her on down with a couple of men in her and the rest holding the line on shore as we had done above. when the roughest part was past in this manner, we made her fast and proceeded to carry her cargo down to this spot which took some time. it was there put on board again and the hatches firmly secured. the boat was held firmly behind a huge sheltering rock and when all was ready her crew took their places. with the major clinging to the middle cabin, as his chair had been left above and would be carried down later, we shoved out into the swift current, here free from rocks, and literally bounded over the waves that formed the end of the descent, to clear water where we landed on a snug little beach and made the boat secure for the night. picking our way along shore back to the head of the rapid, camp was made there as the darkness was falling and nothing more could be done that night. [illustration: jones, hillers, f. s. dellenbaugh canyon of lodore. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] it was next to impossible to converse, but every one being very tired it was not long after supper before we took to the blankets and not a man was kept awake by the noise. it seemed only a few moments before it was time to go at it again. all hands were up early and the other two boats were taken laboriously down in the same manner as the _dean_ had been engineered, but though we toiled steadily it was one o'clock by the time we succeeded in placing them alongside that boat. anticipating this, andy's utensils were taken down on the _nell_, and while we were working with the _cañonita_, our good chef prepared the dinner and we stopped long enough to fortify ourselves with it. having to build a trail in some places in order to carry the goods across ridges and boulders, it was not alone the work on lowering the boats which delayed us. while we were absorbed in these operations the camp-fire of the morning in some way spread unperceived into the thick sage-brush and cedars which covered the point, and we vacated the place none too soon, for the flames were leaping high, and by the time we had finished our dinner at the foot of the rapid, the point we had so recently left was a horrible furnace. the fire was jumping and playing amidst dense smoke which rolled a mighty column, a thousand feet it seemed to me above the top of the canyon; that is over 3000 feet into the tranquil air. at two o'clock all three boats were again charging down on a stiff current with rather bad conditions, though we ran two sharp rapids without much trouble. in one the _nell_ got on a smooth rock and came near capsizing. the current at the spot happened to be not so swift and she escaped with no damage. then we were brought up by another rapid, a very bad one. evening was drawing on and every man was feeling somewhat used up by the severe exertions of the day. camp was therefore ordered at the head of this rapid in the midst of scenery that has probably as great beauty, picturesqueness, and grandeur as any to be found in the whole west. i hardly know how to describe it. all day long the surroundings had been supremely beautiful, majestic, but at this camp everything was on a superlative scale and words seem colourless and futile. the precipices on both sides, about 2200 feet high, conveyed the impression of being almost vertical. our camp was several hundred yards from the rapid and we could talk with some comfort. after supper i wandered alone down beside the furiously plunging waters and came upon a brood of young magpies airing themselves on the sand. the roar of the fall prevented their hearing and i walked among them, picked one up and took it to camp to show their comicality, when i let it go back to the rendezvous. i was censured especially by the major, for cruelty to animals. the next day was sunday and it came with a radiance that further enhanced the remarkable grandeur around us. near by was a side canyon of the most picturesque type, down which a clear little brook danced from ledge to ledge and from pool to pool, twenty to thirty feet at a time. we named it leaping brook. the rocks were mossy, and fir trees, pines, cedars, and cottonwoods added the charm of foliage to the brilliant colours of the rocks and the sheen of falling water, here and there lost in the most profound shadows. beaman made a number of views while the rest of the men climbed for various purposes. steward, clem, and i by a circuitous route arrived at a point high up on leaping brook where the scene was beyond description. to save trouble on the return we descended the brook as it was easy to slide down places that could not be climbed. in this manner we succeeded in getting to the last descent near camp, to discover that it was higher than we thought and almost vertical with rough rocks at the bottom. as we could not go back and had no desire to break a leg, we were in trouble. then we spied jack in the camp a short distance away and called to him to put a tree up for us. good-natured jack, always ready to help, assumed a gruff tone and pretended he would never help us, but we knew better, and presently he threw up a long dead pine which we could reach by a short slide, and thus got to the river level. it was now noon, and as soon as dinner was over the boats were lowered by lines past the rapid beside camp and once below this we shot on our way with a fine current, soon arriving at two moderate rapids close together, which we ran. this brought us to a third with an ugly look, but on examination prof. and the major decided to run it. getting a good entrance all the boats went through without the slightest mishap. a mile below this place we landed at the mouth of a pretty little stream entering through a picturesque and narrow canyon on the left. we called it alcove brook. beaman took some negatives here. this was not the easy matter that the dry-plate afterwards made it, for the dark tent had to be set up, the glass plate flowed with collodion, then placed in the silver bath, and exposed wet in the camera, to be immediately developed and washed and placed in a special box for carriage. this would have been an ideal place for a hunter. numerous fresh tracks of grizzlies were noticed all around, but we did not have the good luck to see any of the animals themselves. happy grounds these canyons were at that time for the bears, and they may still be enjoying the seclusion the depths afford. the spot had an additional interest for us because it was here that on the first trip the brush caught fire soon after the party had landed, and they were forced to take to the boats so unceremoniously that they lost part of their mess-kit and some clothing. on leaving alcove brook we ran a rapid and then another a little farther on, but they were easy and the river was much calmer though the current was still very swift. at the same time the walls to our satisfaction began to give indications of breaking. they became less high, less compact, and we ventured to hope that our battle with the waters of lodore was about over. the major said that, as nearly as he could remember, the end of the great gorge was not very far below. though the sky was beginning to show the evening tints we kept on and ever on, swiftly but smoothly, looking up at the sky and at the splendid walls. the sun went down. the chasm grew hazy with the soft light of evening and the mystery of the bends deepened. there was no obstruction and in about three miles from alcove brook we rather abruptly emerged into a beautiful small opening, where the immediate walls were no more than six hundred feet high. a river of considerable size flowed in on the left, through a deep and narrow canyon. this was the yampa, sometimes then called bear river. by seven o'clock we had moored the boats a few yards up its mouth and we made a comfortable camp in a box-elder grove. we had won the fight without disaster and we slept that night in peace. lodore is wholly within the state of colorado. it is 20-3/4 miles long with a descent of 420 feet,[9] mostly concentrated between disaster falls and hell's half-mile, a distance of about 12 miles. the total descent from the union pacific crossing was 975 feet in a distance, as the river runs, of about 153 miles. [illustration: echo park. mouth of yampa river in foreground, green river on right. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] footnotes: [footnote 7: professor thompson's diary says he landed first after a hard pull, "and then caught the other boats below, they not succeeding in getting in."] [footnote 8: in his report the major ascribes the naming of this cliff to an evening on the first voyage. the incident could hardly have occurred twice even had the camps been in the same place.] [footnote 9: in my _romance of the colorado river_ these figures were changed to 275 because of barometrical data supplied me which was supposed to be accurate. i have concluded that it was not.] chapter v a remarkable echo--up the canyon of the yampa--steward and clem try a moonlight swim--whirlpool canyon and mountain sheep--a grand fourth-of-july dinner--a rainbow-coloured valley--the major proceeds in advance--a split mountain with rapids a plenty--enter a big valley at last. the little opening between canyons we named echo park, first because after the close quarters of lodore it seemed very park-like, and second because from the smooth bare cliff directly opposite our landing a distinct echo of ten words was returned to the speaker. i had never before, and have never since, heard so clear and perfect an echo with so many words repeated. we were camped on the right bank of the yampa as the left was a bottom land covered with cedars and we preferred higher ground. this bottom was an alluvial deposit triangular in shape about a mile long and a quarter of a mile wide with the yampa and green on two sides and a vertical sandstone wall on the third. behind our camp the rocks broke back in a rough, steep slope for perhaps a quarter of a mile, and this with the bottom-land and the lack of height in the walls near the river conveyed an impression of wide expanse when compared with the narrow limits in which we had for eight days been confined. the green was here about 400 feet wide and was held in on the western side of the park by the echo cliff which was a vertical wall some 600 feet high composed of homogeneous sandstone, and consequently almost without a crack from top to bottom where its smooth expanse dropped below the surface of the water. it extended down river about three-fourths of a mile, the river doubling around its southern end. the next day after arriving here most of us did not feel like doing any climbing and remained around camp, mending clothes and other articles, adjusting things that had become deranged by our rough work in the last canyon, recording notes, and making entries in diaries. prof. took observations for latitude and longitude to establish the position of the yampa so that it could be properly placed on the map. the major during an exploring trip from the eastward in 1868 had reached the yampa canyon, but he could not cross it. he now decided to go up with a boat as far as possible in three days to supplement his former observations as well as to study the canyon in general. he had estimated its length at thirty miles, and this has proved to be correct. the _dean_ was unloaded, and with three days' rations the major started with her in the morning manned by jack, beaman, jones, and andy. of course they were all still tired from the strain of lodore, and they were not enthusiastic about seeing the yampa. in such work as was common through lodore, it is as much the tension on the nerves, even though this is not realised at the time, as it is the strain on the muscles in transporting the cargoes and the boats, which makes one tired. i was entirely satisfied not to go with the yampa party and i believe all the others left behind felt much the same. steward with clem, when the yampa expedition had gone, started back over the cliffs for alcove brook to geologise, leaving prof. busy with observation, cap. plotting the topographical notes and making his map thereby, and me with no special duty at the time. every man who wants to be efficient in the field must learn to cook. this was my opportunity as andy was absent and the others had their special work on hand, so i turned my attention to the culinary realm. a few directions and an example from cap. who was a veteran gave me the method and i succeeded as my first offering, in placing before my comrades some biscuits hot from the dutch oven, which compared favourably with those of andy himself. with the constant practice andy by this time had become an expert. the day wore away and at evening i got supper with more biscuits of which i was proud, but steward and clem failed to come to partake of them as we expected. darkness fell and still there was dead silence outside of our camp. much concerned we then ate supper momentarily expecting to hear their voices, but they did not come. something had happened, but we could not follow their trail till morning to find out what it was. at ten o'clock we gave them up for the night deeply troubled about them. i had been sitting alone by the fire keeping the coffee hot and listening, when suddenly i heard a crackling of the bushes between me and the river and in a second or two clem, laughing as over a joke, came to the fire with the water running off him in streams. while i was trying to get an explanation steward also appeared in the same condition. at first they would not tell what had occurred but finally they confessed on condition that i would keep the matter a secret. they had made a long hard climb and late in the afternoon had come to a place where steward found it necessary to descend to the river in examining the strata. they intended to climb back, but when the work was done the sun had set and it was too late to venture up as they could not climb in the dark. rather than stay there all night they made a raft of two little dead cedars and tying their shoes upon it, they waited for the moon to rise. this was very soon and they slipped into the current relying on the raft merely to keep their heads above water. they knew there were no rapids between them and camp but they did not properly estimate the velocity of the river and the eddies and whirlpools. they kept near the left wall so as not to be carried past camp and in this they made a great mistake for they were caught in a whirlpool caused by a projection, and the raft was wrenched from them while they were violently thrown around. steward being a powerful swimmer succeeded after nearly going under for good in regaining the raft which clem meanwhile had been losing and recovering quickly several times. he was not a good swimmer. after this whirlpool was passed they reached the locality of our camp with no further adventure. they were very desirous that the story be kept from the rest of the party but they had hardly finished telling me when prof. came and insisted on knowing what had occurred. their punishment for this indiscretion was the hard climb back again to where they had left a rifle and other things that must be recovered. a delightful episode of this camp was a row which several of us made up the yampa in the moonlight. as far as we went the current was not swift and we were able to pull gently along under the great cliffs in shadows made luminous by the brilliancy of the moon. a song the major was fond of singing, _softly and sweetly it comes from afar_, almost involuntarily, sprang from us all, though our great songster, jack, was not with us. jack had an extensive repertory, an excellent voice, and a hearty, exuberant spirit. he would sing _write me a letter from home_, _the colleen bawn_, _the lone starry hours_, _beautiful isle of the sea_, and many others in a way that brought tranquillity to our souls. we missed him on this evening but nevertheless our song sounded well, echoing from wall to wall, and we liked it. somehow or other that night remains one of the fairest pictures i have ever seen. another day i went with steward down across the triangular bottom to the lower end of the park where we climbed out through the canyon of a little brook to a sandy and desolate plateau. currant bushes laden with fruit abounded and there were tracks of grizzlies to be seen. possibly some may have been lying in the dense underbrush, but if so they kept their lairs as these bears generally do unless directly disturbed. on the 30th of june prof., steward, and cap. went for a climb. they proceeded to the lower end of the park by boat and through the little canyon that came in there, got out to the plateau where steward and i had before been, but there they went farther. after a very hard climb they succeeded in reaching the crest where they had a broad view and could see nearly all of the next canyon with its rapids which we would have to pass through; the canyon the major had called whirlpool on his first trip. they could also see the yampa river for twenty miles and discovered the _dean_ coming back down that stream, their attention being attracted by a gunshot in that direction, which they knew could be only from our own men. in camp during the day i again experimented in the culinary department, and produced two dried-apple pies, one of which clem and i ate with an indescribable zest, and the other we kept to astonish the absentees with when they should reach camp. i have since learned that my method of pie-making was original i soaked the dried apples till they were soft then made a crust which had plenty of bacon grease in it for shortening and put the apples with sugar between, baking the production in the dutch oven. about five o'clock the yampa explorers came. they were ragged, tired, and hungry having had nothing to eat all day, and not enough any day, as the major had not taken sufficient supplies in his desire to make the boat light. they were all rather cross, the only time on the whole expedition that such a state existed, but when they had eaten and rested their genial spirits came back, they even liked my pie, and they told us about their struggle up the canyon. we were all rather sorry to pull away from this comfortable camp at the mouth of the yampa on july 3d, but the rapids of whirlpool were challenging and we had to go and meet them. at the foot of echo park the green doubles directly back on itself for a mile as it turns echo rock, the narrow peninsula of sandstone 600 feet high. the canyon became suddenly very close and assumed a formidable appearance. we listened for the roar of a rapid but for some time nothing was heard. the splendour of the walls impressed us deeply rising 2000 feet, many coloured, carved, and terraced elaborately. our admiration was interrupted by a suggestive roar approaching and suddenly a violent rapid appeared. there was ample room and we got below it by a let-down, that is by lowering the boats one at a time with their cargoes on board, along the margin, working in and out of the side currents. then we had dinner while waiting for the _cañonita_ which had remained behind for pictures. a part of my work was to make a continuous outline sketch of the left wall for the use of the geologists and this i was able to do as we went along. i had a pocket on the bulkhead in front of my seat in which i kept a sole leather portfolio, which i could use quickly and replace in the waterproof pocket. the walls of the canyon became more flaring as soon as the rapid was passed at noon, but they lost none of their majesty. we now expected very bad river and whirlpools from the experience of the first party, but the river is never twice alike. not only does its bottom shift, but every variation in stage of water brings new problems or does away with them entirely. it was an agreeable surprise to be able to run three rapids with ease by four o'clock, when we saw on some rocks two hundred feet above the stream a flock of mountain sheep. an immediate landing was made with fresh mutton in prospect. unluckily our guns in anticipation of severe work had all been securely packed away, and it was some moments before they could be brought out. by that time the sheep had nimbly gone around a corner of the wall where a large side canyon was now discovered bringing in a fine creek. it was useless to follow the sheep though one or two made a brief trial, and camp was made in a cottonwood grove at the mouth of the creek. cottonwoods fringed the stream as far as it could be seen from our position. brush creek we called it believing it to be the mouth of a stream in the back country known by that name. the next day, two or three miles up, a branch was found to come from the south, and as this was thought to be brush creek, the larger one was named after cap., and "bishop's creek" was put on our map. doubtless there are plenty of trout in this creek and in others we had passed, but we had no proper tackle for trout and besides seldom had time for fishing when at these places. jack, when not too tired, fished in the green and generally had good success. our present locality would have been a rare place for a month or two's sojourn had we been sportsmen with time on our hands. sheep, deer, and bear existed in abundance as well as smaller game, but we had to forget it though none of us cared about shooting for fun. our minds were on other things. often we went out leaving rifles behind as they were heavy in a climb. [illustration: whirlpool canyon. mouth of bishop creek--fourth of july camp. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] scarcely had we settled ourselves in this beautiful camp when we discovered that we ourselves were the hunted, and by an enemy that we could not vanquish--ants. there was no place in the neighbourhood that was out of their range. the best i could do was to make my bed two feet from the nearest hill and let them have their way. morning was hailed with unusual delight for this reason and also because it was the "glorious fourth," a day that every american remembers wherever he may be. we fired several rounds as a salute, and the major concluded to keep this camp till the next morning. to enable andy to have a day off and a climb out with a party to the open, i agreed to run the cook outfit, and felt highly complimented that they were willing to trust me after the pie episode. i immediately resolved to try my skill again in that quarter and expected to astonish the camp. i succeeded. the bill of fare which i evolved was ham, dried-apple pie, dried apples stewed, canned peaches, sugar syrup, bread, coffee, and some candy from gunther's in chicago. the candy had been presented to me at green river station by some passing friends, and i had hidden it in my bag waiting for this grand occasion. ham was quite as much of a luxury as candy, for we had started with but three or four, and only used them on special days. as for the canned peaches, they were the only ones we had. the supper was a memorable one; not a grumble was heard from anybody, indeed they all praised it, and the only drawback, from my point of view, was that the scouting party did not return early enough to taste it in its prime. the major threatened to expel the member who had smuggled in the candy as all the men declared they would go no farther unless they could have a plate of it for desert at every meal! the next morning we were on the river early, glad to get away from the army of ants. the canyon walls ran along at about the same height as on the previous day, about 2400 feet, and while the river was swift and full of rapids everything seemed to favour us. before halting for dinner we had run five rapids, three rather ugly, as well as letting down past one with lines. from where a stop was made for andy's noonday operations, a flock of sheep was seen on the opposite side, and several went after them with no result but disappointment. when we started again we ran a rapid at once, then let down past the next, and followed that by running two more, the last the worst. the boats bumped occasionally on hidden rocks, but no harm was done them. the whole canyon was exceedingly beautiful, nevertheless we did not mourn when late in the afternoon, just after running the last rapid, the magnificent cliffs fell back and we saw more sky than at any time since leaving brown's park. on the right the rocks melted away into beautiful rainbow-coloured hills while on the left they remained steep, though retreating a mile or so from the water. the stretch of sky seemed enormous. breathing appeared to be easier. the eye grows weary with the short range views, and yearns for space in which to roam. the valley we were now in was not long; about four miles in a straight line, with a width of two. in this space the river meanders nine miles, one detour being very long. it spreads also amongst a number of islands, and the numerous channels became shallow till our keels grated here and there. then they concentrated once more and we floated along on waters deep and black and slow. the marvellous colouring in the surrounding landscape impressed us, and the major was for a time uncertain whether to call this "rainbow" or "island" park, the decision finally being given to the latter. shortly before sunset our meanderings terminated at the foot of the valley where the river once more entered the rocks, in a gateway as abrupt, though not as imposing as that of lodore. a fine grove of box-elders on the right just above this gate, offered an attractive camping place, and there we stopped. we were now in utah again, having crossed the boundary somewhere in whirlpool canyon. the altitude was 4940 feet, showing a descent in whirlpool canyon of 140 feet in a distance of 14-1/4 miles. the next day i went with beaman and clem with a boat back to the foot of whirlpool canyon, in order that beaman might get some views. it was a hard pull, and we discovered that what appears sluggish going down, is often the reverse to a boat going up. we could make headway only by keeping very close to the bank. it was supper-time when we again reached camp. the major now announced that he intended to take the _dean_ and go on ahead, without stopping anywhere, to the mouth of the uinta river, leaving us to follow as we could in doing the work. cap. was to be taken in my place because of his previous experience in the army and in the west. that evening all was made ready. by break of day the camp was astir, breakfast was disposed of as quickly as possible, the _dean_ was manned, the major went to his place on the middle cabin, they cast off and disappeared in the canyon gate. we then called this "craggy canyon," but later it was changed to split mountain. all of the others crossed the river to climb to the top of the cliffs for observations and for photographs. i was left alone to watch camp. i longed to experiment further in the cooking line, and discovering a bag of ground coffee leaning against the foot of a tree, i said to myself, "coffee cake." i had heard of it, i had eaten it, i would again surprise the boys. i had no eggs, no butter, no milk (condensed milk was unknown at that time), but i had flour, water, cream of tartar, saleratus, sugar, salt, and ground coffee. i thought these quite enough, and went at my task. the mixture i made i put in a small tin and baked in the dutch oven. i was so much occupied with this interesting experiment that i forgot all about time and about having something substantial ready for the return of the hungry climbers, so when they did come about noon, as famished as coyotes and dead tired, all i could offer was _the_ cake, ever after famous on that trip, a brown, sugary solid, some six inches in diameter, two inches thick, and betraying its flavour everywhere by the coffee-grounds scattered lavishly through it. andy gave it one brief sad look, and then went to work to get dinner. but they were such a rare lot of good fellows that they actually praised that cake and not only that, they ate it. the cake led to the discovery that the major's party had left behind all their coffee, which was what i had used for flavouring, and they would have to content themselves with tea. from the heights our men had reached they could see, with a glass, the _dean_ working rapidly down the river. next day another party went up to the same place, and i went along. the photographic outfit had been left there because rain the day before had spoiled the view, and we were to bring it down when more views had been taken. after a strong, steep climb we found ourselves on a peak or pinnacle about 3000 feet above the river, and therefore 7940 above sea-level. the view from this point was extraordinary. far below gleamed the river cleaving the rocks at our feet, and visible for several miles in the canyon churning its way down, the rapids indicated by bars of white. one hardly knew which way to look. crags about us projected into the canyon, and i was inspired to creep out upon a long finger of sandstone where i could sit astride as on a horse and comfortably peer down into the abyss. it was an absolutely safe place, but beaman and clem feared the crag might break off with me, and they compelled me to come back to relieve their minds. seldom does one have such a chance to see below as well as i could there. the long, narrow mountain stretched off to the west, seeming not more than a half-mile wide, and split open for its whole length by the river, which has washed its canyon longitudinally through it. in all directions were mountains, canyons, and crags in bewildering profusion. when beaman had ended his labours we started down the cliffs with his apparatus. this was the terror of the party. the camera in its strong box was a heavy load to carry up the rocks, but it was nothing to the chemical and plate-holder box, which in turn was a featherweight compared to the imitation hand-organ which served for a dark room. this dark box was the special sorrow of the expedition, as it had to be dragged up the heights from 500 to 3000 feet. with this machinery we reached camp pretty tired and glad to rest the remainder of the day, especially as prof. said we would enter the new canyon the next morning. this was sunday. a few minutes after starting we passed between perpendicular strata rising out of the water, and gradually bending above over to the horizontal, then breaking into crags. i never saw anything more like an artificial wall, so evenly were the rocky beds laid one against another. as we passed into the more broken portion a flock of sheep came into view high up on the crags on the right standing motionless evidently puzzled by the sound of our oars. we fired from the moving boats, but without result. recovering from their surprise the sheep bounded lightly away. our attention was required the next moment by a rapid which we ran--it was a small one--to find it followed by many thickly set with rocks. at the first we let down by line for half a mile, when we had dinner. then we let down by line another half-mile, and ran half a mile more in easy water to the head of a very bad place, one of the worst we had seen, where we made another let-down. there was never any difficulty about landing when we desired, which made the work comparatively easy. the _cañonita_ got some hard knocks and had to be repaired at one place before we could go on. the total distance made was only about three miles, but we could have gone farther had we not stopped for investigations, and to mend the boat. [illustration: split mountain canyon. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871] wet and weary we welcomed the order to camp, about five o'clock, and made ourselves comfortable with dry clothes from our rubber bags, the wet ones being spread, as was our custom, on rocks to dry. at high water many of these rapids would be rendered much easier. a quarter of a mile below camp was a small cave thirty or forty feet deep, very picturesque, with the river dashing into it, and in the water in front a rock twenty feet high, which had dropped down from somewhere above. beaman got a very good picture here. the river was falling fast and as the water lowered rocks more and more showed themselves in the rapids. low water increases the labour but it increases the safety as well, for the velocity is less and the boats are more easily controlled. the next day, july 10th, we did not start on down the river till one o'clock. then we lowered the boats past two rapids and ran six, of which four were very bad on account of numerous rocks. occasionally a boat would strike but none was injured seriously. the sun was directly in our faces blinding us, and a high wind was blowing which added to the difficulties. the walls were often vertical for a thousand feet or more, and the river was wide and shallow. there was a scorching hot sun, the temperature being near 100 in the shade. the rocks and even the sand became so hot that they were uncomfortable to the touch, but there was one advantage in this dry heat--our clothes were soon dry. during this day we landed on the wrong side to examine one rapid and had to run it from there. both boats got through with only slight raps and we went on a short distance to camp at the head of a bad descent which was not runable at this stage of water. in the morning a line-portage was easily accomplished and we ran down a short distance farther when we stopped for dinner on a sandy beach. the sand scorched my feet for i had been without shoes for several days. all our shoes were giving out and mine were the first to go completely. fortunately beaman had an extra pair of army brogans which he lent me till we should reach uinta. i had ordered, by advice in chicago, two pairs of fine shoes at thirteen dollars a pair, but i now discovered that i ought to have bought shoes at two dollars instead for such work as this. we hoped to be able to get some new shoes from salt lake when we reached the uinta river and again would be in touch, even though a very long touch, with the outside world. our soap was all gone too, and supplies of every kind were getting low. in the afternoon three more rapids were run and at a fourth we were compelled to make a line-portage. then we saw the strata begin to curve over and down and finally drop into the river just as they had come out of it at the beginning. the crevices were filled with ferns and in places clear water was dripping from these little green cliff gardens. as we ran along the foot of the left wall we saw a peculiar and beautiful spring which had carved out a dainty basin where a multitude of ferns and kindred plants were thriving, a silvery rill dropping down from them. we emerged from the canyon as abruptly as we had entered it, and saw a broad valley stretching before us. running a quarter of a mile on a smooth river camp was made on the right on a level floor carpeted with grass and surrounded by thickets of oak. we were in the beginning of what is now called wonsits (antelope) valley, about eighty-seven miles long, the only large valley on the river above the end of black canyon. split-mountain canyon eight miles long has one of the greatest declivities on the river, coming next to lodore, though it differs from the latter in that the descent is more continuous and not broken into short, violent stretches. there would be plain sailing now to the head of the canyon of desolation. chapter vi a lookout for redskins--the river a sluggard--a gunshot!--someone comes!--the tale of a mysterious light--how, how! from douglas boy--at the mouth of the uinta--a tramp to goblin city and a trip down white river on a raft--a waggon-load of supplies from salt lake by way of uinta agency--the major goes out to find a way in. our thoughts now were mainly directed to pushing on to the mouth of the uinta river and picking up our advance party, which by this time must have gotten in touch with the uinta agency. we felt gratified that another of the long line of canyons was a thing of the past and that for a brief time we would have easy water, so far as rapids were concerned. we were reminded that this was indian country by discovering on a smooth face of rock wall not far from camp a lot of drawings pecked into the stone. they represented figures of natives, bison, elk, deer, mountain sheep, grizzly tracks, etc., and as they were the first pictographs i had ever seen i was particularly interested. the bison pictures indicated the former presence here in this valley of that fine animal. numbers indeed once ranged these hills and valleys, but they had all disappeared many years before our voyage. we were on the lookout for indians. as long as we were encompassed by the mighty walls of the canyons there was little probability of our meeting with any of the original people of this soil, but the valley now opening wide before us was their favourite haunt. two divisions of utes roamed the surrounding region. on the west it was the uinta utes who, we knew, were peaceable, and on the east it was the white river utes, whose status as to peace and war was at that period somewhat vague and uncertain. we expected no trouble with any of them, yet the possibility of running at any moment on a band gave added interest and colour to the voyage. this was intensified by the feeling that we had suddenly been thrown out of doors, unprotected, as the huge, dominating precipices broke so suddenly back on both sides, leaving us hardly a rock with which, in case of necessity, to emulate the example of roderick dhu. probably if we had travelled here on horseback in the open there would not have been this sense of having left our fortification behind. july 12th the boats proceeded down a river so sluggish that the term "down" seemed a misnomer, and we actually had to row; had to work at the oars to make the boats go; these same boats which so recently had behaved like wild horses. this was not to our taste at all, the weather being extremely hot. but there was no help for it. the boats fairly went to sleep and we tugged away at their dull, heavy weight, putting the miles behind and recalling the express-train manner of their recent action. on each side of us there were occasional groves of cottonwoods and wide bottoms bounded by low hills. after about ten miles of steady pulling we discovered that we were only 2-1/2 miles from our starting place in a straight line. here there was a superb cottonwood grove, massive trees with huge trunks like oaks, on the left. we found the remains of a camp-fire and decided that our advance party had come this far from island park the first day. they had accomplished a phenomenal run, but it showed what might be done with light boats and a full crew. as steward desired to make some geological examinations at this point, prof. announced that we would stay till morning. another cause for stopping was a gale which blew with great force, making rowing exceedingly hard work, and it was hard enough anyhow with no good current to help. steward wished to go across the river, and i went with him. we tramped with our winchesters on our shoulders for several hours, examining rocks and fossils. on our return we found that andy was occupied in boiling a goose which prof.'s sure aim had bestowed on the larder, and we had the bird for supper. if it was not one of the fossils it certainly was one of the "oldest inhabitants," which are found in every locality, and though a steady diet of bacon enthused us with an ambition to masticate this noble morsel, it had to be relegated to the impossibilities. we had a good deal of entertainment out of it, and while so engaged every ear caught the sound of a faint, distant gunshot. this was proof that we were no longer alone, and the question was, "how many indians are there?" we simply waited developments. night came on and the fierce wind died away completely as the sun went down. we gave no more thought to the shot, but all went to bed without even leaving a watch, so confident was prof. that there was no enemy, and no danger of a surprise. he was always "level-headed" and never went off on a tangent doing wild or unwarranted things. he was a man of unusually sound judgment. in the absence of cap. the duty of reading barometer had fallen to me, and sometimes, when waiting for the hour to arrive, i had to sit alone for a time when the others already had turned in. it was that way on this night, and i waited with some impatience for nine o'clock to come. for the purpose of reading the scale we used a small bull's-eye lantern belonging to a transit instrument, and it threw out a long beam of light. i entertained myself by flashing this beam of light in various directions to the distress of one member lying near not asleep, who was somewhat nervous as to the character of the indians responsible for the shot. "confound it," he growled, "you'll have the whole ute tribe down on us! you know they are not far off!" of course i desisted in my "signalling," but prof., not yet asleep, spoke up saying he did not believe any indians would bother us. finishing the observations i put out the lantern, and settled in my blankets. at that instant there was the flash of a light through the trees and then it glowed steadily for a moment and went out. my nervous neighbour saw it too. "there," he cried, "an answer to your confounded signal!" several saw it. "the evening star setting beyond the hill," they declared, derisively, but we two maintained that it was nothing less than a light near by. then sleep ruled the camp. in the middle of the night there was a sudden terrific cracking, rending, and crashing, starting all to their feet except clem, who was not wakened by it. what had happened? we perceived in a second. one of the enormous limbs, weakened by the wind, had broken off and dropped to the ground in the middle of the camp. luckily no one was under it and no harm was done, but for a moment, in connection with the light episode and the gunshot, it gave us a shock. every one laughed, and soon the camp was still again. the sun was well up before we awoke. immediately the discussion of the strange light came up, and it formed a lively and amusing topic, not only then, but ever after for months. breakfast became a stirring debating scene, when plump into the midst of our hilarity, as if to emphasise the declarations of the nervous member, there came a sharp call from beyond a line of bushes. almost on the instant appeared an indian mounted on a dark bay horse trotting towards us exclaiming, "how, how!" and holding out his hand in token of friendship. his long black hair hung behind in two tails braided with red and black cotton cloth. the scalp at the part was painted vermilion, and around each eye was a ring of the same bright colour. his shirt was of the kind called hickory, and his leggins were of red woollen stuff. altogether he was a good looking specimen of his race, and about twenty-five years old. how many more might be behind we could not tell. he dismounted and clem grasped him warmly by the hand, exclaiming with his most cordial smile, "well, how are all the folks at home?" to which the visitor of course made no answer. not one of our party understood ute, and i had never seen a "wild" indian at such close quarters before. the man motioned for something to eat, so andy gave him a plate of breakfast, but there was a twinkle in andy's blue eye, for the breakfast consisted largely of the rejected goose. when the red man's vision rested on the goose he gave a grunt of disgust and made no effort to even taste it, though he relished the other things and a cup of hot coffee. i have noticed that all indians are very fond of coffee. we gleaned that he was alone with his squaw, and had a wickiup down the river a short distance. doubtless he had examined our camp the previous night. the barometer hanging to a tree-branch caught his eye, and i tried by signs to explain it to him with no success except to convulse the whole crew. at length with the exclamation "squaw," he rode away and came back with his fair partner riding behind. by this time we were packed up and we pushed off, the pair watching us with deep interest. about a mile and a half below by the river, we came on them again at their camp, they having easily beaten us by a short cut. here was his wickiup made of a few cottonwood boughs, and in front of it the ashes of a fire. our side immediately claimed this was the light we had seen, and the discussion of this point continued until another night put an end to it. in the bough shelter sat the blooming bride of "douglas boy," as he called himself, douglas being the chief of the white river utes. she was dressed well in a neat suit of navy-blue flannel and was lavishly adorned with ornaments. her dress was bound at the waist by a heavy belt of leather, four inches wide, profusely decorated with brass discs and fastened by a brass buckle. she was young and quite pretty, and they were a handsome couple. he intimated that he would be grateful to be ferried across the river, here almost half a mile wide, so his blankets, saddles, and whole paraphernalia were piled on the boats, while the two horses were driven into the water and pelted with stones till they made up their minds that the farther shore offered greater hospitality, and swam for it. then the squaw and the brave were taken on separate boats. she hesitated long before finally trusting herself, and was exceedingly coy about it. she had probably never seen a boat before. at last, overcoming her fear she stepped tremblingly on board and in a few minutes we had them landed on the other side, where we said farewell and went on. in the afternoon we discovered a number of natives on the right bank and landed to see what they were. nothing more terrible than several badly frightened squaws and children occupied the place, the men being away. we thought this call on the ladies would suffice, and presenting them with a quantity of tobacco for their absent lords, we pulled away, leaving them still almost paralysed with fright and astonishment at our sudden and unexpected appearance and disappearance. the valley was now very wide, and the river spread to a great width also, giving conditions totally different from any we had found above. rowing was real labour here, but prof. was eager to arrive at the mouth of the uinta the next day so it was row, row, with a strong, steady, monotonous stroke, hour after hour till we had put twenty miles behind when we stopped for the night. next morning the same programme was continued from seven o'clock on, with a brief halt for dinner. about four a storm came up, compelling us to wait an hour, when on we pulled, with a temperature something like 100°f., in the shade, till sunset, when about forty miles from our starting point, we arrived at the mouth of a river on the right, which we thought must be the uinta. but finally as there was no sign of our advance party we concluded there must be a mistake. there was so little current in the tributary we thought it might be something besides a river, the mouth of a lake perhaps, and that the uinta was farther on. about a mile down in the dim light there appeared to be a river mouth, but on reaching the place there was nothing of the kind. several signal shots were fired. they fell dead on the dull stillness of the night which was dropping fast upon us. we took to the oars once more and pulled down nearly another mile till the dark grew so thick it was not prudent to proceed, and prof. ordered a landing on the left where we made a hasty cup of coffee to refresh the inner man, and turned in, much puzzled and troubled by the absence of any kind of a signal from the advance party. some one suggested that they had all been killed, but prof. met this with scornful ridicule and went to sleep. when daylight came a river was discovered less than half a mile below our camp coming in from the east. prof. knew this to be white river from the map, the mouths of white and uinta rivers having long been quite accurately established. the mouth of the uinta must therefore be where we had been the night before, and prof. walked back till he came opposite to it. we then got the boats back by rowing and towing, and landed on the right or west bank about a quarter of a mile above the mouth of the uinta, where the old time crossing had been, and which we had passed unnoticed in the evening light. here were the ashes of a camp-fire, and after much searching a tin can was found with a note in it from the major, saying they had all gone out to the agency, and that we were to wait here. a large cottonwood tree stood on the low bank where travellers before had camped, not in going up and down the river, but on their way across country. it was a very old tree and its bark presented many marks, names, and dates, and i regret now that i did not copy them for reference. this was one of the known crossings for a long period, in fact, it was through this valley that escalante, the first white man to cross green river, travelled in 1776, and it is possible that he may have camped under this very tree.[10] we settled there to wait, harassed by multitudes of voracious mosquitoes. all day we remained, expecting the absentees, but the sun went down and still there was no word. about seven o'clock while we were eating supper, some shots and yells from the west took us to the top of the bank, and we saw two horsemen galloping towards our position. we soon made them out to be cap. and jones. they brought a large mail, a portion of it the same we had tried to stop at salt lake, and have returned to us at the gate of lodore, and they reported that the major had gone out to salt lake. we built up a good fire, and by its light everyone was quickly lost in letters from home. the next morning we got the _dean_ out of the bushes where she had been well hidden, and moved across the river with the whole outfit, to a place in front of a half-finished log cabin called fort robideau, after the trapper of that name, who years before had roamed this country. a road crossing here from golden to provo, 413 miles long, was laid out in 1861 by berthoud and bridger for the overland stage company, but the civil war and the building of the union pacific had prevented its realisation.[11] the cabin had no windows or doors, but for summer that was not a defect. the mud roof was intact, and we used the cabin for headquarters, though we preferred to sleep out on the ground. back of the building a wide level plain spread away and deer and antelope ranged there in large numbers. any short walk would start up antelope, but we had other matters on our mind, and made no special effort to shoot any. it would have been easy for a trained hunter to get all he wanted, or even for one of us to do it had we dropped other things and given our minds to the work. the following monday, july 17th, prof. and beaman left for the agency, and on friday of the same week jack returned accompanied by a man named basor, driving a large four-horse waggon loaded with supplies for us. we were in need of them. we had been completely out of soap for two weeks or more, and a box of that essential article was broken open the first thing. jack also brought from the agency garden some lettuce, new potatoes, and turnips. not having tasted any vegetables for two months, these were a great treat. the same afternoon basor went away taking letters from us with him to be sent to salt lake. one of the special things he had brought was three long, narrow pieces of flat iron made by the agency blacksmith from old wagon tires, for the keels of the boats, which were badly worn by scraping on shoals and rocks in our portaging and letting-down operations. on the next monday, cap., steward, and i with five days' rations on our backs as well as blankets enough for the warm nights, and our rifles, started on a journey up white river to a place called goblin city by one of the earlier explorers who had crossed the valley. as we were going through some heavy willows about noon, i discovered standing still before me and not a hundred feet away the finest stag i have ever seen. he stood like a landseer picture, head erect and alert with huge branching antlers poised in the air. he was listening to my companions who were a little distance from me. my gun being tied to my pack for easy travelling i could not quickly extricate it and before i could bring it to bear he dashed through the willows and a sensible shot was impossible. i admired him so much that i was rather glad i could not shoot. we came across a great deal of game, antelope, mountain sheep, and deer but we never seemed to have the opportunity to stalk it properly. when we finally came in sight of the goblin city it was six o'clock of the second day and we had travelled steadily. at the farther end of a level little valley surrounded by cliffs were numerous small buttes and square rocks, almost in rows and about the size of small buildings, so that there was a striking suggestion of a town. we slept near the river and spent the next morning in examining the locality. when we had completed the observations i got dinner while steward and cap. with our gun-straps and some buckskin strings made a raft from small cottonwood logs we found on the bank. upon this weaving affair we all three embarked to descend the river in order to meander the course as well as to save our legs. steward and cap. stood at either end with long poles while i sat in the middle and took the compass sights as we passed along. there were some sharp little rapids full of rocks, and sometimes it was all we could do to stick on, for the raft being flexible naturally would straddle a big rock and take the form of a very steep house roof. the banks were thick with currant bushes loaded with ripe fruit and we kept a supply of branches on the raft to pick off the currants as we went along. everywhere there were many fresh tracks of bears for they are fond of this fruit, but if they saw us we failed to see them, though some of the tracks appeared to have been made not more than a few minutes before. as we drifted between high banks there was a violent crashing of bushes and a beautiful fawn, evidently pursued by bear or wolf, plunged through and dropped into the stream. cap. took a shot at it from the wobbling raft but of course failed. the fawn landed at the bottom of a mud wall ten feet high and for a moment seemed dazed, but by some herculean effort it gained the plain and sped away to freedom and we were not at all sorry to see it go. all the next day we kept on down white river on the raft and at seven o'clock were still five miles from camp in a direct course and no food left. as the stream meandered a great deal we parted from it and went to headquarters on foot. we now expected hourly the return of prof. and the major, but another day passed without them or any message. the next day was saturday and it faded away also without any event. just after supper there was a hail from the west bank and on going over with a boat we found there prof., beaman, and an indian. the major had not come because captain dodds, commanding the party which was charged with the taking of rations for us to the mouth of the dirty devil river, our next supply station, had sent word that he could not find a way through the unknown region. the major concluded that he would have to go and try it himself. his plan was for us to go on and he would join us again august 25th at gunnison crossing, at the end of the canyon of desolation, the next canyon of the series. gunnison crossing was an established point with a trail leading there from east and west. we were to wait for him till september 3d in that neighbourhood, and if he failed to arrive we were to go on and get through as best we could on the rations remaining. our present intercourse with the world was now terminated by our sending the indian who had come with prof. back to the agency with our mail. prof. had brought in some fresh beef which was a great treat but there was little of it and after a couple of meals we were on bacon and beans again. had an indian from the agency been hired for the purpose of hunting, we might have had plenty of venison during our stop here. sunday our old acquaintance douglas boy came to camp and was employed to make moccasins to save our shoes. some new shoes had been sent in to us, but for climbing and walking the rawhide-soled moccasins were excellent and would save our shoes for river work. the indian had a beaded cap pouch which i secured from him for some vermilion and he was ready to trade, but the next day jack caught him trying to steal our buckskin by hiding it in his blankets which rudely sundered our business relations. jack himself acquired the art of moccasin-making and he made each of us an excellent pair in his spare time. steward and i went back up white river to finish our work but the raft timbers were gone and we could find no others, so we had to do what we could on foot. when we returned i discovered some ginger among the supplies and thinking it time for variety in our bill of fare, and it being cap.'s birthday, i made a large ginger-cake which was voted prime. we ate half of it at one sitting with an accompaniment of lime-juice "lemonade." at the agency prof. found out that douglas boy had eloped from the white river country with his squaw, who was betrothed to another, and when we first met him he was engaged in eluding pursuit. according to ute law if he could avoid capture for a certain time he would be free to return without molestation to his village. beaman photographed him and a number of the uintas under the direction of the major, who wished to secure all the information possible about the natives, their language, customs, and costumes. we now spent several days arranging our new supplies in the rubber sacks, putting the iron strips on the boat-keels, and doing what final repairing was necessary. the topographers plotted the map work, and all finished up their necessary notes and data. by the afternoon of friday, august 4th, all was in readiness for continuing the voyage. we had now descended 1450 feet from our starting point towards sea-level and we knew that the next canyon would add considerably to these figures. footnotes: [footnote 10: two days after crossing the san clemente, as he called white river, escalante crossed the rio san buenaventura (green river) somewhere above the mouth of white river. here were six large "black poplars," on one of which they left an inscription. after resting two days they went south-west along the buenaventura, ten leagues, and from a hill saw the junction of the san clemente. he evidently went very near the mouth of the uinta, and then struck westward. the uinta he called rio de san cosme.] [footnote 11: a regiment of california volunteers marched this way from salt lake on the way to denver during the civil war.] chapter vii on to battle--a concert repertory--good-bye to douglas boy--the busy, busy beaver--in the embrace of the rocks once more--a relic of the cliff-dwellers--low water and hard work--a canyon of desolation--log-cabin cliff--rapids and rapids and rapids--a horse, whose horse?--through gray canyon to the rendezvous. we were up early on the morning of august 5th prepared to leave camp 32. prof. took a lunar observation, and at eight we entered the boats and turned our backs on "fort" robideau, the only house on or near the whole river at that time from the mouth of the virgin, to our camp no. 1 where we had the snow-storm, a distance of about one thousand miles. we had vanquished many rapids and now we pushed on ready for our next battle with the river in the canyon of desolation, just before us. the order of going was slightly changed in the absence of the major, for prof., being now in sole command, went ahead with his boat, the _nellie powell_, while ours, the _emma dean_, for the time being took second place. the river for a brief distance ran smoothly with only enough current, about two miles an hour, to help us along without hard rowing. i missed the major while we were on the water, probably more than any one else in the party, for as we were facing each other the whole time and were not separated enough to interfere with conversation we had frequent talks. he sometimes described incidents which happened on the first voyage, or told me something about the men of that famous and unrivalled journey. besides this he was very apt to sing, especially where the river was not turbulent and the outlook was tranquil, some favourite song, and these songs greatly interested me. while he had no fine voice he sang from his heart, and the songs were those he had learned at home singing with his brothers and sisters. one of these was an old-fashioned hymn, _the home of the soul_, or rather the first two verses of it. these verses were among his special favourites.[12] "i will sing you a song of that beautiful land, the far away home of the soul, where no storms ever beat on the glittering strand, while the years of eternity roll, while the years of eternity roll; where no storms ever beat on the glittering strand while the years of eternity roll. "oh! that home of the soul in my visions and dreams, its bright jasper walls i can see; till i fancy but thinly the veil intervenes between the fair city and me till i fancy, etc." another was a pretty four-part song, _the laugh of a child_, of which he sang the air. the words ran: "i love it, i love it, the laugh of a child. now rippling, now gentle, now merry and wild. it rings through the air with an innocent gush, like the trill of a bird at the twilight's soft hush, it floats on the breeze like the tones of a bell, or music that dwells in the heart of a shell. oh, the laugh of a child is so wild and so free 't is the merriest sound in the world to me." still another of which he sang the english words often was the well-known air from _figaro_. i give a few bars: [illustration: _non piu andrai_--play no more. air. figaro. non più andrai, far-fal-lo-ne a-mo-ro-so, not-te gior-no d'in-tor-no gi-ran-do; del-le bel-le tur-ban-do il ri-po-so, nar-ci-set-to, a-don-ci-no d'a-mor! del-le bel-le tur-ban-do il ri-po-so, nar-ci-set-to, a-don-ci-no d'a-mor! play no more, boy, the part of a lov-er, nor a-bout beau-ty fool-ish-ly hov-er; in the wars you'll more pleasure dis-cov-er, when your heart beats to glo-ry and fame! in the wars you'll more pleasure dis-cov-er, when your heart beats to glo-ry and fame!] at times he imitated a certain pathetic yet comical old woman he had heard singing at some camp-meeting, "the dear blessed bible, the fam-i-ly bible," etc. he told me one day that this fondness for singing, especially amid extremely unpromising or gloomy circumstances, had on more than one occasion led the men of the first expedition to suspect his sanity. when he was singing, i could see that frequently he was really not thinking about his song at all, but of something quite foreign to it, and the singing was a mere accompaniment. our party as a whole commanded an extensive repertory of song for an exploring expedition and while most of the voices were somewhat below concert requirement, there was no one to object, and one of us, jack, did have an excellent voice. a song often heard was, _shells of ocean_ and also that one most appropriate, _what are the wild waves saying?_ then there was _if i had but a thousand a year, gaffer green_, and of course, _annie laurie_. never was there an american or an english expedition to anywhere that did not have that song, as well as _way down upon the suwanee river_. in addition to all these and the ones previously mentioned of which "oh, the lone starry hours give me love when still is the beautiful night," was a special favourite, jack's individual repertory contained an exhaustless number, both sad and gay. there were _carry me back to old tennessee_, _the sailor's grave_, _aura lee_, with her golden hair, who brought sunshine and swallows indiscriminately to each locality which she graced with the said golden hair, and _come where my love lies dreaming_, _seeing nellie home_, and scores or at least dozens that i fail to recall. but while we had a great store of songs we were deficient to the last degree in musical instruments, the one solitary example being an humble mouth-organ which in a moment of weakness i had thrown in with my outfit. we just escaped having a flute. frank, who left us on the 10th of june, possessed one, and when he was preparing to go steward negotiated for this instrument. he gave cap. his revolver to trade for it, considering the flute more desirable property for the expedition. cap., being an old soldier, concluded to fire at a mark before letting the revolver pass forever from our possession. presently there was an explosion which demolished the pistol and all our prospects of acquiring the musical treasure at one and the same moment. possibly fortune was kinder to us than we dreamed. the mouth-organ then remained the sole music machine in all that immense area. i did not feel equal to the position of organist but steward boldly took up the study, and practised so faithfully that he became a real virtuoso. as a boy in new york jack, though not a hibernian himself, had associated closely with descendants of the shamrock isle, and he could speak with a fine emerald brogue. a refrain of one of his songs in this line was: "and if the rocks, they don't sthop us, we will cross to killiloo, whacky-whay!" this sounded our situation exactly, and it became a regular accompaniment to the roaring of the rapids. jack had many times followed in the wake of the thirteen eagles fire company, one of the bright jewels with a green setting, of the old volunteer service. the foreman, fitting the rest of the company, was irish too, and his stentorian shout through the trumpet "tirtaan aigles, dis wai!" never failed to rise above the din, and when the joyful cry smote the ears of the gallant "tirtaan," the rocks nor the ruts nor the crowds nor anything could stop them; through thick and through thin they went to the front, for there was rivalry in those days and when the aigles time after time got first water on, they won triumphs which we of this mercenary epoch cannot understand. the aigles were in for glory, nothing else. so when we heard the roar of a rapid and sniffed the mist in the air, "tirtaan aigles dis wai," was our slogan. where the river now ran smoothly, as it did for a considerable distance below the robideau crossing we could drift with the slow current and enjoy the study of the surroundings, the boats requiring no attention. passing the mouths of the uinta and the white, both rivers entering very quietly through a level valley, we pulled gently along watching the banks for something new. when we had thus gone a couple of miles we discovered our first acquaintance of this valley, douglas boy, encamped on the right with his runaway bride. they had a snug and secluded hiding-place protected by the river and some low cliffs. we landed to pay our parting call. both had their faces completely smeared with the bright vermilion obtained by trade from us, and they presented in our eyes a ludicrous appearance. they had recently killed a fat deer and seemed very happy. prof. exchanged some sugar for enough venison for our dinner and we said farewell to them, the first as well as the last human beings we had met with in this valley. clem, as usual, gave them various messages for the "folks at home" and assured them with gracious smiles, that they "would ever be the subject of his most distinguished consideration." they smiled after us and we were soon beyond their vision. presently low cliffs, 100 to 150 feet began to show themselves, on one side or the other, and the wide valley vanished. the great canyon below was reaching out for us. there were numerous islands covered with immense accumulations of driftwood or with growing cottonwoods where high enough. hundreds of beaver swam about. occasionally a shot from the boats would kill or wound one, but it was next to impossible to secure any as they seemed to sink immediately to the bottom and we gave up trying as long as they were in deep water. the stream being so tranquil reading poetry was more to our taste than hunting the beaver, and prof. read aloud from emerson as we slowly advanced upon the enemy. after about nine miles of this sort of thing we stopped for dinner in a pretty cottonwood grove at the foot of a cliff on the right with beaver swimming around as if they did not know what a human being was. when our venison had been disposed of the boats were shoved out into the river again and we continued our approach to the canyon. the surrounding region became a desolate waste; a broken desert plateau elevated above us about two hundred feet. some deer seen on an island caused us to land and try to get a good shot at one, but we failed to get near enough for success and they quickly disappeared. the ground was too difficult for pursuit. after some seventeen miles, camp for the night was made in another grove of rather small cottonwoods at 5.30. we were on a large island with the surrounding waters thick with beaver busy every moment though their great work is done at night. many trees felled, some of them of a considerable diameter, attested the skill and energy of these animals as woodchoppers. cap. tried to get one so that we could eat it, but though he killed several he failed to reach them before they sank, and gave it up. as we looked around we saw that almost imperceptibly we had entered the new canyon and at this camp (33) we were fairly within the embrace of its rugged cliffs which, devoid of all vegetation, rose up four hundred feet, sombre in colour, but picturesque from a tendency to columnar weathering that imparted to them a gothic character suggestive of cathedrals, castles, and turrets. the next day was sunday and as beaman felt sick and we were not in a hurry, no advance was made but instead prof. accompanied by steward, cap., and jones climbed out for notes and observations. they easily reached the top by means of a small gulch. they got back early, reporting an increasing desolation in the country on both sides as far as they could see. they also saw two graves of great age, covered by stones. in the afternoon prof. entertained us by reading aloud from scott and so the day passed and night fell. then the beavers became more active and worked and splashed around camp incessantly. they kept it up all through the dark hours as is their habit, but only steward was disturbed by it. this would have been an excellent opportunity to learn something about their ways, but for my part i did not then even think of it. by 7.30 in the morning of august 7th we were again on our way towards the depths ahead, between walls of rapidly increasing altitude showing that we were cutting into some great rock structure. here and there we came to shoals that compelled us to get overboard and wade alongside lifting the boats at times. as these shoals had the peculiarity of beginning gradually and ending very abruptly we got some unexpected plunge baths during this kind of progression. but the air was hot, the thermometer being about 90° f., and being soaked through was not uncomfortable. at one place prof. succeeded in shooting a beaver which was near the bank and it was secured before it could get to its hole, being badly wounded. steward caught it around the middle from behind and threw it into the boat--he had jumped into the water--and there it was finished with an oar. it measured three feet from tip to tip. we had heard a good deal about beaver as food and would now have a chance to try it. about eleven o'clock, we stopped for examinations and for dinner on the right but, of course, could not yet cook the beaver. prof., steward, and cap. climbed to the top of a butte 1050 feet above the river upon which they found a small monument left there by the major on the former trip. though this butte was so high the average of the walls was only about five hundred feet. we made seventeen miles this day. that night our camp (no. 35) was again on an island. there cap. skinned and dressed the beaver and turned over the edible portions to andy who cooked some steak for breakfast the next morning. it tasted something like beef, but we were not enthusiastic for i fear this beaver belonged to the same geological epoch as the goose we had cooked at the upper end of the valley. fortified by the beaver steak we pushed off and ran about a mile on a smooth river when a stop was made for pictures and geologising. this consumed the whole morning, a fact andy took advantage of to make some beaver soup for dinner. this concoction was voted not a success and we turned to bacon and beans as preferable thereafter. opposite this dinner place was a rough lateral canyon full of turrets and minarets which had the remarkable property of twice distinctly repeating a shout as loud as the original, and multiplying a rifle shot to peals of thunder. there had been people here before any white men, for steward found an artificial wall across an indentation of the cliff, the first work of the ancient builders we had encountered. it was mysterious at the time, the south-western ruins having then not been discovered with one or two exceptions. we ascribed this wall, however, to the ancestors of the moki (hopi). in the afternoon as we pulled along we came to a small rapid and the walls by this time being closer together and growing constantly higher, we knew that we were now fairly within the canyon of desolation and for about one hundred miles would have a rough river. not more than two miles below our dinner camp we reached a locality where the stream doubled back on itself forming a vast and beautiful amphitheatre. we could not pass this by without taking a picture of it and beaman was soon at work with his apparatus while i got out my pencils. the photograph did not turn out well, and prof. determined to remain till the next day. our camp was on the left in a thick grove of cottonwoods, and box-elders or ash-leaved maples, at the end of the point. as the sun sank away bats flew about and an insect orchestra began a demoniacal concert that shrilled through the night and made us feel like slaughtering the myriads if we could. the noises ceased with the day, or most of them, though some seemed to intensify with the light. we helped beaman get his dark box and other paraphernalia up to the summit of the ridge back of camp, which was easy so far as climbing was concerned, the rocks rising by a series of shelves or steps. i made several pencil sketches there, which i have never seen since the close of the expedition. the crest of the promontory was about forty yards wide at its maximum and three yards at the minimum, with a length of three-fourths of a mile. from the middle ridge one could look down into the river on both sides, and it seemed as if a stone could almost be thrown into each from one standpoint. the opposite amphitheatre was perhaps one thousand feet high, beautifully carved by the rains and winds. it was named sumner's amphitheatre after jack sumner of the first expedition. several of our men climbed in different directions, but all did not succeed in getting out. the day turned out very cloudy with sprinkles of rain and prof. decided to wait still longer to see if beaman could get a good photograph, and we had another night of insect opera. the next day by noon the photographer had caught the scene and we continued our descending way. the river was perfectly smooth, except a small rapid late in the day, with walls on both sides steadily increasing their altitude. desolation in its beginning is exactly the reverse of lodore and split mountain. in the latter the entrance could hardly be more sudden, whereas the canyon of desolation pushes its rock walls around one so diplomatically that it is some little time before the traveller realises that he is caught. the walls were ragged, barren, and dreary, yet majestic. we missed the numerous trees which in the upper canyons had been so ornamental wherever they could find a footing on the rocks. here there were only low shrubs as a rule and these mainly along the immediate edge of the water, though high up on north slopes pines began to appear. altitude, latitude, and aridity combine to modify vegetation so that in an arid region one notices extraordinary changes often in a single locality. the walls still had the tendency to break into turrets and towers, and opposite our next camp a pinnacle stood detached from the wall on a shelf high above the water suggesting a beacon and it was named lighthouse rock. prof. with steward and cap. in the morning, august 11th, climbed out to study the contiguous region which was found to be not a mountain range but a bleak and desolate plateau through which we were cutting along green river toward a still higher portion. this was afterwards named the tavaputs plateau, east and west divisions, the river being the line of separation. the walls now began to take on a vertical character rising above the water 1200 to 1800 feet, and at that height they were about a quarter of a mile apart. from their edges they broke back irregularly to a separation as nearly as could be determined of from three to five miles, the extreme summit being 2500 feet above the river. [illustration: steward. canyon of desolation. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] while waiting for prof. to come down from the cliffs, beaman made some photographs and then two boats dropped down a quarter of a mile where he made some more and andy got dinner. i remained with the _nell_ and about eleven o'clock the climbers came. we went down on the boat to the noon camp, and as soon as we had refreshed the inner man we proceeded thinking it about time for rapids to appear. we had not gone far before we distinguished a familiar roar just preceding the turn of a bend which disclosed three lying within half a mile. they were not bad but the river was wide and shallow, making the descent more difficult than it would ordinarily have been. the river was now approaching its lowest stage, and we saw an uncomfortable looking lot of rocks. high water makes easy going but increases the risk of disaster; low water makes hard work, batters the boats, and delays progress, but as a rule it is less risky. all the boats cleared the first rapid without any difficulty, but in the second the _nell_ struck a sunken rock, though lightly, while our boat landed squarely on the top of a large boulder partially submerged, where we hung fast with the water boiling furiously around and almost coming over the sides. i tried to get out over the port bow but the current drew me under the boat and i had to get back. jack concluded we were only fast by the extreme end of the keel and jones coming forward jack slid cautiously out over the stern and felt around with his feet till he touched the rock and put his weight on it. thus relieved, the boat lifted slightly and shot away like an arrow but not before jack leaped on again. as soon as we could we made land and watched the _cañonita_ which fared still worse. she struck so hard that two of the after ribs and some planks were stove in. they then extricated her and pulling her up on the rocky shore we went to work to repair with cleats made from a broken oar. this delayed us an hour and a half. then saws and hammers were stowed away and the third rapid was run without a mishap. it was only the low stage of water that caused the trouble. a little farther on a fourth rapid was vanquished and we went into camp on the left bank in a cottonwood grove at the head of another. "if the rocks, they don't sthop us," sang jack, "we will cross to killiloo, whacky-whay!" and there were plenty of rocks in the midst of foaming waters, but one great advantage of low water is the decreased velocity, and velocity on a river like this with so heavy and constant a fall is one of the chief factors to reckon with in navigation. the high cliffs, two thousand feet, red and towering in the bright sun, became sombre and mysterious as the night shadows crept over them, the summits remaining bright from the last western rays when the river level was dim and uncertain. there was plenty of driftwood, and our fires were always cheery and comfortable. the nights were now quite cold, or at least chilly, while the days were hot as soon as the sun came over the edge of the cliffs. through some of the narrow promontories at this particular camp there were peculiar perforations suggesting immense windows looking into some fairer land. i would have been glad to examine some of these closely, but as it was not necessary they were passed by. it would also have been difficult to reach them as they were very high up. the rapid at our camp was a starter the next day on a line of them following one after the other till we had run without accident nine before halting for dinner; and nine in 6-3/4 miles was not a bad record. we landed for noon on the same spot where the first party had stopped and our last night's camp was also coincident with theirs, according to their map which we had for consultation. prof. decided to remain here for the rest of the day and also the next one which was sunday. up in a high gulch some pine trees were visible, and jack and i climbed up to them and collected several pounds of gum for repairing the boats. sunday morning prof., jones, and steward struck for the summit up the cliffs to get observations. an hour and a half of steady hard work put them 2576 feet above the river, but they were still three hundred feet below the general level of the great plateau which we were bisecting. prof. thought he would like to make better time down the river, which we could easily have done up to this point, but if we arrived at the end of the canyon too soon we would have to wait there and it was better to distribute the wait as we went along. it was now august 14th and we were not due below till september 3d. on monday morning we pushed and pulled and lifted the boats through a shallow rapid half a mile long. it was hard work. then came one which we ran, but the following drop was deemed too risky to trust our boats in, and they were lowered by lines. then in a short distance this same process was repeated with hard work in a very bad place, and when we had finished that we were tired, hungry, wet, and cold, so under a cottonwood tree on the right we stopped for needed refreshment, and while it was preparing most of us hung our clothes on the branches of a fallen tree to dry. the rapid foaming and fuming presented so vigorous an appearance and made so much noise we thought it ought to be named, and it was called fretwater falls. at three o'clock we took up our oars again and were whirled along at runaway speed through a continuous descent for half a mile. after another half-mile a small rapid appeared, which we dashed through without a second thought, and then came our final effort of the day, a line-portage over a particularly bad spot. it was a difficult job, requiring great exertion in lifting and pushing and fending off, so when prof. gave the word to camp on the left, we were all glad enough to do so. we had made only 5-1/4 miles and seven rapids. the let-downs had been hard ones, with a couple of men on board to fend off and two or three on the hawser holding back. the next morning, august 15th, we made another let-down around a bad piece of river, and ran two or three small rapids before dinner. at the let-down the water dropped at least ten feet in two hundred yards, and prof. estimated thirty in half a mile. the river was also narrow, not more than sixty or seventy feet in one place. many rocks studded the rapids, and great caution had to be exercised both in let-downs and in runs, lest the boats should be seriously injured. with two or three more feet of water we could have run some that were now impossible. fortunately there was always plenty of room on both banks, the cliffs being well back from the water. a series of small rapids gave us no special trouble, and having put them behind, we ran in at the head of a rough-looking one, had dinner, and then made a let-down. starting on, we soon came to a very sharp rapid, which we ran, and found it was only an introduction to one following that demanded careful treatment. another let-down was the necessary course, and when it was accomplished we stopped for the night where we were on the sand, every man tired, wet, and hungry. we had made only four miles. a significant note of warning was found here in the shape of fragments of the unfortunate _no-name_ mixed up with the driftwood, fully two hundred miles below the falls where the wreck occurred. the precipices surrounding us had now reached truly magnificent proportions, one section near our camp springing almost vertically to a height of 2800 or 3000 feet. on the dizzy summit we could discern what had the appearance of an old-fashioned log-cabin, and from this we called it "log-cabin cliff." the cabin was in reality a butte of shale, as we could see by means of our glasses, and of course of far greater size than a real cabin, but from below the illusion was complete. at this camp, no. 40, we remained the next day, prof. wishing to make some investigations. he and jones crossed to the other side and went down on foot two or three miles; then returning he went up some distance, while the rest of us mended our clothes, worked up notes, and did a score of little duties that had been neglected in the river work. jack and i climbed up the cliffs and got more pine gum, with which we caulked up the seams in our boat. cap. kindly turned barber and redeemed me from the danger of being classed as orang-outang. the air was too hazy for photographing or for getting observations from the summit, and prof. concluded to stay till next day at this place and then go to the top of the world; in other words, to the summit. very early in the morning, august 17th, steward and cap. started with prof. for the climb. keeping up the main canyon for a mile they came to a side gorge where prof. had been the day before, which they followed for half a mile and then boldly mounted the cliffs, reaching an altitude of 3100 feet above the river. while they were gone, jack and i climbed after more pine gum, and succeeded in getting five or six pounds for future use. as i was descending along a terrace, jack being some distance behind and above, a fine, large mountain sheep, sleek and clean, with beautiful strong horns, sprang along four or five hundred feet from me, and stopped in full view listening to jack's footsteps. i had no gun, and could only admire him till he bounded lightly away. about one o'clock the climbing party came back. steward had shot a mountain sheep with a revolver, only to find that a deep canyon intervened between him and his prize and there was no way of getting it. about half past two we shoved out into the river again, running a small rapid immediately. the water was so shallow that our keel struck a number of times but no damage was done. we had hardly cleared this when we arrived at a drop of about six feet in a few yards with the whole river filled with bad rocks. at this place, according to the map made by the first party, their _emma dean_ was capsised. we made a let-down and a quarter of a mile farther on repeated the operation should be. following this were some swift shoals which brought us to another ugly descent where the _nell_ stove a hole in her side and came near upsetting. prof. was knocked half out of the boat but got in again. the other boats we lowered by lines and they passed through uninjured. near this point a fine clear little stream about a rod wide entered from the west. after running two more rapids prof. decided to camp which we did on the right, camp 41. our run footed up 3-3/4 miles. our camp was in some cottonwoods and we had to cross a wide rocky bar to get to it but it was preferable to camping on the sand. in this canyon there was generally a valley about one-quarter mile wide on one side or the other, and with the abundant supply of driftwood for fires and a whole river for drink we fared well. the great canyon now appeared deeper than at any point above, about three thousand feet we estimated, the walls being extremely precipitous. one cliff not far from camp appeared to be nearly perpendicular. steward got up very early the next morning in order to mend his shoes, and he succeeded so well as cobbler, we declared he had missed his calling, but we did not start till ten o'clock, waiting for beaman to take views. the first thing we then did was to run a very shallow rapid, followed by another, long, difficult, narrow, and rocky. then there was a short, easy one, with the next below compelling a very hard let-down. there was nothing but rocks, large rocks, so close together that it was all we could do to manoeuvre the boats between them. there was no channel anywhere. for the greater part of the way we had to pull them empty over the rocks on driftwood skids which taxed our muscles considerably and of course saturated our clothing for half the time we were in the water, as was always the case at let-downs. this over we had our noon ration of bread, bacon, and coffee and took a fresh start by running a nice, clear rapid and then another a half-mile below, and we thought we were getting on well when we saw ahead a fall of some ten feet in fourteen rods, turbulent and fierce. the only prudent thing for this rapid was a let-down and we went at it at once. it was the usual pulling, hauling, fending, and pushing, but we got through with it after a while and naming it at the suggestion of some one, melvin falls, we went on to the eighth and last rapid for the day. this was half a mile long and very rocky, but it was thought we could run it and all went through safely except the _nell_ which caught her keel on a rock and hung for a moment, then cleared and finished with no damage. we made camp 42 on a sand-hill. these hills were a feature of the wide banks, being blown up by the winds, sometimes to a height of fifteen or twenty feet. our run for the day was less than five miles, yet as we had passed eight rapids one way and another, we were all pretty tired and of course wet and hungry. a good big camp-fire was quickly started, our dry garments from the rubber bags donned in place of the flapping wet ones, and we were entirely comfortable, with the bread baking in the dutch oven, the coffee or tea steaming away, and the inspiring fragrance of frying bacon wafted on the evening air. when we stopped long enough andy would give us boiled beans or stewed dried apples as a treat. if we desired to enliven the conversation all that was necessary was to start the subject of the "light" back at the camp where we first met douglas boy. every one would soon be involved except prof. who only laughed and inserted from time to time a well-chosen remark to keep up the interest. jack would always give us a half-dozen songs and to this steward would add a solo on the mouth-organ. the evenings were growing longer, and we sat closer to the fire. sometimes cap. and clem would play a game of euchre, but no one else seemed to care anything about cards. our beds, when possible, were made by first putting down willows or cedar twigs in regular order, on which the blankets would be spread making a luxurious bed on which sleep instantly overtook us, with the sound of falling water generally the last thing and the first in our ears. at 7.30 the next morning, august 19th, we were speeding on our way and ran the rapid which had sent its lullaby to our camp. another came right after it, shallow and bad, and then one more where the channel was beset with innumerable boulders hidden under the surface. happily the boats were not seriously damaged, they needed no repairs, and we kept on to the next barrier which proved to be not runable with any prospect of getting through whole so we made a portage. then there was a rapid we ran easily, but as if to revenge itself for making one gentle for us, the river obliged us to work a laborious passage at the next two. we had good hard work, lowering by lines, wading alongside where necessary to ease the boats, or clinging to their sides where the water was deep, while the men on shore at the hawser's end lowered away to a shallow place. we were glad to halt at 11.30 for dinner, and a short rest. there was a heavy rapid beside us as we ate, and steward named it chandler falls. it had a descent of about twelve feet in twenty rods. on the opposite side of the river a clear little creek came in, and this was named chandler creek, chandler being the maiden name of steward's wife. beaman and clem selected a position with their photographic outfit and made some photographs of us as we were working the boats through. a mile below we halted on the right for beaman to get more views. none of his photographs of the rapids came out well as the plates were too slow. up a gulch on the right we could see a remarkable topographic feature, nothing less than a gigantic aperture, or natural arch, in the cliff. it had a span of at least 300 feet with a height of about half as much. it was 1500 or 1800 feet above the river. hundreds of cedar trees grew around the arch on the ledges of the huge wall through which it was cut by the action of the elements. the cliffs everywhere were now becoming more broken, and there was an entrance somewhere from the back country, or it may have been up the canyon, for we discovered remains of tipis and camps with metates or grinding stones, the first evidences of human beings we had seen since the "moki" wall. this and the breaking of the cliffs caused us to believe that we were nearing the end of the canyon. prof. with jones and steward went down-stream on foot for a distance to see what was coming next and found a stretch of very bad water. on the return a rattlesnake struck at steward but luckily failed to hit him. steward killed it. we concluded to stop for the night where we were with the day's record--four rapids run, three let-downs, and 4-5/8 miles in distance. this camp was not satisfactory and we got out of it early the next morning. while beaman was making some views across the river we lowered the other two boats through one rapid and then ran them through a second in three-quarters of a mile to a better camping place, from which we went back and helped the third boat, the _cañonita_, do the same. prof. wanted to climb out, but the morning being half gone he planned to start after dinner and meanwhile he read emerson aloud to us till andy shouted his "go fur it boys!" accompanied by steward and clem, in the afternoon he climbed up 1200 or 1500 feet to a point where he could see down the river two or three miles. they counted seven rapids, and confirmed the belief that the walls were breaking. the surrounding country was made up of huge ridges that ran in toward the river from five miles back. our camp 44 was in a little valley about a quarter of a mile wide, the bottom covered with cedars and greasewood. the scenery was still on a magnificent scale but barren and desolate. the next morning, august 21st, we were under way at 7.30 and plunged almost immediately into the rapids which had been sighted from the cliffs above. in a little over four miles we let down six times. a seventh rapid we ran and then stopped for noon on the left, every man, as usual, soaking wet. a little rain fell but not enough to consider. after dinner four more rapids were put behind; we ran all but one at which we made a let-down. our record for this day was eleven rapids in a trifle less than seven miles, and we were camped at the head of another rapid which was to form our eye-opener in the morning. the walls receded from the river three-fourths of a mile and now, though still very high, had more the appearance of isolated cliffs. we had not a single unpleasant incident till beaman on this day ran one rapid contrary to prof.'s orders. he was sharply reprimanded, and for the time being his tendency to insubordination and recklessness was checked. he probably did not mean to be either, but his confidence in his ability to steer through anything led him astray. in the evening by the camp-fire light prof. read aloud from _miles standish_. although a heavy wind blew sand all over us, no one seemed to complain. the next morning, august 22d, the first thing we did was to run the rapid beside our camp, a beautiful chute, swift, long, and free from rocks. immediately below this was one half a mile long in the form of a crescent, the river making a sharp bend with a bad current, but we ran it. this was, in fact, a part of the other rapid, or it might be so classed, as was frequently the case where the descent was nearly continuous from one rapid to another. the river was very narrow at this place, not more than seventy-five feet wide. we had not gone far before we reached a rapid where it was prudent to lower the boats, and not more than a few hundred yards below this there was another of a similar character but necessitating harder work. then we were brought face to face with one more that could not be run with safety on the present stage of water, though we ran a part of it and made a let-down past the remainder. when this was finally accomplished with everything in good order, we found ourselves in front of still another that refused to grant us clear passage, and we worked the boats down with lines as in the previous rapids without removing the cargoes. the method was the usual one for the let-downs, three or four men on the line and a couple on board the boat to manoeuvre and protect her. having by this time advanced three and one-eighth miles from last night's camp we stopped for dinner. on taking up the oars again the first rapid was a fine, clear descent with extremely large waves, through which all three boats dashed with exhilarating speed, leaping part of their length out of the water as their velocity carried them zipping over the crests. our boat happened to strike near the finish on a submerged rock to the right of the main channel and near shore and there she hung for some moments. the first boat had landed below and some of the men quickly came up to where i could throw them our line, and this pulled us off without any damage worth mentioning. a little below this we ran another successfully and had not gone far before we were astonished at the sight of a horse grazing unconcernedly on some low bluffs on the right. prof. had discovered this horse with his field glass while we stopped above to examine one of the rapids. he thought it might indicate the presence of the major, or of indians, but he did not mention the matter to any of us. when we were at a good point, and just as all hands had discovered the animal, he ordered a sharp landing on the same side. we ran in quickly. prof. went up the bank and gave several shouts while we held ourselves ready for action. there was no response. he then went to the horse and found it very lame which, coupled with the absence of any indication of visitors within recent months, caused us to conclude that the horse had been abandoned by indians who had been encamped here a good while before. we left the place and running another rapid, a little one, we came to a fine spot for a camp on the right at the beginning of a heavy rapid, and there we stayed for the night. there was now a marked change in the geology, and fossiliferous beds, which for a long time had been absent, appeared. the canyon walls also broke away considerably. the next morning it was decided that we should remain at this camp till after dinner for observation work. i went out with steward to help him gather fossils, and beaman took some views, while the others occupied themselves with various duties. the afternoon began by letting the boats by line past the rapid at camp which beaman called sharp mountain falls, from a pointed peak overhead. there was a drop of about fifteen feet in thirty rods. beaman wanted to photograph us in the midst of our work, and got ready for it, but a rain-storm came on and we had to wait till it cleared for him to get the picture. we then went ahead dashing through a pretty rapid with a swift current, and next had a long stretch of rapid, though not difficult river, making in all 2-3/4 miles, and camping at five o'clock on the left. the only trouble we had was that in choosing one of four channels our boat got where she was inevitably drawn into the top of a sunken dead tree lodged in the rocks and my starboard row lock was broken off. on shore steward killed another rattlesnake, of which there seemed to be a good many along the river. we were now actually out of the canyon of desolation and in the beginning of what the major at first called coal canyon, then lignite, and finally gray, the name it bears to-day, because of the colour of the walls. the division between the two canyons was the break down where we had seen the horse. casting up we found that the canyon of desolation is ninety-seven miles long. early the next morning, august 24th, we pulled away from camp 47 soon running two small rapids of no consequence, and in three miles came to a descent of some ten feet in a very short space, where we made a let-down. three fair rapids were next run easily when we halted to examine a hard-looking place where we let down again. an encounter with three more, two of them each a quarter of a mile long, took us till noon, though we ran them and we came to a stop for dinner. now the walls had narrowed, the canyon being about half a mile wide at the top--sometimes not more than a quarter. the colour was buff, and there were seams of coal and lignite in places. on one or the other side the cliffs were nearly vertical for about three hundred feet then breaking back to jagged heights reaching about two thousand feet. after dinner having run two more rapids without trouble we arrived at a very difficult locality where the first cliffs, six hundred feet high, came down vertically on both sides quite close to the water. we saw how we could navigate it, but at flood time it would be a most serious proposition, as there would be no footing on either side, unless, perhaps on the huge masses of fallen rock. at the present stage we were able to let the boats down by lines. then we had two easy rapids, followed by another not more difficult but less safe. a little farther on we ran two more which completed the record for the day, and we were glad to camp with a total run of 12-3/8 miles, and many rapids with three let-downs. a feature of the cliffs this day was numerous alcoves and grottoes worn into the sandstone some of them like great caverns with extremely narrow canyons leading into them. in the morning prof. with jones, cap., and steward climbed out. the country was elevated above the river about two thousand feet, a wild labyrinth of ragged gulches, gullies, and sharp peaks devoid of vegetation except a few piñons on some slopes, the whole presenting a picture of complete desolation. at a quarter past twelve we were again gliding down on a stiff current. we ran seven easy rapids and let-down by lines twice, before arriving about three o'clock at the mouth of a stream-bed sixty feet wide, which prof. said was little white, or price river. the mouth was so devoid of water that we camped on the smooth sand, it being the only ground free from brush. a sudden rise or cloud-burst would have made it an active place for us but we decided to take the risk for one night. prof. and jones tried to get out by following up this river bed but they were not successful. game was abundant and they thought there might be an indian trail but they saw none. in the evening steward gave us a mouth-organ recital and jack sang a lot of his songs in fine style. the air was soft and tranquil, and knowing we had now conquered the canyon of desolation without a serious mishap we all felt well satisfied. in the morning, august 25th, breakfast was disposed of early, the boats were put in trim and away we went again on a good current running many rapids and making one let-down in a distance of eight miles. i counted fourteen rapids, steward ten or eleven, prof. only eight, showing that it is not always easy to separate the rapids where they come so close together. in one the river was no more than thirty feet wide with big waves that made the boats jump and ship water. we reached a bend and saw the end of the canyon only a mile or two away, but we had to make the let-down mentioned before we got there. our camp, number 50, was made about noon, just inside the mouth of the canyon on the left, opposite a high, beautiful pinnacle we called cathedral butte afterwards changing the name to gunnison. here we would wait till the time appointed for the major to join us according to the plan. gray canyon was now also behind us with its thirty-six miles and numerous rapids. adding to it the ninety-seven miles of desolation made the total canyon from wonsits valley 133 miles with a descent of about 550 feet distributed through a hundred rapids, some small, some heavy. the entire fall from our starting point was now some two thousand feet. prof. and jones went down the valley two miles with the hope of seeing signs of the major but not a human being was to be found anywhere. footnotes: [footnote 12: many, many years after the canyon voyage as major powell with his sister, mrs. thompson, and professor thompson were approaching fort wingate in new mexico, the sun was setting, and sky and rocks combined to produce a glorious picture. suddenly he asked his companions to halt and sitting on their horses looking into the wonderful sky he sang with them the above two stanzas.] chapter viii return of the major--some mormon friends--no rations at the elusive dirty devil--captain gunnison's crossing--an all-night vigil for cap. and clem--the land of a thousand cascades--a bend like a bow-knot and a canyon labyrinthian--cleaving an unknown world--signs of the oldest inhabitant--through the canyon of stillwater to the jaws of the colorado. there was little energy in our camp the day after our arrival at the end of the long struggle with desolation and gray canyons, and, also, it being sunday, we lounged around in a state of relaxation, joyful that we did not have to roll up our blankets and stow them and everything else in the rubber bags and pack the cabins to go on. the boats had been unloaded and hauled on the beach, which was smooth sand, to dry out preparatory to our caulking and repairing them with the pine gum collected in desolation. during the morning prof. sent jack and me down the river a short distance to put up a signal, a small american flag, on the lower end of an island, where it could easily be seen by any one looking for us. all hands kept an ear open for signal shots, which we hoped to hear soon, and have the major once more in our company. after dinner prof. and steward took another walk down the open valley about five miles to reconnoitre, but though they came upon remains of a great many indian camps, all were old, and the valley appeared as silent and deserted as it was desolate and barren. along the river there were a few groves of cottonwood, the only vegetation of any consequence to be seen. [illustration: a. map by the u. s. war department--1868. supplied by the courtesy of general mackenzie, u. s. a., showing the knowledge of the colorado river basin just before major powell began operations. the topography above the junction of the green and grand is largely pictorial and approximate. the white space from the san rafael to the mouth of the virgin is the unknown country referred to in this volume, which was investigated in 1871-72-73. preliminary maps b, c, and d, at pages 244, 246, and 207, respectively, partly give the results of the work which filled in this area.] through this valley passed the famous trail from santa fé to los angeles, laid out in 1830 by that splendid pioneer, william wolfskill. the reason he came so far north was because there was no place to cross the canyons below that was known.[13] this path was occasionally travelled for years, and became celebrated as the "old spanish trail." here it was that captain gunnison of our army in his notable explorations crossed in 1853 on his westward journey, which a few days later proved fatal to him, as he was killed by the gosi-utes. before leaving he established the latitude and longitude of this crossing, which ever after bore his name.[14] together with the mouth of the uinta, the mouth of henry's fork, and the mouth of diamond creek, this made four points astronomically fixed before the major came between the union pacific crossing and the end of the grand canyon. diamond creek mouth was determined accurately by ives in 1858. the trappers and fur hunters between 1824 and 1840, men like jim bridger and kit carson, had roamed more or less over the region we had come through, and occasionally they had tried to see the river in the canyons. the aridity of the country generally held them back. ashley, as already noted, had made the passage of red canyon, and the trapper meek with several companions had gone through lodore and whirlpool one winter on the ice. frémont, simpson, berthoud, selden, and some other scientific explorers had passed here and there reconnoitring, and macomb in 1859 had made a reconnaissance to the south and south-west of gunnison crossing, so that a general idea of the character of the region had been obtained and a kind of approximate topography had been tentatively thrown in, yet it was mainly an unknown wilderness so far as record went, particularly contiguous to the river. but south from the san rafael to the paria and west to the high plateaus forming the southward continuation of the wasatch range, an area of at least 10,000 square miles, there was still a completely unknown country. indeed, even from the paria on down to the grand wash the region on the right was hardly better understood, though there were several mormon settlements on the headwaters of the virgin, and recently the settlement of kanab had been made farther east. on the south of the grand canyon ives had reconnoitred to some extent, reaching the river at the mouth of diamond creek, but at no other point above that did he come to the river nor get anywhere near its canyon above the tributary habasu (cataract). in the entire stretch from gunnison crossing to the end of the grand canyon, a distance of 587-1/2 miles, but two points were known where the river could be crossed, the crossing of the fathers (el vado de los padres), about latitude 37, and the mouth of the paria, only thirty-five miles lower down. this latter place had been discovered by jacob hamblin, or "old jacob," as he was familiarly called, and he was the first white man to cross there, which he did in october, 1869. he was a well-known mormon scout and pioneer of those days. he forded at el vado his first time in 1858, possibly the first white man after escalante, though the ford was known to at least richard campbell, the trapper, in 1840 or earlier. in 1862 jacob circumtoured the grand and marble canyons, going from st. george by way of the grand wash to the moki towns and returning by way of el vado. thus the region below us to the left or east had been reconnoitred in a general way by macomb, while that to the right or west had not had even bird's-eye exploration. until the major's unrivalled first descent in 1869 the river was equally unknown. even above gunnison crossing, despite the spasmodic efforts at exploration referred to, the river had remained a geographical enigma, and to the major belongs the sole credit for solving this great problem throughout its length from the union pacific crossing in wyoming to the mouth of the virgin river--the last problem of this kind within the united states. hampered as the first party was by loss of provisions and instruments, they nevertheless made a plat of the immediate course of the stream, portions of which were lost with the men who were killed by the shewits on leaving the party near the end of the grand canyon. so far we had not been bothered in the least by lack of provisions, instruments, time, health, or strength, and we had been able to make an accurate meander of the river, note the topography and geology as we went along, climb out frequently to examine the surrounding country, and in every way carry forward the scientific work as planned. it was now a question whether or not we would get our supplies at the next appointed station, the mouth of the dirty devil river, or whether we would be obliged to weigh out what we had, and by limiting ourselves to strict rations put the work through anyhow. by september 5th we would probably have information on this point, that being the limit set for our waiting. should the major not arrive by that time, it would mean that we were to go on as best we could with the supplies on hand. monday was devoted to overhauling the boats, while prof. took observations. during a rest he also read aloud to us from tennyson, "a land of streams! some, like a downward smoke, slow dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go; and some thro' wavering lights and shadows broke, rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below. they saw the gleaming river seaward flow from the inner land; far off three mountain-tops, three silent pinnacles of aged snow, stood sunset-flushed; and, dew'd with showery drops, up-clomb the shadowy pine above the copse." he was an excellent reader and we enjoyed his various selections. they gave variety and new drift to our thought which was refreshing and beneficial. when the boats were completed they were returned to the river, but for the time being the rations and other things forming their cargoes were permitted to remain on shore covered by the paulins. the boats swung gracefully at their lines and jack was tempted to get out his fishing tackle in the early evening and seat himself on one of the cabins to wait patiently for a bite. softly the river rippled by with an innocent murmur as if it had never been guilty of anything but the calmest and best-behaved motion such as now reflected the great pinnacle across the way standing 1200 feet clear cut against the glowing sky. the air was balmy, no wind blew, and a universal quiet prevailed when suddenly jack uttered several exclamations not entirely in harmony with the moment. he thought his precious hook was caught on a snag. pulling gently in order not to break his line the snag lifted with it and presently he was astounded to see, not the branch of a tree or a water-logged stick, but the head of an enormous fish appear above the surface. had there been some splashing he would have been prepared for the extraordinary sight but the monster came with barely a wriggle as if he did not know what it was to be caught. he was successfully landed in the middle cabin of the boat, which was empty except for some water, and lay there unhurt as if it were the natural place for him. casting again another of the same kind came forth and then a third. the longest appeared to be the length of the cabin, as he floated in the water, and that was four feet. he was at least thirty or thirty-six inches with a circumference of fifteen inches. the others were considerably shorter but nevertheless very large fish. the big one was killed for food and steward noted that the heart after removal kept up pulsations of twenty beats to the minute for half an hour. these fish are now called colorado river salmon. the flesh was white and they seemed to us good eating. [illustration: colorado river white salmon. photograph by the denver, colorado canyon, and pacific railway survey under robert brewster stanton, 1889.] on tuesday, august 29th, the third day of our waiting, as we were about to return to various occupations after dinner three rapid shots broke suddenly on the quiet air from down the valley. it was our signal. "the major" cried all in a breath, and a reply signal was instantly fired. clem and i were sent immediately to the end of the island, carrying our rifles, of course, for while we had little doubt as to who it was, there might be a surprise. we hurried down while the others watched the bank beyond. as soon as we cleared the bushes and could see the western shore we distinguished the major and a stranger by his side, with horses. we shouted to them directions for reaching our camp and they rode up till they came opposite to it whence they were ferried over while jones took the horses down to their camp about four miles below. the major reported an absolute failure in the attempt to find a way to the mouth of the dirty devil river and he had not himself been able to do anything about it. the first trial was eastward from glencove, a mormon settlement on the sevier. it failed because the indian guides refused to proceed beyond fifty miles and it was not practicable to go on without them. a second party was then sent in a little later under old jacob north-eastward from kanab. they reached a river flowing to the colorado at about the right place and for many miles followed it with extreme difficulty and hazard even at the low stage of water prevailing, down through a deep, narrow canyon. sometimes they were compelled to swim their horses where the rapid stream filled the chasm from wall to wall, and continual crossing and re-crossing were necessary from one footing to another. this perilous effort was also abandoned. the major had gone to salt lake and from there, being informed of these results, down to a village called manti whence he made his way across country to our present position, with several pack animals bringing three hundred pounds of flour, a quantity of jerked beef, and twenty pounds of sugar. this was not exactly adequate to the circumstances but he probably thought it was all he could get through with to the meeting place appointed in the time alloted. while he and fred hamblin, the man accompanying him, were eating their dinner, we packed the boats, and when all was ready took them on board, the major in his old place in the armchair on our boat, and hamblin on the middle deck of another. in the run down to the camp hamblin was very uncomfortable for he was not accustomed to boats, especially to boats that ran so fast. there were two little rapids, some swift chutes, and in several places the river shoaled and we grated slightly on the gravel. stretching away westward from gunnison butte we saw an exquisitely modelled line of cliffs, some portions being a clear azure blue. at first it was proposed to name them henry cliffs, but they were finally called from their colour, azure. presently we arrived at the camp where we found another man, lyman hamblin, a son of jacob and nephew of fred. they were both mormons from kanab near the arizona line in southern utah. they had a large amount of mail for us and every one fell to reading letters and papers. august 30th and 31st were spent here getting our work in shape, making sketches and observations, as well as writing letters and helping the hamblins prepare for their trip back through the wild country. they had met with no indians on the way in and they hoped to be equally fortunate going back having no desire to see any. in this, as they told me afterwards, they were not successful. they mounted their horses, friday, september 1st, about four in the afternoon when the west was taking on a rich evening glow and turning in that direction vanished, with a wave of the hand and a good-bye, into the mystery of colour, bearing our letters, the geographic data, the geologic notes, and all the other material which we had collected since leaving the mouth of the uinta, and which it was thought advisable to send out both for safety and to relieve our crowded cabins. they said that the next evening before they realised it they found themselves so near a large encampment of indians that there was no getting away, and they did the only thing they could sensibly do, rode boldly on straight into the midst of the strangers with the hope that the band belonged where they were on the west side of the river, in which case they were surely peaceful. both men spoke ute well and they had had long experience. the indians proved to be entirely friendly, and the hamblins camped with them for the night; not because they wanted to but because they thought it inexpedient to do otherwise. when they left us we felt that they were old friends for they were fine men and most agreeable. besides, with the exception of basor who had driven the team down from salt lake to the uinta with our rations, they were the only white men which those of us who had not visited the uinta agency had seen since the harrells in brown's park, nearly three months before. an hour after their departure we pushed off and ran down about half a mile, passing one little rapid, to the old crossing where we stopped on the left for the night. beaman and i were commissioned to go back to our camp gunnison to get a saw which had been forgotten there; we could not afford to lose so valuable an implement. a well-beaten indian trail leading up the river gave us easy going and we made good time. the effects of light and colour all around us playing over the mountains and valley gave the surroundings a weird interest. the day was ending. long shadows stole across the strange topography while the lights on the variegated buttes became kaleidoscopic. as for us, we appeared ridiculously inadequate. we ought to have been at least twenty feet high to fit the hour and the scene. gradually the lights faded, the shadows faded, then both began to merge till a soft grey-blue dropped over all blending into the sky everywhere except west where the burnish of sunset remained. before dark the old camp was reached; we found the saw by the last dying rays and then picked our backward path by starlight following the trail as we had come. silence and the night were one as in the countless years that had carved the dim buttes from the rocks of the world primeval when man was not. beautiful is the wilderness at all times, at all times lovely, but under the spell of the twilight it seems to enfold one in a tender embrace, pushing back the sordid, the commonplace, and obliterating those magnified nothings that form the weary burden of civilised man. with keen appreciation we tramped steadily on till at last we perceived through the night gloom the cheerful flicker of our camp-fire, a sight always welcome, for the camp-fire to the explorer is home. at eight the next morning our business was resumed with the major happy in his accustomed place. we made a nice run of eighteen miles on a smooth, shallow river, with broken, picturesque low cliffs and isolated buttes everywhere. the valley was wide and filled with these rocky hills. for a quarter of a mile on each side of the river there were cottonwood groves offering fine spots for camping, before and after crossing. there seemed to be several places where crossing was accomplished. at one of these we discovered where some indians had been in camp a few hours before. the placidity of the river permitted the lashing together of the boats once more for a time and while we drifted this way down with the easy current the major and prof. took turns at reading aloud from whittier. _mogg megone_ was one selection that was quite in harmony with the surroundings while other poems offered a delightful contrast. there were songs, too, and i specially identify with this particular locality that old college favourite, _dear evelina, sweet evelina_ which everybody sang, and which the major often sang alone as he peered ahead into the vista unfolding. before night the valley narrowed, the banks looked more like low canyon walls, and the current stiffened. a clump of small cottonwoods suggested a camp as the sun ran down and there we halted. nor did we go on the next day as the major desired to go out to a ridge lying to the west, which he had seen from his horse on his way to us across country. jones went with him and they came back with a fine collection of cretaceous fossils. steward and cap. also went collecting and were successful. our surroundings were now even more peculiar than heretofore. in many places the region was absolutely barren of all vegetation; thousands of acres at a time had upon them hardly a living plant of any description, being simply bare and barren rock, as devoid of soil as the deck of a ship. prof. took observations for latitude and longitude and the rest of us were busy at our usual affairs. we had very little time to spare when the various necessary duties had been regularly attended to. [illustration: dellenbaugh butte. near mouth of san rafael. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] as we went on the next morning the desolation of the surroundings increased, if that were possible, and it was easy to read in this one cause of the tardiness of its exploration. the acreage of bare rock grew wider and broader. the buttes now often turned to walls about 150 feet high, all much broken, but indicating the approach to another closing in of the rocks upon us. many of these buttes were beautiful in their castellated form as well as because of a picturesque banded character, and opposite our dinner-camp, which was on a ledge of rock, was one surprisingly symmetrical, resembling an artificial structure. i thought it looked like an art gallery, and the major said it ought to be named after the artist, so he called it "dellenbaugh's butte" then and there. another singular feature of this day was a number of alkaline springs discovered bubbling up from the bottom of a sort of bayou or branch of the river. there were at least seventy-five of them, one throwing a column six or eight inches above the surface of the water here about two feet deep. we thought the place worth a name, and called it undine springs. three or four miles below the butte named after me we arrived at the mouth of a river, twenty-five feet wide and eight or ten inches deep, coming in from the right. this was the san rafael. our camp was made near some cottonwoods between its left bank and the green. as soon as we landed we perceived that the ground was strewn with flaked chips of chalcedony, jasper, and similar stones. it was plain that here was a favourite workshop of the native arrowhead maker, an artisan now vanished forever. numerous well-finished beautiful arrow-heads of stone were found, all being placed in the general collection for the smithsonian institution. our camp 54 was elevated considerably above the river, and the surroundings being open, we had views in all directions. towards the east we could see the sierra la sal, two clusters of rounded peaks, forty or fifty miles away, forming a majestic picture. the place was easy of access, and had been a favourite resort for natives, several acres of camp remains being found. in the morning prof. began a series of observations to fix the position of the mouth of the san rafael, while the major and jones, with rations, blankets, etc., on their backs for a two days' trip, started early up the tributary stream to see what kind of a country it flowed through. steward feeling somewhat under the weather did not attempt to do anything, while the photographer and the others busied themselves in their respective lines. the following day the major and jones returned as planned, having traced the san rafael for twenty-five miles. before they arrived cap. and clem went across the green to travel eastward to some high red buttes, one of which they intended to climb for topographical purposes. these buttes loomed up in a striking way, and appeared to be no more than six miles off even to cap.'s experienced eye. the major described the drainage basin of the san rafael as wofully barren and desolate, like the rest of our surroundings. they had seen mountains lying beyond the dirty devil river, which were the range we then called the unknown mountains, there being no record of any one ever having seen them before the major on his first trip. steward, recovering his poise, walked back alone on the east bank of the green four miles to dellenbaugh's butte to examine it and the intervening geology. he found the butte to be about four hundred feet high and composed of stratified gypsum, thinly bedded and of fine quality. as evening approached we looked for the return of cap. and clem, especially when the supper hour arrived, but twilight came, then darkness, and still their footfall was not heard. the major was greatly disturbed over their failure to come, fearing they had gotten out of water, missed their way, and might now be suffering or demoralised in the arid wastes to eastward. he ordered a large fire to be built on a high spot near camp, where it would be visible for miles in the direction the missing men had gone. we divided into watches of two hours each to keep the fire going, in order that the men should have a guide if they were trying to reach the river in the night. i was called for my turn at two in the morning, and read whittier while feeding the flames. the sky was mottled with clouds driving impetuously across the zenith, the bright moon gleaming through the interstices as they rapidly passed along. my attention was divided between the quaker poet, the blazing fire, the mysterious environment into which i peered from time to time, and the flying scud playing hide-and-seek with the moon. at three i called andy, who had breakfast ready before five, and all hands were up prepared to start on a search. by the time we had eaten there was light enough for operations to begin, and the major, accompanied by jack, carrying between them two days' rations and as much water as possible, were put across the green to strike out directly eastward. a couple of hours later prof. took a boat, with steward and me to man it and another supply of food and water, and ran down the river a mile, where we headed back into the dry region to intersect at a distance the route the major was following. we had not gone far before signal shots came to our ears, and through a glass turned in that direction we rejoiced to see that the major and jack had met the lost ones and all was well. prof. directed me to go back on foot to our camp with instructions for the other boats to come down, while he, in response to further signals, dropped his boat to a point nearer to the position of the rescue party and easier for them to reach. cap. had underestimated the distance to the butte, which was twice as far as he thought. they walked eight hours to get there only to discover that scaling it was out of the question. a mile and a half beyond they found one they could climb, but by the time they had completed their observations on top of this evening overtook them and they were at least fifteen miles from camp. having consumed their lunch at noon and drank all their water they were in something of a predicament, but luckily found some water-pockets in the barren rock, recently filled by the rains, so they did not suffer for thirst, and going hungry is not dangerous. over the wide surfaces of bare rock they travelled toward camp till night forced them to wait for daylight, when they kept on till they met the major and jack with water and food. no sooner had i arrived at the camp than the sky which was leaden and low began to drop its burden upon us. packing up could not be done till the rain slackened, and we sheltered ourselves as well as we could. as we waited a deep roaring sound from not far off presently fell on our ears and we were puzzled to explain it till an examination showed a recently dry gulch filled with a muddy torrent which leaped the low cliff into the river, a sullen cascade. the san rafael, too, was a booming flood. we packed the boats as soon as we could and ran down about two miles and a half to where the first boat was. cliffs bordered the river again, 50 to 100 feet high, then 200 or 300, and we saw we were in the beginning of the next canyon called from its winding course, labyrinth. over these straight walls hundreds of beautiful cascades born of the rain were plunging into the river. they were of all sizes, all heights, and almost all colours, chocolate, amber, and red predominating. the rocky walls, mainly of a low purplish-red tint, were cut into by the river till the outside curves of the bends were perpendicular and sometimes slightly more than perpendicular, so that some of the cascades fell clear without a break. the acres of bare rock composing the surface of the land on both sides collected the rain as does the roof of a house, and the rills and rivulets rapidly uniting soon formed veritable floods of considerable proportions seeking the bosom of the river. this seemed the most fantastic region we had yet encountered. buttes, pinnacles, turrets, spires, castles, gulches, alcoves, canyons and canyons, all hewn, "as the years of eternity roll" out of the verdureless labyrinth of solid rock, made us feel more than ever a sense of intruding into a forbidden realm, and having permanently parted from the world we formerly knew. about noon we caught up to the other boat and all had dinner together, happy that nothing serious had befallen cap. and clem. during the whole afternoon rain steadily fell upon the top of this rock-roofed world till the river rose several inches while its colour turned to a dull yellow, then to a red, showing how heavy the rainfall had been in the back country. we had our rubber ponchos on but we were more or less damp and we began to notice that summer had passed for the air was chilly. the river was perfectly smooth making navigation easy and we were able to pull steadily along with no interruption from rapids. the walls ever increased their height while over the edges the numberless astonishing rain cascades continued to play, varying their volume according to the downpour from the sky. before long the cliffs were from 800 to 1000 feet high, often perpendicular, giving the waterfalls grand plunges. these graceful tributaries were now occasionally perfectly clear and they sometimes fell so far without a break that they vanished in feathery white spray. a projecting ledge at times might gather this spray again to form a second cascade before the river level was reached. the scene was quite magical and considering the general aridity for a large part of the year, it appeared almost like a phantasm. "a land of streams! some, like a downward smoke, slow dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go." the river twisted this way and that with the tongues of the bends filled with alluvial deposit bearing dense clumps of scrub-oak, and grass. each new bend presented a fresh picture with the changing waterfalls leaping over by the dozen till we might have thought ourselves in some norwegian fiord, and we gave far more attention to admiring the scenery than to navigating the boats. late in the day we landed at the left on the point of a bend and chopped a path through the thick oak brush to a grassy glade, where we soon had the paulins stretched across oars supported by other oars forming comfortable shelters in front of which huge fires of dead oak and driftwood were kept going to dry things out. andy set his pots to boiling and supper was soon prepared. all night the rain fell but our shelters kept us dry and every one had a good rest. when the morning of september 8th dawned clear and bracing we met it with good spirits, though the spirits of our party seldom varied no matter what the circumstances, and every man took as much personal interest in the success of the expedition as if he were entirely responsible for it. in order that beaman might take some pictures and the topographers get notes, no move was made. prof. climbed out obtaining a wide view in all directions and securing valuable data. i also went up on the cliffs and made a pencil sketch, and in the afternoon we explored a peculiar three-mouthed side canyon across the river. three canyons came together at their mouths and we called the place trin alcove. prof. and the major walked up it some distance and then sent for beaman to come to photograph. at nightfall rain began once more, and the shelters were again erected over the oars. another morning came fair and we went on leaving beaman to finish up views and the _nell_ crew for other work. as we proceeded we would occasionally halt to wait but it was noon before they overtook us. rain had begun before this and continued at intervals during the dinner stop. as soon as we started we ran into a heavy downpour and while pulling along in the midst of this our boat ran on a sand-bar and got so far and fast aground that it required all ten men to get her off, the other crews walking in the water to where we were, as the shoal was very wide. while thus engaged a beautiful colour effect developed softly before us through an opalescent, vaporous shroud. the sun came forth with brilliant power upon the retreating mists creating a clear, luminous, prismatic bow ahead of us arching in perfect symmetry from foot to foot of the glistening walls, while high above it resting each end on the first terraces a second one equally distinct bridged the chasm; and, exactly where these gorgeous rainbows touched the rocks, roaring rain cascades leaped down to add their charm to the enchanting picture. we were now at the beginning of a very long loop of the river, which we named bow-knot bend. just at the start of this great turn we camped with a record for the whole day of 15-1/8 miles. steward found some fragments of pottery. the next morning we remained here till ten for views, and then we left beaman on the summit of the low dividing ridge, where one could look into the river on either side and see a point which we rowed more than five miles to reach.[15] on the right bank we stopped for dinner, and when it was about ready several of us crossed, and, helping beaman down with his heavy boxes, ferried him to our side. the opposite bank was no more than one thousand feet in a straight line from our starting-place of the morning. instead of now going on, a halt was made, because steward, prowling around after his custom, had found some fossils that were important and he wanted more. the major, with jack, crossed the river for further geological investigations, while prof. and jones started to climb out, though the prospect was not encouraging. they ascended over rock, strangely eroded by water into caverns and holes, then along a ledge till jones, being a taller man than prof., got up and pulled prof. after him with his revolver belt. they obtained a remarkable view. buttes, ridges, mountains stood all round, with the river so completely lost in the abruptness of its chasm that a mile from the brink the whole region was apparently solid, and the existence of the gorge with a river at bottom would not even be suspected. they could trace the line of grand river by tower-like buttes and long ridges, and just at the gap formed by the junction with the green a blue mountain arose. the sierra la sal, too, could be seen lying on the horizon like blue clouds. "weird and wild, barren and ghost-like, it seemed like an unknown world," said prof. the country was a vast plateau similar to the one through which the canyon of desolation is carved, that is tilting northward and increasing in altitude towards the south, so that as the river runs on its canyon becomes deeper from this cause as well as its cutting. these great terraces sloping to the north were not before understood. they terminate on the south in vertical cliffs through which the river emerges abruptly. from such features as these the major named this the plateau province. the cliffs terminating each plateau form intricate escarpments, meandering for many miles, and they might be likened to a series of irregular and complicated steps. occasional high buttes and mountain masses break the surface, but in general the whole area forming the major part of the basin of the colorado may be described as a plateau country--a land of mesas, cliffs, and canyons. [illustration: labyrinth canyon--bowknot bend. the great loop is behind the spectator. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] the next day, september 11th, we were on the river at 7.30, and ran about seven miles on smooth water before we stopped for a mid-day rest and dinner on the right bank, as well as to enable beaman to take some views he desired. another three miles and we halted again for geologising and for photographs, while prof., taking andy in his boat, went ahead to establish a camp somewhere below for the night, in order that we would not be so late getting supper. the days were now growing short, and supper by firelight was a common thing. rain soon began again and put a stop to the work, driving us forward between the scores of cascades which soon began to leap anew from every height to the river. at one place a waterfall shot out from behind an arch set against the wall, making a singular but beautiful effect, and revealing to us one method by which some of the arches are formed. the place prof. had selected for camp was reached almost the same time that he got there. it was on the left among the greasewood bushes, and there we put up our paulins for shelter on oars as before. we had made about fifteen miles. the walls receded from the river, forming what the major named the orange cliffs, and were much broken, while the back country could be seen in places from our boats. scores, hundreds, multitudes of buttes of bare rock of all shapes and sizes were in sight, and one was called the butte of the cross, because it suggested a cross lying down from one position, though from another it was seen to be in reality two distinct masses. here ended labyrinth canyon according to the major's decision. we credited it with a length of 62-1/2 miles. although winding through an extremely arid country, it had for us been a place of rain and waterfalls, and even though rapids were absent we had been nevertheless kept rather wet. there was not much change in structure between labyrinth canyon and the following one of the series, stillwater. the interval was one of lowered, much broken walls, well back from the river, leaving wide bottom lands on the sides. we went ahead in the morning on quiet water for seven or eight miles, and stopped on a high bank for dinner and for examinations. prof., cap., steward, and the major climbed out. steward got separated from the others by trying to reach a rather distant butte, and when he tried to rejoin us he had considerable difficulty in doing so. for half an hour he searched for a place to get down, and we looked for one also from the bottom, and finally he was compelled to go down half a mile farther, where he made the descent only to find himself in a dense jungle of rose-bushes, willows, and other plants. we had to cut a way in to relieve him. the luxuriant growth of these plants seemed to indicate that the barrenness of the plateau was due not so much to aridity as to the peculiar rock formation, which, disintegrating easily under the frosts and rains, prevented the accumulation of soil. the soil was washed away by every rain and carried by thousands of cataracts into the river. only when the country reaches the "base level of erosion," as the major called it, would vegetation succeed in holding its place; that is when the declivity of the surrounding region became reduced till the rain torrents should lack the velocity necessary to transport any great load of detritus, and the disintegrated material would accumulate, give a footing to plants, and thus further protect itself and the rocks. [illustration: stillwater canyon. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] the major and prof. now decided to use up all the photographic material between this point and the dirty devil, and leave one boat at the latter place till the next season, when a party would come in for it and take it down to the paria. we would be obliged to examine the dirty devil region then in any event. three miles below our dinner camp we arrived at a remarkably picturesque bend, and on the outer circumference we made our sixtieth camp, but so late that supper was eaten by firelight. the bend was named by beaman "bonito," and in the morning he made a number of views. the bottom lands along the river had evidently been utilised by the aboriginal inhabitants for farming, as fragments of pottery occasionally found indicated their presence here in former days. it was afternoon when we pushed off and left bonito bend behind. after a few miles the major and prof. tried to climb out, but they failed. a buff sandstone, resting on red shale, was vertical for about 140 feet everywhere and could not be surmounted. above this stood another vertical wall of five hundred feet, an orange coloured sandstone, in which no break was apparent. these walls closed in on the river, leaving barely a margin in many places. there were few landings, the current, rather swift and smooth, swirling along the foot of the rocks, which rose vertically for 250 feet and were about four hundred feet apart. as the evening came on we could find no place to stop that offered room enough for a camp, and we drifted on and on till almost dark, when we discovered a patch of soil on the right that would give us sufficient space. the 13th of september happened to be my birthday, and andy had promised to stew a mess of dried apples in celebration. this does not sound like a tremendous treat, but circumstances give the test. our supply of rations being limited and now running low, andy for some time had been curbing our appetites. stewed dried apples were granted about once a week, and boiled beans were an equal luxury. it was consequently a disappointment not to get the promised extra allowance of apples on this occasion. not only was the hour late, but there was little wood to be had, though diligent raking around produced enough driftwood to cook our supper of bacon, coffee, and bread. our camp was beneath an overhanging cliff about six hundred feet high, and the walls near us were so heavily coated with salt that it could be broken off in chunks anywhere. the quarters were not roomy, but we got a good sleep. in the morning before he was fairly awake steward discovered fossils in the rocks over his head, and we remained till one o'clock in order that an investigation could be made. he collected about a peck of fine specimens. when we started again the canyon was so interesting, particularly to the geologists, that we stopped several times in a run of five miles between vertical walls not over six hundred feet apart. camp was finally made on the right in a sort of alcove, with a level fertile bottom of several acres, where the ancients had grown corn. evidences of their former life here were numerous. steward, climbing on the cliffs, suddenly gave a loud shout, announcing a discovery. he had found two small huts built into the rocks. several of us went up to look at them. they were of great age and so small that they could have been only storage places. withered and hardened corncobs were found within them. on returning to camp we learned that the major had found some larger house ruins on a terrace some distance up the river. around the camp-fire that evening he told us something about the shinumos, as he called them, who long ago had inhabited this region, and in imagination we now beheld them again climbing the cliffs or toiling at their agriculture in the small bottom land. at daylight steward, clem, and i went up to the ruins, which stood on a terrace projecting in such a way that a clear view could be had up and down the river. there were two houses built of stone slabs, each about 13 × 15 feet, and about six feet of wall were still standing. thirty feet or more below ran the river, and there were remains of an old stairway leading down through a crevice to the river, but too much disintegrated for us to descend. these were the first ruins of the kind i had ever seen, and i was as much interested in them as i afterwards was in the colosseum. prof., being desirous of arriving as speedily as possible at the junction of the grand with the green, which was now not far off, for the purpose of getting an observation for time, left us at seven o'clock and proceeded in advance, while the remainder of the party turned their attention to the locality where we were. we could see traces of an old trail up the cliffs, and the major, jack, andy, and jones started to follow this out. with the aid of ropes taken along and stones piled up, as well as a cottonwood pole that had been placed as a ladder by the ancients, they succeeded in reaching the summit. clem and i went back to the large house ruins for a re-examination, and looked over the quantities of broken arrowheads of jasper and the potsherds strewing the place in search of specimens of value. on the return trip of the climbers andy discovered an earthen jar, fifteen inches high and about twelve inches in diameter, of the "pinched-coil" type, under a sheltering rock, covered by a piece of flat stone, where it had rested for many a decade if not for a century. it contained a small coil of split-willow, such as is used in basketry, tied with cord of aboriginal make. some one had placed it there for a few moments. after dinner we continued down the canyon, taking the pot with us. the walls were nearly vertical on both sides, or at any rate appeared so to us from the boats, and they often came straight into the water, with here and there a few willows. they were not more than 450 feet apart. no rapids troubled us, and the current was less than three miles an hour, but we seemed to be going swiftly even without rowing. after about seven miles the trend of the chasm became easterly, and we saw the mouth of the grand, the junction, that hidden mystery which, unless we count d. julien, only nine white men, the major's first party, had ever seen before us. the grand entered through a canyon similar to that of the green, all the immediate walls being at least 800 feet and the summit of the plateau about 1500 feet above the river. on the right was a small bench, perhaps one-third of a mile long and several rods wide, fringed by a sand-bank, on which we found the crew of the _nell_ established in camp 62. between the two rivers was another footing of about two acres, bearing several hackberry trees, and it was on this bank up the grand river side that the first party camped. across on the east shore we could see still another strip with some bushes, but there was no more horizontal land to be found here. the two rivers blended gracefully on nearly equal terms, and the doubled volume started down with reckless impetuosity. this was the end of stillwater canyon, with a length of 42-3/4 miles. at last we had finished the canyons of the green, with every boat in good condition and not a man injured in any way, and now we stood before the grim jaws of the colorado. our descent from gunnison crossing was 215 feet, with not a rapid that was worth recording, and from the union pacific crossing in feet, 2215, and in miles, 539. the altitude of the junction is 3860 feet above sea-level. footnotes: [footnote 13: in fact there was only one practicable place, el vado de los padres, and that was difficult. the alternative would have been to cross arizona south of the colorado. by this gunnison crossing route there were better wood, water, and grass to compensate for distance.] [footnote 14: it is here that the denver and rio grande railway crossed, bridging the river in 1883. from here also the brown expedition started in may, 1889, and the best expedition in 1891.] [footnote 15: many years afterward on a rock face half-way round this bend the inscription, d. julien 1836 3 mai, was found. the same inscription was also found in two other places just below the mouth of grand river and near the end of cataract canyon.] chapter ix a wonderland of crags and pinnacles--poverty rations--fast and furious plunging waters--boulders boom along the bottom--chilly days and shivering--a wild tumultuous chasm--a bad passage by twilight and a tornado with a picture moonrise--out of one canyon into another--at the mouth of the dirty devil at last. we were on the threshold of what the major had previously named cataract canyon, because the declivity within it is so great and the water descends with such tremendous velocity and continuity that he thought the term rapid failed to interpret the conditions. the addition of the almost equal volume of the grand--indeed it was now a little greater owing to extra heavy rains along its course--doubled the depth and velocity of the river till it swirled on into the new canyon before us with a fierce, threatening intensity, sapping the flat sand-bank on which our camp was laid and rapidly eating it away. large masses with a sudden splash would drop out of sight and dissolve like sugar in a cup of tea. we were obliged to be on the watch lest the moorings of the boats should be loosened, allowing them to sweep pell-mell before us down the gorge. the long ropes were carried back to their limit and made fast to stakes driven deep into the hard sand. jack and i became dissatisfied with the position of our boat and dropped it down two or three hundred yards to a place where the conditions were better, and camped by it. there were a few small cottonwoods against the cliff behind the sand-bank, but they were too far off to be reached by our lines, and the ground beneath them was too irregular and rocky for a camp. these trees, with the hackberry trees across the river and numerous stramonium bushes in full blossom, composed the chief vegetation of this extraordinary locality. no more remote place existed at that time within the united states--no place more difficult of access. macomb in his reconnaissance in 1859 had tried hard to arrive here, but he got no nearer than the edge of the plateau about thirty miles up grand river. it was necessary that we should secure topographic notes and observations from the summit, and we scanned the surroundings for the most promising place for exit. the major was sure we could make a successful ascent to the upper regions by way of a narrow cleft on the right or west some distance back up the green, which he had noted as we came along; so in the morning of saturday, september 16th, he and jack, beaman, clem, jones, and i rowed up in the _cañonita_, the current being slow along the west bank, and started up the crevice, dragging the cumbrous photographic outfit along. prof. remained below for observations for time. the cleft was filled with fallen rocks, and we had no trouble mounting, except that the photographic boxes were like lead and the straps across one's chest made breathing difficult. the climb was tiring, but there was no obstacle, and we presently emerged on the surface of the country 1300 feet above the river and 5160 above the sea. here was revealed a wide cyclorama that was astounding. nothing was in sight but barren sandstone, red, yellow, brown, grey, carved into an amazing multitude of towers, buttes, spires, pinnacles, some of them several hundred feet high, and all shimmering under a dazzling sun. it was a marvellous mighty desert of bare rock, chiselled by the ages out of the foundations of the globe; fantastic, extraordinary, antediluvian, labyrinthian, and slashed in all directions by crevices; crevices wide, crevices narrow, crevices medium, some shallow, some dropping till a falling stone clanked resounding into the far hollow depths. scarcely could we travel a hundred yards but we were compelled to leap some deep, dark crack. often they were so wide a running jump was necessary, and at times the smooth rock sloped on both sides toward the crevice rather steeply. once the major came sliding down a bare slope till at a point where he caught sight of the edge of a sombre fissure just where he must land. he could not see its width; he could not return, and there he hung. luckily i was where by another path i could quickly reach the rock below, and i saw that the crevice was not six inches wide, and i shouted the joyful news. steward had not come up with us, but had succeeded in ascending through a narrow crevice below camp. he soon arrived within speaking distance, but there he was foiled by a crack too wide to jump, and he had to remain a stranger to us the rest of the day. at a little distance back from the brink these crevices were not so numerous nor so wide, and there we discovered a series of extremely pretty "parks" lost amidst the million turreted rocks. i made a pencil sketch looking out into this sinav-to-weap, as the major called it from information obtained from the utes.[16] beaman secured a number of photographs, but not all that were desired, and, as we did not have rations for stopping on the summit, we went back to camp and made the climb again the next day. fortunately the recent rains had filled many hollows in the bare rock, forming pockets of delicious, pure water, where we could drink, but on a hot and dry summer's day travelling here would be intolerable, if not impossible. fragments of arrow-heads, chips of chalcedony, and quantities of potsherds scattered around proved that our ancient shinumos had known the region well. doubtless some of their old trails would lead to large and deep water-pockets. there are pot-holes in this bare sandstone of enormous size, often several feet in depth and of similar diameter, which become filled with rain-water that lasts a long time. the shinumos had numerous dwellings all through this country, with trails leading from place to place, highways and byways. the following day the major and jones climbed out on the side opposite camp, that is on the east side, where they found an old trail and evidences of camping during the summer just closed, probably by the utes. that night, jones, in attempting to enter our boat in the moonlight, stepped on the corner of the hatch of the middle cabin, which was not on securely; it tipped, and he was thrown in such a way as to severely injure his leg below the knee. this was the first mishap thus far to any one of the party. the major entertained some idea of making a boat trip up the grand, but he abandoned it, and we prepared for the work ahead. the rations, which were now fallen to poverty bulk, were carefully overhauled and evenly distributed among the boats, so that the wrecking of any one would not deprive us of more than a portion of each article. the amount for daily use was also determined; of the bacon we were to have at a meal only half the usual quantity. we knew cataract canyon was rough, but by this time we were in excellent training and thoroughly competent for the kind of navigation required; ready for anything that strong boats like ours could live through. at ten o'clock on tuesday, september 19th, the cabins were all packed, the life preservers were inflated, and casting off from camp 62 we were borne down with the swift current. the water was muddy, of a coffee-and-cream colour, and the river was falling. not far below our camp we saw a beaten trail coming down a singular canyon on the left or east side, showing again that the natives understood the way in to the junction.[17] we knew it was not far to rapids, as we had seen two heavy ones from the brink above, and we soon heard the familiar roar of plunging water, a sound which had been absent since the end of gray canyon. presently we were bearing down on the first one, looking for the way to pass it. on landing at the head it was seen to be a rather rough place, and it was deemed advisable to avoid running it. the boats were carefully let down by lines and we went on. in a short distance we reached a second rapid, where we decided to repeat the operation that took us past the other, but these two let-downs consumed much time and gave us hard work. the water was cold, we were wet and hungry, and when we arrived at a third that was more forbidding than the ones above we halted for dinner at its beginning. the muddy water boomed and plunged over innumerable rocks--a mad, irresistible flood. so great was the declivity of the river bed that boulders were rolled along under water with a sound like distant thunder. we had noticed this also in lodore, but in cataract it was more common. the rumbling was particularly noticeable if one were standing in the water, as we so continually were. after dinner the boats were lowered past the rapid, but we had no respite, for presently we came upon another big one, then another, and another, and then still another, all following quickly and giving us plenty of extremely hard work, for we would not risk the boats in any of them. when these were behind us we went on a distance and came to one that we ran, and then, wet through and shivering till our teeth chattered, as well as being hungry and tired, every one was glad to hear the decision to go into camp when we arrived at the top of another very ugly pair of them. the canyon having a north and south trend and it being autumn, the sun disappeared early so far as we were concerned; the shadows were deep, the mountain air was penetrating. as soon as possible our soaking river garments were thrown off, the dry clothing from the rubber bags was put on, the limited bacon was sending its fragrance into the troubled air, the bread took on a nice deep brown in the dutch oven, the coffee's aromatic steam drifted from the fire, and warm and comfortable we sat down to the welcome though meagre meal. the rule was three little strips of bacon, a chunk of bread about the size of one's fist, and coffee without stint for each man three times a day. sugar was a scarce article, and i learned to like coffee without it so well that i have never taken it with sugar since. the "tirtaan aigles" needed now all the muscle and energy they could command, and an early hour found every man sound asleep. the record for the first day in cataract canyon was nine miles, with eight bad rapids or cataracts, as they might properly be called, and out of the eight we ran but one.[18] the river was about 250 feet wide. [illustration: clement powell cataract canyon. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871] the major decided the next morning that he would try to get out on the right, and he took me with him. we had no great trouble in reaching the plateau at an elevation of eighteen hundred feet above the river, where we could see an immense area of unknown country. the broken and pinnacled character was not so marked as it had been at the junction, but it was still a strange, barren land. we expected to find water-pockets on the top, and we had carried with us only one quart canteen of water. while the major was taking notes from the summit of a butte, i made a zealous search for water, but not a drop could i find; every hole was dry. the sun burned down from a clear sky that melted black into eternal space. the yellow sand threw the hot rays upward, and so also did the smooth bare rock. no bird, no bee, no thing of life could be seen. i came to a whitish cliff upon which i thought there might be water-pockets, and i mounted by a steep slope of broken stones. suddenly, almost within touch, i saw before me a golden yellow rattlesnake gliding upward in the direction i was going along the cliff wall. i killed it with a stone, and cut off the rattles and continued my reconnaissance. at length i gave up the search. by the time i had returned to the foot of the butte on which the major was making his observations, the heat had exhausted me till i was obliged to rest a few moments before ascending the sixty feet to where he was. i had carried the canteen all the time, and the water in it was hot from exposure to the sun. the major bade me rest while he made a little fire, and by the aid of a can and ground coffee we had brought he made a strong decoction with the whole quart. this gave us two cups apiece, and we had some bread to go with it. the effect was magical. my fatigue vanished. i felt equal to anything, and we began the return. the major having no right arm, he sometimes got in a difficult situation when climbing, if his right side came against a smooth surface where there was nothing opposite. we had learned to go down by the same route followed up, because otherwise one is never sure of arriving at the bottom, as a ledge half-way down might compel a return to the summit. we remembered that at one point there was no way for him to hold on, the cliff being smooth on the right, while on the left was empty air, with a sheer drop of several hundred feet. the footing too was narrow. i climbed down first, and, bracing myself below with my back to the abyss, i was able to plant my right foot securely in such a manner that my right knee formed a solid step for him at the critical moment. on this improvised step he placed his left foot, and in a twinkling had made the passage in safety. during our absence the men below had been at work. camp was moved down the river some three quarters of a mile, while the boats had been lowered past the ugly pair of rapids, and were moored at the camp below the second. in one the current had "got the bulge," as we called it, on the men on the line; that is, the powerful current had hit the bow in such a way that the boat took the diagonal of forces and travelled up and out into the river. for the men it was either let go or be pulled in. they let go, and the boat dashed down with her cargo on board. fortune was on our side. she went through without injury and shot into an eddy below. with all speed the men rushed down, and jack, plunging in, swam to her and got on before she could take a fresh start. it was a narrow escape, but it taught a lesson that was not forgotten. prof. had succeeded in getting some observations, and all was well. it was bean day, too, according to our calendar, and all hands had a treat. by eight o'clock the next morning, thursday, september 21st, we were on the way again, with the boats "close reefed," as it were, for trouble, but one, two, three and one half miles slid easily behind. then, as if to make up for this bit of leniency, six rapids came in close succession, though they were of a kind that we could safely run, and all the boats went flying through them without a mishap of any kind. the next was a plunger so mixed up with rocks that we made a let-down and again proceeded a short distance before we were halted by one more of the same sort, though we were able to run the lower portion of it. a little below this we met a friendly drop, and whizzed through its rush and roar in triumph. but there was nothing triumphant about the one which followed, so far as our work was concerned. we manoeuvred past it with much difficulty only to find ourselves upon two more bad ones. bad as they were, they were nevertheless runable, and away we dashed with breakneck speed, certainly not less than twenty miles an hour, down both of them, to land on the left immediately at the beginning of a great and forbidding descent. these let-downs were difficult, often requiring all hands to each boat, except the major, whose one-armed condition made it too hard for him to assist in the midst of rocks and rushing water, where one had to be very nimble and leap and balance with exactness. two good arms were barely sufficient. sometimes, in order to pass the gigantic boulders that stretched far off from the shore, the boat had to be shot around and hauled in below, an operation requiring skill, strength, and celerity. the walls, very craggy at the top, increased in altitude till they were now about sixteen hundred feet, separated from each other by one third of a mile. the flaring character of the upper miles of the canyon began to change to a narrower gorge, the cliffs showing a nearer approach to verticality. at the head of the forbidding plunge we had our slice of bacon, with bread and coffee, and then we fought our way down alongside amongst immense boulders and roaring water. it was an exceedingly hard place to vanquish, and required two and a half hours of the most violent exertion to accomplish it. all were necessary to handle each boat. hardly had we passed beyond the turmoil of its fierce opposition than we fell upon another scarcely less antagonistic, but yet apparently so free from rocks that the major concluded it could be run. at the outset our boat struck on a concealed rock, and for a moment it seemed that we might capsize, but luckily she righted, swung free, and swept down with no further trouble. the _nell_ struck the same rock and so did the _cañonita_, but neither was injured or even halted. these boats were somewhat lighter than ours, having one man less in each, and therefore did not hit the rock so hard. the boats were now heavy from being water-soaked, for the paint was gone from the bottoms. this would have made no difference in any ordinary waters, but it did here, where we were obliged to lift them so constantly. this was an extremely rough and wet day's work, and the moment the great cliffs cut off the warmth of the direct sun we were thrown suddenly from summer to winter, and our saturated clothing, uncomfortably cool in sunlight, became icy with the evaporation and the cold shadow-air. we turned blue, and no matter how firmly i tried to shut my teeth they rattled like a pair of castanets. though it was only half-past three, the major decided to camp as soon as he saw this effect, much as we had need to push on. we landed on the right, and were soon revived by dry clothes and a big fire of driftwood. we had made during the day a total distance of a trifle less than seven miles, one and three quarters since dinner. there were fourteen rapids and cataracts, nine of which we ran, on a river about two hundred feet wide. we had sand to sleep on, but all around us were rocks, rocks, rocks, with the mighty bounding cliffs lifting up to the sky. our books for the time being were not disturbed, but whittier's lines, read further up, seemed here exactly appropriate to the colorado: "hurrying down to its grave, the sea, and slow through the rock its pathway hewing! far down, through the mist of the falling river, which rises up like an incense ever, the splintered points of the crags are seen, with water howling and vexed between, while the scooping whirl of the pool beneath seems an open throat, with its granite teeth!" it was not long before the blankets were taken from the rubber bags and spread on the sand, and the rapids, the rocks, and all our troubles were forgotten. the next day was almost a repetition of the preceding one. we began by running a graceful little rapid, just beyond which we came to a very bad place. the river was narrow and deep, with a high velocity, and the channel was filled with enormous rocks. two hours of the hardest kind of work in and out of the water, climbing over gigantic boulders along the bank, lifting the boats and sliding them on driftwood skids, tugging, pulling, shoving every minute with might and main put us at the bottom. no sooner were we past this one than we engaged in a similar battle with another of the same nature, and below it we stopped for dinner, amidst some huge boulders under a hackberry tree, near another roarer. one of these cataracts had a fall of not less than twenty feet in six hundred, which gave the water terrific force and violence. the canyon walls closed in more and more and ran up to two thousand feet, apparently nearly vertical as one looked up at them, but there was always plenty of space for landings and camps. opposite the noon camp we could see to a height beyond of at least three thousand feet. we were in the heart of another great plateau. after noon we attacked the very bad rapid beside whose head we had eaten, and it was half-past three when we had finished it. the boats had been considerably pounded and there was a hole in the _dean_, and a plank sprung in the _nell_ so that her middle cabin was half full of water. the iron strip on the _dean's_ keel was breaking off. repairs were imperative, and on the right, near the beginning of one of the worst falls we had yet seen, we went into camp for the rest of the day. with false ribs made from oars we strengthened the boats and put them in condition for another day's hammering. it seemed as if we must have gone this day quite a long distance, but on footing up it was found to be no more than a mile and a quarter. darkness now fell early and big driftwood fires made the evenings cheerful. there was a vast amount of driftwood in tremendous piles, trees, limbs, boughs, railroad ties; a great mixture of all kinds, some of it lying full fifty feet above the present level of the river. there were large and small tree-trunks battered and limbless, the ends pounded to a spongy mass of splinters. our bright fires enabled us to read, or to write up notes and diaries. i think each one but the major and andy kept a diary and faithfully wrote it up. jack occasionally gave us a song or two from the repertory already described, and steward did not forget the mouth-organ, but through the hardest part of cataract canyon we were usually tired enough to take to our blankets early. in the morning we began the day by running a little rapid between our camp and the big one that we saw from there, and then we had to exert some careful engineering to pass below by means of the lines. this accomplished we found a repetition of the same kind of work necessary almost immediately, at the next rapid. in places we had to lift the boats out and slide them along on driftwood skids. these rapids were largely formed by enormous rocks which had fallen from the cliffs, and over, around, and between these it was necessary to manoeuvre the boats by lines to avoid the furious waters of the outer river. after dinner we arrived at a descent which at first glance seemed as bad as anything we had met in the morning but an examination showed a prospect of a successful run through it. the fall was nearly twenty feet in about as many yards. the major and prof. examined it long and carefully. a successful run would take two minutes, while a let-down would occupy us for at least two hours and it had some difficult points. they hesitated about running the place, for they would not take a risk that was not necessary, but finally they concluded it could be safely accomplished, and we pulled the _dean_ as quickly as possible into the middle of the river and swung down into it. on both sides the water was hammered to foam amidst great boulders and the roar as usual was deafening. just through the centre was a clean, clear chute followed by a long tail of waves breaking and snapping like some demon's jaws. as we struck into them they swept over us like combers on the beach in a great storm. it seemed to me here and at other similar places that we went through some of the waves like a needle and jumped to the top of others, to balance half-length out of water for an instant before diving to another trough. being in the very bow the waves, it appeared to me, sometimes completely submerged me and almost took my breath away with the sudden impact. at any rate it was lively work, with a current of fifteen or eighteen miles an hour. beaman had stationed himself where he could get a negative of us ploughing through these breakers, but his wet-plates were too slow and he had no success. after this came a place which permitted no such jaunty treatment. it was in fact three or four rapids following each other so closely that, though some might be successfully run, the last was not safe, and no landing could be made at its head, so a very long let-down was obligatory; but it was an easy one, for each crew could take its own boat down without help from the others. then, tired, wet, and cold as usual, we landed on the left in a little cove where there was a sandy beach for our camp 67. we had made less than four miles, in which distance there were six rapids, only two of which we ran. at another stage of water the number and character of these rapids would be changed; some would be easier at higher water, some harder, and the same would be true of lower water. rapids also change their character from time to time as rocks are shifted along the bottom and more rocks fall from the cliffs or are brought in by side floods. the walls were now about two thousand feet, of limestone, with a reddish stain, and they were so near together that the sun shone to the bottom only during the middle hours of the day in september. it was now september 24th; a bright and beautiful sunday broke, the sky above clear and tranquil, the river below foaming and fuming between the ragged walls in one continuous rapid with merely variations of descent. in three quarters of a mile we arrived before the greatest portion of the declivity, where, though there seemed to be a clear chute, we did not consider it advisable to make the run because of conditions following; neither could we make a regular let-down or a portage. the least risky method was to carry a line down and when all was ready start the boat in at the top alone. in this way when she had gone through, the men on the line below were able to bring her up and haul her in before reaching the next bad plunge. there was no quiet river anywhere; nothing but rushing, swirling, plunging water and rocks. we got past the bad spot successfully and went on making one let-down after another for about four miles, when we halted at noon for the rest of the day, well satisfied with our progress though in distance it appeared so slight. the afternoon was spent in repairing boats, working up notes, and taking observations. the cliffs were now some 2500 feet in height, ragged and broken on their faces, but close together, the narrowest deep chasm we had seen. it was truly a terrible place, with the fierce river, the giant walls, and the separation from any known path to the outer world. i thought of the major's first trip, when it was not known what kind of waters were here. vertical and impassable falls might easily have barred his way and cataracts behind prevented return, so that here in a death trap they would have been compelled to plunge into the river or wait for starvation. happly he had encountered no such conditions. an interesting feature of this canyon was the manner in which huge masses of rock lying in the river had been ground into each other by the force of the current. one block of sandstone, weighing not less than six hundred tons, being thirty or forty feet long by twenty feet square, had been oscillated till the limestone boulders on which it rested had ground into it at least two feet, fitting closely. another enormous piece was slowly and regularly rocking as the furious current beat upon it, and one could feel the movement distinctly. a good night's sleep made all of us fresh again, and we began the monday early. some worked on the boats, while beaman and clem went up "gypsum" canyon, as steward named it, for views, and the major and i climbed out for topographic observations. we reached an altitude above camp of 3135 feet at a point seven or eight miles back from the brink. the view in all directions was beyond words to describe. mountains and mountains, canyons, cliffs, pinnacles, buttes surrounded us as far as we could see, and the range was extensive. the sierra la sal, the sierra abajo, and other short ranges lay blue in the distance, while comparatively near in the south-west rose the five beautiful peaks just beyond the mouth of the dirty devil, composing the unknown range before mentioned. at noon we made coffee, had lunch, and then went on. it was four o'clock by the time we concluded to start back, and darkness overtook us before we were fairly down the cliffs, but there was a bright moon, and by its aid we reached camp. at half-past eight in the morning of september 26th we were again working our way down the torrential river. anybody who tries to go through here in any haphazard fashion will surely come to grief. it is a passage that can safely be made only with the most extreme caution. the walls grew straighter, and they grew higher till the gorge assumed proportions that seemed to me the acme of the stupendous and magnificent. the scenery may not have been beautiful in the sense that an alpine lake is beautiful, but in the exhibition of the power and majesty of nature it was sublime. there was the same general barrenness: only a few hackberry trees, willows, and a cottonwood or two along the margin of the river made up the vegetation. our first task was a difficult let-down, which we accomplished safely, to find that we could run two rapids following it and half of another, landing then to complete it by a let-down. then came a very sharp drop that we ran, which put us before another easy one, that was followed by a difficult bit of navigation through a bad descent, after which we stopped for dinner on the right at the head of another rapid. the cliffs now on both sides were about 2800 feet, one quarter mile wide at top, and in places striking me as being perpendicular, especially in the outer curve of the bends. the boats seemed to be scarcely more than chips on the sweeping current and we not worth mentioning. during the afternoon we halted a number of times for beaman to make photographs, but the proportions were almost too great for any camera. the foreground parts are always magnified, while the distances are diminished, till the view is not that which the eye perceives. before stopping for the night we ran three more rapids, and camped on the right on a sandbank at the head of another forbidding place. the record for the whole day was six and three quarter miles, with ten runs and two let-downs. at one bad place the _nell_ got too far over and laboured so heavily in the enormous billows that cap., who pulled the bow oars, was completely lost to sight and the boat was filled with water. only about thirty degrees of sky were visible as one looked directly up from our camp. a pretty canyon came in near camp, and some of us took a walk up its narrow way. [illustration: cataract canyon. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] in the morning beaman made some pictures, and it was eleven o'clock before we resumed our navigation. our first work was a let-down, which took an hour, and about a mile below we stopped for dinner on the left. then we continued, making eight miles more, in which distance we ran six rapids and made two line-portages. the last rapid was a bad one, and there we made one of the portages, camping at its foot on the left bank. the walls began to diminish in height and the river was less precipitous, as is apparent from the progress we were able to make. september 28th we began by running two rapids immediately below camp, and the _nell_ remained at the foot of the second to signal beaman in the _cañonita_, as he had stayed behind to take some views. another mile brought us to a rather bad place, the right having a vertical cliff about 2700 feet high, but the left was composed of boulders spread over a wide stretch, so that an excellent footing was offered. the major and prof. concluded to climb out here, instead of a point farther down called millecrag bend, and, appointing steward master of the let-down which was necessary, they left us. it was dinner-time when we got the boats below to a safe cove, and we were quite ready for the meal which andy meanwhile had been cooking. a beautiful little brook came down a narrow canyon on the left, and it was up this stream that the major went for a mile and a half and then climbed on the side. they were obliged to give it up and come back to the bottom. by this time it was too late to make another attempt, so they turned their backs on "failure creek," and, returning to us, said we would go on as soon as we had eaten the supper which andy was preparing. they would climb out at millecrag bend. andy had cooked a mess of beans, about the last we had, and what we did not eat we put on board in the kettle, which had a tight cover. the major's manner for a day or two had been rather moody, and when prof. intimated to me that we would have a lively time before we saw another camp, i knew some difficult passage ahead was on his mind; some place which had given him trouble on the first trip. about five o'clock we were ready; everything was made snug and tight on the boats, nothing being left out of the cabins but a camp kettle in each standing-room for bailing, and we cast off. each man had his life-preserver where he could get it quickly, and the major put his on, for with only one arm he could not do this readily in case of necessity. the current was swift. we were carried rapidly down to where the gorge narrowed up with walls vertical on each side for a height of fifty to one hundred feet. we soon dashed through a small rough rapid. a splash of water over our bow dampened my clothes and made the air feel chilly. the canyon was growing dim with the evening light. high above our heads some lazy clouds were flecked with the sunset glow. not far below the small rapid we saw before us a complicated situation at the prevailing stage of water, and immediately landed on the left, where there was footing to reconnoitre. a considerable fall was divided by a rocky island, a low mass that would be submerged with two or three feet more water, and the river plunging down on each side boiled against the cliffs. between us and the island the stream was studded by immense boulders which had dropped from the cliffs and almost like pinnacles stood above the surface. one view was enough to show that on this stage of water we could not safely run either side of the cataract; indeed destruction would surely have rewarded any attempt. the right-hand channel from the foot of the island swept powerfully across to meet the left-hand one and together they boomed along the base of the left-hand cliffs before swinging sharply to the right with the trend of the chasm in that direction. there was no choice of a course. the only way was to manoeuvre between the great boulders and keep in the dividing line of the current till a landing could be effected on the head of the island between the two falls. the difficulty was to avoid being drawn to either side. our boat went first and we succeeded, under the major's quick eye and fine judgment, in easily following the proposed course till the _dean_ began to bump on the rocks some twenty yards above the exposed part of the island. i tested the depth of water here with an oar as jack pulled slowly along, the current being quite slack in the dividing line, and as soon as practicable we jumped overboard and guided our craft safely to the island. prof. in the _nell_ was equally precise, and as he came in we waded out to catch his boat; but the _cañonita_ passed on the wrong side of one of the pinnacles and, caught in the left current, came near making a run of it down that side, which would have resulted disastrously. luckily they were able to extricate themselves and beaman steered in to us. had the water been only high enough to prevent landing on this island we would have been in a bad trap, but had it been so high as to make navigation down the centre possible the rapid might perhaps have been run safely. we were now on the island, with darkness falling, and the problem was to get off. while prof. and the major went down to the foot to make a plan we sat in the diminishing light and waited. it was decided to pull the boats down the right-hand side of the island as far as the foot of the worst part of the right-hand rapid, and from there cut out into the tail of waves, pulling through as quickly as we could to avoid contact with the base of the left wall along which the current dashed. we must pull fast enough to get across in the very short time it would take the river to sweep us down to the crucial point. the gorge by this time was quite sombre; even the clouds above were losing their evening colour. we must act quickly. our boat as usual made the first trial. as we shot out, jack and i bent to our oars with every muscle we possessed, the boat headed slightly upstream, and in a few seconds we were flying along the base of the cliffs, and so close that our starboard oars had to be quickly unshipped to prevent their being broken. in a few seconds more we were able to get out into the middle, and then we halted in an eddy to wait for the other boats. they came on successfully and in the gloaming we continued down the canyon looking for a place to camp, our hearts much lightened with our triumph over the difficult rapid. before long night was full upon us and our wet clothes made us shiver. about a mile below a warning roar dead ahead told us to make land at once, for it would be far from prudent to attack a rapid in the dark. fortunately there was here room to camp on some rocks and sand on the right. scarcely had we become settled than a tornado broke over the canyon and we were enveloped in a blinding whirl of rain and sand. each man clung to his blankets to prevent their departure and waited for the wind to pass, which it did in less than ten minutes. the storm-clouds were shattered and up the gorge, directly east from our position, from behind a thousand needle-like spires that serrated the top of the cliffs, the moon like a globe of dazzling silver rolled up with serene majesty, flooding the canyon with a bright radiance. no moon-rise could have been more dramatic. the storm-clouds were edged with light and the wet cliffs sparkled and glittered as if set with jewels. even the rapid below was resplendent and silvery, the leaping waves and the spray scintillating under the lustrous glare. morning brought a continuation of the rain, which fell in a deluge, driving us to the shelter of a projecting ledge, from which comparatively dry retreat we watched the rain cascades that soon began their display. everywhere they came plunging over the walls, all sizes, and varying their volume with every variation in the downpour. some dropped a thousand feet to vanish in spray; others were broken into many falls. by half-past eight we were able to proceed, running the rapid without any trouble, but a wave drenched me so that all my efforts to keep out of the rain went for nothing. by ten o'clock we had run four more rapids, and arrived at the place the major had named millecrag bend, from the multitude of ragged pinnacles into which the cliffs broke. on the left we camped to permit the major and prof. to make their prospective climb to the top. a large canyon entered from the left, terminating cataract canyon, which we credited with forty-one miles, and in which i counted sixty-two rapids and cataracts, enough to give any set of boatmen all the work they could desire. the major and prof. reached the summit at an altitude of fifteen hundred feet. they had a wide view over the unknown country, and saw mountains to the west with snow on their summits. snow in the canyons would not have surprised us now, for the nights were cold and we had warmth only in the middle of the day. near our camp some caves were discovered, twenty feet deep and nearly six feet in height, which had once been occupied by natives. walls had been laid across the entrances, and inside were corncobs and other evidences usual in this region, now so well known. pottery fragments were also abundant. another thing we found in the caves and also in other places was a species of small scorpion. these venomous creatures were always ready to strike, and somehow one got into andy's shoe, and when he put on the shoe he was bitten. no serious result seemed to follow, but his general health was not so good after this for a long time. he put tobacco on the wound and let it go. this was the second accident to a member of the party, which now had been out four months. [illustration: narrow canyon. photograph by best expedition, 1891.] the last day of september found us up before daylight, and as soon as breakfast was eaten, a small matter these days both in preparation and consumption, we pulled away, intending to reach the mouth of the dirty devil as soon as possible. the morning was decidedly autumnal, and when we arrived at a small rapid, where we had to get overboard to help the boats, nothing ever came harder than this cold bath, though it was confined to our legs. presently we saw a clear little rivulet coming in on the left, and we ran up to that shore to examine it, hoping it was drinkable. like the first party, we were on the lookout for better water to drink than the muddy colorado. the rivulet proved to be sulphurous and also hot, the temperature being about 91 f. we could not drink it, but we warmed our feet by standing in the water. the walls of this new canyon at their highest were about thirteen hundred feet, and so close together and straight that the major named it narrow canyon. its length is about nine miles. through half of the next rapid we made a let-down, running the remainder, and then, running two more below which were easy, we could see through to the end of the canyon, and the picture framed by the precipices was beautiful. the world seemed suddenly to open out before us, and in the middle of it, clear and strong against a sky of azure, accented by the daylight moon, stood the unknown mountains, weird and silent in their untrodden mystery. by this token we knew that the river of the satanic name was near, and we had scarcely emerged from narrow canyon, and noted the low bluffs of homogeneous red sandstone which took the place of the high cliffs, when we perceived a sluggish stream about 150 feet wide flowing through the barren sandstone on our right. landing on its west bank, we instantly agreed with jack sumner when on the first trip he had proclaimed it a "dirty devil." muddy, alkaline, undrinkable, it slipped along between the low walls of smooth sandstone to add its volume to that of the colorado. near us were the remains of the major's camp-fire of the other voyage, and there steward found a jack-knife lost at that time. at the major's request he gave it to him as a souvenir. our rising had been so early and our progress from millecrag bend so easy that when our camp was established the hour was only nine o'clock, giving us still a whole day. the major and prof. started off on an old indian trail to see if there was a way in to this place for horses, cap. took observations for time, and the others occupied themselves in various ways, andy counting the rations still left in our larder. that night around our camp-fire we felt especially contented, for cataract and narrow canyons were behind, and never would we be called upon to battle with their rapids again. the descent from the mouth of grand river was 430 feet, most of it in the middle stretch of cataract canyon. [illustration: the mouth of fremont river (the dirty devil river) photograph by the brown expedition, 1889] footnotes: [footnote 16: the pencil sketches i made on this trip were taken to washington, but i do not know what became of them.] [footnote 17: as mentioned in a previous footnote, the name d. julien--1836, was later found near this point and in two other places. all these inscriptions appear to be on the same side of the river, the east, and at accessible places.] [footnote 18: the next party to pass through this canyon was the brown expedition, conducting a survey for the denver, colorado canyon, and pacific railway in 1889. at the first rapid they lost a raft, with almost all their provisions, and they had much trouble. see _the romance of the colorado river_, chapter xiv. another expedition in 1891--the best expedition--was wrecked here.] chapter x the _cañonita_ left behind--shinumo ruins--troublesome ledges in the river--alcoves and amphitheatres--the mouth of the san juan--starvation days and a lookout for rations--el vado de los padres--white men again--given up for lost--navajo visitors--peaks with a great echo--at the mouth of the paria. having now accomplished a distance down this turbulent river of nearly six hundred miles, with a descent toward sea-level of 2645 feet, without a serious accident, we were all in a happy frame of mind, notwithstanding the exceedingly diminutive food supply that remained. we felt that we could overcome almost anything in the line of rapids the world might afford, and steward declared our party was so efficient he would be willing to "run the gates of hell" with them! barring an absence of heat cataract canyon had been quite a near approach to that unwelcome entrance, and the locality of the mouth of the dirty devil certainly resembled some of the more favoured portions of satan's notorious realm. circumstances would prohibit our lingering here, for our long stretch on short rations made the small amount we could allow ourselves at each meal seem almost like nothing at all, and we were desirous of reaching as soon as possible el vado, something over a hundred miles below, where our pack-train was doubtless now waiting. the plan of leaving a boat at this place for a party to bring down, which should penetrate the unknown country the next year and then complete what we might now be compelled to slight, was carried out. the _cañonita_ was chosen and the day after our arrival, sunday, october 1st, we ran her down a short distance on the right, and there carried her back about two hundred feet to a low cliff and up thirty or forty feet above the prevailing stage of water, where we hid her under an enormous mass of rock which had so fallen from the top as to lodge against the wall, forming a perfect shelter somewhat longer than the boat. all of her cargo had been left at camp and we filled her cabins and standing-rooms with sand, also piling sand and stones all about her to prevent high water from carrying her off. when we were satisfied that we had done our best we turned away feeling as one might on leaving a friend, and hoping that she would be found intact the following year. as nine o'clock only had arrived, the major and jones then climbed out from this place, while prof. with the _nell_ ran down about a mile and a half to the mouth of a gulch on the right where he and the major had traced the old trail. the rest of us returned to camp. prof. and cap. climbed out, after following the trail up the gulch six miles, and they saw that it went toward the unknown mountains, which now lay very near us on the west. steward got out by an attempt not so far up the canyon and reached an altitude of 1950 feet, where he had a clear, full view of the mountains. with his glass he was able to study their formation and determined that lava from below had spread out between the sedimentary strata, forming what he called "blisters." he could see where one side of a blister had been eroded, showing the surrounding stratification.[19] when the major and jones came back we put the cargo of the _cañonita_ on the _dean_, and all of us embarked, seven in number, and ran down to where the _nell_ was moored. here we camped for the night. the crews were then rearranged, beaman being assigned to my bow oars, clem and andy going in the _nell_, while i was to sit on the middle cabin of the _dean_ in front of the major, where i could carry on my sketching. we were now a shaggy-looking lot, for our clothes had been almost worn off our bodies in the rapids. our shoes, notwithstanding that the major had brought us a fresh supply at gunnison crossing, were about gone, and we were tanned till we could hardly have been distinguished from the old shinumos themselves; but we were clean. steward was a great lover of burns and could quote him by the page, though what he most liked to repeat just now was: "o wad some power the giftie gie us to see oursels as others see us!" i think the _address to the deil_ would have been appropriate for this particular environment, but i do not remember that steward quoted: "hear me, auld hangie, for a wee, an' let poor damned bodies be; i'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie, e'en to the deil, to skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me, an' hear us squeel!" the cargo of the _cañonita_ was distributed among the cabins of the _dean_ and the _nell_, and cap. was somewhat disturbed by having an addition to the bow compartment in the _nell_. each man had charge of a cabin and this was cap.'s special pride. he daily packed it so methodically that it became a standing joke with us, and we often asked him whether he always placed that thermometer back of the fifth rib or in front of the third, or some such nonsensical question, which of course cap. took in good part and only arranged his cabin still more carefully. the next morning, the 2d of october, at eight o'clock, we continued our voyage, now entering a new canyon, then called mound, but it was afterwards consolidated with the portion below called monument, and together they now stand as glen canyon. in about three and one half miles we ran several sharp little rapids, but they were not of much consequence, and we stopped to examine a house ruin we saw standing up boldly on a cliff on the left. it could be seen for a long distance in both directions, and correspondingly its inmates in the old days could see every approach. doubtless the trail we had seen on the right had its exit on the other side near it. the walls, neatly built of thin sandstone slabs, still stood about fifteen feet high and fifteen inches thick. the dimensions on the ground were 12 × 22 feet outside. it had been of two or three stories, and exhibited considerable skill on the part of the builders, the corners being plumb and square. under the brink of the cliff was a sort of gallery formed by the erosion of a soft shale between heavy sandstone beds, forming a floor and roof about eight or ten feet wide, separated by six or seven feet in vertical height. a wall had been carried along the outer edge, and the space thus made was divided by cross walls into a number of rooms. potsherds and arrow-heads, mostly broken ones, were strewn everywhere. there were also numerous picture-writings, of which i made copies. as we pulled on and on the major frequently recited selections from the poets, and one that he seemed to like very much, and said sometimes half in reverie, was longfellow's: "often i think of the beautiful town that is seated by the sea; often in thought go up and down the pleasant streets of that dear old town, and my youth comes back to me. and a verse of a lapland song is haunting my memory still: 'a boy's will is the wind's will, and the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'" he would repeat several times, with much feeling: "a boy's will is the wind's will, and the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." another thing he enjoyed repeating was whittier's _skipper ireson's ride_: "old floyd ireson, for his hard heart, tarred and feathered and carried in a cart by the women of marblehead!" towards evening we came to another shinumo ruin, where we made camp, having run altogether sixteen miles, with ten rapids, all small, between walls of red, homogeneous sandstone, averaging about one thousand feet in height. the river, some three hundred and fifty feet wide, was low, causing many shoals, which formed the small rapids. we often had to wade alongside to lighten the boats, but otherwise these places were easy. a trifle more water would have done away with them, or at least would have enabled us to ignore them completely. the house ruin at our camp was very old and broken down and had dimensions of about 20 × 30 feet. prof. climbed out to a point 1215 feet above the river, where he saw plainly the unknown mountains, navajo mountain, and a wide sweep of country formed largely of barren sandstone. steward felt considerably under the weather and remained as quiet as possible. in the morning we were quickly on the water, pushing along under conditions similar to those of the previous day, making twenty-seven miles and passing eleven very small rapids, with a river four hundred feet wide and the same walls of homogeneous red sandstone about one thousand feet high. the cliffs in the bends were often slightly overhanging, that is, the brink was outside of a perpendicular line, but the opposite side would then generally be very much cut down, usually to irregular, rounded slopes of smooth rock. the vertical portions were unbroken by cracks or crevices or ledges, being extensive flat surfaces, beautifully stained by iron, till one could imagine all manner of tapestry effects. along the river there were large patches of alluvial soil which might easily be irrigated, though it is probable that at certain periods they would be rapidly cut to pieces by high water. prof. again climbed out at our noon camp, and saw little but naked orange sandstone in rounded hills, except the usual mountains. in the barren sandstone he found many pockets or pot-holes, a feature of this formation, often thirty or forty feet deep, and frequently containing water. wherever we climbed out in this region we saw in the depressions flat beds of sand, surrounded by hundreds of small round balls of stone an inch or so in diameter, like marbles--concretions and hard fragments which had been driven round and round by the winds till they were quite true spheres.[20] the next day, october 4th, we ran into a stratum of sandstone shale, which at this low stage of water for about five miles gave us some trouble. ledge after ledge stretched across the swift river, which at the same time spread to at least six hundred feet, sometimes one thousand. we were obliged to walk in the water alongside for great distances to lighten the boats and ease them over the ridges. occasionally the rock bottom was as smooth as a ballroom floor; again it would be carved in the direction of the current into thousands of narrow, sharp, polished ridges, from three to twelve inches apart, upon which the boats pounded badly in spite of all exertions to prevent it. the water was alternately shallow and ten feet deep, giving us all we could do to protect the boats and at the same time avoid sudden duckings in deep water. with all our care the _nell_ got a bad knock, and leaked so fast that one man continually bailing could barely keep the water out. we repaired her at dinner-time, and, the shales running up above the river, we escaped further annoyance from this cause. even with this interference our progress was fairly good, and by camping-time we had made twenty-one miles. we had a rapid shallow river again the following day, october 5th, but the water was not so widely spread out and there were fewer delays. the walls were of orange sandstone, strangely cut up by narrow side canyons some not more than twenty feet wide and twisting back for a quarter of a mile where they expanded into huge amphitheatres, domed and cave-like. alcoves filled with trees and shrubs also opened from the river, and numerous springs were noted along the cliffs. twelve miles below our camp we passed a stream coming in on the left through a canyon about one thousand feet deep, similar to that of the colorado. this was the san juan, now shallow and some eight rods wide. we did not stop till noon when we were two miles below it near one of the amphitheatres or grottoes to which the first party had given the name of "music temple." the entrance was by a narrow gorge which after some distance widened at the bottom to about five hundred feet in diameter leaving the upper walls arching over till they formed a dome-shaped cavern about two hundred feet high with a narrow belt of sky visible above. in the farther end was a pool of clear water, while five or six green cottonwoods and some bushes marked the point of expansion. one side was covered with bright ferns, mosses, and honeysuckle. every whisper or cough resounded. this was only one of a hundred such places but we had no time to examine them. on a smooth space of rock we found carved by themselves the names of seneca howland, o. g. howland, and william dunn, the three men of the first party who were killed by the shewits in 1869. prof. climbed up eight hundred feet and had a fine view of navajo mountain which was now very near. we then chiefly called it mount seneca howland, applied by the major in memory of that unfortunate person but later, the peak already having to some extent been known as navajo mountain, that name was finally adopted. no one had ever been to it, so far as we knew, and the major was desirous of reaching the summit. [illustration: glen canyon. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] leaving the music temple, which seemed to us a sort of mausoleum to the three men who had marked it with their names, we soon arrived at a pretty rapid with a clear chute. it was not large but it was the only real one we had seen in this canyon and we dashed through it with pleasure. just below we halted to look admiringly up at navajo mountain which now loomed beside us on the left to an altitude of 10,416 feet above sea level or more than 7100 feet above our position, as was later determined. the major contemplated stopping long enough for a climb to the top but on appealing to andy for information as to the state of the supplies he found we were near the last crust and he decided that we had better pull on as steadily as possible towards el vado. we ran down a considerable distance through some shallows and camped on the left having accomplished about twenty miles in the day towards our goal. here the remaining food was divided into two portions, one for supper, the other for breakfast in the morning. though we were running so close to the starvation line we felt no great concern about it. we always had confidence in our ability somehow to get through with success. andy, particularly, never failed in his optimism. generally he took no interest in the nature of a rapid, lying half asleep while the others examined the place, and entirely willing to run anything or make a portage or even swim; he cared not. "nothing ever happens to any outfit i belong to," he would declare shifting to an easier position, "let her go!" and now so far as andy's attitude was concerned we might have possessed unlimited rations. jack lightened the situation yet more with his jolly songs and humorous expressions and no one viewing that camp would have thought the ten men had before them a possibility of several days without food, except what they might kill in the barren country, and perhaps a walk from el vado over an unknown trail about one hundred miles out to kanab. in the morning, friday, october 6th, we got away as quickly as we could and pulled down the river hoping that el vado was not far ahead and feeling somewhat as escalante must have felt a century before when he was trying to find it. he had the advantage of having horses which could be eaten from time to time. of course we knew from the position of the san juan and of navajo mountain, that we could reach el vado in at most two days, but the question was, "would we find any one there with rations?" the major apparently was unconcerned. he told me a story about a farmer's son in his neighbourhood when himself a boy who had no shoes, no good clothes, no decent hat, but who went to the father and declared he wanted a "buzzum pin," and nothing but a buzzum pin would he have, though his parent called his attention to his lack of other necessaries, one after the other. "no pa," the boy would repeat "i want a buzzum pin." [illustration: looking down upon glen canyon. cut through homogeneous sandstone. photograph by j. k. hillers, u. s. colo. riv. exp.] as we rowed along the major sang softly another of his favourites: "flow gently, sweet afton! among thy green braes, flow gently, i'll sing thee a song in thy praise; my mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream- flow gently, sweet afton, disturb not her dream." the almost vertical walls ran from two hundred to one thousand feet in height, cut by many very narrow side canyons opening into large glens or alcoves. on and on we steadily pulled till noon, making 13-1/2 miles when we stopped on the right on a sandstone ledge against a high cliff. andy had a few scraps left, among them a bit of bacon which jack enterprisingly used for baiting a hook and soon drew out several small fish, so that after all we had quite a dinner. the walls became more broken as we went on apparently with numerous opportunities for entrance from the back country, though the sandstone even where not very steep was so smooth that descent over it would be difficult. we had gone about three miles after dinner when we saw a burned place in the brush on the right where there was quite a large piece of bottom land. we thought this might be some signal for us but we found there only the tracks of two men and horses all well shod proving that they were not natives. about three miles farther down we caught a glimpse of a stick with a white rag dangling from it stuck out from the right bank, and at the same moment heard a shot. on landing and mounting the bank we found captain pardyn dodds and two prospectors, george riley and john bonnemort, encamped beside a large pile of rations. dodds was one of the men with old jacob who had tried desperately to reach the mouth of the dirty devil with our supplies. he thought he had arrived at a point where he could see it and went back to inform jacob when they received an order from the major to come to this place, el vado de los padres, by september 25th, and here he was. jacob had come with him but had gone on to fort defiance, the navajo agency, to settle some indian business, leaving him to guard the rations. having left kanab early in september they had no late news. they had become discouraged by our non-appearance and concluded that we would never be heard from again. consequently they had planned to cache the rations and leave for the settlement on sunday. that night andy was able to summon us to "go fur" the first "square" meal we had eaten for nearly a month. there was among the supplies some plug tobacco which we cut up, all but steward, prof., and cap. who did not smoke, and rolled in cigarettes with thick yellow paper, the only kind we had, having learned to make them spanish fashion from the hamblins, and we smoked around the fire talking to dodds and the prospectors over the general news. they told us they had found small quantities of gold along the river. a great many papers, magazines, and letters for everybody were in the packs supplying us with reading matter enough for weeks. though the papers were of ancient dates they were new to us. the whole next day was consumed in preparing maps, notes, specimens, fossils, etc., to be sent by pack-train to the settlement of kanab one hundred miles off whither the major himself had decided to start with the outfit the next morning and go from there to salt lake city about 400 miles north. none of us had a chance to write even a line to expectant relatives far away and we were naturally disappointed till prof. persuaded the major to hold over till tuesday which he willingly did when he realised the situation. we wrote late by the light of a diminutive fire, wood being scarce. he then left us on october 10th with jack, captain dodds, and the miners who had waited only to learn something about the river above as a place for prospecting. the trail up over the barren sandstone was so steep and smooth that two of the pack-animals lost their footing and rolled back to the bottom but received no injury except scraping the skin off their knees. not the least welcome articles among the supplies were a pair of good heavy shoes and a pair of strong overalls, which the foresight of the major had secured for each one of us, our clothing, as before mentioned, having been completely worn out. my watch, which i had carried all the way in a little rubber pocket sewed to my shirt near the neck, where it seldom got wet enough to stop it, though occasionally it refused to go till i punched it up with a large pin kept for the purpose, which my wicked companions called my "starting bar," at last had stopped permanently, and i sent it out by jack for repairs. after they had gone we settled down again to our accustomed labours. we were to run down thirty-five miles farther to the mouth of the paria, whence there was another known trail to the settlement, and cache the boats. the pack-train was to come back to us there with additional supplies and horses and take us out to kanab, where we were to make headquarters for our winter explorations in the practically unknown grand canyon region as well as in that to the eastward. during this interval we expected to discover some point between the paria and diamond creek where rations could be brought in to us while working through the grand canyon the next season. we did not then know that the winter is the safest and best time for making the passage through that wonderful gorge.[21] our appetites were now enormous, and as we could eat all we wanted, the supplies diminished in an astonishing way, but as we were soon to receive more we did not care. every man braced up; all but steward, who felt quite sick. jones began to feel trouble brewing in the leg which he had hurt at the junction; andy showed the effects of the scorpion bite by becoming thin and pale, thinner than our previous lack of rations justified; cap., who had been shot in the civil war through and through near the heart, now felt the effects of the long exposure; and neither clem nor beaman considered their health perfect. altogether, however, we had come through very well. our worst work was over for this year, and the maladies portending seemed not dangerous. prof., desiring to get some notes from up the river, went on the 11th, with cap., beaman, and clem, back six miles in the _dean_ to the foot of some rapid water they could not pass. arriving there about half-past twelve, they spent all afternoon going up numerous gulches, trying to find a way out. as there was a large area of bottom land, with old camp-fires and much broken pottery, they were sure there was a path, but it was late before they discovered a place where modern natives had piled brush and stones to make a horse trail, and another where the old shinumos for fifty feet had cut steps in the smooth rock. the party followed the shinumo trail, finding the steps in places almost worn out by time, in others still quite good and large enough to get the toe of a shoe in. by the time they came to the top it was too late for observations, and they returned to the river for camp, making the same climb by the steps the next day and securing the observations. they got back to our camp 79 late in the afternoon. meanwhile steward's illness had increased, and i spent much of the night trying to relieve his pain. the air was cold and he was most uncomfortable, the only shelter being a wickiup of boughs we had built to protect him from the sun. we had opium pills in our medicine chest, and i had the little flask of brandy referred to. with several of the pills and my brandy, which i at last persuaded him to take as medicine (he despised alcoholic drinks), his suffering was somewhat relieved, and he was able to lie still on his bed of willows. during the next day his condition was no better, and prof. returning, was much distressed by it. by drawing further on the medicine chest, which contained numerous remedies, he was able to relieve him a little more. the exposure had brought on a trouble of the back which had originally developed during the campaigns of the civil war. [illustration: tom. a typical navajo. photograph by wittick. tom became educated and no longer looked like an indian.] before leaving this point prof. wanted some observations from the heights, and he and cap. tried to climb the near-by cliffs, but failed. they then took a hammer and chisel, and by cutting "holds" in the sandstone after the manner of the old shinumos, they got up 850 feet and secured the bearings prof. desired. the following day they went out on the trail toward kanab five miles, trying to find another point of exit to the summit, but did not succeed. while they were gone we heard a sudden shout, and saw an indian standing on the rocks not far away. we beckoned for him to come, and thereupon he fell back to another, and together they approached. we saw by their dress, so different from the ute (red turbans, loose unbleached cotton shirts, native woven sashes at the waist, wide unbleached cotton trousers reaching to a little below the knee and there slashed up on the outer side for seven or eight inches, bright woven garters twisted around their red buckskin leggins below the knee, and red moccasins with turned up soles and silver buttons), that they were navajos.[22] they indicated that they were father and son, the father announcing himself in a lordly way as "agua grande." he was over six feet tall and apparently sixty or seventy years old. the son was a fine young lad of about fifteen. their bearing was cordial, yet proud and dignified. they had not long been with us when prof. came in, and during the next hour seven more navajos arrived, all dressed very much as the first ones were. they expressed great friendliness by embracing us after their custom and delivering long speeches, of which we understood not a word. one had a short black mustache which came straight out sidewise and then turned at right angles down past the corners of his mouth. i never had heard of an indian with a mustache before. they had no visible firearms, being armed with strong bows and cougar-skin quivers full of iron-headed arrows.[23] old agua grande became much interested in our sick man, and made signs by placing two spread fingers of one hand inverted upon one finger held horizontally of the other hand, and moving them north-westerly to indicate that he ought to ride out to the mormon settlement, whither they were bound, and that they would take him along. as the chief had exhibited a document, signed by the agent at fort defiance, to the effect that he and his band were peaceable and going on a trading expedition to the mormon settlements, we felt certain they would take good care of the invalid, but steward said he preferred to remain with us. we now had no further work for this immediate locality, and concluded to run down a mile or so to separate ourselves from the navajos, one having disclosed a tendency to surreptitiously appropriate small articles belonging to us. a bed was made on the middle deck of one of the boats for steward, and when all was ready we carried him down to it. the navajos ranged themselves along the bank to see us off, and clem, with his customary urbanity, went down the line all smiles, shaking each one cordially by the hand, and requesting him to "give my love to all the folks at home," and "remember me, please, to eliza jane," and similar expressions. the navajos did not understand the words, but being themselves great jokers they saw that it was fun, and they all laughed, making remarks which doubtless were of the same kind. just below was el vado de los padres by which these navajos had now come across. it was also sometimes called the ute ford. the necessary route was indicated by a line of small piles of stones showing above water. it was not an easy crossing, feasible only at low water, and quite impossible for waggons, even had there been a road to it. a shoal was followed up the middle of the river half a mile with deep channels cutting through it, reached from the south over a steep slope of bare sandstone and from the north through a very narrow, small canyon, not over ten feet wide. escalante in 1776, after the failure of his attempt to reach california, had great difficulty in finding the place, which for centuries has been known to all the tribes of the region. about three miles below our last camp we landed on the left on a very pretty piece of bottom land, inaccessible except by river, being bounded behind by a high, vertical, unscalable wall. here we made camp 80, with plenty of food, water, and wood, and all were comfortable by a fine fire; all but steward, who, feeling very sick, was lying on the bed we had prepared for him. he had another bad night, but after this his condition seemed gradually to improve. [illustration: glen canyon. sentinel rock--about 300 feet high. photograph by e. o. beaman, 1871.] prof.'s favourite quotation now was charles fenno hoffman's poem: "we were not many--we who stood before the iron sleet that day; yet many a gallant spirit would give half his years if but he could have been with us at monterey." in the morning he went with jones across the river and climbed out while the rest of us did nothing but lie around camp doing what was possible to make steward comfortable. it was sunday as well and whenever practicable we rested the whole or part of that day. monday we started late and ran only a short distance before dinner which we ate on the right. steward still was unable to sit up and he was carried on the middle deck of the _nell_ where he had a rope to cling to so that he should not roll off into the water when the boat lurched. toward evening we camped at the head of a small rapid near a fine little stream coming in from the left which we named navajo creek. the river was about four hundred feet wide with walls on each side of four hundred feet in height. the next morning prof., cap. and i climbed out for bearings reaching an altitude a mile or so back from the river of 875 feet. everywhere we discovered broken pottery, fragments of arrow-heads, and other evidences of former shinumo occupancy. even granting only a few persons at each possible locality, the canyons of the colorado and green must have been the former home of a rather large population. in the afternoon we ran the little rapid and kept on for about six miles making twenty in all from el vado, when we camped on a heavy talus on the left. the following morning, october 18th, we had not gone more than a mile when we came to a singular freak of erosion, a lone sandstone pinnacle on the right, three hundred or four hundred feet high, the river running on one side and a beautiful creek eight feet wide on the other. we named these sentinel rock and sentinel creek and camped there for beaman to get some photographs. prof. and i went up the creek and tried to climb out for observations, but though we made three separate attempts we had to give it up. steward grew so much better that he was able to walk a little, but now jones began to feel more pain in his injured leg. on thursday, the 19th, we made nearly seven miles between walls about eight hundred feet high and one quarter of a mile apart, so nearly vertical that we could not get out. the next day we ran six miles more with walls one thousand feet high, camping at a place where there was a wide bottom with many signs of old native camps, probably navajo. in the morning prof., cap., and i climbed a steep slope of bright orange sand a little below our camp, a rather hard task as the sand was loose, causing us to slip backward at every step. after twelve hundred or fifteen hundred feet of this kind of climbing we reached the base of three rocky peaks several hundred feet higher. we had considerable difficulty in surmounting one of these, being forced around to the opposite side, where there was a sheer descent from our position of some fifteen hundred feet, with sharp black rocks at the bottom where any one slipping would fall. there were some narrow transverse crevices in the rock by means of which we got up. one man, having been pushed aloft from the solid ledge by the two below, would lie back against the slope, brace himself with one heel in a transverse fissure, and lower the free foot as a handhold for the others to mount by. the next trouble was a crevice wide enough for us to pass through to the top, but holding exactly midway a large rock lodged in such a manner that we could not crawl under and yet seeming in danger of rolling down if we went over it. it was precarious not only for the man ahead who tried to pass but for those below waiting for results, but it was more firmly wedged than it appeared to be and each one in turn climbed over it. emerging from this crack we were on the summit 2190 feet above the river and 5360 above the sea, with standing room no more than six or eight feet square. the view was superb. the peaks formed the northern end of a long line of cliffs running back to the south at the end of glen canyon, and we looked out across a wonderful region, part of that on the south being the "painted desert," so called by ives. mountains solid and solitary rose up here and there and line upon line of strangely coloured cliffs broke across the wide area, while from our feet stretching off to the south-west like a great dark dragon extending miles into the blue was the deep gorge of marble canyon, its tributary chasms appearing like mighty sprawling legs. far away west were the san francisco mountains, and the kaibab, while behind we saw navajo mountain and others. this peak, or cluster of peaks, of course had never been named, had never been climbed before, but they soon named themselves. for amusement i tried to shoot into the river with cap.'s 44 remington revolver. as i pulled the trigger the noise was absolutely staggering. the violent report was followed by dead silence. while we were remarking the intensity of the crash, from far away on some distant cliffs northward the sound waves were hurled back to us with a rattle like that of musketry. we tried again with the same result, the interval between the great roar and the echo being twenty-four seconds by the watch. we could call the place nothing but echo peaks, and since then the name has been applied also to the line of cliffs breaking to the south. our descent was easy and we reached camp without any incident except the loss of my sheath knife. nobody did anything the next day, for it was sunday, so when monday morning came we were eager to be off for the mouth of the paria, which we had seen from the top of echo peaks. two or three miles down we reached it; a small river coming through a great canyon on the right. the cliffs of glen canyon broke back south-westerly and south-easterly in a v form with the point at the foot of glen canyon, leaving a wide platform of different rock rising gently from under them and mounting steadily toward the south. into the middle of this the river immediately slashed a narrow gorge very much as a staircase might be cut through a floor, beginning the next canyon of the series, called marble, through which we would not descend till the following year. we went into camp on the left bank of the paria and the right of the colorado, camp 86, in the tall willows. a rough scow lay there, which the major had built the year before when on his way from kanab to the moki towns, for there is no ford. we were to wait here for our pack-train which the major, on arriving at kanab, was to start back with rations and some extra horses. our altitude was 3170 feet, showing a total descent for the season of 2905 feet, 913 feet from gunnison crossing. our work on the water for the present was now over; we would pursue it with mule and pack instead of with boats. as the 23d of october had arrived we were glad to avoid daily saturation. footnotes: [footnote 19: these blisters were later called laccolites by g. k. gilbert after his careful study of the locality. see his _geology of the henry mountains_, published by the government.] [footnote 20: the illustration on page 43 of _the romance of the colorado_ well shows the character of the glen canyon country, and that on page 63 the nature of the pot-holes.] [footnote 21: we learned later that while we were working through cataract canyon, lieutenant george m. wheeler, u. s. engineers, was coming up from fort mohave. after great labour he reached the mouth of diamond creek, see _the romance of the colorado_, chapter xii.] [footnote 22: for further description of the navajo costume, see _the north americans of yesterday_, by f. s. dellenbaugh, pp. 148, 150.] [footnote 23: like all the tribes of the region of that time, the navajos considered the mormons a different people from the americans. they had been at war with the mormons, from whom they stole horses and cattle, and there had been some bloodshed. old jacob had induced them to make peace, and this party now on its way to trade was the first to try the experiment. vanquished by our troops, a few years before, the navajos were very poor and anxious to acquire live stock and firearms, for which they had blankets and other articles of their own make to trade.] chapter xi more navajos arrive with old jacob--the lost pack-train and a famished guide--from boat to broncho--on to kanab--winter arrives--wolf neighbours too intimate--preparing for geodetic work--over the kaibab to eight-mile spring--a frontier town--camp below kanab--a mormon christmas dance. at the mouth of the paria we established ourselves for a stay of several days. not only did we have the pack-train to wait for, but there were maps to finish, boats to cache, and all manner of things to attend to before we could leave for the winter. steward recovered so that he could slowly walk around, but to balance this jones developed inflammatory rheumatism in both knees, but especially in the one which had been injured by the fall at the junction. though he was perfectly cheerful about it, he suffered excruciating pain, and was unable to move from the bed of willows which we made for him. the medicine chest was drawn on again, and we hoped that the attack would not last long. andy remained wan and thin, but he insisted on sticking to his work. so liberally had we used our rations that we were nearing the end, and we began to look hopefully in the direction from which we expected the pack-train to arrive. four days passed and still there was no sign of it. we had to put ourselves on half-rations once more, and prof. declared that if the train did not soon arrive either he or i, being the only entirely well members of the party, would have to walk out to kanab and obtain relief. none of us knew anything about the trail. on the 26th prof. and i climbed the cliffs back of camp to a height of two thousand feet, and had a remarkable view similar to that from echo peaks. on saturday, october 28th, in the morning we were surprised to hear from the opposite or south side of the river an indian yell, and looking across we perceived what appeared to be three natives, with horses, standing on the edge of the canyon wall, here very low. we prepared one of the boats to cross and find out what was wanted, when a fourth figure joined the group, and in good english came the words, "g-o-o-d m-o-r-n-i-n-g," long drawn out. on landing we were met by a slow-moving, very quiet individual, who said he was jacob hamblin. his voice was so low, his manner so simple, his clothing so usual, that i could hardly believe that this was utah's famous indian-fighter and manager. with him were three other white men, isaac haight, george adair, joe mangum, and nine navajos, all on their way to the mormon settlements. they desired to be put across the river, and we willingly offered the services of ourselves and our boats. some of the navajos had never before seen so large a stream, and were free to express their surprise. we took on board jacob and one or two others, and after landing them made several trips with both boats to ferry the rest over, including all their saddles and baggage. the navajos were rather afraid of the boats, which to them probably looked small and wobbly, but they all got on board with much hilarity, except one who preferred to swim. he struck boldly out with a sort of dog-paddle stroke. having no confidence in his swimming ability, we followed closely. the water was cold; the distance greater than the navajo had imagined. before he was one third of the way over he consented to be pulled into our boat and finish the passage that way. the horses were towed over, swimming behind the boats, a rope being held by a man sitting in the stern. there was a rapid not far below, and we feared if driven in to swim loose they might be drawn into it. one horse refused to swim or even to try, and made repeated efforts to plunge his head under, giving us a lot of trouble, but by holding his head close to the boat we towed him across in spite of his opposition. without the boat he would surely have gone down the river. when everybody and everything were safely across the hour was so late that jacob concluded to camp with us for the night.[24] the navajos were found to be a very jolly set of fellows, ready to take or give any amount of chaff, and perfectly honest. they were taking blankets of their manufacture to trade for horses and sheep. their spirits ran high, they sang their wild songs for us, and we had the liveliest evening we had seen in many a month. finally we joined in a circle with them, dancing and singing around the smouldering fire, while the chief konéco, a noble-looking fellow, sitting at one side, with a patriarchal expression, monotonously drummed an accompaniment with a willow root on the bottom of one of the camp-kettles. when any of us would stumble on a stick they were all convulsed with laughter. the blankets they had were beautiful, and jacob possessed one valued at $40, which had taken seventy days to make. after the navajos had gone to rest we listened to some mormon songs by jacob's party. they left us the next morning, sunday, october 29th, prof. obtaining from jacob some red mexican beans to eke out our supplies; also a description of the trail. i traded a cap i happened to have to one of the navajos for his feather plume, and a pair of shoes to one of the white men for some mishongnuvi moccasins. monday we took the _dean_ across the river, and some distance down we hauled her by means of ropes up high above the water under a large rock, where we concealed her well. then we made five caches near camp of goods not needed till next year, covering our traces by fires and other devices. jones was so much improved that he managed to hobble about on a pair of crutches i had made for him out of strong willow sticks, and we felt much encouraged as to his ability to stand riding when the time came to start for kanab. on tuesday we built a shelter back of camp for the _nell_ and housed her there. the next day was the first of november and we thought surely the pack-train would come, but the sun went down behind the cliffs and no one arrived. prof. could not understand what the trouble was, but he went on with his observations. the next morning, as we were about to eat our bean breakfast beside the fire, we were astonished by the extremely cautious appearance through the willows, without a word of announcement, of a single, ragged, woebegone, silent old man on as skinny and tottering a pony as ever i saw. the old man was apparently much surprised to find himself here, and with the exclamation, "my god! i have found you!" he dropped to the ground. when at last he spoke he said his name was mangum of kanab, and that he had been employed to guide our pack-train, of which riley, one of the prospectors we had met at el vado, was leader. "well, where is the train?" we asked, for if he were all that remained of it we wanted to know it soon. "several miles back on the trail," he said. not having eaten a mouthful since the morning before it was no wonder he was weak and silent. we gave him the best breakfast we could command from our meagre stock and then like a spectre he vanished on his scrawny steed up the paria canyon. all the day long we watched and waited for his triumphal return with the longed-for supplies at his back, but the sun departed without his approach and the twilight died into that mystery which leaves the world formless against the night. and still we had faith in the stranger's story. early the next morning prof., clem, and i started on his track thinking we would soon meet the train. it led us up the valley of the paria, between the great cliffs about three miles, and then we had another surprise, for it swung sharply to the right and climbed a steep sandy slope towards the only apparent place where the two-thousand-foot cliffs could possibly be scaled with horses. we saw that he had followed a very old indian trail. when we had mounted to the base of the vertical rocks we travelled zig-zagging back and forth across the face of the precipice till presently the trail passed through a notch out upon the plateau. from an eminence we now scanned the whole visible area without discovering anything that apparently had not been there for several thousand years. save the coming and going tracks of our strange visitor there was nothing to show that any living animal had trod this place in centuries. we could see to where prof. and i previously climbed to this same plateau, and to-day was like yesterday and yesterday like the year before last. time and the years were as little grains of drifting sand. leaving clem as a sentinel on our observation point prof. followed the out track and told me to follow the in till three o'clock. it was now high noon. i walked on and on through an arid, wonderful maze of sand, rocks, and cacti, feeling that the old horseman was no more than a phantom, when in half an hour i almost fell upon our lost pack-train meandering slowly and silently through a depression. i fired our signal shots and prof. soon joined us. the situation was precarious. the animals were nearly dead from thirst, one had been abandoned, and riley was in a state of pent-up rage that was dangerous for the spectre guide, who had nearly been the destruction of the whole outfit, for he did not know the trail and was himself lost. of course he blamed riley--it was his only defence. riley broke loose in a string of fiery oaths, declaring he would shoot "the old fool," then and there. but receiving no encouragement from prof. or me he didn't. there was a third member of the party, joe hamblin, a son of jacob, a very sturdy young fellow. he said afterwards that he thought often that riley would "sure let daylight through the old man." our next care was to successfully manoeuvre the pack-animals down the difficult trail across the face of the cliff, which had not seen a horse for many a year and probably never had been traversed by animals with packs on their backs. we had to watch that they did not crowd each other off, but with all our exertions one fell and rolled down a few feet. he was not injured and we continued the descent, finally reaching the bottom without so much as a scratch of any consequence. there, at the paria, the horses enjoyed the first full drink for several days and we followed it down to camp. riley had started from kanab october 23d and had been twelve days making a journey that required at most only four or five by the regular trail. mangum had not known the way, had led toward el vado, and his finding the indian trail to the mouth of the paria was an accident. provisions were now plenty again, and by the light of a big fire we overhauled the mail, finding letters, newspapers and magazines enough to satisfy any party. word was received from the major to move to a place called house rock spring, and prof. said we would leave camp 86 on november 5th, which gave us a day intervening in which to pack up. about noon of this packing day we were not surprised when two horsemen, haight and riggs, galloped into camp at full speed leading a lightly laden pack-mule. they had come through in two and one half days, at top speed, by direction of jacob, who on reaching kanab with the navajos learned that our pack-train had left long before, and he had seen nothing of it. on the pack-mule were fifty pounds of flour and several rolls of butter; the first time we had seen any of this latter article since the final breakfast at field's on may 22d. they were greatly relieved to know that the train was found and that all was well. they brought news of the burning of chicago about a month before. in the evening isaac haight favoured us with some mormon songs and recited examples of the marvellous curative effects of the mormon "laying on of hands." heavy clouds had settled along the face of the cliffs and the air grew wintry. we felt the chill keenly, as we were not clad for cold weather. in the morning snow began to drop gently out of the leaden sky and continued all day, preventing any one from starting. soon the cliffs and echo peaks were white and we knew that now autumn was gone. toward evening the sun flared across the rocky landscape, turning everything to gold, and we believed the next day would be fair. we were not disappointed. monday the 6th of november came sharp and cold. haight, riggs, mangum, and joe hamblin left early and we got under way as soon as we could. with two very sick men and a new method of travel it was not easy. we had to learn the art of packing on mules and horses from riley, who was an expert in this line and who could "sling the diamond hitch" with great skill. he was just as handy with a lasso and seldom missed if he wished to catch an animal, but prof. did not approve of the lasso method, for it makes stock wild and unmanageable. his way was the quiet one and he was right, for we soon had the entire herd so that there was no rumpus at starting-time. with a free use of the lasso preparations to start partake of the activity of a tornado. steward by this time was able to walk slowly. andy was well enough to travel on his feet, but jones could not move at all without crutches. we did not have extra horses for all to ride, so steward and andy changed off, while the rest of us had to walk. jones we lifted as gently as possible, though it was pain even to be touched in his condition, upon riley's special horse called doc, a well-trained, docile animal, who walked off with him. it was after noon before the start was accomplished, and meanwhile i went back on the incoming trail of the lost pack-train to the foot of the steep precipice for riley's canteen, which had been forgotten there, and when i returned all were gone but steward, clem, and beaman, who had remained behind to round up a young steer which had been driven in with the train for us to convert into beef at a convenient opportunity. as the advance party travelled very slowly we soon caught them, the steer being gentle as a kitten. the trail followed south along the foot of the cliffs which emerged from paria canyon, and to which the major had given the name of vermilion on account of their rich red colour. we wound in and out of deep alcoves, around the heads of impassable lateral canyons running to the colorado, and past enormous rocks balanced in every conceivable position on extremely slender pedestals. after about eight miles we arrived at a diminutive spring, which gave enough water for andy to make bread and coffee with, but none for the stock. there we camped. a few armfuls of scraggy sage-brush furnished wood for a fire, but it was not enough to make our invalids comfortable, and the night was cold and raw. we did all we could for them and they did not grumble. in the morning a pair of bronchos--that is, recently broken wild horses--made the camp lively for a time, but they were subdued and the caravan again got under way. our next camp was to be jacob's pools, so called from the fact that jacob was the first white man to camp there. we had gone only a mile or so when we crossed in a small canyon a little stream already enjoying two names, clear and spring (now called badger) creek, and a little farther on another called soap creek, still holding that name.[25] when first travellers enter a country they naturally bestow names on important objects, and two or three parties of white men who had passed this way had named these two creeks. after this we had no more water, and we pushed slowly ahead, looking for the pools. snow began to fall again in widely scattered, reluctant flakes, but melted on touching the ground. late in the afternoon the trail turned the corner of the cliffs, which here broke to the west, and we saw a wide, desolate open plain stretching away to the foot of a distant table-land, which we knew to be the kaibab plateau or buckskin mountain. none of the party had been over the trail before, but it was easy to follow, especially for a man of riley's experience. it was an old navajo trail, and was here fairly well worn. the sun went down as we plodded on, the light faded from the west, and still we saw no jacob's pools. the air was biting, and with our thin, worn garments we felt it keenly and wished for a fire. at last just as the darkness began to thicken a patch of reeds on the right between some low hills was discovered, where it seemed there might be water, and we could not well go farther. the ground was moist, and by digging a hole we secured red, muddy liquid enough for andy to make a little bread and a cup apiece of very poor coffee. the men and animals came straggling in out of the darkness. we gathered a lot of sage-brush and made a fire, and as soon as jones came we lifted him off and put him as near the warmth as possible, for he was chilled through. there was no water for the stock, but the grass was wet and they did not suffer. everything was damp and uncomfortable, and the fire was too small to dry anything out, so all turned in to the limited blankets and passed a cold, half-sleepless, uncomfortable night. morning was a relief, though the thermometer stood at 11 f. there was water enough in the holes for breakfast, and as soon as this meal was over the pack-train was on the move towards jacob's pools, which we found not two miles farther on. there were two of them, each seven or eight feet long, supplied by fine clear water oozing out of a hill-side. the lower one we turned over to the animals, reserving the upper for ourselves. we approached the plateau all day, and late in the afternoon we were within three or four miles of it, when the right-hand cliffs turned sharply to the north in a line parallel with the plateau, forming a long narrow valley. cedars and piñons now grew about us, so that we were assured of a good fire. about sunset we passed two large boulders which had fallen together, forming a rude shelter, under which riggs or some one else had slept, and then had jocosely printed above with charcoal the words "rock house hotel." afterward this had served as identification, and jacob and the others had spoken of "house rock" spring and house rock valley. we called it the same, and finally it went on the maps and is now permanent. a few yards beyond the house rock the trail led into a gulch, at the head of which was a good spring. plenty of cedars and piñons grew about, and we soon had a fire that compensated for the meagre ones of the preceding nights. the sick men became warm and dry, and we all felt much better. the whole outfit halted two days, and on the second the poor little steer, gazing sadly at us, was shot and cut up. in an hour the quarters were swinging from a tree and some of the beef was in the pan. necessity is a sauce that makes every grist palatable. we were hungry, and nothing could have tasted better than that fresh beefsteak. the entrails and refuse were left on the ground in the neighbouring gulley where we had killed the steer, and next morning the place was about cleaned up by the lurking wolves. prof. decided to go on across the kaibab to kanab with the two very sick men, and leave cap., clem, andy, and me here at house rock spring until the plan for the winter's campaign had been better formulated. steward concluded that his condition was too precarious to risk further exposure, and said he would now leave the expedition permanently, which we learned with deep regret, but it was plainly imperative. jones thought that a week or two of warmth and rest, accompanied by a change of diet, would make him whole again and enable him to stay till the end of our special task. on saturday, november 11th, the party started, with the invalids riding the gentlest and easiest horses, though steward found it less painful at times to walk. i accompanied them to the summit of the kaibab to bring back one of the horses we called thunderbolt, on which jones was to be carried to the top and there change to doc. after i left them i halted many times to look out into the wonderful land to the west and north. when i got back to the spring, our camp 3 of the land operations, we immediately set up a stout 6 by 8 tent that was in the outfit brought from kanab, and it made a very snug sleeping-place for the four of us. around the fire we rolled big stones for seats, and soon had the gulch in a homelike condition. there was an abundance of dead, fat piñon, which burned like a candle, and we could easily extend our reading into the evenings. from all around us there arose the frequent bay and bark of the wolves. they were of different kinds, numerous and rather bold. at night they came in and cleared up what was left of the entrails of the steer, also securing a fine, large piece of beef which cap. had hung in a tree, but not high enough to escape their efforts. we took turns bringing the four horses left with us to water, and in that way kept ourselves informed about them. during these trips, especially in the late afternoon, the wolves were apt to trot along near by, and on one occasion clem was obliged to drive one out of the trail with stones, not having his rifle. one morning, as i was riding along not far from camp, a huge whitish fellow followed behind like a dog about twenty yards back, licking his chaps. at first i thought he might be the dog of some indian camped near, but remembering that there were none in the valley, and also that an indian dog, or any strange dog, would have run from me, i saw that he was a hungry wolf unused to man. i had no rifle with me, but i took a walk over the same ground next morning with my winchester, hoping to see my acquaintance again, but he discreetly kept out of sight. we had little now to occupy us except to examine the locality, chop wood for our fire, and read over and over the newspapers and magazines. the nights were very cold, the spring always freezing over, but the days were delightful. the beef had to be jerked to preserve it. we cut it up into thin long strips, which we strung through the ends on long withes, these in turn being hung on a framework that left the strips swinging within two or three feet of a slow fire. one hour's neglect of this tempting array would have seen it vanish to the four winds, so we kept a constant watch day and night, taking turns through the dark hours. every article which had grease or leather about it had to be carefully put away to prevent its disappearance. riley had lost his spurs on the way out from this cause, the leather on them making sweet morsels for the watchers. cap. concluded to profit by this appetite, and in an adjoining gulch he built a trap between two rocks, in which he set his remington six-shooter, so that a wolf picking up a scrap of beef would pull the trigger by a string and receive the ball in his head. that night during my watch over the beef i roasted a piece on a stick for a lunch, and as the savory odour drifted off on the crisp winter air howl after howl of ravenous desire rang out from many directions, followed by the bang of the revolver in the trap. cap. went over, but found no game, though later he often came back with a fine large specimen, bearing a perfect coat of fur, which cap. always removed by the firelight at once. about every night except sunday, when cap. refused to set the trap--for he never did any work on that day that was not absolutely necessary--there was a fatal shot, and he accumulated a lot of excellent large skins, which he tacked on trees to preserve them. he thought he had put them up securely high, but one morning every skin had disappeared. the wolf relatives had carried them away to the last shred. [illustration: the grand canyon. from havasupai point, south rim, showing inner gorge. from a sketch in colour by f. s. dellenbaugh, 1907.] the kaibab was too far away for us to go there to hunt deer, and there were none around the spring, though one night at supper-time, the western sky being a broad sweep of deep orange, we saw a large wild animal of some sort on the crest of the hill silhouetted against the colour. i started for it with my rifle, but of course it did not wait; no animal ever does if he can help it, unless he is carnivorous and famished. the weather remained generally fair, though one day we had a wild gale that nearly relieved us of the tent in the midst of thick flurries of snow. we often climbed among the cliffs, and everywhere we found picture-writings, poles laid up, stepping-stones, fragments of pottery, arrowheads, and other evidences of former occupation. the poles and stones may have been placed by the pai utes as well as by the old shinumos, who once were numerous over all this country. cap. was by no means well. an extreme nervousness connected with the old gunshot wound developed, and he said he felt sure he could not continue the work in the field during the winter, much less go through the grand canyon with us the next year. clem also felt under the weather, and besides was growing homesick. he confided to me one day that he also had concluded not to remain with us. as there was little the matter with him i undertook to argue him out of his determination not to go through the grand canyon, pointing out the disappointment he would feel when we had accomplished the passage and he realised that he might as well have come along. this produced some impression, but i was uncertain as to its lasting result. by november 17th we began with confidence to look for some one to come over the mountains from kanab, and just after sunset we heard riley's long shrill "ee--ii--oooooooo," which he could deliver upon the air in such a fashion that it carried for miles. presently prof. and he rode into our camp with fresh supplies and a great bundle of mail that included papers giving the details of the burning of chicago. prof. with cap. then reconnoitred the neighbourhood, and on the 21st he returned to kanab, leaving us as before, except that riley remained two days longer. the major had not yet arrived at kanab from salt lake and our winter work could not begin till he came. the days rolled by with occasional rain and snow and we began to grow impatient with our inaction, especially when november passed away. the second day of december was fading when we distinguished in the distance the familiar riley yell, and in a little while he came into view with welcome news. we were to move at once to a spring eight miles from kanab. he also brought some apples, native raisins and a large canteen full of fresh wine from "dixie" as the country along the virgin was called. these luxuries together with a number of letters from home made that night one of the most cheerful we had known for a long time. monday morning, december 4th we left house rock spring behind with our pack-train, followed the trail across the open valley, climbed two thousand feet to the top of the kaibab, and were soon traversing the forest on its broad summit. riley having been over the trail now several times we went ahead steadily, and about sunset arrived at the farther side of a narrow longitudinal depression of the top which cap. immediately put down in his notes as summit valley, a name that holds to-day. there we threw off our packs and made camp for the night. though there was no water the ground was covered by a thin layer of snow, that made the long bunch grass palatable to the horses and for ourselves we had sufficient water in two small kegs and several canteens. a bright fire blazed cheerfully, the dense cedars broke the wind, and everybody felt that it was a fine camp. the others spent the evening playing euchre by firelight, but i preferred to read till bedtime. the next morning, after crossing some rough gulches, we came to the western edge of the great plateau, and emerging from the forest of pine and cedar we saw again the magnificent, kaleidoscopic, cliff country lying to the north. first about twenty miles away was a line of low chocolate-coloured cliffs, then a few miles back of this the splendid line of the vermilion cliffs, the same which began at the mouth of glen canyon and which we had skirted to house rock spring. from there the line continued northward till it passed around the north end of the kaibab, when it struck southwesterly far to our left, where it turned back to the north again, forming one of the longest and finest cliff ranges anywhere to be seen. above them and some miles still farther back, rising higher, was a line of greyish cliffs following the trend of the vermilion, and still above these was the broken meandering face of the pink cliffs, frosted with snow, whose crest marks the southeastern limit of fremont's "great basin," the end of the high plateaus, and tops the country at an altitude of some 11,000 feet above sea-level. a more extraordinary, bewildering landscape, both as to form and colour, could hardly be found in all the world. winding our way down to the barren valley, in itself more a high plateau than a valley, we travelled the rest of the day in the direction of the great cliffs. the sun was just gone when we reached the first low line, and passing through a gap turned into a side gulch thickly studded with cedars, where we saw before us two white-covered waggons, two or three camp-fires blazing, and friends. we heard a hearty voice cry, "tirtaan aigles dis wai!" and we sprang from our horses to grasp jack's welcoming hand and greet all the others, some of whom were new acquaintances. the fragrance of coffee and frying bacon filled the sharp air, while from the summits of the surrounding cliffs the hungry chorus of yelping wolves sent up their wail of disappointment. in an alcove a large tent had been put up, which the major's family was occupying, for mrs. powell and her baby daughter had come from salt lake with him, arriving a few days before. the daughter was but three months old and was happy in a big clothes-basket for a cradle. mrs. thompson, prof.'s wife, and sister of the major, had also come from salt lake and another large tent sheltered them, while still another of equal size, not yet erected, was designed for the men. it was a specially interesting camp to us who had come over from house rock for it was novel to see so many people around. the major himself was absent at kanab. before the camp was asleep the hour was late, and so soundly did every one rest that the sneaking wolves without the least molestation carried off two large sacks of the jerked beef from near our heads, where we had put it against a huge rock thinking they would not come so close; but as they had pulled a ham the night before from under the head of captain dodds where he had placed it for safety, we ought to have been more sensible. two or three nights later, as i was sleeping in a special bed one of the men then absent had made by a big rock some yards from the main camp, i was awakened by a wolf crunching bones by the fire not eight feet from my head. i wanted to shoot the impertinent wretch, but his form was indistinct and my rifle lying by my side had to be trained his way. this took some time, as i had to move cautiously, and in the midst of my effort my elbow slipped. like a shadow he flitted into the deeper gloom and i went to sleep again. i did not want to shoot without certainty, though some nights later i did shoot with riley's huge double-barrelled shotgun loaded with buckshot straight into our mess kit, not killing the wolf that was there, but putting holes in numerous tin plates through which bean soup delighted to percolate, so that i never heard the last of this midnight effort of mine to diminish the wolf family. the day following our arrival the major came from kanab and the plans for our winter's campaign were put in operation. a base line for our geographic work was necessary and this was to run south from kanab, so prof. on december 7th, with mrs. thompson, cap., clem, andy, jones (who had recovered his health), and one of the new men named macentee, left us with loaded waggons to establish another camp nearer to the scene of this work. another member of the party was fuzz, mrs. thompson's dog, an intelligent dandie dinmont. as i was much interested to see kanab, of which so much had been said, and as it was now nearly seven months since i had seen an occupied house, i decided to take a sunday ride in that direction. on the 17th, about noon, i put a saddle on a white mule which jack had named nigger and was soon on my way. emerging from the chocolate cliffs the road led along the foot of the vermilion cliffs, crossing long ridges covered with cedars and piñons with a vast view to the kaibab on the south and east, and soon joining a road that led from a canyon to eastward where there was a very small settlement called johnson's, and from two or three houses which had been built where the el vado trail crossed the paria river. nigger went along very well and i was in kanab by three o'clock. the village, which had been started only a year or two, was laid out in the characteristic mormon style with wide streets and regular lots fenced by wattling willows between stakes. irrigating ditches ran down each side of every street and from them the water, derived from a creek that came down a canyon back of the town, could be led into any of the lots, each of which was about one quarter of an acre; that is, there were four lots to a block. fruit trees, shade trees, and vines had been planted and were already beginning to promise near results, while corn, potatoes, etc., gave fine crops. the original place of settlement was a square formed by one-story log houses on three sides and a stockade on the fourth. this was called the fort and was a place of refuge, though the danger from navajo attack seemed to be over and that from any assault by the pai utes certainly was past. one corner of the fort was made by the walls of the schoolhouse, which was at the same time meeting-house and ball-room. altogether there were about 100 families in the village. the houses that had been built outside the fort were quite substantially constructed, some of adobe or sun-dried brick. the entire settlement had a thrifty air, as is the case with the mormons. not a grog-shop, or gambling saloon, or dance-hall was to be seen; quite in contrast with the usual disgraceful accompaniments of the ordinary frontier towns. a perfectly orderly government existed, headed by a bishop appointed by the church authorities in salt lake, the then incumbent of this office being an excellent man, bishop stewart. i rode to the fort, where i found clem and beaman domiciled with their photographic outfit, with a swarm of children peeping through every chink and crevice of the logs to get a view of the "gentiles," a kind of animal they had seldom seen. every one was cordial. beaman even offered me a drink made with sugar-water and photographic alcohol, but it did not appeal to my taste. it was after sunset when i started nigger towards eight mile spring and i enjoyed the ride in the edge of night with not a living thing, besides nigger (and nigger was a mule), to disturb my reveries. i had as yet seen none of the natives of the locality. they were now very friendly and considered harmless, thanks to jacob's wise management. the only indians the settlers dreaded were some renegades, a band of utes and navajos, collected by a bold and skillful chief named patnish, whose "country" was south of the colorado around navajo mountain. he was reputed to be highly dangerous, and the kanab people were constantly prepared against his unwelcome visits. he had several handsome stalwart sons, who dressed in white and who generally accompanied him. though patnish was so much feared, i do not remember to have heard that he committed any depredations after this time. there had been much trouble with the navajos, but jacob, growing tired of the constant warfare, had resolved to go to them and see if he could not change the state of affairs. when he had guided the major to the moki towns and fort defiance the year before (1870), about six thousand navajos were assembled at the agency. the chiefs were invited to meet in council on the 2d of november, and all the principal chiefs but one and all subchiefs but two were there. the major led the way by introducing jacob and speaking in highly complimentary terms of the mormons; and jacob then gave a long talk in his low-voiced way, illustrating the great evils of such warfare as had existed, and closed by saying: "what shall i tell my people the 'mormons' when i return home? that we may expect to live in peace, live as friends, and trade with one another? or shall we look for you to come prowling around our weak settlements, like wolves in the night? i hope we may live in peace in time to come. i have now grey hairs on my head, and from my boyhood i have been on the frontiers doing all i could to preserve peace between white men and indians. i despise this killing, this shedding of blood. i hope you will stop this and come and visit and trade with our people. we would like to hear what you have got to say before we go home." barbenceta, the principal chief, slowly approached as jacob ended, and putting his arms around him said: "my friend and brother, i will do all that i can to bring about what you have advised. we will not give all our answer now. many of the navajos are here. we will talk to them to-night and will see you on your way home." several days later jacob met him and the chiefs who had been absent; he said they would all really like to see peace with the mormons carried out, and continued: "we have some bad men among us, but if some do wrong, the wise ones must not act foolishly, like children, but let it be settled according to the spirit of your talk at fort defiance. here is hastele. i wish you would take a good look at him, so you will not be mistaken in the man. he never lies or steals. he is a truthful man; we wish all difficult matters settled before him. he lives on the frontier nearest to the river; you can find him by inquiry. we hope we may be able to eat at one table, warm by one fire, smoke one pipe, and sleep under one blanket." [illustration: the grand canyon. from south rim near bright angel creek.] jacob proceeded towards home, taking a moki, named tuba, and his wife back with him, so that they might see the mormon country. arriving at the crossing of the colorado tuba was sad. he said his people had once lived on the other side, and their fathers had told them they never again would go west of the river to live. "i am now going on a visit to see my friends. i have worshipped the father of us all in the way you believe to be right; now i wish you would do as the hopees think is right before we cross." jacob assented, and tuba, he said, "then took his medicine bag from under his shirt and offered me a little of its contents. i offered my left hand to take it; he requested me to take it with my right. he then knelt with his face to the east, and asked the great father of us all to preserve us in crossing the river. he said that he and his wife had left many friends at home, and if they never lived to return their friends would weep much. he prayed for pity upon his friends the mormons, that none of them might drown in crossing; and that all the animals we had with us might be spared, for we needed them all, and to preserve unto us all our food and clothing, that we need not suffer hunger nor cold on our journey. he then arose to his feet. we scattered the ingredients from the medicine bag into the air, on to the land, and into the water of the river." when they were all safely over tuba gave thanks that his prayer had been answered.[26] the last white men to be killed by the navajos in the kanab region were dr. whitmore and his herder at pipe springs, twenty miles west, five years before in the winter of 1865-66. the raiders were pursued by a strong party, and some of them, turning down the kanab canyon, perhaps thinking the river could be crossed there, were surprised and fired on at dawn. some escaped, though wounded. jacob kept a close watch on all the passes, and especially at el vado. several raiders were intercepted and shot. in 1869 a raiding band successfully drove off twelve hundred head of horses and cattle from northern settlements, and the winter of 1869-70 was one of the worst, requiring jacob's presence in the field almost constantly. he was accompanied by friendly pai utes, who hated the navajos. one navajo was shot in a band who had stolen cattle, but the others were allowed to leave on giving up the stock. the shot did not kill the navajo, and they followed to see what became of him. he was carried along by his friends to where another raiding party was encamped. the pai utes then killed two of this party, scalping one, but refraining from taking the scalp of the other because he had sandy hair and looked too much like a white man. later three more navajos were killed in a fight, but the rest escaped with ten horses. jacob grew heartily sick of this kind of work, and made the resolve to appeal to the navajos, with the result stated. he also visited the red lake utes to the north, and all the indians along the sevier. beginning with the band of navajos under agua grande, which we had met at el vado, they came north in numerous parties with perfect confidence that the mormons would receive them peacefully. but they continued to despise the pai utes, considering them beneath notice. in september of the year 1870 the major, by brigham young's advice, had engaged jacob to go with him to mt. trumbull in the uinkaret region adjoining the shewits country. jacob, wishing to see these indians himself, was very willing to go. they made a camp by a spring, and finding some natives near, jacob asked them to bring in some of the party who had taken part in the killing of the howlands and dunn the year before. twelve or fifteen finally came, and they had a talk. "i commenced [said jacob] by explaining to the indians professor powell's business. i endeavoured to get them to understand that he did not visit their country for any purpose that would work evil to them, that he was not hunting gold or silver or other metals; that he would be along the river next season with a party of men, and if they found any of them away from the river in the hills, they must be their friends and show them places where there was water if necessary." they replied that friends of theirs from across the river had declared the men were miners and advised killing them, for if they found mines it would bring great evil among them. the men were followed and killed while asleep. they declared that had they been correctly informed about the men they would not have killed them. kapurats ("no-arm," meaning the major), they said, could travel and sleep in their country unmolested and they would show him and his men the watering-places.[27] on december 19th we moved our camp from eight mile spring to a place below the gap in the chocolate cliffs south of kanab and not far below the utah-arizona boundary; the 37th parallel. bonnemort and i remained behind to gather up the last articles and it was dark when we reached the new ground. our large tent was pitched in the creek bottom with the others not far off, making quite a settlement. the weather was rainy and cold, but a conical sheet-iron stove heated the tent well and there we had dry comfortable evenings, some of the men singing, some writing letters or plotting notes, others reading and still others perhaps playing a game. bonnemort was something of a singer and was specially fond of _beautiful isle of the sea_, but jack still maintained his complete supremacy as a tenor. his repertory always increased and he was ever ready to entertain us. one of his selections i remember was the ballad: "i wandered by the brookside, i wandered by the mill; i could not hear the brook flow, the noisy wheel was still, there was no burr of grasshopper no chirp of any bird, but the beating of my own heart was all the sound i heard." mrs. thompson had a sweet voice and knew a lot of songs, which were frequently heard issuing from her tent, and this, with the presence of mrs. powell and the baby, added to the locality a pleasant homelike air. both mrs. thompson and mrs. powell had been familiar with camp life, mrs. powell having spent a winter, 1868-69, with the major in middle park, colorado, near the camp of chief douglas, the father of our friend douglas boy. andy cooked all the meals on a fire out of doors, and they were no longer served in our "go fur it boys" canyon style, but a large canvas, showing by its colour the effects of exposure, was elegantly spread on the ground and around its edges the tin plates, cups, etc., were arranged, with the beanpot and other provender in the middle. this method continued henceforth. the company would sit around on the ground, each in whatever position was comfortable. liberal portions of bread and sorghum molasses formed the dessert, and after a while so indispensable did the sorghum grow that we dubbed it the "staff of life." it was easy to get, quantities being produced in "dixie." kanab besides being favoured with two mails a week had a telegraph line connecting with the settlements of the virgin region and with salt lake, and we now felt that once more we had a grip on the world. on the 22d of december the major, accompanied by captain dodds, riley, and one of the kanab men, john stewart, a son of the bishop, started for the kaibab to find a way to get rations to the colorado next year near the mouth of the little colorado. the weather now was rather stormy but prof. continued his observations as well as he could, and parties were sent out in a number of directions to place flags and monuments for the geodetic work. the base line was to be measured south from near kanab for about ten miles. christmas day came with rain and small prospect of special enjoyment, and we all kept the shelter of the tent after hunting up the horses in mud ankle-deep. but our dinner was a royal feast, for mrs. thompson herself made a huge plum-pudding and prof. supplied butter and milk from kanab, making this feature of the holiday an immense success. in the evening a number of us rode up to the settlement to witness a dance that had been announced to take place in the schoolhouse, tabernacle, or town hall--the stone building in the corner of the fort which answered all these functions. the room was about 15 by 30 feet and was lighted by three candles, a kerosene lamp, and a blazing fire of pitch pine. two violins were in lively operation, one being played by lyman hamblin, a son of old jacob, and there was a refreshing air of decorous gaiety about the whole assemblage. dancing is a regular amusement among the mormons and is encouraged by the authorities as a harmless and beneficial recreation. at that time the dances were always opened with prayer. two sets could occupy the floor at one time and to even things up, and prevent any one being left out, each man on entering was given a number, the numbers being called in rotation. none of our party joined as we were such strangers, but we were made welcome in every respect. it was ten o'clock before we left, and the way being dim and muddy, midnight was on before we threw off saddles at our camp. the next morning work was begun on the base line, but for some days the weather was so bad that little was accomplished. the year 1871 ended in this way and we hoped the new one would be more propitious. footnotes: [footnote 24: five years later jacob came near being drowned in crossing here. lorenzo w. roundy was lost, as well as two waggons loaded with supplies. the scow they had tried to use tilted, throwing everything into the fierce torrent.] [footnote 25: it was in the rapid in marble canyon near the mouth of the canyon of this creek that frank m. brown was drowned in july, 1889.] [footnote 26: _jacob hamblin_, a narrative, etc. faith-promoting series--juvenile instructor office, salt lake city--1881.] [footnote 27: in 1864 the danger from the pai utes, who had not been well treated, increased till jacob had to take the matter in hand and made a visit to the place where they were gathering for attack. he was asked how many men he wanted to go with him, and he answered, "one, and no arms; not even a knife in sight."] chapter xii reconnoitring and triangulating--a pai ute new year's dance--the major goes to salt lake--snowy days on the kaibab--at pipe spring--gold hunters to the colorado--visits to the uinkaret country--craters and lava--finding the hurricane ledge--an interview with a cougar--back to kanab. new-year's day, 1872, passed with nothing more eventful than the return of john stewart in advance of the major with the news that they had succeeded in reaching the colorado at the foot of kanab canyon. they had given up the kaibab direction because of snow which interfered with their advance. he also said that riley had found gold at the mouth of the kanab. the telegraph operator was so deeply impressed with this statement that it was telegraphed as an item of news to salt lake. work on the base line went on daily by our topographical staff, but presently it was turned over to a special gang under captain dodds, so that the rest of us might be freed to carry on the triangulation. on monday the 15th, prof., jones, mac, and i started with some pack animals on a ten days' reconnaissance trip over the kaibab, first going to kanab for some supplies and taking dinner with jacob at the house of his wife louisa. according to the mormon custom, though it was not universal, jacob had several wives, i do not know how many. i met two, and he was besides that "sealed" to one or two pai ute women. sister louisa was the one i came to know best and she was a good woman. we had an excellent dinner with rich cream for the coffee which was an unusual treat. in all mormon settlements the domestic animals were incorporated at once and they received special care; butter, milk, and cheese were consequently abundant; but in a "gentile" frontier town all milk, if procurable at all, was drawn from a sealed tin. the same was true of vegetables. the empty tin was the chief decoration of such advance settlements, and with the entire absence of any attempt at arrangement, at order, or to start fruit or shade trees, or do any other sensible thing, the "gentile" frontier town was a ghastly hodge-podge of shacks in the midst of a sea of refuse. as pioneers the mormons were superior to any class i have ever come in contact with, their idea being home-making and not skimming the cream off the country with a six-shooter and a whiskey bottle. jacob's home was simple but it was comfortable. he was a poor man for he did his work for the people with very slight compensation. [illustration: the grand canyon. from part way down south side above bright angel creek.] from jacob's we proceeded to our old camp ground at eight-mile spring and there spent the night. prof. had forgotten his sextant and rode back to our main camp for it. we continued in the morning without him to a place farther east called navajo well, a deep spring in a sort of natural hole, somewhat aided by native hands, in the midst of some sloping, barren rocks, the last spot where one would look for water. a large flat stone covered the top, the water being dipped out at one side where there was a depression leading down to it. a careless man, or one not familiar with the country, might ride within a few yards of this spring without noticing its existence. prof. came along towards night and the next day we went on eastward to the top of the kaibab plateau and there put up a geodetic monument. here we made a dry camp having water for ourselves in a keg and some canteens, while the animals got along very well as there was a little snow on the ground. proceeding from this place eastward we came to the edge of the plateau opposite the largest of a series of four or five peculiar red sandstone peaks. the mormons had explored a waggon road across at this place and the grades were easy. we followed the road and reached house rock valley about ten miles north of house rock spring where we went to get water and camp. we had started late and by the time we got down into the valley darkness had fallen but a bright moon compensated for the absence of daylight, enabling us to see plainly our landmarks. we jogged along toward the spring and i sang _oh the lone starry hours, give me love_, when i was suddenly interrupted by old thunderbolt's pack loosening. thunderbolt was a horse that waited for such an event with remarkable docility and when it arrived he made the best of the opportunity to get even with us for drawing the lash-rope so tight. before i could dismount and lay hands on him the pack slipped back over his rump which was the signal he watched for. joyously flinging his heels in the moonlit air, jumping high off the ground the next instant, and then darting off into the misty night with a clatter and a whirl he spread the contents of that pack to all points of the compass. this revenge adequately accomplished we were permitted to catch him. a long search was necessary before we had gathered up all the things and replaced the pack on the now meek and patient thunderbolt, and half-past eight by the watch arrived as we got to water and supper. we put up another "station" back of house rock spring and spent a day reconnoitring. on sunday, january 21st, we went to red cliff and made a camp under some cedars, as we wished to put a station on the highest peak. the camp was a dry one, but we had the usual supply of water in the keg and canteens, and as the temperature was very low we did not get thirsty. there was an abundance of wood for the camp, but mac and i concluded we wanted more warmth and light, so we set fire to two large cedars that stood alone, and they made a superb illumination, burning all night. in the morning we got to the top of the cliff, and built a monument, with a high pole and flag, to which to "sight" from other geodetic points, while prof. took observations for time and latitude. when our work was finished we went back to house rock spring, arriving just before sunset. in the morning jones and i went across and climbed the kaibab, intending to put up a monument there, but we could find no proper site and returned to camp. prof. and mac had been off in another direction, but they got in just before supper-time. we had not finished this meal when, night having come on, we heard through the darkness sounds of some one approaching, and thirteen navajos one after the other came into the light of our fire, with their greeting of "bueno heh!" and camped just below us. some were mounted, some were on foot. the chief was ashtishkal, whom we had met before at the crossing of the fathers (el vado). they were all friendly, and did not intrude upon us. they were on their way north to trade with the mormons, having come across at the paria. the night was very cold, and a heavy, dry snow began to fall, so that in the morning when we arose we could see but a short distance. the navajos about sunrise stood silently in a circle till at a signal they all sat down and began singing, continuing for several minutes a low musical refrain, and then all rose to their feet again. they left us early, with friendly demonstrations, and went on their way towards kanab, while we moved to another spring in a gulch farther up the valley, where we made a tent out of a pair of blankets to keep off the snow. during the stormy night our animals started to leave us, travelling before the wind, but we suspected their intention and got out and headed them back, much to their disgust, no doubt. thursday, january 25th, came bright and clear, but still extremely cold. prof. with mac started across the kaibab by the trail, while jones and i went farther north by the waggon road referred to, camping near the station we had made on the way out. the next morning we did some work there, and then went on to the navajo well, reaching it at sunset, where we watered our stock and continued by moonlight through a piercing wind to eight-mile spring, which enabled us to reach our main camp in time for dinner on saturday the 27th. prof. got back the evening before at 7.30, having made another station on the kaibab on the way over and travelled twenty-five miles. about a mile from kanab the kaibab band of pai utes were encamped, and we had a good opportunity to visit them and study their ways.[28] the major was specially interested and made voluminous notes. they came to the village and our camp a great deal. while they were dirty, they were not more dishonest than white men, so far as i could learn. their wickiups, about seven feet high, were merely a lot of cedar boughs, set around a three-quarter circle, forming a conical shelter, the opening towards the south. in front they had their fire, with a mealing-stone or two, and round about were their conical and other baskets, used for collecting grass seeds, piñon nuts, and similar vegetable food, which in addition to rabbits formed their principal subsistence. at certain times they all went to the kaibab deer-hunting. their guns, where they had any, were of the old muzzle-loading type, with outside hammers to fire the caps. many still used the bow-and-arrow, and some knew how to make stone arrow-heads. we learned the process, which is not difficult. their clothing was, to some extent, deerskin, but mainly old clothes obtained from the whites. they made a very warm robe out of rabbit skins, twisted into a long rope and then sewed side to side into the desired size and shape. but when we traded for one of these as a curiosity we placed it beside a large ant hill for some days before bringing it into camp. they obtained fire by the use of matches when they could get them, but otherwise they used the single stick or "palm" drill. we went to the camp one moonlight night, january 6th, to see a sort of new-year's dance. they had stripped a cedar tree of all branches but a small tuft at the top, and around this the whole band formed a large circle, dancing and singing. the dancing was the usual hippity-hop or "lope" sideways, each holding hands with his or her neighbours. in the centre stood a man, seeming to be the custodian of the songs and a poet himself. he would first recite the piece, and then all would sing it, circling round at the same time. we accepted their cordial invitation to join in the ceremony, and had a lot of fun out of our efforts, which greatly amused them too, our mistakes raising shouts of laughter. the poet seemed to originate some of the songs, but they had others that were handed down. one of these, which i learned later, was: "montee-ree-ai-ma, mo-quontee-kai-ma umpa-shu-shu-ra-ga-va umpa-shu-shu-ra-ga-va umpa-ga-va, shu-ra-ga-va montee-ree-ai-ma." this, being translated, signifies that a long talk is enough to bore a hole in a cliff; at least, that was the interpretation we obtained. another popular one was: "ca, shakum, poo kai ca, shakum poo kai ca, shakum tee kai ca, shakum tee kai," these lines being repeated like the others over and over and over again. they were highly philosophical, for they explain that you must kill your rabbit (shakum) before you eat him. i do not remember that they sang these particular songs on that occasion, but they will serve as examples. on february 1st the major left camp for salt lake with mrs. powell and the baby. jack went along to accompany them as far as tokerville on the virgin river. before leaving, the major settled up with beaman, who was now to separate from the party. the major intended to go to washington to ask congress for another appropriation to continue the work of exploration and map-making when we had finished that already planned. on the 6th clem and bonnemort arrived from an expedition to make photographs down the kanab canyon, where the major had been with riley and dodds. they had met with bad luck, and did not get a single negative. the silver bath got out of order, and the horse bearing the camera fell off a cliff and landed on top of the camera, which had been tied on the outside of the pack, with a result that need not be described. bonnemort's time was now up; he wanted to go back to prospecting, and we reluctantly said good-bye to him. on the 16th of february, finding our central camp no longer practicable, we abandoned it and operated in small parties from various nearby points, finally returning again in three or four days to near the site of the old camp. macentee then wanted to go to prospecting also, and he departed. he was an interesting, companionable young man, educated at the university of michigan, seeking a fortune, and he was desirous of striking it rich. whether he ever did or not i have not learned. while camped below kanab, clem and i in walking one day saw a place where the creek which flowed on a level with the surroundings suddenly plunged into a deep mud canyon. this canyon had been cut back from far below by the undermining action of the falling water, and it was plain to see that it would continue its retrogression till it eventually reached the mouth of the great canyon several miles above, but i did not dream that it could accomplish this work as rapidly as it actually did years after. during a great flood it washed a canyon not only to kanab but for miles up the gorge, sweeping away at one master stroke hundreds of acres of arable land and leaving a mud chasm forty feet deep. had the fall we examined been arranged then so that the water might glide down, the fearful washout would not have occurred. there are thousands of places in the west to-day that require treatment to conserve arable land, and in time the task may be undertaken by the government. cap's health being such that he deemed it inadvisable to continue work in the field, he had severed his connection with the expedition, after finishing the preliminary map of green river, and was temporarily settled in kanab, where he had been for some time. on wednesday, february 21st, prof., mrs. thompson, and i took supper with him in one of the log houses at the fort, and on the 22d several of us accepted his invitation to dinner, a sort of farewell, for on the following day we started with our whole outfit for the kaibab. we were extremely sorry to lose cap, with his generous spirit and cheery ways, but when one has been punctured by a minie-ball he has to heed warnings. all day long we travelled through sandy hills gradually rising toward the plateau, the foot-hills of which we reached late in the afternoon. we had followed a waggon road with our pack-train up to this point, but here we struck off on a trail that was said to be a shorter way to the canyon we were aiming for, and a little before sunset we came to the brink of a steep slope, almost a cliff, where a picturesque, a romantic view opened before us. below stretched away to the south a narrow, deep, and sharply defined valley or canyon one-eighth mile wide, the bottom of which seemed perfectly flat. a light snow which had fallen the night before whitened the sharp slopes, but from the valley bottom it had melted away, leaving a clear line of demarkation on either side and producing an extremely beautiful effect under the evening glow. tall pine trees accented the scene, which was one of the most inviting i had ever beheld. one of our helpers from kanab had been over the trail, and led us down to a small but excellent spring, within a quarter of a mile of which we camped, passing a most comfortable night. before we had finished slinging the last pack in the morning, a heavy grey sky began to sift down thickly falling snowflakes gently as if not wishing to give alarm. but when we were fairly under way this mildness vanished, and the storm smote our caravan with fierce and blinding gusts, amidst which progress was difficult. after four miles up the valley through beautiful pine trees of great height, we came to a deserted log cabin only half roofed over, and there we stopped to make our temporary headquarters. the stewarts of kanab had started a saw-mill at this place, but as yet the work had not gone very far. the snow ceased by the time we had thrown off the packs, and we made ourselves as comfortable as circumstances permitted. prof. had a tent put up for mrs. thompson, while some took possession of the half-roofed house, for by keeping on the side where the board cover was they were slightly sheltered. with two or three of the others i pitched a small tent. there was plenty of fat pine, and rousing fires made the valley seem habitable. a fine little brook swept full grown fifteen inches in diameter from under a cliff two hundred feet above the valley bottom, and there was no lack of good water. our trouble was with the horses and mules, for we had no grain for them, and if the snow got very deep they would not be able to paw down to the bunch grass. the snow soon began again, and all night it fell with aggravating facility. sunday morning opened as leaden and dark as a february day could be, and there was no cessation of the showers of whiteness that were rapidly building up on the ground a formidable barrier to our operations. as i was wearing rather low brogans, having discarded top-boots as too close-fitting and uncomfortable around camp, i now made for myself a pair of leggins out of pieces of a common but heavy seamless sack. when these were buttoned in place they answered perfectly to protect my legs from the snow. we hoped monday would begin the week with a clear sky, but we were disappointed. we had to sally out to hunt horses, hoping at the same time to come across a deer, but that hope was not realised. as i got far from camp in the midst of the tall pines and the unbroken snow sheet, i suddenly became aware of a whispering sound, which i could not at first account for, as i did not believe in fairies. standing perfectly still, i perceived that it was produced by the friction of the snowflakes upon the pine needles. it was a weird, ghost-like language which i had never listened to before. prof. went up one thousand feet on the mountain and climbed a tree 125 feet high with a determination to see something in spite of the snow. he caught a glimpse of the south wall of the grand canyon near mt. trumbull, miles to the west. on tuesday he started george adair, one of our mormon assistants, back to kanab for more rations, and directed jones and captain dodds to get ready to start the next day for the south-east corner of the plateau, while andy and i were to go to the south-west corner. wednesday, february 28th, came clear, with the snow lying twelve inches on the level, but some of the horses were missing, and the day was spent in hunting this wayward stock, so it was not till thursday afternoon that we got started. our paths lying for a distance in the same direction, we four travelled together along a divide on the right or west of camp. it was slow work in the deep drifts, and we had not made many miles when night came on. we went into camp where we were. the horses bothered us by trying to go back searching for grass, and nobody could blame them. finally we tied the worst offender to a tree in a bare place where he might pick up a few mouthfuls of food, and we managed to sleep the rest of the night. the only sound i heard when i woke up at one time was the satirical voice of an owl in the far distance. it seemed to be saying very deliberately "poo-poo, poo-poo," and that did not sound respectful. the next morning was march 1st, and it brought a fine sky, which would have put us quickly on the way, or rather in motion toward our respective goals, as there was no road or trail, but one of our animals which bore the mysterious name of yawger, and which was the pack-horse of andy and me, could not be found. jones and dodds went on, as they would probably soon have to separate from us anyhow, while we took yawger's track, and at last found him browsing happily in a bare spot about a mile from our stopping place. it was two o'clock by the time we started on, floundering through the drifts in the trail of jones and dodds. some drifts were so high it was all we could do to wallow through them even after the others had in a measure broken the way. after two hours of hard work in this line we came to the edge of a wide gully, where the advance party had halted. the slope was towards the south and the ground was somewhat bare, with good bunch grass, where the other horses were feeding, while jones and dodds were just descending from a tall pine tree. they declared nothing but snow could be seen in all directions on the mountain and they were going back. besides it was impossible, they told me, to cross the gulch ahead. i did not want to turn back till i was compelled to, and i appealed to andy as to whether or not he wanted to give up, not wishing to drag him along unwillingly. with his characteristic nonchalance he said, "go ahead if you want to." dodds had one of his own horses with him, and he said he would bet me that horse i could not cross the gulch. i made a trial, wading ahead of my horse, the pack animal following and andy driving from behind. when i got into the middle it was all i could do to move, but i continued my efforts till suddenly the bottom seemed to rise, and then in a few yards the going grew easier and we emerged triumphantly on the other side, where we waved an adieu to the others. by keeping close to the boles of the large pine trees, where the wind had swept circular places, leaving the snow shallow, we were soon out of sight of our late companions. after two or three miles of tiring work the day began to fade, but we reached a beautiful south slope where there was little snow, with a rich crop of bunch grass just starting green under the vernal influence that was a feast for the famished horses, the snow relieving their thirst. while andy the ever-faithful got supper i reconnoitred and made up my mind that i could reach the locality i was trying for, by following a ridge i saw ahead where the snow seemed moderate. we were up and off early. the snow was deep but we got on quite rapidly and finally reached the ridge, crossing two big gulches to get to it. at eleven o'clock we were at the end of its summit and i could see a wide area to the west and north. the point appeared to be one of several similar projections though the one we were on was the most prominent. i selected a spot for a monument where we dug a hole in the rocks and dirt, and then cutting a tall slim pine and trimming it clean we hitched yawger to it and made him drag it to the hole, where by a combination of science and strength we got it upright. while andy, who had great strength, lifted and pushed after we had together got it half way, i propped it with a strong pole with a y on the end, and in a few moments we saw the flag waving triumphantly from its tip at least thirty feet above our heads. around its base we piled the rocks, which were exceptionally heavy, waist high, first cutting a notch in the pine and placing therein a can containing a record, and our "point f" was finished. the rest of the day i spent in triangulating to various other stations, and we went to bed under a clear sky and a milder atmosphere. in the morning i completed my triangulating work and by that time the snow had settled and melted so that the back track was much easier than the outward march, enabling us to get to headquarters at the spring before dark. i had been a little afraid that a heavy snow would come on top of the large drifts which would have held us prisoners for a day or two. on wednesday, march 6th, the whole party packed up and left the valley by its narrow canyon outlet, a tributary of the kanab canyon. it began eight hundred feet deep and continually increased. we called it shinumo canyon because we found everywhere indications of the former presence of that tribe. snow fell at intervals and we were alternately frozen and melted till we reached an altitude where the warmth was continuous and the snow became rain. grass fresh and green and shrubs with the feeling of early spring surrounded us at the junction with kanab canyon where the walls were twelve hundred feet high. a mile below we camped by a lone cedar tree where there were "pockets" of rain-water in the rocks. the next day our course was laid up kanab canyon through thick willows that pulled the packs loose. one horse fell upside down in a gully, but he was not hurt and we pried him out and went on, camping near a large pool of intensely alkaline water. on the 8th going up a branch on the left called pipe spring wash we came out on the surface, very much as one might reach a second floor by a staircase. this is a feature of the country and as one goes northward he arrives on successive platforms, in this manner passing through the several cliff ranges by means of transverse gorges that usually begin in small "box" canyons and rapidly deepen till they reach the full height of the cliff walls. at two o'clock we came to pipe spring. a vacant stone house of one very large room and a great fireplace was put at our disposal by mr. winsor the proprietor, and it was occupied by the men while prof. had a tent put up for mrs. thompson. we found a party of miners here who had heard of the gold discovery at the mouth of the kanab on the colorado and were heading that way to reap the first-fruits. they were soon followed by hundreds more, making a steady stream down the narrow kanab and out again for some time, for on reaching the river the limited opportunity to do any mining was at once apparent and they immediately took the back track swearing vengeance on the originator of the story. for protection against raiders mr. winsor was building a solid double house of blocks of sandstone, making walls three feet thick. the two buildings were placed about twenty feet apart, thus forming an interior court the length of the houses, protected at the ends by high walls and heavy gates. no windows opened on the exterior, but there were plenty of loopholes commanding every approach. a fine large spring was conducted subterraneously into the corner of one of the buildings and out again, insuring plenty of water in case of a siege. brigham young was part owner of this establishment, and it was one of the most effective places of defence on a small scale, that i have ever seen. it was never needed so far as i have heard, and even at the time i marvelled that it should be so elaborately prepared--far beyond anything else in the whole country. the cut opposite shows this fort as it was in 1903. clem here told prof. he did not care to stay with us any longer. ill success with his photographs had discouraged him, but prof. persuaded him to remain for a time. until march 21st we operated around pipe spring triangulating and recording the topography, and other data, when we packed our animals again and laid our course across the open country towards a range of blue mountains seen in the south-west. one of these had been named after senator trumbull by the major in the autumn of 1870. they were the home of the uinkarets and we called the whole group by that name, discarding north side mountains, the name ives had given when he sighted them in 1858 from far to the south. adjoining the uinkaret region on the west was the shewits territory where the howlands and dunn were killed. travelling across the dry plains we came to a well defined trail about sunset and followed it hoping that it would lead to water. we were not disappointed for it took us to a pool of rain-water in a little gulley at the foot of some low hills. a band of wild horses roamed the plain and as we had been told about a pool called the wild band pocket, we had no doubt this was the place. there was no wood anywhere, but a diligent search produced enough small brush to cook by, though andy had a hard time of it. clem's horse ran away from him and lost his gun, so he remained behind at pipe spring to hunt for the weapon. [illustration: winsor castle, the defensive house at pipe springs. photograph by h. arthur pomroy, 1903.] [illustration: little zion valley or the mookoontoweap, upper virgin river. photograph by h. arthur pomroy, 1903.] the next day we travelled on over hilly country, following a moccasin trail, with here and there cedar groves as we approached nearer to the mountains. on the edge of night traces of water were found in a gulch near the foot of trumbull, and while jack and a new member of our force, will johnson of kanab, dug for more, prof., jones, and i scoured the vicinity in search of a spring or pocket, but though we found many old wickiups there was no water. the uinkarets had evidently camped here in wet weather. when we returned we were told that the little trace of water in the gulch had disappeared completely after the digging, a sad development which was accepted by all but one old white horse which stood on the edge of the hole for an hour or more patiently waiting. our kegs and canteens provided enough to make bread which we ate with sorghum, and as early as possible in the morning we pushed on without breakfast, three men scouting ahead to discover the pool where the major in the autumn of 1870 had camped. prof. finally found it, a large pool of about a hundred barrels of clear, clean water, in a lava gulch, surrounded by cedar and piñon trees. andy then gave us breakfast and dinner at the same time, eleven o'clock. another new member of our party was beaman's successor, fennemore, from salt lake, who had joined us at pipe spring on march 19th, and he was prepared to photograph the region. we reconnoitred the neighbourhood during the afternoon, and the next morning jones and i rode in one direction around mount trumbull, while prof. and captain dodds rode the other way, to ascertain the lay of the land, and especially to find a ranch which some st. george men had started in this locality. jones and i met whitmore, the proprietor of the ranch, and a friend of his, who informed us the ranch was six miles farther on. we concluded not to go to it, but when prof. and captain dodds got in after dark they told us they had gone the whole way. the following day, monday march 25th, all the party except andy and a new member, alf young of kanab, climbed to the summit of mount trumbull, finding the ascent very gradual and easy and taking the horses to the top, which was 2440 feet above the pool and 8650 above sea level, commanding a magnificent view in every direction, as far to the south-east as mount san francisco. jones, jack, fennemore, and i remained there all night while the rest returned to camp. jones and i wanted to do some topographical work and get sights to some of our other stations, and fennemore, assisted by jack, wanted pictures. descending the opposite side the next day we went to a spring in an oak grove which prof. had seen, where the others were already encamped. on the 27th, prof. and i climbed a high cinder peak, of which there were many, to get a view, and then went to whitmore's ranch, where we had a talk with him to get points on the region. he told us he had followed a trail to the colorado, about twelve miles, to what he called the ute crossing. if i remember correctly he had taken a horse down at that point. the next day johnson and i put a signal flag on one of the high mountains, afterwards named logan, forming signal station number 7. this was a volcanic district and there were many old craters. near the oak spring camp was an extensive sheet of lava, seeming to have cooled but a year or two before. its surface was all fractured, but there were no trees on its lower extremity and where it had flowed around a hill its recent plasticity was exceedingly distinct. it had come from a crater, about five hundred feet high, two miles north. this had once been a cone but it was now disrupted, the lava having burst through to the north and to the south, leaving two sections standing, the stream to the south being one quarter mile wide and a mile and a half long, that on the north one mile wide and about the same in length. the depth of these streams was not far from thirty feet, and in spite of the exceedingly rugged surface the southern stream was marked by deeply worn trails running to and from a small spring situated in the middle of it. beside this spring one of the men from the ranch had found a human skeleton, covered with fragments of lava, with the decayed remains of a wicker water-jug between the ribs, marking some unrecorded tragedy. we estimated that less than three hundred years had passed since the last outburst from the crater. as there were pine trees a hundred years old on the lava where it was more disintegrated near the point of outpour, the age of the flow could not have been less than that. friday the 29th being cloudy and stormy nothing in the line of geodetic work was done and we could only rest in camp. dodds and jones who had gone to explore a way to the grand canyon came in reporting success. saturday morning jones and fennemore started for kanab to bring out more rations and meet us either at fort pierce or at berry's spring near st. george, while prof. with dodds and johnson went to try to follow the trail whitmore had told about to the river, but after four miles they gave it up and climbed by a side trail to the plateau again. they made a dry camp and the next day went on till they found water enough for the horses in some pools on the rocks, and here, leaving the others to continue the reconnaissance, prof. came back to our camp, arriving in a snow-storm. it had been snowing with us at intervals all day. the next day was april first, and with it came still heavier snow. we planned to move down to the edge of the grand canyon, and jack and andy started as jack wished to make some photographs there, but the snow continuing we concluded to wait till another day. when that came the snow was quite deep on the ground and was still falling hard, which it continued to do most of the time, preventing us from moving. fennemore had brought with him a copy of _the count of monte cristo_, which i had never read, and in its pages i soon became oblivious to the surroundings. the snow kept on the next day also and all the men out returned to the main camp, dodds and johnson having reached the river bank. when another morning dawned and showed no cessation of the aggravating storm, with the snow fifteen inches on the level, prof. said he would pack up friday the 5th and get down to lower country around st. george. the day came clear and sunny and the snow began to melt. we headed for the pine valley mountains back of st. george and made about twenty miles with no snow after the first six, the altitude dropping to where the temperature was milder. prof. had inquired at the ranch about trails, but there were so many cattle trails that we did not get on the right one. we made a dry camp and early the following morning went on, not being able to see any landmarks because of the clouds. half an hour after starting a thick snow-storm set in but we kept going, till in about a mile and a half the world seemed suddenly to end. above, below, and around us was a great blank whiteness. dismounting and cautiously advancing on foot we discovered that we were on the brink of a very high cliff. as we did not know which way to turn we threw off the packs and stopped where we were. spreading out blankets we scraped the snow from them into the kettles to melt for water. then by holding a blanket up over andy by the four corners he was able, with some chips he had previously chopped out of the side of a dead pine, to start a fire, by which he proceeded to cook dinner. when the snow fell less heavily we could peer down and then saw that the cliff was continuous in both directions. by half-past two, with our kegs and canteens filled with the snow water, we were again on the way following along to find a place to go down, but we saw none that seemed practicable, and at last, having made altogether five miles, we halted for the night in a grove of cedars, where we had a good fire and were comfortable though our rations were now growing scarce. snow at intervals continued all day up to bedtime. the next day was sunday. we travelled twenty miles along the line of cliffs and camped near a canyon in which we found pools of good water. we saw an antelope during the day but could not get it. andy baked up the last of our flour for supper and put on a pot of beans and one of dried peaches to cook for breakfast. the beans were edible in the morning and we disposed of them and the peaches and went on our way. after a day of many ups and downs we arrived about two o'clock at a ranch called gould's or workman's, where we bought five dollars worth of corn-meal and milk. we were now on what the inhabitants of the region called hurricane hill, and from this we applied the name hurricane ledge to the long line of sharp cliffs we had followed, which begin at the virgin river and extend, almost unbroken and eight hundred to a thousand feet high, south to the grand canyon, forming the western boundary of the uinkaret plateau. from gould's we had a waggon road and following it we were led to the brink of the hurricane ledge, where a road had been constructed to the bottom. before descending we took a final look at the enchanting view opening away to the north and north-west. at our feet was the virgin valley with the green fields of tokerville, while beyond rose magnificent cliffs culminating to the north-west in the giant buttes and precipices of the mookoontoweap, or, as the mormons call it, little zion valley. topping the whole sweep of magnificent kaleidoscopic topography were the pine valley mountains and the lofty cliffs of the colob and markargunt plateaus. it has ever since been my opinion that few outlooks in all the world are superior for colour and form to that stretching north from the northern part of the hurricane ledge.[29] descending to the valley we arrived just at dusk at berry's spring, where our waggon under the direction of jones had come with supplies. the spring was an excellent one and the rivulet flowing away from it was bordered with large wild-rose bushes. though the waggon and supplies were there jones was not, for we had expected to come in from farther west past fort pierce, and he had gone on to that place to tell us where he had decided to camp. clem had found his gun and come out with them, the others of the party being fennemore and george adair. jones came back the next day and prepared to start with andy and johnson for several days' work in the pine valley mountains, while jack, captain dodds, fennemore, and i were to return to the uinkaret region to complete certain work there. some goods to be distributed to the natives from the indian bureau arrived at st. george and prof. went there with george adair to have a talk with the indians to be found, and distribute goods. we had seen no indians at all in the uinkaret region. he discovered the shewits who came in to be afraid of us, thinking we wanted to kill them, but they were willing to accept anything they could get in the line of presents. hardly any would acknowledge themselves to be either uinkarets or shewits. on april 12th, according to the plan, jack, dodds, fennemore, and i started back to the uinkaret mountains, following the trail we had tried to strike coming out. it led past a place called fort pierce, a small stone building the settlers had formerly used as an advance post against the shewits and uinkarets. there we spent the night, and the next day after some trouble we got on the right trail, and on monday, the 15th of april, we again reached what we had called oak spring, near mount trumbull, and the southern flow of lava already described. the following day jack and fennemore went down to the brink of the grand canyon, at the foot of a sort of valley the uinkarets called toroweap, while with dodds i climbed the peak later named after senator logan, and attempted some triangulation, but the air was so murky i could not get my sights and had to return for them the next morning. the day after that we climbed mount trumbull, and i triangulated from there. one of my sights from logan was to a conical butte near which we had camped as we came out, and near which we had found a large ant-hill covered with small, perfect quartz crystals that sparkled in the sun like diamonds. when i sighted to this butte, for want of a better name, i recorded it temporarily as diamond butte, remembering the crystals, and the name became fixed, which shows how unintentionally names are sometimes bestowed. we examined the lava flows and the crater again, and i made a sketch in pencil from another point of view from one i had made during our former sojourn. then we joined jack and fennemore, who had been taking negatives at the canyon edge. on the 20th dodds and i climbed down the cliffs about three thousand feet to the water at a rapid called lava falls. across the river we could see a very large spring, but of course we could not get over to it. returning to oak spring, we spent there another night, and in the morning, while the others started for headquarters, i rode around to the ranch to inquire about a spring i had heard something about existing on the st. george trail; but the solitary man i found there, who came out of the woods in response to my shout, a walking arsenal, did not know anything concerning it. after drinking a quart or two of milk, which he kindly offered me, i rode on to join my companions by continuing around the mountain, "running in" the trail as i went with a prismatic compass. presently i saw a cougar sitting upright behind a big log, calmly staring at me, so i dismounted and sent a winchester bullet in his direction. my mule was highly nervous about firearms, and having to restrain her antics by putting my arm through the bridle rein, her snorting skittishness both at the rifle and the cougar disturbed my aim and my shot went a trifle under. the bullet seemed to clip the log, but if it hit the cougar the effect was not what i expected, for with a rush like a sky-rocket the animal disappeared in the top of the pine tree overhead, and i could see nothing more of it though i rode about looking for it. not wishing to dally here, i spurred on to overtake my party, but in trying a short cut i passed beyond them, as they had by that time halted in some cedars for lunch. the man at the ranch had told me that whitmore was due to arrive that day, and having missed a part of the trail by the short cut, i could not judge by the tracks as to where my party were, and not caring to waste time, i rode on and on till i had gone so far i did not want to turn back. evening came, but there was a good moon, and i did not stop till eight o'clock. the night was cold; the plain was barren and bleak. i had no coat, but with the saddle blanket and a handful of dead brush, which i burned by installments, i managed to warm myself enough to sleep by short intervals. i was on my feet with the dawn, but my mule was nowhere to be seen, though i had hoppled her well with my bridle reins. i tracked the mule about five miles to a muddy place where there had been water, caught her, and rode back to my saddle, when i continued my journey, running in the trail as i went. i became pretty thirsty and hungry, but the only thing for me to do was to continue to our main camp. had i gone back i might have missed our men again, for there had been some talk about a short-cut trail, and i feared they might try it. at two o'clock i reached black rock canyon, where there was a water-pocket full of warm and dirty water, but both the mule and i took a drink and i rode on, passing fort pierce at sunset. off on my right i perceived ten or twelve shewits indians on foot travelling rapidly along in indian file, and as the darkness fell and i had to go through some wooded gulches i confess i was a little uncomfortable and kept my rifle in readiness; but i was not molested and reached camp about ten o'clock, where i ate a large piece of bread with molasses, after a good drink of water, and went to bed. the others arrived the following afternoon. i had left notes for them by the trail in cleft-sticks, so they knew that i was ahead. this was the longest trip i ever made without water or food. we prepared to start out again in different directions; one party was to go to the pine valley mountains, another to pipe spring and the mouth of the paria to look after our property there, a third up the virgin valley for photographs, and a fourth to st. george and the virgin range of mountains south-west of that town. prof. headed this last party, and he took me as his topographical assistant. april 27th we rode into st. george, a town i was much interested to see. i found a very pretty, neat, well-ordered little city of about fifteen hundred population, with a good schoolhouse, a stone tabernacle with a spire, and a court house, the water running in ditches along the streets for irrigating purposes as well as for drinking. about a mile below the town we camped, and we could hear the band playing a serenade to one of the officials who was to start the next day on a long journey. after several days of feeling our way about in the rugged and dry region below st. george, we finally discovered a good water-pocket, from which prof. and i made a long, hard ride and climb, and about sunset camped at the base of what is now called mount bangs, the highest peak of the virgin mountains, for which we were aiming. the next day we climbed an additional eleven hundred feet to its summit, and completed our work in time by swift riding to get to our main camp at the water-pocket by half-past six. it was an easy trip back to st. george, following an old trail, and then we made our way to kanab again, where we put all our notes in shape and fitted out for the journey to the mouth of the dirty devil across the unknown country. [illustration: in the unknown country. photograph by j. k. hillers, 1872.] footnotes: [footnote 28: for the linguistic classification of stocks and tribes of the united states, see appendix, _the north americans of yesterday_, by f. s. dellenbaugh.] [footnote 29: for a description of little zion valley, see "a new valley of wonders," by f. s. dellenbaugh, _scribner's magazine_, january, 1904.] chapter xiii off for the unknown country--a lonely grave--climbing a hog-back to a green grassy valley--surprising a ute camp--towich-a-tick-a-boo--following a blind trail--the unknown mountains become known--down a deep canyon--to the paria with the _cañonita_--john d. lee and lonely dell. andy and captain dodds, who had gone to the mouth of the paria to ascertain the condition of our boats, returned may 15th, reporting the boats all right, but the caches we had left torn up by wolves and prospectors. the latter had stolen oars and other things, and gone down on a raft to be wrecked at the first rapid in marble canyon, where they just escaped with their lives. a settler had established himself there a short time before, the notorious john d. lee, who was reputed to have led the massacre of the unfortunate missourians at mountain meadows in 1857, and who had eluded capture all these years. he had been "cut off," nominally at least, from the mormon church, and had lived in the most out-of-the-way places, constantly on his guard. our men took all our ropes and remaining materials from the caches to his cabin, where they would be safe till our arrival. we prepared for the trip eastward across the unknown country to the mouth of the dirty devil river, and by the 22d of may i had completed the preliminary map of the region to westward which we had just reconnoitred. mrs. thompson was to stay in kanab, for prof. decided that it would not be advisable for her to accompany him on this journey, although she was the most cheerful and resolute explorer of the whole company. a large tent was erected for her in the corner of jacob's garden, and she was to take her meals with sister louisa, whose house stood close by. with fuzz, a most intelligent dog, for a companion in her tent and the genial sister louisa for a near neighbour she was satisfactorily settled. fuzz had the peculiarity of sympathising with the navajos in their contempt for the pai utes. the latter roused his ire on the instant, but when a navajo came up, with his confident step, fuzz would lie still, with merely a roll of the eye to signify that he was on guard. saturday, may 25th, our caravan of riders, pack animals, and a waggon moved slowly toward eight-mile spring, the first stop in prospect. i rode a brisk little horse which had received the lofty name of aaron. when we reached eight-mile spring about noon there was barely enough water for our animals and for cooking dinner, which compelled our going elsewhere to put on the finishing touches to our outfit before cutting loose from the settlements, and prof. directed the caravan to continue to johnson, farther east and up one of the canyons of the vermilion cliffs. he returned to kanab to make some final arrangements there, while we kept on to johnson, passing the little settlement of two or three houses, and making a camp two miles above, where the canyon bottom was wide and level. here we went over everything to be sure that all was in good order and nothing left behind. the animals were reshod where necessary, which operation kept andy and dodds busy all of sunday, the 26th. by thus making a start and proceeding a few miles all defects and neglects become apparent before it is too late to remedy them. on monday jack went back to kanab with the waggon, returning toward night with george adair. fennemore had started with them, but he had turned back after something forgotten, and they did not know whether or not he had come on. in the morning george went off to look for him, and met him down at the settlement. he had followed on the day before, but instead of turning up the johnson road, according to instructions, he had gone ahead on the road towards the paria settlement. finally concluding that he was wrong he had tried to correct his mistake by moonlight, but after a while gave it up, tied his mule, unsaddled, to a cedar, and claimed the protection of another for himself. during the night the mule chewed the bridle in two and departed for kanab, leaving fennemore, when daylight came, to walk some eight miles under a hot sun without water or breakfast to johnson. he was considerably used up by this episode, and put in the remainder of the day in recuperating. the evenings were wonderfully beautiful, and looking from a height the scene was exceptionally picturesque, with the red rocks, the warm sky, the camp equipage, and the air so still that the smoke of the camp-fires rose slender and unbroken till lost in the zenith. early wednesday morning prof. rode up on his powerful buckskin-coloured horse, and with johnson and me went over to our point b some miles away for some bearings, while fennemore rode in search of his abandoned saddle. by night there was nothing to interfere with our making the final start, which we did may 30th, proceeding up the canyon without mormon, one of our strongest horses, which by an accident had been injured so badly that he had to be left behind at johnson. he was a fractious, unruly beast, but with so great vitality that we were sorry not to have his services. he died a week or two later. towards night we passed another very small settlement called clarkston, and camped near it, the last houses we would see for some time. several pai utes hung around, and prof. engaged one called tom to accompany us as interpreter and, so far as he might know the country, as guide. the next day, after sixteen miles north-easterly up canyons, we entered about three o'clock an exceedingly beautiful little valley, with a fine spring and a small lake or pond at the lower end. george adair instantly declared that he meant to come back here to live, and after dinner when we reconnoitred the place he staked out his claim. all the next morning, june 1st, our way led over rolling meadows covered with fine grass, but about noon this ended and we entered the broken country of the upper paria, with gullies and gulches barren and dry the rest of the day, except two, in which we crossed small branches of the paria. in one of the dry gulches we passed a grave, marked by a sandstone slab with e. a. cut on it, which the wolves had dug out, leaving the human bones scattered all around. we could not stop to reinter them. they were the remains of elijah averett, a young mormon, who was killed while pursuing pai utes in 1866. just before sunset we arrived at the banks of the paria, where we made camp, with plenty of wood, water, and grass. captain dodds during the afternoon recognised a place he had been in when hunting a way the autumn before, and we followed his old trail for a time. leaving the paria the following day where it branches, we followed the east fork to its head, twelve miles, climbing rapidly through a narrow valley. we could plainly see on the left a high, flat, cliff-bounded summit, which was called table mountain, and early in the afternoon we reached a series of "hog-backs," and up one of which the old indian trail we were now following took its precarious way. the hog-backs were narrow ridges of half-disintegrated clay-shale, with sides like the roof of a house, the trail following the sharp summit-line. before we had fairly begun this very steep, slippery, and narrow climb, the thunder boomed and the heavens threw down upon us fierce torrents of rain, soaking everything and chilling us through and through, while making the trail like wet soap. part way up, at one of the worst places, a pack came loose, and, slipping back, hung on the rump of the horse. there was no room for bucking it off, and there was no trouble so far as the beast of burden was concerned, for he realised fully his own danger. two of us managed to climb along past the other animals to where he meekly stood waiting on the narrow ridge, with a descent on each side of eight hundred or nine hundred feet, and set things in order once more, when the cavalcade continued the ascent, the total amount of which was some twelve hundred feet. arriving at the top we found ourselves almost immediately on the edge of a delightful little valley, mossy and green with a fresh june dress, down which we proceeded two or three miles to a spring where dodds and jacob had made a cache of some flour the year before. the flour had disappeared. we made a camp and dried out our clothes, blankets, etc., by means of large fires. though it was summer the air was decidedly chilly, for we were at an altitude of nearly 6000 feet. our interpreter that was to be did not enjoy the situation and i think he dreaded meeting with the stranger indians we might encounter. he declared he was "heap sick," and begged to be allowed to return, so prof. gave him several days' rations and we saw him no more. there was a pretty creek in this valley flowing eastward, which dodds said was the head of the dirty devil, the same stream he had followed down the year before in the attempt to find a way to bring us rations. the weather was very bad but we kept on down potato valley as it had been named, crossing three or four swift tributaries. about four o'clock we stopped beside a raging torrent and went into camp to reconnoitre. there were signs of some one having been here about a month before, and as the animals were shod we judged it was some prospector. the next day was so wet and prof. was feeling so sick that we kept our camp, having made tents out of paulins and pack-covers, which gave me a chance to plot up the trail from kanab to this point, one hundred and three miles. instead of crossing the torrent the following day, june 5th, we went over the chief stream before the union and travelled down the right-hand side till we arrived within half a mile of the place where the river canyoned and received a tributary from the left. it cut into the rocks very abruptly and being high we could not enter the canyon as dodds had done. while the party camped here, prof. and dodds rode away to the south on a dim trail to find out what move to make; how far we might be able to go down the dirty devil the next day. when they got back they reported finding a canyon twelve miles farther on, with many water-pockets, and concluded to go there. we arrived about noon thursday, june 6th, making camp. prof. and dodds then climbed to where they could get a wide view, and dodds pointed out the locality he had before reached when he thought himself so near the mouth of the dirty devil. no sooner had he done so than prof. perceived at once that we were not on the river we thought we were on, for by this explanation he saw that the stream we were trying to descend flowed into the colorado far to the south-west of the unknown mountains, whereas he knew positively that the dirty devil came in on the north-east. then the question was, "what river is this?" for we had not noted a tributary of any size between the dirty devil and the san juan. it was a new river whose identity had not been fathomed. this discovery put a different complexion on everything. the problem was more complicated than dodds had imagined when he was trying to reach the mouth the year before. prof. declared it was impossible to proceed farther in this direction towards our goal. the canyon of the river was narrow, and with the stream swimming high it was out of the question as a path for us now, and even had we been able to go down far enough to get out on the other side, the region intervening between it and the distant mountains was a heterogeneous conglomeration of unknown mesas and canyons that appeared impassable. he concluded the only thing to do was to go north to the summit of the wasatch cliffs and keep along the high land north-east to an angle where these slopes vanished to the north. from that point we might be able to cross to the dirty devil or unknown mountains. once at these mountains we felt certain of finding a way to our former camp-ground at the mouth of the dirty devil river. we retraced our path to the foot of potato valley, and there jones, clem, and george adair were sent out to kanab for additional rations, it being plain that we were in for a longer effort than had been contemplated. they were to be here again in twelve days to meet prof. with his party, on the return from starting down the _cañonita_ with a crew selected from the seven remaining men. this seven, which included prof., were now to strike up a branch creek and reach the upper slopes of what he later called the aquarius plateau, and along its verdant slopes continue our effort to reach the unknown mountains. the two parties separated on saturday, june 8th, our contingent travelling about eighteen miles nearly due north, till just at sunset we entered a high valley in which flowed two splendid creeks. there we camped with an abundance of everything needed to make a comfortable rest for man and beast. in such travel as this the beast is almost the first consideration, for without him movement is slow and difficult and distance limited. we had gone up in altitude a great deal, 1800 or 2000 feet, and the next day, which was sunday, we continued this upward course, seeing signs of deer and elk with an occasional sight of a fat "pine hen" winging its heavy flight from tree to tree. the pines were very tall and thick, interspersed with fir and balsam as well as with the usual accompaniment of high altitude in the west, the aspen. our aneroids indicated 10,000 feet above sea-level, and we could look down upon the vast canyoned desert to the south as on a map. descending into a deep canyon where a clear torrent was foaming down at the rate of five hundred feet to the mile, we went up a branch and finally passing over a sudden crest discovered before us a very beautiful lake of an extent of some two hundred acres. it was now late, and though we had come only ten miles we went into camp for the night. there were several smaller lagoons nearby and we named the group the aspen lakes. around them in the dense groves huge snowbanks still lingered from the heart of winter. a prettier mountain region than this could not be imagined, while the magnificent outlook to the south and east across the broken country was a bewildering sight, especially as the night enveloped it, deepening the mystery of its entangled gorges and cliffs. from every point we could see the navajo mountain and at least we knew what there was at the foot of its majestic northern slope. i climbed far above camp and crossing over a promontory looked down upon the nebulous region to the eastward that we were to fathom, and it seemed to me one of the most interesting sights i had ever beheld. the night was so cold that ice formed in our kettles, for our altitude in feet above sea was in the ten thousand still. [illustration: navajo mountain from near kaiparowits peak. photograph by j. k. hillers, 1872.] all the next morning, monday, june 10th, we rode through a delightful region of rolling meadows, beautiful groves of pines and aspens, and cool, clear creeks. near noon we descended into a fertile valley where we crossed two superb torrential streams and camped at the second under a giant pine. fennemore felt very sick, which prevented further progress this day, and we put in the afternoon exploring as far as we could the neighbourhood. more lakes were found and as they were in a cup-like depression we called them the "hidden lakes." jack made some fine negatives of several of these pretty bodies of water, two of which i have added to the illustrations of this volume. not far from our camp two more splendid creeks came together to form one, which dodds said he thought was that named by them big boulder, where it joined the main stream down below. the next morning, tuesday, we began our day's work by soon crossing cataract and cascade creeks before they united to form the big boulder, rushing down with an impetuosity that was forbidding. the two forming creeks were much alike, but we could see back in the distance a beautiful cascade of fully 1000 feet in which the second stream originated, and we distinguished it by that name. all day we travelled over a rancher's paradise, meeting no indians and seeing no recent signs of any except in some filmy smoke mounting mysteriously from canyons in the tangled sandstone labyrinth below. who were they, how many, and what might be their temper? were questions that came to us as we reflected on the presence there of unknown human beings, and furthermore would we meet them, and if so when? as on the preceding day we crossed many fine brooks which in the dry season probably would not make so vigorous a showing. late in the afternoon, having travelled fifteen miles, we reached the point where the end of the wasatch or aquarius plateau, the high slope of which we were using as a bridge from potato valley to the unknown mountains, broke back to the north, cutting us off once more from our objective, for a wide stretch, twenty-five miles in an airline, of ragged desert apparently impassable still intervened. we camped there at a convenient little spring. in the morning i was sent with johnson for my companion in one direction down the mountain to look for some old trail, while prof. with dodds went in another. scarcely had i gone half a mile when i found tolerably fresh indian sign, and a mile or two farther on we struck a recently travelled trail. the horses that had gone over it were unshod and there were moccasin tracks indicating indians without a doubt, but what kind of course the track did not reveal. the trail led towards the dirty devil mountains, and we followed it three or four miles to ascertain with certainty its general course. there was a possibility of our stumbling upon the indians in camp at some bend, and as this was not desirable for only two of us we turned back as soon as we felt sure of the direction. prof. had seen no trail at all, and he said we would take the one i had found and follow it. that night was disagreeable and rainy with numberless mosquitoes, but worst of all one of our new men always snored till the ground shook, and owing to the rain we could not get away from him, for we had to remain in the improvised tent to keep dry. the morning light never was more welcome and we were all up early. the day was fair. we were soon off and made our way down from the grassy heights to the trail, tracing its wearisome twists and turns, sometimes thinking it was not going our way at all when the next turn would be exactly right. in general its course was about east. the land was desolate and dry, and exactly as the region appeared from above, a complete labyrinth of variously coloured cliffs and canyons. besides being very crooked on account of the nature of the topography, the trail at times was indistinct because of the barren rocks, smooth as a floor, with nothing to take an imprint. in these places we were obliged to make the best guess we could. we came to a place where a valley lay about 1800 feet below us, with the descent to it over bare, smooth, white sandstone almost as steep as a horse could stand on. we travelled a mile and a half over this and then found ourselves in a better looking region where, after a few miles, we discovered a beautiful creek flowing rapidly. there was plenty of good grass and we made our camp beneath some cottonwood trees, having accomplished twenty miles the way we came. smoke of an indian fire was rolling up about three miles below us, but we paid little attention to it. every man delayed putting down his blankets till the champion snorer had selected the site of his bed, and then we all got as far away as the locality would permit. having slept little the night before, we hardly stirred till morning, and in gratitude we called the stream pleasant creek without an attempt at originality. it was friday, may 14th, and our long cavalcade proceeded in the usual single file down along the creek in the direction of the indian smoke. scarcely had we gone three miles when suddenly we heard a yell and the bark of a dog. then we discovered two squaws on the other side who had been gathering seeds, and who were now giving the alarm, for we were close upon an indian camp set on the edge of a low hill on the opposite side of the creek. our outfit presented rather a formidable appearance, especially as we were an unexpected apparition, and we could see them all running to hide, though i thought for a moment we might have a battle. without a halt, prof. led the way across the creek to the foot of the hill, and as we reached the place one poor old man left as a sacrifice came tottering down, so overcome by fear that he could barely articulate, "hah-ro-ro-roo, towich-a-tick-a-boo," meaning very friendly he was, and extending his trembling hand. doubtless he expected to be shot on the instant. with a laugh we each shook his hand in turn saying "towich-a-tick-a-boo, old man," and rode up the hill into the camp, where we found all the wickiups with everything lying about just as they had been using it at the moment of receiving the alarm. we dismounted and inducing the terrified old man to sit down in one of the wickiups, prof. sat with him and we rolled cigarettes, giving him one, and when all were smoking, except prof. who never used tobacco, we urged him in english and pai ute and by signs to call the others back. i walked a few yards out on the hill and just then, with a rush and a clatter of language i could not understand, except "impoo immy pshakai?" (what do you want?) the two squaws who had been up the creek arrived. the foremost one, frothing at the mouth with excitement and effort, dashed at me with an uplifted butcher knife as if she would enjoy sending it into me, but i laughed at her and she halted immediately in front of me. she broke into a maniacal laugh then and shouted something to the hidden refugees. we persuaded the old man also to call them, and he stepped out from the cedars which grew on the point and spoke a loud sentence. at last they began to appear silently and one by one. there were eight of the men, all well dressed in buckskin, and a number of women and children. when they became confident that we really meant to be friendly they relaxed their vigilance. with the hope of securing a guide and also to study them a little we went into camp in the creek bottom under the hill where they came to visit us. their language and appearance showed them to be utes. when prof. got back to kanab he heard that a party of red lake utes had killed a white boy near the sevier settlements, and he concluded this band must have been the one. they probably thought we were pursuing them into their secret lair to punish them. their great anxiety to trade for powder indicated their lack of that article and partly explained the precipitousness of their retreat. they had numbers of well dressed buckskins and a very small amount of powder would buy one, but as we had only metallic cartridges we could do little in the line of exchange. to satisfy one of them that we had no loose powder i removed the spring from the magazine of my winchester and poured the sixteen cartridges out. he had never seen such a gun before and was greatly astonished, though he hardly understood how it worked. prof. tried his best to persuade one to go with us as a guide, for the labyrinth ahead was a puzzle, but whether through fear or disinclination to leave friends not one would go. the chief gave us a minute description of the trail to the unknown or dirty devil mountains as well as he could by signs and words, some of which we could not understand, and long afterwards we learned that his information was exactly correct, though at the time through misunderstanding we were not able to follow it. they also told us there was a trail to the big river beyond the mountains. there was a little canyon in the creek nearby and the water rushed down over a bed of bare rock at an angle of about twenty degrees. we were surprised to discover hundreds of fish six to nine inches long wriggling up the stream along one edge where the water was very shallow. they formed a line from top to bottom. unable to secure the guide, we left at six o'clock in the morning, saturday, june 15th, with all our relations cordial, the utes going away before we did, and struck out on the trail which led south-eastward from this camp. travelling twelve miles, we passed through a narrow canyon into a larger one, believing that we were following the chief's direction. recent heavy rains had washed out the trail, and not knowing its course it was impossible to keep even its general direction. going up a left-hand branch of the canyon--that is, to the north--we found no exit, so we came down and followed a trail up the right-hand branch till it disappeared, then going back once more to the entrance we again went up the left-hand branch till we came to a vertical wall one thousand feet high, which turned us around. the right-hand one was entered another time, and towards its head where the cliffs could not be climbed we made camp, with an abundance of water which was so strongly alkaline we could not use it and had to keep the stock from it also. our kegs were full and we did not suffer except by limitation. in the morning we continued up the same canyon till it ended in vertical cliffs, beneath which there was a large pool of pure cool water, with ferns clinging above it to the rocks and rank vegetation all around. this was an immense relief, and we found it hard to turn our backs on so attractive a spot and go down the gorge once more to a point not far below our last camp. here the walls were about a thousand feet and very precipitous, though somewhat broken. prof., jack, dodds, and i climbed out on the north and hunted for water in different directions on the top. i kept on and on down a dry wash, persisting against the objection of dodds, who thought it useless, and was at last rewarded by discovering a pocket among the rocks containing several barrels of water, with another that was larger a short distance below in a crevice on a rock-shelf at the brink of a canyon. we returned to camp with this news, where prof. and jack soon joined us. they had found no pockets, but had seen the divide between the waters of the colorado and the dirty devil, which we could follow to the mountains if we could scale the cliffs. prof. had selected a point where he thought we could mount. with a liberal use of axe, shovel, and pick we succeeded in gaining the summit in an hour and a half. with all the cliff-climbing we had done with horses this seemed to me our paramount achievement. the day was ending by this time, and i led the way with some trepidation towards the pocket i had found, for in my haste to get back i had not carefully noted the topography. the cedars and piñons all looked alike in the twilight shades, and as i went on and on the men behind began to lose faith and made joking remarks about my mental status. i felt certain i was right, yet the distance seemed so much greater in the dusk than when i had traversed it on foot that i was a little disturbed. by the time we at last got to the pocket darkness was upon us, though nobody cared for anything but water, and there it was fresh and pure. the animals and ourselves (andy filling the kettles first) consumed the entire amount, but it gave each a full drink, and we held the second pool in reserve. [illustration: tantalus creek. tributary of frémont river. photograph by j. k. hillers.] [illustration: d. preliminary map of a portion of the northern part of the unknown country indicated by the blank space on map a at page 95, showing the course of part of glen canyon, the mouth of the frémont (dirty devil) river, the henry (unknown) mountains, and the trail of the first known party of white men to cross this area. the escalante river, which was mistaken for the dirty devil, enters the colorado just above the first letter "o" of colorado at the bottom of the map. the dirty devil enters from the north at the upper right-hand side.] when morning came we engineered a way for the animals down to the shelf where the other pocket was, twenty or thirty feet below, by pulling rocks away in places and piling them up in others. the shelf was perhaps fifty or sixty feet wide, with a sheer plunge of one thousand feet at the outer end into the first canyon we had followed. the animals could not get to the water, but we dipped it out for them in the camp kettles. the way up from the shelf was so very steep that at one point two of us had to put our shoulders to the haunches of some of the horses to "boost" them, while other men pulled on a strong halter from above, and in this way we soon had them all watered and ready for pack and saddle. keeping along the divide we had comparatively easy going, with the unknown mountains ever looming nearer, till their blue mystery vanished and we could discern ordinary rocks and trees composing their slopes. about noon we arrived at the edge of an intervening valley, with the wind blowing so fierce a gale that we could barely see. crossing this depression we reached a small creek at the foot of the second mountain from the north (now mt. pennell), and climbed its slope seventeen hundred feet to a beautiful spring, where we camped, with plenty of fine grass for the famished horses. we had at last traversed the unknown to the unknown, and felt well satisfied with our success. if it had ever been done before by white men there was no knowledge of it. the temperature was so low that water froze in the camp kettles, and next morning, june 18th, the thermometer stood at 28° f., with the water of the little brook running from the spring at 37° f. after breakfast prof., jack, and dodds climbed the mountain on which we were camped, running their aneroid out, while with johnson i went down the slope north, crossed the pass, and climbed the first mountain (now mt. ellen, after mrs. thompson). a severe snow-storm set in, and when we had finally attained a point where our aneroid indicated 11,200 feet above sea-level, we were obliged to turn back because of the lateness of the hour and having no coats, no food, or water. when we reached camp on the other mountain night had come. andy had been trying to cook some beans, but the high altitude prevented the water from getting hot enough and the operation was incomplete.[30] i foolishly ate some of the beans, being very hungry, with the result that i was sick for the first time on the expedition, suffering a horrible stomach-ache. though not disabled i was extremely uncomfortable. in the morning we started to go around north through the pass to the east side of the mountain, and i ran in the trail as usual, mounting and dismounting many times, till i was extremely glad after eight miles when we came to the head of a little creek and stopped to enable prof. to climb the third peak (mt. hillers) for observations. while he was gone i was content to lie still in the shade of a bush, and finally lost my pain in sleep. prof. got back so late that we camped where we were, much to my satisfaction. the view from our camp was extensive and magnificent, the whole dirty devil region lying open, like a book, below us. we were striking for the creek up which prof. and cap. had come the year before from the river, for we knew that from its mouth we could easily get to where our _cañonita_ was cached. the next day, june 20th, we continued down trachyte creek, as prof. called it, till four o'clock, passing many old camps and grazing grounds, when we halted for prof. to climb to a height. the outlook there showed him that this was not the stream whose canyon below we wanted to descend to the river, so the following morning he took dodds and reconnoitred, the latter after a while returning with orders for us to come on eastward to another canyon. we left trachyte creek and reached prof. at two o'clock. he had prospected a trail, or rather a way, to descend into the canyon over the smooth bare sandstone across which we wound back and forth for a mile, constantly going down into the strange, weird depths till at last we reached the creek bed, where a short distance below we went into camp in a beautiful green cottonwood grove, with enormous pockets of good water close by. by seven o'clock in the morning of the 22d we were going on down the deep, narrow canyon, and arrived at the colorado at half-past ten. the river was at least fifteen feet higher than last year, and rushed by with a majestic power that was impressive. our first unusual incident was when prof.'s horse, in trying to drink from a soft bank, dropped down into the swift current and gave us half an hour's difficult work to get him out. when we had eaten dinner we all went up to the mouth of the dirty devil, where we had stored the _cañonita_, and rejoiced to find her lying just as we left her, except that the water had risen to that level and washed away one of the oars. we caulked the boat temporarily, launched her once more on the sweeping tide, and in two minutes were at our camp, where we hauled her out for the repairs necessary to make her sound for the run to the paria. sunday was the next day, june 23d, and while the others rested i plotted in the trail by which we had crossed to this place so that prof. could take it out with him, as he decided that jack, johnson, fennemore, and i were to take the boat down, while he, andy, and dodds would go back overland to meet jones and george adair at the foot of potato valley. at five o'clock they left us, going up the same canyon we had come down and which we called lost creek canyon, now crescent creek. the next day we recaulked and painted the boat, and i put the name _cañonita_ in red letters on the stern and a red star on each side of the bow. by wednesday the 26th she was all ready and we put her in the water and ran down four miles to the large shinumo house. jack rowed the stern oars, johnson the bow, i steered, while fennemore sat on the middle deck. the high water completely obliterated the aggravating shoals which had bothered us the year before, and we had no work at all except to steer or to land, the current carrying us along at a good pace. we stopped occasionally for pictures and notes and got about everything that jack and fennemore wanted in the line of photographs. the fourth of july we celebrated by firing fourteen rounds, and i made a lemon cake and a peach-pie for dinner. on sunday the 8th we passed the mouth of the stream that had been mistaken for the dirty devil, and which prof. had named escalante river. it was narrow and shallow and would not be taken at its mouth for so important a tributary. the next day we passed the san juan which was running a very large stream, and camped at the music temple, where i cut jack's name and mine under those of the howlands and dunn. the rapid below was dashing but easy and we ran it without stopping to examine. on friday the 12th we came to el vado and dug up a cache we had made there the year before. our rations for some time were nothing but bread and coffee, and we were glad to see the echo peaks and then run in at the mouth of the paria on saturday, july 13th, with the expectation of finding men and supplies. the _dean_ was lying high and dry on the bank and we wondered who had taken her from her hiding-place. firing our signal shots and receiving no answer, jack and i went up the paria, crossing it on a log, and saw a cabin and a farm on the west side. this we knew must be lee's. he was ploughing in a field, and when he first sighted us he seemed a little startled, doubtless thinking we might be officers to arrest him. one of his wives, rachel, went into the cabin not far off and peered out at us. she was a fine shot as i afterwards learned. lee received us pleasantly and invited us to take our meals at his house till our party came. as we had nothing but bread and coffee and not much of these we accepted. the fresh vegetables out of the garden, which his other wife, mrs. lee xviii., served nicely cooked, seemed the most delicious food that could be prepared. mrs. lee xviii. was a stout, comely young woman of about twenty-five, with two small children, and seemed to be entirely happy in the situation. the other wife, whose number i did not learn, left before dark for a house they had at jacob's pool and i never saw her again. [illustration: example of lakes on the aquarius plateau. photograph by j. k. hillers.] lee had worked hard since his arrival early in the year and now had his farm in fairly good order with crops growing, well irrigated by the water he took out of the paria. he called the place lonely dell, and it was not a misnomer. johnson made arrangements to go to kanab the next day, as he concluded that his health would not permit him to go through the grand canyon with us, so this was our last night with him. lee gave me his own version of the mountain meadows massacre claiming that he really had nothing to do with it and had tried to stop it, and when he could not do so he went to his house and cried. the pai utes ever after called him naguts or crybaby.[31] in the morning, sunday, july 14th, johnson departed with lee and we expected someone to arrive to bring us news of the major and prof., but the sun went down once more without any message. we felt sure that prof. got out of the dirty devil country without accident, but we wanted some definite information of it and we also desired to know when we would resume the canyon voyage. on monday having nothing else to do we took some hoes and worked in lee's garden till near noon, when we heard yells which proved to come from andy and clem with a waggon needing some help over bad places. we soon had the waggon in a good spot under some willows and there speedily ransacked it for mail, spending the rest of the day reading letters and newspapers. andy told us that prof. had reached kanab with no trouble of any kind. mrs. lee xviii., or sister emma, as she would in utah properly be called, invited us to dinner and supper, and the next day we worked in the garden again, repaired the irrigating ditch, and helped about the place in a general way, glad enough to have some occupation even though the sun was burning hot and the thermometer stood at 110° in the shade. almost every day we did some work in the garden and we also repaired the irrigating dam. our camp was across the paria down by the colorado, and when brother lee came back the following sunday he called to give us a lengthy dissertation on the faith of the latter-day saints (mormons), while andy, always up to mischief, in his quiet way, delighted to get behind him and cock a rifle. at the sound of the ominous click lee would wheel like a flash to see what was up. we had no intention of capturing him, of course, but it amused andy to act in a way that kept lee on the _qui vive_. we got the _nell_ out of her shed and found her in very bad condition, while the _dean_ was about as we had left her. andy and jack went to work on the _dean_ and in a few days had her in excellent trim. on july 24th, which is the day the mormons celebrate for the settlement of salt lake valley, lee invited us to dinner and supper, which gave us a very pleasant time. so far as our intercourse with lee was concerned we had no cause for complaint. he was genial, courteous, and generous. a copy of deforrest's _overland_ was in camp and i whiled away some hours reading it, but time began to hang heavily upon us and we daily longed for the appearance of the rest of the party so that we might push out on the great red flood that moved irresistibly down into the maw of marble canyon, and end the uncertainty that lay before us. august the first came and still no message. fennemore now felt so sick that jack took him to lee's with rations in order that he might have vegetables with his meals with the hope that he would recover, but he grew worse, and on august 4th he decided that he would return to his home in salt lake. we concluded that one of us must go to kanab to inform prof. of the state of affairs, and clem in his big-hearted way offered to do this, but we knew that his sense of locality was defective and that he might get lost. consequently we played on him an innocent trick which i may now tell as he long ago went "across the range." i planned with andy that we three were to draw cuts for the honour of the ride and that andy was to let me draw the fatal one. clem was greatly disappointed. jack went on a chase after nig and ran him down about sunset, for nig was the most diplomatic mule that ever lived. having no saddle i borrowed one from lee who let me have it dubiously as he feared we might be laying some trap. i gave him my word that while i had his saddle no man of ours would molest him, and furthermore that they would befriend him. i rode away while he remarked that in the rocks he could defy an army, with regret still in his eyes, though he accepted my pledge. i got out a few miles before dark and slept by the roadside, with the distant murmur of rapids speaking to me of the turmoil we were soon to pass through. by noon of the next day i was at jacob's pool, by half-past three at house rock spring, and at night in summit valley where i camped. the day was so hot that i could hardly bear my hand on my rifle barrel as it lay across my saddle. my lunch of jerked beef and bread i ate as i rode along thus losing no time. the trail across the kaibab was not often travelled, and it was dim and hard to follow, a faint horse track showing here and there, so i lost it several times but quickly picked it up again, and finally came out of the forest where i could see all the now familiar country to the west and north. about two o'clock i arrived at kanab and rode to jacob's house where sister louisa told me that the major, prof., mrs. thompson, professor de motte, and george adair had left that very morning for the south end of the kaibab on the way to the paria, and that jones and lyman hamblin the day before had started for the paria with a waggon load of supplies drawn by a team of four broncho mules. nig being very tired i thought i would rest till morning, when he rewarded my consideration by eluding me till ten o'clock. this gave me so late a start that it was dark and rainy when i descended the east side of the kaibab, and i had to drag nig down the 2000 feet in the gloom over boulders, bushes, ledges, or anything else that came, for i could see only a few feet and could not keep the trail. i reached house rock spring at last and camped there. in the morning i discovered jones and lyman down in the valley and joined them for breakfast, after which i helped them start. this was no easy matter, for the four mules they had in harness, with one exception, were as wild as mountain sheep, having only recently been broken. jones had been badly kicked three times, his hands were burned by the ropes, and there was a lively time whenever the excited animals were put to the waggon. the road was new, only a waggon track in reality, and the mules became more and more docile through exhaustion as the day went on. at night they were far safer to handle than in the morning. july 9th about dark we arrived at lonely dell, lee stealing suspiciously in behind where i was walking, to ask me who the men were and what they wanted. we had a joyful time, especially as steward had sent out a large box of fine candy which we found in the mail and opened at once. four days later the major and his party came from the kaibab and we had venison for supper. the major said we would go on down the colorado as soon as possible though the water was still very high. [illustration: the grand canyon near mouth of shinumo creek the river is in flood and the water is "colorado." sketch made in colour on the spot by f. s. dellenbaugh. july 26, 1907.] footnotes: [footnote 30: we had not yet learned to put a tight cover on the bean pot, and then by means of a big stone on the cover and a hot fire create an artificial atmosphere within it, thus raising the temperature.] [footnote 31: lee was executed for the crime five years later, 1877. others implicated were not punished, the execution of lee "closing the incident."] chapter xiv a company of seven.--the _nellie powell_ abandoned.--into marble canyon.--vasey's paradise.--a furious descent to the little colorado.--a mighty fall in the dismal granite gorge.--caught in a trap.--upside down.--a deep plunge and a predicament.--at the mouth of the kanab. we now missed steward, cap, and beaman more than ever, for we had been unable to get anyone to take their places. the fact was our prospective voyage through marble and grand canyons was considered almost a forlorn hope and nobody cared to take the risk. the plan had been to give me the steering of the _cañonita_, but now with three boats and only seven to man them it was plain that one must be abandoned. an examination of them all showed that the _nellie powell_ was in the poorest condition and she was chosen for the sacrifice. she was put back in her shelter being afterwards used by lee for a desultory ferry business, that developed. about ten days before our arrival, the _dean_ had been discovered by a newspaper man named j. h. beadle, and used to cross to the north side where he left her. this was how she happened to be there when we came. beadle had denounced lee and the mormons in print and tried to conceal his identity by assuming the name of hanson, a plan frustrated by his having some clothes, marked with his own name, laundered by sister emma. lee was only amused by the incident. the _dean_ was to be manned by the same crew as before; jones to steer, jack at the after oars, i at the forward pair, and the major in his usual place on the middle deck. the _cañonita_ was to have prof. as steersman, andy at the stroke oars, and clem in the bow, clem having gotten all over his inclination to leave and being determined now to see the end of the voyage before he departed. the same day that the major and his party arrived, jack and i, with jones steering, tried the _dean_ by taking mrs. thompson, professor demotte, and lyman hamblin up the river so that they might see what a canyon was like from a boat. mrs. thompson was so enthusiastic that she declared she wanted to accompany us. prof. took her as passenger on the _cañonita_ about half-past four on wednesday, august 14th, when we had completed the sacking and packing of provisions, and with both boats ran down through a small rapid or two about a mile and a half, where we camped at the mouth of a little canyon down which the waggon-road came. mrs. thompson enjoyed the exhilaration of descending the swift rushing water and still thought it attractive. i went to lee's and brought down the major's arm-chair for our boat, and saw fennemore who was very sick. we made our final preparations at this point, and i spent most of thursday morning helping the major get his papers in order so that if we did not appear again his affairs could be readily settled. this required considerable writing, which i did, for the major wrote slowly with his left hand, the only one he had. we dined with lee, having the first watermelon of the season for dessert. lee was most cordial and we could not have asked better treatment than he gave us the whole time we were at lonely dell. in the afternoon our land outfit left for kanab and we said a last good-bye to the men, who looked as if they never expected to see us again. only the "tirtaan aigles" remained, and there were but seven of these now. the next day we put the finishing touches on the boats, and while we were doing this our late fellow voyageur beaman, and a companion named carleton, passed on their way to the moki towns where beaman wanted to make photographs. all being ready the next day, saturday, august 17th, we pushed out on the mighty colorado about nine o'clock and by noon ran into marble canyon, nearly five miles, passing one small rapid and another of considerable size on a river about one hundred feet wide and extremely swift, with straight walls rapidly increasing from the fifty feet or so at the paria. marble canyon while differing in name is but the upper continuation of the grand canyon, there being no line of demarkation other than a change in geological structure and the entrance of the canyon of the little colorado. the combined length of the two divisions is 283 miles and the declivity is very great. the altitude of the mouth of the paria is 3170 feet, while the grand wash at the end of the grand canyon is 840 feet, leaving a descent of 2330 feet still before us. at our dinner camp, which was on a talus on the left, the walls were about 500 feet and quite precipitous, but i was able to climb out on the right to get a view of the surroundings. after dinner we went on in our usual order, our boat the _dean_ in advance and the _cañonita_ following. the photographing now devolved entirely on jack and clem; andy as usual ran the culinary branch of the expedition, jones and prof. meandered the river. we had not gone far after dinner before we were close upon a bad-looking rapid, a drop of about eighteen feet in a distance of 225, which we concluded to defeat by means of a portage on the right-hand bank. as we knew exactly what to do no time was wasted and we were soon below, sweeping on with a stiff current which brought us, in about ten miles from our morning start and five from the noon halt, to a far worse rapid than the last, a fall of twenty-five feet in four or five hundred, with very straight walls six hundred feet high on both sides. the major concluded to leave the passage of it till the next day, and we went into camp at the head. this was the rapid where disaster fell on the miners, ten in number, who in the spring had stolen a lot of our things at the paria and started down prospecting on a raft. they saved their lives but not another thing, and after a great deal of hard work they succeeded by means of driftwood ladders in climbing to the top of the walls and made their way to the settlement. this is now called soap creek rapid, being at the mouth of the canyon by which the little stream of that name reaches the river,--a little stream which at times is a mighty torrent. in a small rapid following or in the final portion of this, i believe, is the place where frank m. brown, leader of the denver, colorado canyon, and pacific railway survey, was drowned in 1889. we began work on sunday, august 18th, by making the portage and had no trouble of any kind, jack and clem making some photographs before we finally said good-bye to the place. continuing on our way we found the river very narrow, not over seventy-five feet in many places and ranging from that to two hundred, with frequent whirlpools strong enough to swing our boats entirely around. before dinner-time we had put five large rapids behind, and then we halted under a ledge on the left a short distance above a very ugly and difficult prospect. there was an exceedingly heavy descent and a soft sandstone being at the river margin it was worn away, giving little chance for a footing by which to make a portage. the major and prof. decided that we could run it safely, and after dinner we shot into it, both boats going through in fine style. just below was another smaller one that was vanquished easily, and we went swiftly on down the swirling, booming current. rain fell at intervals to continue our saturation, and with four more rapids, all of which we ran, one having quite a heavy fall, there was little chance for us to dry out. at one point we passed an enormous rock which had dropped from the cliffs overhead and almost blocked the whole river. then we arrived at a huge rapid whose angry tones cried so distinctly, "no running through here," that we did not hesitate but began a let down forthwith, and when that was accomplished we camped at the foot of it for the night, having come eleven and three-eighths miles during the day. the rapid was extremely noisy and the roaring reverberated back and forth from cliff to cliff as it ascended to the top, 1800 feet, to escape into the larger air. the walls had two or three terraces and were not over three quarters of a mile apart at the summit, the cliff portions being nearly or quite perpendicular. the rocks, of all sizes, which were legion at each rapid, were frequently dovetailed into each other by the action of the current and so neatly joined in a serrated line that they were practically one. [illustration: thompson marble canyon. photograph by j. k. hillers, 1872.] the rapidity with which the water went down and the walls went up as we cut into the plateau gave a vivid impression of descending into the very bowels of the earth, and this impression seemed daily to intensify. on monday, august 19th, the same conditions prevailed, the walls being of marble mostly vertical from the water's edge for about seven hundred feet, and then rising by four terraces to two thousand feet, all stained red by the disintegration of iron-stained rocks overhead though the marble is a grey colour. we only made four and one-quarter miles and established camp 90 on the left, just below a big rapid and in sight of another, with a record for the whole day of four rapids run, three passed by let-downs, and one overcome by a portage. the next day we did not accomplish a much greater distance, only about nine miles, but we were highly successful in our encounters with the enemy, running no less than twelve big rapids and making a portage at another to round out the dozen on the baker's proverbial basis. the average width of the canyon at the top was about one and a quarter miles, while the breadth of the water itself plunging along the bottom was not more than 125 feet, and the total height of wall was 2500 feet. we had marble at the river margin most of the day, a greyish crystalline rock fluted multitudinously in places by the action of high water and sometimes polished like glass. while this was a grey rock the entire effect of the canyon, for the reason stated above, was red. on the right bank we made our camp on some sand at the mouth of a gulch, and immediately put on our dry clothes from the boats. not far below on the same side was what appeared to be a vast ruined tower. around the indentations which answered for crumbling windows bunches of mosses and ferns were draped, while from the side, about one hundred feet up from the river, clear springs broke forth to dash down amidst verdure in silvery skeins. the whole affair formed a striking and unusual picture, the only green that so far had been visible in the canyon landscape, for the walls from brink to river were absolutely barren of trees or any apparent vegetation. on the former trip the major had named the place after a botanist friend of his, vasey's (vaysey) paradise, and this was now recorded in our notes. all day long we had seen in the magnificent walls besides caverns and galleries resemblances to every form of architectural design, turrets, forts, balconies, castles, and a thousand strange and fantastic suggestions from the dark tower against which childe roland with his slug-horn blew defiance, to the airy structures evolved by the wonderful lamp of aladdin. starting down again on wednesday morning we ran past the paradise and heard a little bird singing there amidst the spray and mosses, a delicate note seeming out of place amidst such gigantic desolation. only the boom of great cannon or the tone of some enormous organ pipe would be correct with the surroundings. the walls at the water's edge were vertical for long distances up to eight hundred feet, and being now in all about three thousand feet and not a great ways apart, the outlook ahead was something almost overpowering in its deep suggestion of mysterious and untold realms to come. on the first voyage it would have been easy to persuade oneself that the river was soon to become subterranean, but the major having solved the enigma, we could look with indifference on the threatening prospect. yet the walls nevertheless seemed to have a determination to close together overhead as we looked down the descending waters before us, with cliff mounting on cliff and the distance from one to the other appearing so very small. deep and sombre were the shadows at the bends, and the imagination needed no spur to picture there rapids, falls, cataracts, of giant proportions. we made nearly eleven miles and ran ten very big rapids, meeting with no accident, though one was particularly violent and filled us half full of water in the fierce breakers. the stage of water was exactly right for this stretch; a lower stage would certainly have given us far more trouble. our stop for the night, camp 92, was made on a wide sandbank on the left, with some mesquite growing nearby, our first acquaintance with this tree on the river. we now were getting on so well and were so comfortable that we felt quite happy and jack as usual entertained us with several songs. the next day, thursday the 22d, jack and clem took some photographs in the morning and i hunted fossils for the major in the limestone shales which had run up under the marble. by nine o'clock we were packed up again in our usual good form, everything in the rubber sacks, hatches firmly battened down, life-preservers ready, and we set forth for another day's battle. there were numerous large rapids and the impetuous river, turbid and grim, rushed down with a continuity that kept us alert every instant. though we descended with terrific velocity, nothing gave us any particular trouble before dinner, which we ate in the shade of a mesquite on the right at the mouth of a couple of giant gulches. here we discovered a large patch of cacti loaded with the red prickly pears or cactus apples, as we called them. they were ripe,--seeming to me to be half way between a fig and a tomato,--and very welcome for dessert, as we had eaten no fresh fruit since a watermelon brought along as far as the first noon camp. all the vegetation was different from that of the upper canyons and of a kind indicating a hotter climate; cacti, yucca, etc. in the afternoon the walls became greater, the river ran swifter, the descent seemed almost without a break, for rapid followed rapid in such quick succession that it was next to impossible to separate them one from another. at times we could barely maintain control of the boats so powerful and uninterrupted was the turbulent sweep of the great narrow flood. at one place as we were being hurled along at a tremendous speed we suddenly perceived immediately ahead of us and in such a position that we could not avoid dashing into it, a fearful commotion of the waters, indicating many large rocks near the surface. the major stood on the middle deck, his life-preserver in place, and holding by his left hand to the arm of the well secured chair to prevent being thrown off by the lurching of the boat, peered into the approaching maelstrom. it looked to him like the end for us and he exclaimed calmly, "by god, boys, we're gone!" with terrific impetus we sped into the seething, boiling turmoil, expecting to feel a crash and to have the _dean_ crumble beneath us, but instead of that unfortunate result she shot through smoothly without a scratch, the rocks being deeper than appeared by the disturbance on the surface. we had no time to think over this agreeable delivery, for on came the rapids or rather other rough portions of the unending declivity requiring instant and continuous attention, the major rapidly giving the orders, left, right, hard on the right, steady, hard on the left, _hard on the left_, h-a-r-d on the left, pull away strong, etc., jones aiding our oars by his long steering sweep. rowing for progress was unnecessary; the oars were required only for steering or for pulling as fast as we could to avoid some bad place. at the same time the walls constantly gained height as the torrent cut down its bed till both together, with the rapidity of our movement, fairly made one dizzy. in turning a bend we saw back through a gulch the summit of the kaibab's huge cliffs, the total height above our heads being over five thousand feet; a sublime vista. the immediate walls of marble canyon were here about 3500 feet, not all vertical but rising in buttresses, terraces, and perpendicular faces, while immediately at the river they were now generally flanked by talus or broken ledges giving ample footing, as seen in the illustration opposite page 219. words are not adequate to describe this particular day in marble canyon; it must be experienced to be appreciated and i will not strive further to convey my impressions. as the sun sank to the western edge of the outer world we were rushing down a long straight stretch of canyon, and the colossal precipices looming on all sides, as well as dead ahead across our pathway, positively appeared about to overwhelm the entire river by their ponderous magnificence, burnished at their summits by the dying sun. on, down the headlong flood our faithful boats carried us to the gloom that seemed to be the termination of all except subterranean progress, but at the very bottom of this course there was a bend to the west, and we found ourselves at the mouth of a deep side canyon coming in from the east, with a small stream flowing into the big river. this was the mouth of the little colorado and the end at last of marble canyon, one of the straightest, deepest, narrowest, and most majestic chasms of the whole long series. it also had more wall rising vertically from the water's edge than any other canyon we had encountered. our distance for the day was eighteen miles with eighteen rapids, one nearly three miles long and all following each other so closely they were well-nigh continuous. we ran seventeen and made one let-down. it was a glorious day and a fitting preparation for our entrance into the next stupendous canyon which the major styled the "sockdologer of the world," the now famous grand canyon.[32] our altitude was 2690 feet, giving a descent in the sixty-five and one-half miles of marble canyon of 480 feet, leaving 1850 feet still to be overcome before we could reach the mouth of the grand wash and the end of the grand canyon. i counted sixty-three rapids in marble canyon, prof. sixty-nine. we made four portages and let down by line six times. [illustration: canyon of the little colorado. photograph by c. barthelmess.] our camp 93 was on the left bank of the little colorado, and there we remained for friday, august 23d, to reconnoitre the neighbourhood, and to give prof. an opportunity to get the latitude and longitude. the little colorado was a red stream about sixty feet wide and four or five deep, salty and impossible to drink. the great colorado was also muddy and not altogether palatable, for one's hand dipped in and allowed to dry became encrusted with sediment; but the water otherwise was pure. the river had been rapidly rising for several days and was still coming up so that we were likely to have in the grand canyon more water than we required. i climbed up the wall on the north side of the little colorado thinking i might be able to reach the summit, but when about half-way up i met vast and vertical heights that were impossible and returned to camp. the next morning, saturday, august 24th, we packed up and entered the grand canyon proper on an easy river, making about five miles in half an hour and putting behind six rapids all small, camping at the head of one that was more threatening. here a little creek came in from the right, or west, near camp. the canyon was wider than above, and we could see the summits around that were six thousand feet above the river, but some miles back. in the morning i made a geological sketch, and in the afternoon i climbed a high peak and put in some of the topography. the next morning we crossed the river to examine a large igneous butte where we found a small vein of copper ore, and after dinner prof. and i climbed a couple of peaks and did some triangulating. monday the 26th found us still at camp 94 to further investigate the surroundings, and the major, prof., jones, and i climbed up on the north about 2600 feet in order to get a better idea of the several valleys which here seemed to compose the bottom of the great chasm, and did not reach camp till after dark. everything now developed on a still larger and grander scale; we saw before us an enormous gorge, very wide at the top, which could engulf an ordinary mountain range and lose it within its vast depths and ramifications. multitudinous lofty mesas, buttes, and pinnacles began to appear, each a mighty mountain in itself, but more or less overwhelmed by the greater grandeur of the cyclopean environment. tuesday, august 27th, after prof. had put a new tube in the second barometer which had somehow been broken, we pushed off once more to see what the day would develop. the rapid just below camp we ran through easily and then made swift progress for seven miles, running nine more rapids, two rather bad ones. the _cañonita_ grounded once on a shoal but got off without damage. where we stopped for dinner we caught sight of two mountain sheep drinking, and andy and i got our guns out of the cabins as quickly as possible and started after them, but they flew away like birds of the air. near this point there was a small abandoned hut of mesquite logs. we went into camp farther down on the left for investigations, the major and i going up the river and finding a small salty creek which we followed for a time on an old trail, the major studying the geology and collecting specimens of the rocks, which we carried back to camp, arriving after dark. the geology and topography here were complicated and particularly interesting, and we ought to have been able to spend more days, but the food question, as well as time, was a determining factor in our movements, and with only two boats our rations would carry us with necessary stops only to the mouth of the kanab canyon where our pack-train would meet us on september 4th. there was no other place above diamond creek known at that time, except perhaps the spot near mount trumbull, where supplies could be brought in. on wednesday we ran two or three miles and stopped for our photographers to get some views opposite a rust-coloured sandstone. we also had dinner at this place and then continued the descent. after running four rapids successfully, making a let-down at another, and a portage over the upper end of a sixth we were ready, having made in all six miles, to go into camp part way down the last, one of the heaviest falls we had so far encountered. it was perhaps half a mile long, with a declivity of at least forty feet, studded by numerous enormous boulders. a heavy rain began during our work of getting below, and our clothes being already wet the air became very chilly. we had to carry the cargoes only a short distance, with no climbing, and there was ample room so the portage was not difficult in that respect. but though we could manoeuvre the empty boats down along the shore amidst the big rocks, they were exceedingly heavy for our small band, and in sliding them down between the huge masses, with the water pouring around and often into them, we sometimes had as much as we could do to manage them, each man being obliged to strain his muscle to the limit. jack from this cause hurt his back so badly that he could not lift at all, and overcome by the sudden weakness and pain he came near sinking into the swift river at the stern of the _dean_ where he happened at the moment to be working. i heard his cry and clambered over to seize him as quickly as i could, helping him to shore, where we did all that was possible for his comfort. as we were going no farther that day he was able to rest, and in the morning felt much better, though his back was still weak. andy took his place in our boat to run the lower end of the rapid, which was easily done. we landed below on the same side, enabling andy to go back to help bring down the _cañonita_, while jack walked along the rocks to where we were. here we remained for a couple of hours while i climbed up for the major and measured the "red beds," and jack rested again, improving very fast. when we were ready to go on his trouble had almost disappeared. [illustration: the grand canyon. from just below the little colorado. photograph by j. k. hillers, 1872.] a dark granite formation had run up at the foot of the last fall and it rose rapidly higher, hemming the water in with steep, forbidding cliffs close together. the river became much narrower and swirled with an oily-looking current around the buttresses of granite that thrust themselves from one side or the other into it. the declivity was not great and the torrent was otherwise placid. after three miles of this ominous docility, just as the dinner hour was near and the threatening black granite had risen to one thousand feet above the water, we heard a deep, sullen roar ahead and from the boats the whole river seemed to vanish instantly from earth. at once we ran in on the right to a small area of great broken rocks that protruded above the water at the foot of the wall, and stepping out on these we could look down on one of the most fearful places i ever saw or ever hope to see under like circumstances,--a place that might have been the gate to hell that steward had mentioned. we were near the beginning of a tremendous fall. the narrow river dropped suddenly and smoothly away, and then, beaten to foam, plunged and boomed for a third of a mile through a descent of from eighty to one hundred feet, the enormous waves leaping twenty or thirty feet into the air and sending spray twice as high.[33] on each side were the steep, ragged granitic walls, with the tumultuous waters lashing and pounding against them in a way that precluded all idea of portage or let-down. it needed no second glance to tell us that there was only one way of getting below. if the rocks did not stop us we could "cross to killiloo," and when a driving rain had ceased andy gathered the few sticks of driftwood available for a fire, by which he prepared some dinner in advance of the experiment. jack and clem took three negatives, and when the dinner was disposed of we stowed all loose articles snugly away in the cabins, except a camp-kettle in each standing-room to bail with, and then battening down the hatches with extra care, and making everything shipshape, we pulled the _dean_ up-stream, leaving the _cañonita_ and her crew to watch our success or failure and profit by it. the major had on his life-preserver and so had jones, but jack and i put ours behind our seats, where we could catch them up quickly, for they were so large we thought they impeded the handling of the oars. jack's back had fortunately now recovered, so that he was able to row almost his usual stroke. we pulled up-stream about a quarter of a mile close to the right-hand wall, in order that we might get well into the middle of the river before making the great plunge, and then we turned our bow out and secured the desired position as speedily as possible, heading down upon the roaring enemy--roaring as if it would surely swallow us at one gulp. [illustration: the grand canyon. running the sockdologer. from a sketch afterwards by f. s. dellenbaugh.] my back being towards the fall i could not see it, for i could not turn round while waiting every instant for orders. nearer and nearer came the angry tumult; the major shouted "back water!" there was a sudden dropping away of all support; then the mighty waves smote us. the boat rose to them well, but we were flying at twenty-five miles an hour and at every leap the breakers rolled over us. "bail!" shouted the major,--"bail for your lives!" and we dropped the oars to bail, though bailing was almost useless. the oars could not get away, for they had rawhide rings nailed around near the handle to prevent them from slipping through the rowlocks. the boat rolled and pitched like a ship in a tornado, and as she flew along jack and i, who faced backwards, could look up under the canopies of foam pouring over gigantic black boulders, first on one side, then on the other. why we did not land on top of one of these and turn over i don't know, unless it might be that the very fury of the current causes a recoil. however that may be, we struck nothing but the waves, the boats riding finely and certainly leaping at times almost half their length out of water, to bury themselves quite as far at the next lunge. if you will take a watch and count by it ninety seconds, you will probably have about the time we were in this chaos, though it seemed much longer to me. then we were through, and immediately took advantage of an eddy on one side to lie to and bail out, for the boat was full of water. setting her to rights as quickly as we could, we got ready to make a dash for the crew of the _cañonita_ in case she fared worse than we did. we looked anxiously for her to appear, and presently, at the top of what seemed to us now to be a straight wall of foam, her small white bulk hung for an instant and then vanished from our sight in the mad flood. soon appearing at the bottom uninjured, she ran in to where we were waiting. the _cañonita_, being lighter than our boat, did not ship as much water as in some other places, and altogether we agreed that notwithstanding its great descent and furious aspect the passage was not more difficult than we had made in several previous rapids. continuing on down the narrow and gloomy granite gorge, we encountered about a mile farther down a singular rapid, which turned the _cañonita_ completely around. about four o'clock we found ourselves before another tremendous fall, and a very ugly one. landing on the left, we discovered that to be the wrong side, and crossed over to a little cove where there was a patch of gravel, surrounded by vertical walls, the crossing being easily made because the water seemed to slacken before the plunge. we did not intend to run the place if it could be avoided, and the south side gave no opportunity whatever for a portage, while the north side offered no very easy course. prof. declared this to be one of the worst rapids we had seen, and we were now about two hundred feet above the head of it, with the vertical cliffs between. immediately at the beginning of the drop on the same side that we were on was a pile of boulders, and our plan was to engineer the boats by lines from where we had landed down to these rocks, from which we believed we could work around over the rocks into an alcove there was there, and thence go down till we reached the lower part of the descent, through which we could navigate. consequently several of the men entered one boat, and we lowered her from the stern of the second as far as her line would reach, and then lowered the second till the first lodged in the rocks at the desired point at the head of the fall. then, pulling up the second boat, we who had remained got on board, and by clinging to the projections of the wall, the current close in being quite slow, we succeeded in arriving alongside the first boat. the next thing was to get around into the alcove. the sky above was heavy and rain began to come down steadily, making the dark granite blacker and intensifying the gloomy character of the locality. by hard work we finally got our boats across the rocks and down about two hundred feet farther into a cove, where they rested easily. up to this time we had made in all, during the day, seven and one-quarter miles. as night was now dropping fast we had to make camp on a pile of broken granite, where a close search yielded an armful or two of small pieces of driftwood, all wet. under a rock several dry sticks were discovered, and by their aid a fire soon blazed up by which the indomitable andy proceeded to get supper. there was no use changing wet clothes for dry ones from the rubber bags as long as the rain fell, and it increased till water was dashing off the walls in streams. the thunder roared and crashed as if it were knocking the cliffs about to rearrange them all, and a deluge swept down in which andy's struggling little fire died with hardly a sputter. the only thing remaining for us to do was to all stand with our backs against the foot of the wall, which was still warm from the day, and wait for something else to happen. the bread-pan seen through the dim and dismal light was a tempestuous lake, with an island of dough in it, while andy the undaunted stood grimly gazing at it, the rain dribbling from his hat and shoulders till he resembled the fabled ferryman of the river styx. the situation was so ludicrous that every one laughed, and the weather god finding that we were not downcast slackened the downpour immediately. then we put some oars against the wall and stretched a paulin to protect our noble chef, who finally got the wet firewood once more ignited, and succeeded in getting the bread almost baked and the coffee nearly hot and some dried peaches almost stewed. the rain ceasing, we hurriedly donned dry clothes and applied ourselves to the destruction of these viands, which tasted better than might be imagined. each man then took his blankets, and, selecting rocks that in his judgment were the softest, he went to sleep. there was another alcove about three hundred yards below our camp, and in the morning, friday, august 30th, we proceeded to work our way down to this, several men clambering along a ledge about 150 feet above the water with the line, while i remained each time in the boat below with an oar to keep the bow in against the wall, so that she could not take the current on the wrong side--that is, on the side next to the wall--and cut out into the river. in this way we got both boats down to the alcove, whence we intended to pull out into the current and run the lower portion of the rapid. it was only noon when we reached the place, but then we discovered that both boats had been so pounded that they badly needed repairs--in fact, it was imperative to halt there for this purpose,--and we hauled them out on a patch of broken rocks, thirty or forty feet square, filling the curve of the alcove and bounded by vertical rocks and the river. while at work on them we happened to notice that the river was rapidly rising, and, setting a mark, the rate was found to be three feet an hour. the rocks on which we were standing and where all the cargo was lying were being submerged. we looked around for some way to get up the cliff, as it was now too late to think of leaving. about fifteen feet above the top of the rocks on which we were working there was a shelf five or six feet wide, to which some of the men climbed, and we passed up every article to them. when the repairs were done darkness was filling the great gorge. by means of lines from above and much hard lifting we succeeded in raising the boats up the side of the cliff, till they were four or five feet above the highest rocks of the patch on which we stood. this insured their safety for the time being, and if the river mounted to them we intended to haul them still higher. the next thing was to find a place to sleep. by walking out on a ledge from the shelf where our goods were we could turn a jutting point above the rushing river by clinging closely to the rocks, and walk back on a shelf on the other side to a considerable area of finely broken rocks, thirty feet above the torrent, where there was room enough for a camp. rain fell at intervals, and the situation was decidedly unpromising. while andy and the others were getting the cook outfit and rations around the point, i climbed the cliffs hunting for wood. i found small pieces of driftwood lodged behind mesquite bushes fully one hundred feet above the prevailing stage of water. i collected quite an armful of half-dead mesquite, which has the advantage of being so compact that it makes a fire hot as coal, and little is needed to cook by. supper was not long in being despatched, and then, every man feeling about worn out, we put on dry clothes, the rain having ceased, and went to sleep on the rocks. before doing so we climbed back to examine the boats, and found the river was not coming up farther, though it had almost completely covered the rocks. saturday, the 21st of august, 1872, was about the gloomiest morning i ever saw. rain was falling, the clouds hung low over our heads like a lid to the box-like chasm in the black, funereal granite enclosing us, while the roar of the big rapid seemed to be intensified. we felt like rats in a trap. eating breakfast as quickly as possible, we got everything together again on the shelf and lowered the boats. though the river was not rising, it beat and surged into the cove in a way that made the boats jump and bounce the moment they touched the water. to prevent their being broken by pounding, one man at each steadied them while the others passed down the sacks and instrument boxes. then it was seen that either a new leak had sprung in the _dean_ amidships or a hole had not been caulked, for a stream as wide as two fingers was spurting into the middle cabin. to repair her now meant hauling both boats back against the side of the cliff and spending another day in this trap, with the chance of the river rising much higher before night so that we might not be able to get away at all--at least not for days. for an instant the major thought of pulling the boats out again, but as his quick judgment reviewed the conditions he exclaimed, "by god, we'll start! load up!" it was the rarest thing for him to use an oath, and i remember only one other occasion when he did so--in marble canyon when he thought we were going to smash. we threw the things in as fast as we could, jammed a bag of flour against the leak in the _dean_, battened down the hatches, threw our rifles into the bottom of the standing rooms where the water and sand washed unheeded over them, and jumped to our oars. the crew of the _cañonita_ held our stern till the bow swung out into the river, and then at the signal jack and i laid to with all our strength--to shoot clear of an enormous rock about fifty feet below against which the fierce current was dashing. the _dean_ was so nearly water-logged that she was sluggish in responding to the oars, but we swept past the rock safely and rolled along down the river in the tail of the rapid with barely an inch of gunwale to spare,--in fact i thought the boat might sink. as soon as we saw a narrow talus on the right we ran in and landed. when the _cañonita_ was ready to start one of clem's oars could not be found, and prof. had to delay to cut down one of the extras for him. then they got their boat up as far as they could, and while prof. and andy kept her from pounding to pieces, clem got in, bailed out, and took his oars. prof. then climbed in at the stern, but the current was so strong that it pulled andy off his feet and he was just able to get on, the boat drifting down stern first toward the big rock. prof. concluded to let the stern strike and then try to throw the boat around into the river. by this time andy had got hold of his oars, and the eddy seemed to carry them up-stream some twenty-five feet, so perverse and capricious is the colorado. they swung the bow to starboard into the main current, and with a couple of strong oar-strokes the dreaded rock was cleared, and down the _cañonita_ came to us over the long waves like a hunted deer. we unloaded the _dean_ and pulled her out for repairs, but it was after four o'clock when we were able to go on again with a fairly tight boat. then for eight miles the river was a continuous rapid broken by eight heavy falls, but luckily there were no rocks in any of them at this stage of water, and we were able to dash through one after another at top speed, stopping only once for examination. two of these rapids were portages on the former trip, proving the ease and advantage of high water in some places; but the disadvantages are much greater. through a very narrow canyon on the right we caught a glimpse of a pretty creek, but we were going so fast the view was brief and imperfect. at 5:15 o'clock we ran up to a wide sandbank on which grew a solitary willow tree and there camp 99 was made. for a space the inner canyon was much wider than above and the mouth of bright angel creek was just below us; a locality now well known because a trail from the hotel tovar on the south rim comes down at this point. the name was applied by the major on his first trip to offset the name dirty devil applied farther up. [illustration: the grand canyon. from top of granite, south side near bright angel creek.] the next day was sunday, september 1st, and after the major had climbed the south wall for observations we started once more on a powerful current. for the first three miles there was a continuous rapid with no opportunity to land. we dashed through waves that tossed us badly and filled the boats half full and then half full again before we had a chance to bail. in fifteen minutes we made the three miles and a half mile more, to arrive at a heavy rapid, which we ran and in two miles reached another with fearful waves, which we also ran. in one jones was overbalanced by his oar hitting the top of a big wave behind the boat and he was knocked out. he clung by his knees and hands, his back in the water, and the boat careened till i thought she would go over. we could not move to help him without upsetting and were compelled to leave him to his own resources. in some way he succeeded in scrambling back. the waves were tremendous and sometimes seemed to come from all directions at once. there were whirlpools, too, that turned us round in spite of every effort to prevent it. the river was about one hundred and fifty feet wide. after an extremely strenuous morning we halted on the right for dinner, continuing as soon as we had disposed of it. presently we arrived at a sharp fall of about twenty feet, where we made a portage, and waited at the foot for the photographers to take some negatives and also for repairing the _cañonita_. finally it was decided to camp on the spot. it was camp 100. our record for the day was a trifle over seven miles with nine rapids run and one portage. almost the first thing in the morning of september 2d was a portage, after which we had fair water for two or three miles, and then reached a very heavy fall, where we landed on the left and had dinner before making another portage. this accomplished, we proceeded on a river still rising and ran a great many bad rapids, some of them having tremendous falls. in one the fierce current set against the cliff so strongly that we were carried within an oar's length of it, notwithstanding our severe effort to avoid so close an acquaintance with the rough wall. even between rapids the velocity of the water was extremely high and we flew along at terrific speed, while in the huge waves of the rapids the boats leaped and plunged with startling violence. toward night a sudden halt was made on the left to examine a bad-looking place half a mile below. the major and prof. tried to climb where they could get a good view of it, but they failed. the major said we would run it in the morning, though prof. was dubious about the feasibility of doing so successfully and said he thought it about the worst place we had yet seen. we camped on a rocky talus where we were. a small sandbank was found nearby for our beds, and we made another discovery, a small pool of clear, pure water, a rare treat after the muddy colorado which we had been drinking for so long. twenty rapids were placed to our credit for this one day in a trifle over fifteen miles, and we felt that we were vanquishing the grand canyon with considerable success. our life now was so strenuous every hour of the day that our songs were forgotten, and when night came every man was so used up that as soon as supper was over rest and sleep were the only things that interested us. though our beds were as hard and rough as anything could be, we slept with the intensity of the rocks themselves, and it never seemed more than a few minutes before we were aroused by the major's rising signal "oh-ho, boys!" and rose to our feet to pack the blankets in the rubber bags, sometimes with a passing thought as to whether we would ever take them out again. for my part, never before nor since have i been so tired. one night when the major called us to look out for the boats i did not hear him and no one waked me so i slept on, learning about it only the next morning. our food supply was composed partly of jerked beef, and as this could not be put in rubber because of the grease it became more or less damp and there developed in it a peculiar kind of worm, the largest about an inch long, with multitudinous legs. there were a great many of them and they gave the beef a queer taste. in order to clear the sacks as far as possible of these undesirable denizens i several times emptied them on wide smooth rocks, and while the worms were scrambling around i scraped up the beef without many of them, but could not get rid of all. andy's method of cooking this beef was to make a gravy with bacon fat and scorched flour and then for a few moments stew the beef in the gravy. ordinarily this made a very palatable dish but the peculiar flavour of the beef now detracted from it, though we were so hungry that we could eat anything without a query, and our diminishing supply of rations forbade the abandonment of the valuable beef. when we arose on the morning of september 3d the dubious rapid was tossing its huge waves exactly as on the night before and humanity seemed to be out of the reckoning. by eight o'clock we were ready for it, and with everything in good trim we pushed off. the current was strong from the start, and a small rapid just below camp gave additional speed, so that we were soon bearing down on the big one with wild velocity. the river dropped away abruptly, to rise again in a succession of fearful billows whose crests leaped and danced high in air as if rejoicing at the prospect of annihilating us. just then the major changed his mind as to running the place, for now standing on the boat's deck he could see it better than before from the region of our camp. he ordered us to pull hard on our left, intending to land at a spot that was propitious on the left or south bank, but no sooner had he given this command than he perceived that no landing above the fall was possible. he gave another order which put us straight in the middle again and down we flew upon the descent. the major as usual had put on his life-preserver and i think jones had on his, but jack and i, as was our custom, placed ours inflated immediately behind our seats, not wishing to be hampered by them. the plunge was exceedingly sharp and deep, and then we found ourselves tossing like a chip in a frightful chaos of breakers which almost buried us, though the boats rose to them as well as any craft possibly could. i bailed with a camp kettle rapidly and jack did the same, but the boat remained full to the gunwales as we were swept on. we had passed the worst of it when, just as the _dean_ mounted a giant wave at an angle perhaps of forty or fifty degrees, the crest broke in a deluge against the port bow with a loud slap. in an instant we were upside-down going over to starboard. i threw up my hand instinctively to grasp something, and luckily caught hold of a spare oar which was carried slung on the side, and by this means i pulled myself above water. my hat was pasted down over my eyes. freeing myself from this i looked about. bottom up the boat was clear of the rapid and sweeping on down with the swift, boiling current toward a dark bend. the _cañonita_ was nowhere to be seen. no living thing was visible. the narrow black gorge rose in sombre majesty to the everlasting sky. what was a mere human life or two in the span of eternity? i was about preparing to climb up on the bottom of the boat when i perceived jones clinging to the ring in the stern, and in another second the major and jack shot up alongside as if from a gun. the whole party had been kept together in a kind of whirlpool, and the major and jack had been pulled down head first till, as is the nature of these suctions on the colorado, it suddenly changed to an upward force and threw them out into the air. there was no time to lose, for we did not wish to go far in this condition; another rapid might be in waiting around the corner. jack and i carefully got up on the bottom, leaving the major at the bow and jones at the stern, and leaning over we took hold of the starboard gunwale under water, and throwing ourselves back quickly together we brought the _dean_ up on her keel, though she came near rolling clear over the other way. she was even full of water, but the cabins supported her. jack helped me in and then i balanced his effort so as not to capsize again. the bailing kettles were gone, but as our hats had strangely enough remained on our heads through it all we bailed with them as fast as possible for a few seconds till we lowered the water sufficiently to make it safe to get the others on board. the major came aft along the gunwale and i helped him in, then jack helped jones. the oars, fortunately, had not come out of the locks, thanks to our excellent arrangement, and grasping them, without trying to haul in the bow line trailing a hundred feet in the water, we pulled hard for a slight eddy on the left where we perceived a footing on the rocks, and as soon as we were near enough i caught up the rope, made the leap, and threw the bight over a projection, where i held the boat while jack and jones bailed rapidly and set things in order so that we could go to the assistance of the _cañonita_. the major's jurgenssen chronometer had stopped at 8:26:30 from the wetting. the _cañonita_, being more lightly laden than the _dean_, and also not meeting the peculiar coincidence of mounting a wave at the instant it broke, came down with no more damage than the loss of three oars and the breaking of a rowlock. probably if the major had sat down on the deck instead of in the chair we might also have weathered the storm.[34] about a mile and a half below we made a landing at a favourable spot on the right, where the cargoes were spread out to dry and the boats were overhauled, while the major and i climbed up the wall to where he desired to make a geological investigation. we joked him a good deal about his zeal in going to examine the geology at the bottom of the river, but as a matter of fact he came near departing by that road to another world. we were now in an exceedingly difficult part of the granite gorge, for, at the prevailing stage of water, landings were either highly precarious or not possible at all, so we could not examine places before running, and could not always make a portage where we deemed it necessary. there were also all manner of whirlpools and bad places. starting on about three o'clock we descended several rapids in about six miles, when we saw one ahead that looked particularly forbidding. the granite came down almost vertically to the water, projecting in huge buttresses that formed a succession of little bays, especially on the left, where we manoeuvred in and out, keeping close against the rocks, the current there being slack. the plan was for me to be ready, on turning the last point, to jump out on some rocks we had noticed from above not far from the beginning of the rapid. as we crept around the wall i stood up with the bight of the line in one hand, while jack pulled in till we began to drift down stern foremost alongshore. at the proper moment i made my leap exactly calculated. unluckily at the instant the capricious colorado threw a "boil" up between the bow and the flat rock i was aiming at, turning the bow out several feet, and instead of landing where i intended i disappeared in deep water. i clung to the line and the acceleration of the boat's descent quickly pulled me back to the surface. she was gliding rapidly past more rocks and the major jumped for them with the purpose of catching the rope, but they were so isolated and covered with rushing water that he had all he could do to take care of himself. jones then tried the same thing, but with the same result. jack stuck to his post. i went hand over hand to the bow as fast as i could, and reaching the gunwale i was on board in a second. one of my oars had somehow come loose, but jack had caught it and now handed it to me. we took our places and surveyed the chances. apparently we were in for running the rapid stern foremost and we prepared for it, but in the middle of the stream there was a rock of most gigantic proportions sloping up the river in such a way that the surges alternately rolled upon it and then slid back. partly up the slope we were drawn by this power, and on the down rush the boat turned and headed diagonally just right for reaching the left bank. we saw our opportunity and, pulling with every muscle, lodged the _dean_ behind a huge boulder at the very beginning of the main rapid, where i made the line fast in the twinkle of an eye. meanwhile the major had hastily scrambled up to where he could see down the canyon, and he heard jack's hearty shout of "all right!" lowering the _dean_ a couple of rods farther to a sandbank at the mouth of a gulch we went into camp feeling that we had done enough river work for one day, and the _cañonita's_ crew without accident lowered down to the same place before andy had supper ready. my hat had come off in my deep plunge and beyond this i did not have one. near by was a small clear spring that gave us another treat of palatable water, the colorado now being muddier than ever, as it was still on the rise, coming up three feet more while we were here. the entire day's run was eight and one-eighth miles. the major and prof. succeeded in getting down three miles on foot to reconnoitre. [illustration: the grand canyon. character of river in rapids. photograph by f. s. dellenbaugh, 1907.] continuing in the morning, september 4th, we lowered the boats past the remainder of the rapid and then shoved out into the terrific current once more. water could hardly run faster than it now did, except in a fall or rapid. the canyon was narrow and for five miles we encountered the worst whirlpools we had anywhere seen. the descent was swift and continuous, but the river was broken only by the whirlpools and "boils" as we called them, the surface suddenly seeming to boil up and run over. these upshoots, as a rule, seemed to follow whirlpools. in the latter the water for a diameter of twenty or twenty-five feet would revolve around a centre with great rapidity, the surface inclining to the vortex, the top of which was perhaps eighteen or twenty inches lower than the general level. the vortex itself was perfectly formed, like a large funnel, and about six or eight inches in diameter, where it began to be a hole in the water, tapering thence down in four or five feet to a mere point. the same effect is often seen when the water is flowing out of a round wash-basin through a pipe at the bottom. these were the most perfect whirlpools i have ever seen, those above having been lacking in so distinct a vortex. there were many and we could often see them ahead, but try as we would to cleave through without a complete revolution or two of the boat we could not do it. the boats sank down into the hollow, enabling one to look over the side into the spinning opening, but the boats, being almost as long as the whirlpool's usual diameter, could not be pulled in and we were not alarmed. we found it rather interesting to see if we could get through without turning, but we never did. any ordinary short object or one that could be tipped on end would surely go out of sight. so furious ran the river along this stretch that we found it impossible to stop, the boats being like bits of paper in a mill-race, swinging from one side to the other, and whirling round and round as we were swept along between the narrow walls till we ran the granite under about five miles from our last camp. finally, after a run all told of fourteen miles with twenty-three rapids, we made camp 103 with walls of friendly sandstone about us. here again we discovered a small clear spring for drinking and cooking purposes. there was no rain this day and at night we put on our dry clothes with confidence and had a warm comfortable camp with a good sound sleep. thursday morning found us early on the river, which to our surprise turned suddenly in a north-north-east direction. when we had gone about nine miles and had run the granite up and down again, it began to turn to the west. at one point the river was not more than fifty feet wide; the current was everywhere exceedingly strong and there were many rapids, of which we ran twelve, and made a portage at another, and a let-down at still another. we camped at the end of the nine miles on a small sandbank, with the total height of walls about four thousand feet, breaking back in terraces after about eight hundred feet. clem and jack made a number of photographs wherever practicable, and altogether they had succeeded in securing a representative collection. during the morning of friday, september 6th, we ran two rapids in two miles, which brought us to one which we thought required a let-down and we made it. as it was easy, jack and clem busied themselves photographing while we were doing it, and we also had dinner here. about two o'clock we went on and in less than three miles ran four rapids, the fourth being an exceedingly heavy fall, at the foot of which we went into camp on the right bank. a little distance above on the same side of the river was a fine clear cold creek larger than the paria in quantity of water. we called it tapeats creek, because a pai ute of that name, who had pointed it out to the major from the kaibab, claimed it. during the day the work had been far less strenuous, there were few whirlpools, the river was falling, and it was in every way much easier than above in the granite. a morning was spent at tapeats creek for examinations, and we found there some ancient house ruins not far up the side canyon. i discovered a fine large metate or indian mill, deeply hollowed out, and foolishly attempted to take it to camp. on arriving there it was so heavy i had to drop it and it broke in two, much to the major's disgust, who told me i ought to have let it alone, a fact which i realised then also. our rations were now running very low again, for we had taken more days for this passage than were planned, and as soon as we launched forth after dinner we began to look longingly for the mouth of kanab canyon and the pack-train. the river was much easier in every respect, and after our experience of the previous days it seemed mere play. the granite ran up for a mile or two, but then we entered sedimentary strata and came to a pretty little cascade falling through a crevice on the right from a valley hidden behind a low wall. we at once recognised it as one which beaman had photographed when he and riley had made their way up along the rocks from the mouth of the kanab during the winter. we remembered that they had called it ten miles to the kanab from this place, and after we had climbed up to examine what they had named surprise valley we went on expecting to reach the kanab before night. running several small and one fairly large rapid, we saw, after twelve miles from the last camp, a seeming crack on the right, and a few seconds later heard a wild yelling. in a little while we landed and lowered to the head of a rapid, and running to the right up the backwater into the mouth of the kanab canyon, we found george adair, nathan adams, and joe hamblin, our three faithful packers, waiting there for us with the rations. they had grown very anxious, for we were several days overdue, and they feared we had been destroyed,--a fear that was emphasised by one of andy's discarded shirts washing ashore at their feet. we pulled the boats a short distance up the kanab on the backwater and made a comfortable camp, 106, on its right bank, where we were soon lost in letters and papers the pack-train had brought down. our altitude was now 1800 feet above sea-level, showing a descent from the little colorado, in about 70 miles, of 890 feet, with 131 rapids run, besides six let-downs and seven portages. the total descent from the paria was 1370 feet. footnotes: [footnote 32: there is but one grand canyon--the one here referred to. persons unfamiliar with western geography frequently confound the canyon of the arkansas with that of the colorado because the former is in the state of colorado. the grand canyon is in arizona but on the _colorado_ river.] [footnote 33: professor thompson in his diary calls the descent 130 feet in three-quarters of a mile.] [footnote 34: for the benefit of any one who contemplates descending the colorado i would state that unsinkable boats are the only kind to use and the centre of gravity should be kept low. cork life-jackets are indispensable.] chapter xv a new departure--farewell to the boats--out to the world through kanab canyon--a midnight ride--at the innupin picavu--prof. reconnoitres the shewits country--winter quarters in kanab--making the preliminary map--another new year--across a high divide in a snow-storm--down the sevier in winter--the last summons. the day following our arrival at the mouth of the kanab canyon was sunday, september 8th, and with the exception of some observations taken by prof., and the writing of notes, the whole camp was in a state of rest. after our trying work in the granite we enjoyed immensely the lying around warm and dry with plenty to eat. monday morning everybody expected to begin preparations for the descent to the grand wash. we were surprised just as we were about to rise from our places around the canvas on which breakfast had been spread, when the major, who was sitting in his chair thinking, suddenly exclaimed, "well, boys, our voyage is done!" in a way these words were a disappointment, for we all wanted to complete the task and we were entirely ready to go on, notwithstanding that our recent experience with high water in the granite indicated great hazard ahead, where there was more granite; but on the whole the disappointment was agreeable. we knew the second granite gorge toward the lower end of the chasm to be nearly as bad as the first one. there was besides one exceedingly difficult passage there, which prof. called catastrophe rapid, where the howlands and dunn had left the first party, which on the prevailing stage of water the major believed would be foolhardy to attempt. prof. in his diary says, "it is nonsense to think of trying the lower bend with this water." he and the major had talked the matter over saturday night and thought of stopping about forty miles down at mount trumbull, where we knew we could climb out; then they thought of sending only one boat that far, but by sunday night they decided to end all river work here. prof. said he could map the course from the notes of the first party and that he would rather explore the adjacent country by land.[35] there were some breaks in the notes from here down to catastrophe rapid, due to the fact that when the papers were divided on that memorable day on which the howlands and dunn left the party, instead of each division having a full copy of all the notes, by a mistake they had only portions of both sets. in addition to the difficulty of the forbidding catastrophe rapid there was a possibility of an attack on us by the shewits. jacob through one of his pai ute friends had information that they were preparing to lay an ambush, and he sent warning to that effect. jacob knew the natives too well to have given us this notice unless he thought it a real danger, but we did not allow it much consideration at the time. yet it would have been an easy matter for the shewits to secrete themselves where they could fall upon us in the night when we were used up by working through some bad rapid, and then, hiding the goods, throw our bodies into the river and burn the boats, or even turn them loose, thus leaving no proof of their action, our disappearance naturally being laid to destruction by the river, a termination generally anticipated. i have sometimes thought that when they killed the howlands and dunn they did it deliberately to get their guns and clothes, thinking it would not be found out, or at least that they could put forth a good excuse, as they did. [illustration: the grand canyon. at a rapid--low water.] we were in the field to accomplish certain work and not to perform a spectacular feat, and the major and prof. having decided that the descent of the remainder of the canyon, considering all the circumstances, was for us impracticable and unnecessary, we prepared to leave for kanab. we unpacked the good old boats rather reluctantly. they had come to possess a personality as such inanimate objects will, having been our faithful companions and our reliance for many a hundred difficult miles, and it seemed like desertion to abandon them so carelessly to destruction. we ought to have had a funeral pyre. the flags of the boats, which mrs. thompson had made and which had been carried in them the entire way, were still to be disposed of, and that of the _dean_ was generously voted to me by the major, jack, and jones, who had crew claims to it; that of the _nellie powell_ was awarded to steward; while clem received the _cañonita's_. i tried to persuade the major to pack the _dean_ out in sections and send her east to be kept as a souvenir of the voyage, but he would not then listen to it, though years later he admitted that he regretted not taking my suggestion. three years afterward i came back to this place with my own party and would then have executed my desire, but no trace of our former outfit remained except a hatch from one of the middle cabins, and the major's chair. the latter i carried to salt lake, where i presented it to cap, who was living there. as before mentioned, the colorado was so extremely high that the water backed up into the kanab canyon, and it was there that we left the boats, each tied to an oar stuck in the ground.[36] we could not get all the goods on the horses of the pack-train, and left a portion to be brought out later. jack and clem remained to make photographs, and taking a last look at the boats, with a good-bye to all, we turned our faces up the narrow chasm of the kanab. a small stream ran in the bottom, and this formed large pools amongst numerous ponderous boulders that had fallen in from the top of the walls some three thousand feet above our heads, the bottom being hardly more than sixty to seventy-five feet wide. it was with considerable difficulty that we got the animals past some of these places, and in one or two the pools were so long and deep they had to swim a little. the prospectors the year before had worked a trail to some extent, but here, where the floods ran high at times, changes occurred frequently. by five o'clock we had gone about eight miles up this slow, rough way, and arrived at a singular spring, where we went into camp. this we called shower-bath spring. the water charged with lime had built out from the wall a semi-circular mass covered by ferns, which was cut away below by the floods till one could walk under in the sprinkling streams percolating through it. it was a very pretty place, but like all of its kind in the deep gorges it was a favourite resort for tarantulas, many of which we had seen in the depths of the grand canyon. these, with scorpions, rattlesnakes, and gila-monsters, were the poisonous reptiles of the gorge. [illustration: b. preliminary map of a portion of the southern part of the unknown country indicated by the blank space on map a at page 95, showing the hurricane ledge, uinkaret and shewits mountains, and the course of the grand canyon from the mouth of kanab canyon to the grand wash. the howlands and dunn left the first expedition at catastrophe rapid, at the sharp bend a few miles below the intersection of the river and longitude 113° 30', climbed out to the north, and were killed near mt. dellenbaugh.] the next morning, tuesday, the 10th of september, our pack-train was early on the way. the walls grew somewhat lower, though still two thousand feet high, and the canyon was usually seventy-five to one hundred feet wide at the bottom. there were patches of alluvial deposit now along the sides of the watercourse, covered by fields of cactus loaded with "apples," the prickly leaves compelling us to keep the trail the prospectors had made by their passage to and from the ephemeral eldorado. after a time we emerged from the lower canyon into a wider one in the way previously described; that is, like going from one floor to another by an incline between narrow walls. the little stream having vanished, a pool of rain-water helped us out for dinner, and while it was preparing prof. and i climbed up to secure notes on the topography. a trifle before sunset we arrived at the cedar tree, a short distance below the mouth of the shinumo canyon, where our party had camped the previous march. the pockets were full of clear, fresh water, and we had plenty for horses as well as men. not far off some human bones were found, old and bleached. we thought they must be the remains of one of the navajo raiders who escaped wounded from the mormon attack near this locality. the canyon bottom was quite wide at this point and comparatively level, covered by rushes and grass, and the horses were able to get a good meal. during the day every time i dismounted to take compass bearings on the trail i felt a sharp, peculiar pain shoot up my right leg from in front about half-way between ankle and knee. i could only discover a small red spot at the initial point, and concluded that i must have struck a sharp rock or cactus spine. our party now again divided, the major and jones going up shinumo canyon to the kaibab region, while prof. and i rode on up the kanab canyon, starting at eight o'clock in the morning, wednesday, september 11th, and riding steadily all day. as we had not expected to come out in this way saddles were scarce. prof. and the major had two of the three used by the packers, while the third was awarded to jones, who was to have a long ride on the kaibab trip. the rest of us had to make shift as we could, and i rigged up a "sawbuck" pack-saddle, with rope loops for stirrups and a blanket across it to sit on. this was not much better than, or as good perhaps as, bareback, and the horse was a very hard trotter. we wished to reach kanab that night. we kept on at as rapid a gait as the canyon would permit, though it was easier than in march, when the numerous miners had not yet broken a way by their ingress and egress in search of the fabulous gold that was supposed to exist somewhere in the inaccessibility of the great chasm. the harder a locality is to arrive at the bigger the stories of its wealth, while often in the attempts to reach it the prospector treads heedlessly ground that holds fortunes up to his very eyes. we continued straight up kanab canyon, the walls running lower and lower, till there was nothing but rounded hills. then we emerged on the summit, which was a valley bottom, about twenty miles from kanab. shortly after dark we halted for a bite to eat and a brief rest before striking for our old storehouse, a log cabin in jacob's corral, where we arrived about eleven o'clock, having made about forty miles. i collected all the blankets i could find, and, throwing them on the inside of jacob's garden fence, i was almost immediately asleep, and knew nothing till jacob came along and said a "good-morning." my ablutions over, i went to sister louisa's to breakfast with prof. and mrs. thompson. the gardens were now yielding an abundance of fresh fruits, peaches, melons, etc., and i blessed the good management and foresight that directed the immediate planting of these things in a mormon settlement. it seemed as if i could not get my fill. [illustration: c. preliminary map of a portion of the central part of the unknown country indicated by the blank space on map a at page 95, showing the kaibab plateau, mouth of the paria, echo peaks, house rock valley, and the course of part of glen canyon and of marble canyon and the grand canyon to the mouth of the kanab canyon. el vado is at the western intersection of the 37th parallel and the colorado river, and kanab is in the upper left-hand corner of the map--just above the 37th parallel which is the boundary between utah and arizona. the words "old spanish trail from santa fé to los angeles" near el vado were added in washington and are incorrect. the old spanish trail crossed at gunnison crossing far north of this point, which was barely known before 1858.] friday the 13th, the next day, was my birthday and mrs. thompson, who was always striving to do something to make our circumstances pleasant, prepared a large peach pie with her own hands in celebration. the major and jones having come in the night before, we passed most of the time that day in a large tent eating melons, the major acting as carver of the fruit. when we had eaten a watermelon he would declare that he thought muskmelon far better. we all agreed. he would cut one only to find when we had eaten it that we had changed our minds and wanted watermelon, which see-saw opinions we kept up till all the melons were gone. it would be impossible for any one who had not had our canyon fare to appreciate the exhilarating effect of this fresh fruit. my leg, which had developed the pain coming up the kanab canyon, now swelled till it was almost the same size throughout and any pressure made an imprint as in a piece of putty. no one knew what to make of it. i rode over to johnson's, that person being the nearest to a doctor of any one in the country, though the mormons do not much believe in medicines, and he gave me a liniment to apply. this did no good. in a few days the swelling disappeared except where the spot of keen pain was, and there a lump was left half as large as a man's fist, with two small red spots in the middle of it. i now concluded that these spots marked the bite of a tarantula that must have gotten in my blankets at shower-bath spring. suppuration set in at the spots where the flesh turned black and all the men said it was a bad-looking wound. they thought i would lose my leg. i concluded to poultice it to draw out any poison that remained, and kept bread-and-milk applied continuously. after a while it seemed to have a tendency to heal. we ran the base line up through kanab and at the head of it pitched a small observatory tent over a stone foundation on which prof, set up a large transit instrument for stellar observations. he got in connection, by the telegraph, with salt lake city and made a series of close observations. i began an hourly set of barometrical readings and as soon as clem came back he helped me to run them day and night for eight consecutive days. jack meanwhile was preparing for a trip to the moki towns, the major and jones had gone off for some special work, and andy started with a waggon for beaver to bring down rations. occasional bands of trading navajos enlivened the days and i secured five good blankets in exchange for old yawger, who was now about useless for our purposes. prof. gave him to me to get what i could for him, and he also gave clem another derelict for the same purpose. on the 9th of october jack, andy, and clem, started with jacob on his annual trip to the mokis by way of lee's lonely dell while jones went north to long valley on the head of the virgin, for topography. the major on foot, with a mormon companion and a pai ute, explored from long valley down the narrow canyon of the virgin to shunesburg, about 20 miles, a trip never before made.[37] the canyon is about two thousand feet deep and in places only twenty or thirty feet wide, twisting in such a way that the sky was not visible at times, and the stream often filled it from side to side so that they had to swim. [illustration: the grand canyon. at the bottom near foot of bass trail.] about eleven o'clock that night prof. came to wake me up to say that a telegram had arrived stating that najavos again had been raiding and had stolen seventy head of horses from parowan. they were supposed to be making for el vado and nobody in the absence of jacob seemed to know just what to do about it. prof. had advised them to organise a party and cut off the raiders, but they preferred to consult jacob before doing anything. prof. now asked me if i would be willing to ride at once to the navajo well where jacob had expected to camp and notify him of the raid, no one else in town understanding where the well was, few besides ourselves and jacob ever having travelled that way. i said i would go if i could have one companion. it was a lonely journey, and besides i might come on the navajos before reaching the well. charley riggs, a splendid fellow whom i liked exceedingly, volunteered. filling our overcoat pockets with cartridges, and each with a good winchester across his saddle, we started about 12:30 under a fine moon and a clear sky. i knew the way perfectly, even by moonlight. we took no wrong turns, had no stops, and made excellent time toward the navajo well twenty miles away. on we went over the open country, skirting the vermilion cliffs on our left. "neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place," but not at the headlong gallop by which they brought the news over a first-class road to aix, we rode steadily as fast as the ground would permit, sometimes on a gallop, sometimes on a trot. about two o'clock, as we neared a canyon where an old trail came down from the north which the raiders might follow, we slowed up and advanced with caution. dimly we perceived what appeared to be a number of sleeping forms under the ordinary navajo dark-blue and white striped service blanket. throwing our guns up ready for action we rode ahead slowly to pass by a detour if not discovered. we then saw that the objects were nothing but peculiar bushes. with a feeling of sympathy for the dear knight of la mancha and his worthy sancho we spurred forward. at half-past four by the watch dawn began to spread on the sky and we rode into the camp at the navajo well. a shout and our hoofbeats had roused the sleepers. i delivered my message to jacob who immediately started for el vado with charley riggs, intending to add several more men to his band at the paria settlement which he would pass through; a route he had often before followed for a like purpose. my leg was by no means well and it would have been imprudent on this account for me to further lend my services. i let jacob have my rifle and ammunition and returned to kanab, jack, andy, and clem going on to lee's to wait. i reached the settlement before noon, when george adair and tom stewart started heavily armed to join jacob at the earliest moment. a pai ute later came in with a report that a fresh party of navajos on a trading trip had recently come across the colorado, and from this we concluded that the alarm was false, or that the culprits were utes who went off into the dirty devil country. prof. with adams went out towards the paria and then to the kaibab to do some topographic work along the north rim of the grand canyon and i was left without any of our party in the village, it being deemed inadvisable for me to do much riding or walking till my wound, which was now doing well, had more nearly healed. i devoted my time to plotting up notes, finishing sketches, drawings of pictographs, etc., and took my meals at sister louisa's. i became much interested in the story of her experiences which she told us from time to time, especially as she was one of the women who had pushed a handcart across the plains. after a few days the major came in from a trip accompanied by several pai utes, among whom was chuarooumpeak, the young chief of the kaibab band, usually called frank by the settlers and chuar by his own people. the pai utes having no "f" in their language pronounced his english name "brank," just as they called me "bred." their usual name for me was untokarowits, derived from the dark red colour of my hair. frank was a remarkably good man. he had been constantly devoted to the safety and welfare of the whites. a most fluent speaker in his native tongue, he would address his people with long flights of uninterrupted rhetorical skill. old patnish came in occasionally. though he did not look particularly dangerous his eye was keen and his bearing positive. nobody would have interfered with him unless prepared for a fight to the finish. one day i rode to johnson by the trail and learned when i got back that patnish had arrived at kanab by the road, so i just missed an interview. the term "old" patnish signifies "that scoundrel" patnish, but when the people spoke of "old" jacob the prefix was one of respect and affection--so contrary is the meaning that can be put into three letters. charley riggs and george adair came back from el vado saying that no raiding navajos had been seen, so our opinion of the false alarm was confirmed. [illustration: e. showing results of recent re-survey of part of the grand canyon near bright angel creek by the geological survey with ample time for detail. compare with map c at page 246, the south end of kaibab plateau.] on the 27th of october we had the first snow of the season, which lasted only a few hours, snow never being heavy at kanab. the major had planned another journey to the uinkaret region and we started november 2d, taking with us three of the kaibab band--chuar, another called george, or, as they pronounced it, "judge," and waytoots; the major desiring to talk to them in our camps to continue his vocabulary and the collection of other linguistic material which he had been gathering from them and others in and around kanab at every opportunity. our party proceeded to pipe spring, camping half a mile below the houses and striking the next day, monday, november 4th, for the wild band pocket. finding no water there the natives led on toward a spring they knew of in a low line of cliffs. i was riding a broncho broken only a few weeks before, and at an unexpected moment i was suddenly deemed _persona non grata_, but i kept my seat and vanquished the beast after a vigorous circus, meeting thereafter with no further opposition. we saw a band of twenty wild horses spinning across the plain one behind another like a train of railway cars, a huge stallion playing locomotive. perhaps my broncho felt the call of the band! darkness dropped down on us before we could get to the spring. we had to make a camp that was not exactly dry, though there was no drinking water, for a drizzling rain, half snow, set in, the snow serving to hold the accompanying rain on the surface. we were wading in slush and it was a task to find a decent place for one's blankets. jones and i bunked together. his side of the bed was a slight hollow, in consequence of which the melting slush formed under him a chilly pool that interfered seriously with his slumbers. i happened to be lying on a lump or ridge and kept fairly dry by never stirring the whole night. the rain ceased by morning and all day tuesday we travelled toward the uinkaret mountains over a comparatively level desert, but not going rapidly, as we had a waggon. the ground having been softened by the rain the wheels cut deeply, there being of course no road. a flock of antelope blew by. we did not give them a second glance, as they were too far off to be hunted. it was after dark when we arrived at the rocky pool where we had before camped in march, which we learned now from chuar the natives called the innupin (or oonupin) picavu, or witch water-pocket. they said the locality was a favourite haunt of witches. these were often troublesome and had to be driven away or they might hurt one. there was plenty of wood and we were soon comfortable, with a keen november wind to emphasise our blessings. the water in the pocket was clear and pure, but it was full of small "wigglers." we tried to dip up a pail which should be free from them. the major, seeing our efforts, took a cup and without looking drank it down with the nonchalant remark, "i haven't seen any wigglers." the pai utes had killed some rabbits, which they now skinned and cooked. i say cooked, but perhaps i should say warmed. dexterously stripping off the skins they slit open the abdomen, removed the entrails, and, after squeezing out the contents by drawing between thumb and fingers, they replaced the interminable string in the cavity, closing the aperture with the ears, and stowed the carcass in the hot ashes for a few minutes. then they ate the whole thing with complete satisfaction. we preferred to fry ours, without the entrails, in a pan with bacon fat. frequently the major gave me little talks on science, as he was much interested in my future career, and by the fire this evening he instructed me in some of the fundamental principles of natural philosophy. chuar having had one of his men remove his shoes, which were heavy "mericats" ones, was reclining in a princely way smoking a cigarette on a bank near the fire. suddenly he rose to his feet, intently listening and peering anxiously out through the enveloping gloom of the piñons and cedars. i asked him what he heard. "oonupits," he whispered solemnly, never ceasing his watchful gaze. then cautiously aiming his long muzzle-loading rifle in the direction, he fired a shot and seemed satisfied that the intruder was driven away or destroyed. he described the noise of the oonupits as a whistling sound. he and his men had a habit of waking in the night in our various camps and singing, first one beginning very low, the others joining in one by one, and increasing the power as they did so till all were singing in full voice. this woke us up. we threw things at them, but with no effect. "what do you do it for?" said i to chuar. "to drive away the oonupits," he answered.[38] in the morning, november 6th, the major, prof. and i went off reconnoitring and did not get back to camp till after dark, when we found there a short, fat, uinkaret whom chuar introduced as teemaroomtekai, chief. in the settlements when he ventured to go there he was known as watermelon, according to frank hamblin, who was with us. teemaroomtekai had a companion and next day prof. and the major climbed mt. trumbull with them. wishing to have a talk with the shewits we moved on the 9th around to oak spring, near which some of them were encamped with their kinsmen the uinkarets. i was interested to see what the slayers of the howlands and dunn looked like. except for a wilder, more defiant aspect, they differed little from other pai utes. their country being so isolated and unvisited they were surly and independent. the uinkarets on the other hand were rather genial, more like the kaivavit band. the major traded for bags of food seeds, baskets, spoons made from mountain sheep's horns, balls of compressed cactus fruit from which the juice had been extracted for a kind of wine, rolls of oose-apple pulp, which they ate like bread, etc., all for the smithsonian institution. with the shewits the major and prof. had a conference. prof. wished to make a reconnaissance through their region and explained to them what he wanted to do. an agreement was reached by which he was to be permitted without molestation of any kind to go anywhere and everywhere with two shewits for guides and one of our party as cook and helper, in order that he could tell "washington" about the country. the helper, however, was to stick to the trail and remain in camp, so that he would know as little as possible, and should not tell that little to the "mormoni" whom the shewits disliked. nathan adams, a mormon, was the man to accompany prof. and he did not enjoy the prospect at all. on monday, november 11th, the major, prof., and jones climbed mount logan for more data and took a general survey of the country, while i went out on foot, climbed, measured and located eight large cinder-cones. when they came down the major said he had seen a fine, isolated mountain to the west which he had called after me, and i naturally felt much pleased with the honour of having my name stamped on the map. the next day, november 12th, our party divided into three. frank hamblin went out to st. george with the waggon after rations; prof. with nathan adams, one shewits, named paantung, and our guide "judge," who may have been a shewits also for all we could tell, prepared for the entrance into shewits land, while the major, jones, and i proceeded to the foot of the toroweap, to a water-pocket near the edge of the grand canyon called by the uinkarets teram picavu. chuar and waytoots went back to kanab and we hired uinkarets to carry our goods nine miles down to the pocket, descending 1200 feet at one point over rough lava. after some work at the canyon we went back to the spring on the 14th, the uinkarets again acting as our pack-horses. we had no salt left by this time and very little food, but we killed some rabbits and cooked them on hot coals, the adhering ashes making a substitute for salt. i reached the spring first and found little, round, beaming, teemaroomtekai, who knew our plans, already there with a great big "mericats" fire to welcome us, as well as a large pile of wood for feeding it. the major got in soon after, but jones failed to come at all, which worried us. before we could go in search of him in the morning he arrived. his horse had given out, compelling him to stay where he was all night. we had travelled hard up and down all kinds of hills, canyons, and mountains, with seldom a trail, and it was wearing on the animals living only on bunch grass. [illustration: the grand canyon. from north side near foot of toroweap valley, uinkaret district. photograph by j. k. hillers.] i continued measuring and locating the oonagaritchets or cinder-cones, of which there were more than sixty, and got in four more on the 15th. then the major decided to move to another water-pocket the uinkarets told about, farther east across the lava, a pocket they called tiravu picavu or pocket-of-the-plain. it was on the edge of the basaltic table overlooking what they termed the wonsits tiravu or antelope plain. they said there was no water now, but as one declared there was a little we decided to go. while the major followed a waggon-track leading to or from st. george, wishing to make some special observations along it and expecting to meet and stop frank with the waggon now due, jones and i struck across on the moccasin trail, leaving our goods to be brought on by the uinkaret packers. at sunset we rounded a clump of cinder-cones studding a black, barren waste. far away across the wonsits tiravu rose the red cliff land up and up to the eastern sky; behind was the great bulk of trumbull, together with scores of the smooth, verdureless heaps of volcanic cinders. everywhere near was the desert of basalt, with nothing but the faint trail to point the way and the night slowly enwrapping us. on we urged our stumbling, weary beasts, their iron clinking on the metallic rocks; on till the thick blackness circled us like a wall. then we halted and built a little brush fire, thinking to stay till dawn. at the instant a weird cry from far back fell leaden on the strangely heavy winter air. our packers saw where we were and presently came to us. they were in a rage, pitching along in the dark under their heavy loads. they were cold, tired, famished, for the way had been long, the packs heavy. frost was in the wind. they now pretended not to know where the end was. i thought this was to see what we would say or do. we did not care; we said and did nothing with all the nonchalance born of the feeling that the further we went the worse it was. then one remembered. the pocket was near and he struck out for it, the rest following as best we could through the thick night, the guide occasionally lighting a torch of grass. after a quarter of a mile he stopped in the bottom of a deep basaltic gulch. here was the place. the uinkarets threw down their loads and squatted glum and silent. from the hill jones and i scraped together an armful of brush and got a small fire started in the bottom of the desolate hollow. at the upper end of it on a sort of bench eight feet wide was a depression covered with ice three or four inches thick. with some difficulty pounding a hole through this we found beneath a small amount of thick, slimy water, full of green scum. we drank some, the uinkarets drank some, but we could not see well enough to get any out for the animals. we tied them to rocks to prevent them from leaving in the night. the indians thawed a little under the influence of the fire, but they would barely speak when spoken to. they skinned a wildcat they had killed on the way and boiled the red meat briefly in our kettle and ate it like hungry wolves, while jones and i, all the time wondering what had become of the major, made a light lunch on some of our scanty supply. then we climbed the hill, and getting together a little more brush jones sat keeping a signal fire going as long as he had fuel. but the wind was keen and strong, wood limited, and he gave it up. spreading our blankets we went to sleep. morning came clear and sharp. i took my glasses and went up to scan the country for some sign of the major or our waggon and i rejoiced to discover him not a quarter of a mile distant. he had headed for the fire, and losing it kept on by a star till he thought he was near us, when he made a small fire of his own, tied his mule, and waited for day. we had a bite together and thawed out some of the ice in our kettle, providing a diminutive drink for each horse; then leaving the natives in charge of the baggage we rode down into the plain to find our waggon, taking along our last bit of bread for lunch. in about ten miles we came to it and frank hamblin gave us the latest news, "grant elected and boston burned." after a lunch we turned back, making a camp at the foot of the basalt, thawing out more ice for the animals, and giving the indians some food. about two o'clock the major and i rode over to the innupin picavu while jones and the waggon went around, as it could not cross the basalt. we arrived at seven, while the waggon did not come till half past eleven, when we prepared a good supper for all hands, turning in about three in the morning. not a man awoke before ten, though the strong sun fell on our faces. the animals were used up and we did what we could on foot that day. i climbed four more cinder-cones, reaching camp at dark. every day i climbed several of the cones, but some were so far away that i had to make a special camp from which to operate. the waggon was loaded with ice from the water-pocket, and a supply of provisions, and driven about seven miles to a basaltic gulch, in a well-wooded locality on the edge of a treeless valley, where the load was dropped and i was left with my horse. before dark i gathered a lot of wood, made a good fire, and melted some of the ice that formed my water supply, in a brass kettle, watering my horse, which i then tethered with a long rope where there was good grass. i did not intend to waste time hunting my mount in the morning. after supper i spread my blankets near the fire and by the light of a bright piñon blaze i began to read _great expectations_, a paper edition with the last leaves gone having gotten into camp. as i read pip's interview in the twilight with the convict on the dreary marshes i was in deep sympathy with the desperate hunger of the terrible man, and when mrs. joe buttered the end of the loaf and carved off the slices i myself was hungry enough to cook supper over again. butter had now been absent from my bill of fare, with a few exceptions, for nearly two years. i was careful to place my fire where it would be well screened and not easily seen from a distance. i did not care to have any shewits or even uinkarets visit me and i hoped they were all in their own camps, though i sometimes had a feeling that one might be watching from the shadows of the great basaltic rocks. this, of course, was due to the circumstances and not to any probability, though i kept my winchester near my hand. when i again got back to the main camp the major told me that the first night of my absence several of the natives came in and, not seeing me around, inquired my whereabouts. he gave them an evasive answer, believing that it was quite as well not to apprise them of the situation. the following day, thursday, november 21st, i covered a wide territory, climbing five cinder-cones a great distance apart and each quite high. several times i crossed recent moccasin tracks, but met no natives, and at nightfall i was still a long way from my camp. when the darkness became so dense that i could not see even faint outlines i took a star for guidance till clouds blotted it out. then i was completely adrift in a sea of mountains. i could not tell one direction from another. throwing the reins on the broncho's neck i sat back in my saddle to see what would come of it. slowly, cautiously the animal plodded over broken, rocky ground succeeded by smoother footing, as i could tell by the motion, and in about an hour suddenly and quietly halted. i perceived that i was in the midst of cedars. a light spot appeared almost beneath. dismounting i dropped to my hands and knees and found that it was the ashes of my fire. the broncho, the same that had tried to buck me off a few days before, had come back to the camp of a single night, about the best example of horse sense that i ever experienced. after another comfortable evening with dickens i was prepared to go on with my special task, and finished it in this place by climbing the group of cones near the tiravu picavu the next day. about two in the afternoon i got back to my camp with a very tired mount, but i loaded all my traps on my saddle, the ice being almost exhausted, and started to find a new locality where i was to meet the major. my pack was high, my broncho tired. while crossing a small open valley near sunset the poor beast suddenly lay down with me. there being no water anywhere in that locality, i was forced to use some brutality to get the animal up. without further incident i came to the place agreed on and found the major there in advance. we camped at the spot and the next day, saturday, november 23d, i climbed five more cones, reaching the camp at sunset. sunday the major went on with his particular task while i added six more of the cones to my list, getting back to the side camp late in the day. the major was to go in by himself when he was ready, so i took all the outfit on my horse again, reached the oak spring trail at sunset, and the main camp two hours after dark, glad enough to drop the load of pails, bags, blankets, etc., in which my broncho sympathised more deeply than could be expressed. [illustration: the grand canyon. storm effect from south rim.] monday morning, november 25th, we turned our faces toward kanab, and i climbed four more cones on the way out, overtaking the waggon about an hour after dark. the night was very cold and i was ready to enjoy the warmth of a fire by the time i reached the camp. in the morning we had a visit from lieutenant dinwiddie of lieut. wheeler's survey. i rode over to the cinder-cone region again and climbed the remaining ones, seven or eight, reaching camp after dark, the days being very short at this time of year. the camp had been moved nearer to the spring in the low line of cliffs where we had halted coming out and the major with his usual original ideas had caused the waggon to be lowered by ropes into a deep gulch. he had estimated that it was possible to go out through the cliffs that way instead of going all the way around. his geological knowledge did not lead him astray. there was no trouble whatever in taking the waggon up the gulch, and when we emerged we were many miles on the road to pipe spring, where the major and i arrived in advance of the others. we had dinner and he then went on alone to kanab, where the whole party arrived the next day--thanksgiving day. prof. had come in on the 25th by way of st. george, having had a successful tour through the shewits region, all agreements on both sides having been carried out to the letter. he had been two weeks in the wild country and adams declared that to him the time was years, his only comfort being that he was wearing his "endowment garment," a sure protection from all evil. prof. had climbed mount dellenbaugh, though the shewits objected to adams's going up and he remained on the trail. it was found to be a basaltic peak 6650 feet above sea-level, but only 1200 or 1500 above its base. on the summit were the ruins of a shinumo building circular in shape, twenty feet in diameter, with walls remaining about two feet high. it was not far from the base of this mountain that the howlands and dunn were killed, paantung, prof.'s guide, saying it was done by some "no sense" shewits. prof. was of the opinion that the guide had been of the party himself. all was preparation in our camp for the departure of the major for salt lake and washington. i had expected to go east at this time also, but both the major and prof. being desirous of having me remain a while longer, to help finish up the preliminary map, i agreed to do so and on the 30th of november all the original party set out but prof., mrs. thompson, and myself. a new member, john renshawe, had arrived a few days before to assist at the topography. when the party had been gone some time it was discovered that they had forgotten several things. i took a horse and rode over with the articles to the camp they intended to make at johnson, where i remained till morning. the major was so eager to get an early start that he had all hands up long before sunrise. when breakfast was eaten we had to sit by the fire three quarters of an hour before there was light enough for the men to trail the horses. then i said good-bye; they went on and i went back. jones and andy i never saw again. prof. concluded to make winter headquarters in kanab and a lot was rented for the purpose. on december 3d, we put up a large tent in one corner, with two small ones for rations and saddles. the next day we put up one in the other corner for prof. and mrs. thompson, and at the back of the lot we arranged a corral for the horses or mules we might want to catch. the large tents were floored with pine boards and along the sides heavy cedar boughs were placed in crotches around which the guy ropes were passed before staking. the tents thus were dry inside and could not blow down. a conical iron stove on a boxing of earth heated the large tent like a furnace. in the middle of the general tent we placed a long drafting-table and were ready for work. another tent, half boards, was erected near ours for kitchen and dining-room, and riley, who had turned up again, hired as cook and master of this structure. riley, who had spent his whole life in camp and saddle, was the best frontier or camp cook i ever saw. scrupulously clean to the last detail of his pots and pans, he knew how to make to perfection all manner of eatables possible under the circumstances. prof. arranged for a supply of potatoes, butter, meats, and everything within reason, so we lived very well, with an occasional dash of dixie wine to add zest, while on christmas day riley prepared a special feast. though the sky was sombre the town was merry and there was a dance in the school-house, but i did not attend. rainy weather set in on the 26th, and the old year welcomed the new in a steady downpour, making january 1, 1873, rather a dismal holiday. even the mail which arrived this day was soaked. toward evening the skies lifted somewhat and a four-horse waggon appeared, or rather two mules and two horses on a common freighting waggon, in which lyman hamblin and two others were playing, as nearly in unison as possible, a fiddle, a drum, and a fife. while we were admiring this feat we heard jack's hearty shout and saw our waggon returning under his charge from salt lake with supplies, with a cook stove for our kitchen, and with a new suit of clothes for me accompanied by the compliments of prof. and the major. our camp in kanab was now as complete and comfortable as any one might wish, and our work of preparing the map went forward rapidly. as soon as it could be finished i was to take it to salt lake, and send it by express to the major in washington, to show congress what we had been doing and what a remarkable region it was that we had been investigating. in the evenings we visited our friends in the settlement or they visited us, or we read what books, papers, and magazines we could get hold of. john and i also amused ourselves by writing down all the songs that were sung around camp, to which i added a composition of my own to the tune of _farewell to the star spangled banner_, an abandoned rebel one. these words ran: oh, boys, you remember the wild colorado, its rapids and its rocks will trouble us no more, etc., with a mention in the various stanzas of each member of the party and his characteristics. the horses became high-spirited with nothing to do and plenty of good feed. one of our amusements was to corral several, and then, putting saddles on the most prancing specimens, mount and ride down on the plain, the horse running at top speed, with the impression that he was full master of the situation and expecting us to try to stop him. instead we enjoyed the exhilaration of it, and let the charger alone till after a couple of miles he concluded the fun was all on our side and took a more moderate gait of his own accord. there were several horse races also, and the days flew by. on february 3d i finished plotting the river down to the kanab canyon, and as if to emphasise this point a snow-storm set in. by the 5th the snow was five inches deep, and we had word that the snow on the divide to the north over the culmination of the various lines of cliffs, where i would have to pass to go to salt lake, was very heavy. on the 7th the mail rider failed to get through. we learned also that an epizoötic had come to utah and many horses were laid up by it, crippling the stage lines. it had been planned that i should go north with our own horses till i could connect with some stage line, and then take that for the remainder of the distance to the utah southern railway, which then had been extended south from salt lake as far as lehi. on the 16th of february, which was sunday, i put the last touches on the map, drawn from the original on a large sheet of tracing cloth, rolled it carefully up, and placed it in a long tin tube we had ordered from the local tinsmith. this i carried on my back, as i did not mean to be separated from it a minute till i gave it into the hands of wells, fargo & co.'s express in salt lake. jack was to go with me. saying a last good-bye to prof. and mrs. thompson, to john, and to some of my kanab friends who came to see the start, we left a little after noon, with one pack on a broncho mule, jack riding a mule and i a favourite horse of mine called by the unusual name of billy. the pack-mule always had to be blindfolded before we could handle him, and if the blind should accidentally slip off there was an instantaneous convulsion which had a most disrupting effect. going straight up the canyon, we crossed over finally into long valley, and were on the headwaters of the virgin. at sunset we came to a little settlement called mt. carmel, but continued to glendale, where we arrived about half-past seven, having come in all thirty miles. at the bishop's house we were welcomed and there got some supper, putting our three animals in his corral. we did not care to sleep in the house, choosing for our resting-place the last remains of a haystack, where we spread our blankets, covering the whole with a paulin, as the sky looked threatening. i never slept more comfortably in my life, except that i was half-aroused in the stillness by water trickling down my neck. half-asleep we pulled the canvas clear up over our heads and were troubled no more. when we awoke in the morning a heaviness on top of us we knew meant snow. we were covered by a full foot of it, soft and dry. valley, mountain, everything was a solid expanse of white, the only dark spot being our red blankets as we threw back the paulin. the sky was grey and sullen. more snow was in the air. as soon as breakfast was eaten we slung our pack, saddled, and rode up the valley, following as well as we could the directions given by the bishop. neither jack nor i had been this way before. we could see the slight depression in the surface of the snow which indicated a waggon-rut beneath, and by that token continued up the ever-narrowing valley; the slopes sprinkled by large pine trees. snow fell thickly. it was not always easy to see our way, but we went on. at a certain point we were to turn to the left up a side gulch, following it till we came to the divide, some eight thousand or nine thousand feet above sea-level, where we expected to go down to the head of the sevier valley, where jack had before been by another route. at the gulch we deemed the correct one, no road or trail being visible, we turned late in the afternoon to the left and rapidly mounted higher, with the fresh snow growing correspondingly deeper till it was about two feet on the level. the going was slow and hard, the sky still dropping heavy flakes upon us. about five o'clock we found ourselves on the summit of a high bald knob topping the world. in every direction through the snow-mist similar bald knobs could be seen looming against the darkening sky. the old drifts were so deep that where a horse broke through the crust he went down to the end of his leg. this excited them, and they plunged wildly. i finally got them all three still and quiet, while jack scanned the outlook intently. "see any landmark, jack?" said i. "not a damned thing i ever saw before!" answered jack. at brief intervals the falling snow would cease, and we could see more clearly, except that the impending night began to cast over all a general obscurity. there was a deep valley beyond to the right. while it was not possible to tell directions we felt that our course must lie there, and i led the way down a long treeless slope, breaking a path as well as i could, my horse following behind; the others urged on by jack from the rear. the snow became shallower near the bottom. we mounted and i rode in the direction that jack thought we ought to take to come to the road down the sevier where he had before travelled. we crossed the valley in doing this, but at one point in the very bottom my horse wanted to turn to the left, which would have taken us down the deepening valley. i prevented his turning and we continued up a gulch a mile or two, where it narrowed till we could barely proceed. jack then climbed up on a cliff and disappeared, endeavouring to see some familiar object, the falling snow having at last stopped. i stood in my tracks with the three animals and waited so long i began to be afraid that jack had met with an accident. just then i heard him descending. it was nearly dark. he could not see any sign of the region he had been in before. snow and darkness puzzle one even in a familiar country. we then went back to the valley where the horse had wished to turn and followed it down, now believing that it might be the right way after all, for billy had been over the road several times. another example of horse sense, which seems to prove that horses know more than we think they do. we had expected to reach asa's ranch before night and had not brought an axe, in consequence. keeping down the valley till we came to a group of cedars, some of which were dead, and a tall pine tree, we camped, pulling branches from the cedars and bark from the pine for a fire, which quickly melted its way down to the ground, leaving a convenient seat all round about twenty inches high, upon which we laid blankets to sit on. our pack contained enough food for supper; breakfast would have to take care of itself. we also had some grain, which we fed to the hungry animals and tied them under the cedars, where they were protected in a measure from the sharp wind though they were standing in deep snow. for ourselves we cut twigs from the green cedars and made a thick mattress on the snow with them. our blankets on top of these made a bed fit for a king. the storm cleared entirely; a brilliant moon shone over all, causing the falling frost in the air to scintillate like diamonds. in the morning, tuesday, february 18th, we packed up at once, having nothing left to eat, and proceeded down the valley wondering if we were on the right road or not. the sky arched over with that deep tone that is almost black in winter in high altitudes, and the sun fell in a dazzling sheet upon the wide range of unbroken white. the surface was like a mirror; the eyes closed against the intense light instinctively. as we went on northwards and downwards a faint, double, continuous hollow began to appear on the snow--a waggon-track at the bottom. it became more and more distinct and we then felt sure that we were on the right road, though we were not positive till near noon when, approaching a rocky point, we suddenly heard the clear ring of an axe on the metallic air. a few moments later turning this we saw a large, swift stream flowing clear between snowy banks, and beyond a log cabin with blue smoke rising from the immense stone chimney. in front was a man chopping wood. his dog was barking. it was a welcome, a beautiful picture of frontier comfort. it was asa's ranch. asa was one of the men who helped the major on his arrival at the mouth of the virgin in 1869, now having changed his residence to this place. we were soon made welcome in the single large room of the cabin where all the family were, and while the horses were having a good feed an equally good one for us was prepared by mrs. asa on the fire burning snugly in the great chimney. never did fried ham, boiled eggs, and hot coffee do better service. we could not have been more cordially received if these mormons had been our own relatives. we rested there till about three o'clock, when we bade them all good-bye and rode on down the valley, the snow continually lessening in depth, till, when we reached the much lower altitude of panguitch at sunset, twenty-six miles from our night's camp, there were only three or four inches and the temperature was not nearly so low, though still very cold. according to custom we applied to the bishop for accomodation for ourselves and our stock and were again cordially received. we were quickly made comfortable before a bright fire on the hearth which illumed the whole room. while the good wife got supper, the bishop, an exceedingly pleasant man, brought out some dixie wine he had recently received. he poured us out each a large goblet and took one himself. after a hearty supper jack and i put down our blankets on the bishop's haystack and knew nothing more till sunrise. leaving panguitch we rode on down the sevier, crossing it frequently, and made about forty miles, passing through sevier canyon and circle valley, where there were a number of deserted houses, and arrived for night at the ranch of a gentile named van buren. by this time my eyes, which had been inflamed by the strong glare of the sun, began to feel as if they were full of sand, and presently i became aware that i was afflicted with that painful malady snowblindness. i could barely see, the pain in both eyes was extreme, and a river of tears poured forth continually. other men whom we heard of as we went on were blinded worse than i. all i could do, having no goggles, was to keep my hat pulled down and cut off the glare as much as possible.[39] at marysvale the stage had been abandoned. we kept on, finding as we advanced that all the stages were put out of business by the epizoötic. there was nothing for jack to do but to go on with me to nephi. in riding through one village i saw a sign on the closed door of a store just off the road and my curiosity led me to ride up close enough to read it. i did not linger. the words i saw were "small pox." that night we reached nephi under the shadow of the superb mount nebo, where i tried again for a stage so that jack could return. no stage arrived and the following morning we rode on northward over very muddy roads, finally reaching spanish fork, where a fresh snow-storm covered the country about a foot, making travelling still more difficult. another day's journey put us as far as american fork, only three miles from the end of the railway, a place called lehi, for which we made a very early start the next day, wednesday, february 25th, but when we arrived there through the mud and slush the train had taken its departure. our pack mule was now very lame and travelled with difficulty, but we continued on toward salt lake. the train had become stalled in the immense snowdrifts at the point-of-the-mountain and there we overtook it. i was soon on board with my tin case and other baggage, but it was a considerable time before the gang of men and a snow plough extricated the train. about five o'clock we ran into the town. i went to the walker house, then the best hotel, and that night slept in a real room and a real bed for the first time in nearly two years, but i opened the windows as wide as they would go. in the morning i sent off the map and then turned my attention to seeing the mormon capital. cap. was now living there and it was fennemore's home. i also found bonnemort and macentee in town, and jack came on up the remaining short distance in order to take a fresh start for kanab. nearly forty years have slipped away since the events chronicled in this volume. never was there a more faithful, resolute band of explorers than ours. many years afterward prof. said in a letter to me speaking of the men of the second powell expedition, "i have never seen since such zeal and courage displayed." from out the dark chasm of eternity comes the hail, "tirtaan aigles dis wai!" and already many of that little company have crossed to killiloo. the major and prof. repose in the sacred limits of arlington. strew their graves with roses and forget them not. they did a great work in solving the last geographical problem of the united states. footnotes: [footnote 35: professor thompson declared to me not long before his death that the river was accurate as far as catastrophe rapid, (about where longitude 113.39 intersects the river) but from there to the virgin it might need some corrections.] [footnote 36: some men from kanab afterwards came in, sawed one in two and made it shorter, and then tried to go up the canyon by towing. they did not get far, and the boat was abandoned. the floods then carried both down to destruction.] [footnote 37: a description of this journey ascribed to september, 1870, occurs at page 108, _et seq._, in powell's report on the _exploration of the colorado river of the west_, 1875.] [footnote 38: oonupits or innupits is the singular, innupin the plural. it may be translated witch, elf, or goblin, with evil tendencies. on the other hand they did not fear a spirit. when on the kaibab in july with chuar and several other indians, prof. while riding along heard a cry something like an indian halloo. "after we got into camp," he said in his diary: "chuar asked george adair what he called that which lived after the body died. george replied, 'a spirit.' 'well,' said chuar, 'that was what hallooed in the forest to-day. it was the spirit of a dead indian. i have often heard it. sometimes it is near, sometimes far away. when i was here with beaman i heard it call near me. i answered, telling it to come to me. it did not come nor reply, and i felt very much ashamed to think i had called.'"] [footnote 39: for travelling across snow one should always be provided with smoked goggles. failing to have them, lines of charcoal should be drawn below the eyes or a scarf tied so as to break the glare.] index a adair, george, 153, 241 adams, nathan, 241, 253; his endowment garment, 259 agua grande, navajo chief, 147 aigles, tirtaan, slogan, 75, 267 alcove brook, 47 altitude of colorado river above sea, black's fork, 15; junction green and grand, 114; paria, 151, 217; grand wash, 217; little colorado, 223; kanab canyon, 241 american fork, 266 amerind, viii. andy, _see_ hattan aquarius plateau, 200, 202 arlington, powell and thompson buried there, 267 arms, kind used, 12 asa, ranch, 264, 265; assisted powell, 265 ashley, wm. h., through red canyon, 2, 28, 95; name on rocks, 28 ashley falls, 26; portage at, 27 ashtishkal, navajo chief, 177 aspen lakes, 201 averett, elijah, grave of, 197 azure cliffs, 99 b baird, professor spencer, vi. bangs, mount, climbed, 194 barbenceta, principal chief of the navajos, 168 base line, 166, 173, 174 basor, teamster, 68 beadle, j. h., 215; under name of hanson, 215 beaman, e. o., place in boat, 11; duty of, 11; leaves party, 179; passes paria on way to moki towns, 216; up from kanab canyon to surprise valley, 241 beaver, ground, 77; shoot one, 78; steak cooked, 78; soup, 78 berry's spring, 188; arrive at, 191 berthoud and bridger lay out waggon road, 67 best expedition, place of starting, 95 big boulder creek, 202 bishop, francis marion (cap.), place in boat, 11; duty of, 11; leaves party, 180 bishop's creek, 54 bison, pictographs, 61; range on green river, 61 black rock canyon, 193 black's fork, 15 boats of the second powell expedition, the, 4; names of, 4; described, 5, 6; method of packing, 8; order of going, 11; crews of, 11; no iron on keels, 14; built to float when full of water, 25; reassignment of crews, 136, 215; _cañonita_ cached, 135; launched again, 209; crew for, 209; _dean_ cached, 154; _nellie powell_ cached, 154; _dean_ discovered by beadle, 215; _nellie powell_ abandoned, 215; _cañonita_ and _dean_ abandoned, 244 bonito bend, 111 bonnemort, john, 143; leaves party, 179; in salt lake city, 267 boston burned, news of, received, 256 bow-knot bend, 108 bread, kind used, 4 bridger and berthoud lay out waggon road, 67 bridger, jim, 95 brigham young, 170, 185 bright angel creek, arrive at mouth of, 232; why so named, 232 brown expedition, place of starting, 95 brown's hole, name changed to brown's park, 18, 30; arrive at, 30 brush creek, 54 buckskin mountain (kaibab plateau), 159 buenaventura, rio san, escalante's name for green river, 67 buffalo _express_, letters from f. s. dellenbaugh to, vii. butte of the cross, 110 c campbell, richard, knew of ford el vado de los padres, 96 camp moved to the gap, 171 _cañonita_, left behind, 135; reached overland, 209 canyon of desolation, enter it, 77; character and height of walls, 80, 84, 85; length of, 91 canyon of lodore, enter it, 34; declivity of, 43; length of, 48; fall of, 48 canyons, for list of, with heights of walls, lengths, etc., see _the romance of the colorado river_, appendix canyons not dark in daytime, 25 cap., _see_ bishop capsize, of the _cañonita_, 23; of the _dean_, 235 carleton, companion of beaman, 216 carson, kit, 95 cascade creek, 43, 202 cascades of rain, 105, 106, 132 cataract canyon, declivity compared, 43; beginning of, 115; height of walls, 116, 122, 126, 128, 129; we enter it, 118; declivity in, 118; boulders rolled by current, 118; width of river, 119; boat runs rapid alone, 121; stones rocked by current, 127; length of, 132; end of, 132; number of rapids, 132 cataract creek, 96, 202 catastrophe rapid, vi., 242, 243 caves once occupied, 132 chandler falls, 87; creek, 87 chicago, burning of, first news, 157 chicago _tribune_, letters from clement powell to, v. chief douglas, major and mrs. powell winter near his camp, 172 chocolate cliffs, 166 chuarooumpeak, chief of kaibab band of pai utes, 250; shoots at oonupits, 252; singing, 252; hears spirit call, 253; goes back to kanab, 254 circle valley, pass through it, 266 clarkson, mormon settlement, 197 clear or spring creek (badger creek), 158 clem, _see_ powell clemente, rio san, escalante's name for white river, 67 cliff-of-the-harp named, 43 coal canyon, 91 colob plateau, 191 colorado, from, into utah, 56 colorado river, accuracy of plat of course, vi., vii., 243; upper continuation of, 1; white salmon, 98; actual beginning of, 115; excessive high water, 244 compass creek, 24 condition of party at end of first season's river work, 145 course of the colorado river, accuracy of, vi., vii., 243 craggy canyon, 57 crater, recent, in uinkaret country, 188 creek, sentinel, 149 crescent creek, 209 crossing of the fathers, the, _see_ el vado de los padres d dance, mormon, 173 davy crockett, fort, 30 _dean_, the _emma_, cached for the winter, 154; discovered by j. h. beadle, 215 deer, game, etc., 26 dellenbaugh, butte, 102, 104; mount, named, 254; thompson climbs it, 259 dellenbaugh, f. s., joins party, 3; position in boat, 11; duty of, 11; letters from, to buffalo _express_, vii. de motte, professor, 213 denver, colorado canyon, and pacific railway, 119 denver and rio grande railway crossing of green river, 95 denver to salt lake, waggon road _via_ golden and provo, and robideau crossing of green river, 67 descent, in feet of green-colorado river, from union pacific railway to black's fork, 15; to flaming gorge, 17; in red canyon, 33; in lodore, 48; in whirlpool, 56; to the mouth of the uinta, 71; from wonsits valley to gunnison crossing, 93; from the union pacific to gunnison crossing, 93; from gunnison crossing to junction of green and grand, 114; from union pacific to mouth of grand river, 114; from mouth of grand river to dirty devil, 134; from union pacific to dirty devil (frémont), 135; from union pacific to paria (lee ferry), 151; from paria to little colorado, 223; from little colorado to grand wash, 223; from little colorado to kanab, 241; from paria to kanab, 241 desolation, canyon of, enter it, 77; perforations in walls of, 82; width of river in, 83, 89; height of walls, 84, 85; natural arches in, 87, 88; end of, 91; length of, 91 diamond butte, how named, 192 diamond creek mouth astronomically determined, 95 diary, of professor thompson, vii.; of john f. steward, vii.; of f. s. dellenbaugh, vii.; of jack summer, 7 dinwiddie, lieut., 258 dirty devil mountains, _see_ unknown mountains dirty devil (frémont) river, viii.; point of junction with colorado, 3; failure to get to it overland, 70, 99; arrive at mouth by river, 133; overland trip to, 195; on head of, according to dodds, 199; mistake discovered, 199, 200; reach mouth of, overland, 209 disaster falls, 39; dinner from wreckage of _no-name_, 40; fall of river at, 42 distance, from union pacific railway to gate of lodore, 33; to echo park, 48; to junction of green and grand, 114; to dirty devil, 135; paria to little colorado, 223; little colorado to kanab canyon, 241; wonsits valley to gunnison crossing, 93. _see also_ appendix, _romance of the colorado river_ dixie, name for virgin valley, 164 dodds, captain pardyn, fails to reach dirty devil river, 70; meet him at el vado, 143 dog, dandie dinmont, of mrs. thompson, 166, 195 douglas boy, first meeting with, 64; comes to mouth of uinta, 70; an eloper, 71; farewell to, 76 dummy and his prophecy, 9 dunn, william h., vi.; name carved in music temple, 141; killed by shewits, 141, 259 dunn's cliff, 43 dutch oven, 4 dutton, major, vii. e echo, cliff, 49; park, 49; rock, 53; peaks, how named, 151 eight mile spring, camp at, 165 el vado de los padres (crossing of the fathers), 7, 8, 41, 95, 96; first white man to ford after escalante, 96; arrive at, 1871, 143; description of, 168; arrive at, 1872, 210; early known by richard campbell, 96 emma, sister, a wife of john d. lee, 211 endowment garment, adams wears one, 259 epizoötic visits utah, 262 escalante, his crossing of the colorado, 7; sierra, 43; of green river, 67; his name for green river, 67; for white river, 67; river, 210; river named by professor thompson, 210 f failure creek, 129 fennemore, joins party, 187; falls sick, 212; leaves party, 216; in salt lake, 267 field, 5; arm-chair obtained from, 8; breakfast at, 9 flaming gorge, 1, 2; height of walls, 17; green river enters, 17; accessibility, 20; gateway to the series of canyons, 22 frank, _see_ richardson frank, pai ute, _see_ chuarooumpeak frémont, river, 3; _see_ dirty devil; general, 95; first granite gorge of the grand canyon, declivity in, 43 first powell expedition, v.; plat of river by, vi., 2, 96; boats of, x. food supply exhausted, 141 fort davy crockett, 30 fort defiance, jacob hamblin goes there, 143 fort pierce, 188 fort robideau, 67; only house on the river, 72 fretwater falls, 83 fuzz, mrs. thompson's dog, 166, 195 g gate of lodore, 32 gentile frontier town compared with mormon, 174 gila monster, 245 gilbert, g. k., vii., 136 glen canyon, beginning, 137; width of river in, 139; height of walls, 139-143; end of, 151 glencove, attempt to reach dirty devil river from, 99 glendale, mormon settlement, 262 goblin city, journey to, 68; description of, 69 gold, found on colorado, 144; at mouth of kanab, 174; miners go after, 185 golden to provo, waggon road, 67 gosi-utes, gunnison killed by, 95 gould's ranch, 190 grand canyon, jacob hamblin circumtours it, 96; powell finds way in to the mouth of the kanab, 174; dodds and jones get to it, 188; whitmore describes a crossing, 188; dodds and johnson reach river, 189; dodds and dellenbaugh go to river at lava falls, 192; marble division begins, 216; length of, including marble canyon, 217; beginning of, 223; enter it, 223 grand river, 109 grand wash, 96; altitude of, 217 granite, the, runs up, 225 grant, news of election of, 256 graves, ancient, discovered, 77 gray canyon, enter it, 91; colour, height, and character of walls, 91, 92; end of, 93; length of, 93 gray cliffs, 164 great basin, 164 green river, points on, astronomically fixed before powell, 19, 95 green river city, arrive there, 3; described, 5; settlements below, 8 green river suck, 20 green river valley, 1, 2 grizzly bears, 26 gunnison, captain, crossed green river, 95; killed, 95 gunnison butte, 93, 99 gunnison crossing, powell plans to rejoin his party there, 70 gypsum canyon, 127 h habasu (havasu), 96 haight, 153, 157 hamblin, frank, 254 hamblin, fred, 99 hamblin, jacob, scout and pioneer, 96; first after escalante to cross at el vado, 96; circumtours the marble and grand canyons, 96; arrives at paria, 153; treaty with navajos, 168; title of his book, 169; indian engagements, 170; goes to mt. trumbull with powell, 170; wives of, 174; hears plot to ambush, 243 hamblin, joseph, 156, 241 hamblin, lyman, 99 hanson, name assumed by j. h. beadle, 215 harrell brothers, camp in brown's park, 30 hastele, navajo chief, 169 hattan, andrew, 4; place in boat, 11; his call to meals, 11; departure, 260 headquarters, winter, of, 1872-73, 260 hell's half mill, 44 henry mountains (unknown mts., _q. v._), 207 henry's fork, mouth of, 17; astronomically fixed, 95 henry, professor joseph, vi. henry (azure) cliffs, 99 hidden lakes, the, 201 high plateaus of utah, continuation of wasatch range, 95; end of, 164 hillers, john k., joins party, 7; catches fish, 15; songs of, 52, 74; catches salmon, 98; photographer, 217; hurts his back, 225; trip to moki towns, 248 hog-backs, topographical feature described, 198 hook, theodore, drowned, 25; grave of, 25 horse discovered, 90 horse sense, 258, 264 horseshoe canyon, why so called, 21 hotel tovar, 232 house ruins, shinumo, 112, 137, 138 house rock spring, 157, 160 house rock valley, 160, 175 howland, seneca, and o. g., 141 howlands and dunn, vi., vii.; why killed by shewits, 171; left first party, 242; killed near mt. dellenbaugh, 259 hurricane hill, 190 hurricane ledge, 190 i illustrations in powell's _report_, x. innupin, definition of, 252 innupin picavu (water-pocket), 251 island park, 56 ives, comes up colorado, 1858, 2; reconnoitres south of grand canyon, 96; names north side mountains, 186 j jack, _see_ hillers jacob, _see_ hamblin jacob's pools, 159 johnson, will, 186; leaves party, 211 johnson's, mormon settlement 166 jones, s. v., 10; place in boat, 11; falls ill, 152; leaves, 260 julien, d., inscriptions by, 108, 113, 118 junction, the, of the grand and green, 113; summit at, 116; trail to, 118 k kaibab (buckskin mountain), seen from echo peaks, 150; band of pai utes, 177; trip to south-west corner of, 182; point f established on, 184; seen from marble canyon, 222 kanab, settlement of, 8; headquarters, 145; headquarters, winter of 1872-73, 260; description of, 166; base line near, 173; christmas dance, 173 kanab canyon, journey up, 185, 244; supplies to be brought in there, 224 kapurats, pai ute name for major powell, 171 kettle creek, 24 killiloo, refrain, 75, 81, 226, 267 kingfisher canyon, 22; why so called, 22 kingfisher creek, 21 kit carson, 95 koneco, navajo chief, 154 l labyrinth canyon, enter it, 105; end of, 110; length of, 110 la sal, sierra, 103, 109, 127 latter-day saints, 212 lava falls, dodds and dellenbaugh climb to river there, 192 leaping brook, 46 lee, john doyle, 195; settles at paria, 210; meet him, 210; wife rachel, 210; wife emma (his xviii.), 210; called naguts, 211; executed, 211 lee ferry, 215 lehi, mormon town, 262, 266 let-down, 26; method of accomplishing a, 90 letters from clement powell to the chicago _tribune_, v.; from f. s. dellenbaugh to the buffalo _express_, vii. life preservers, 8; indispensable, 237 light, the controversy of the, 63 lighthouse rock, 80 lignite canyon, 91 line portage, 26 little brown's hole, 29; name changed to red canyon park, 29 little canyon, 31 little colorado, canyon of, forms division between marble and grand canyons, 217; mouth of, 222; altitude of mouth, 223 little white, or price river, 92 little zion valley, 190 lodore canyon, party goes through on the ice, 2; gate of, 32; why so called, 32; we enter it, 34; width of river in, 35, 42, 43; velocity of current in, 35, 42; sunlight in, 36; wreckage found in, 41; height of walls, 42, 43, 46; character of 42; declivity in, 43; end of, 48; length of, 48 logan, mt., 188 log-cabin cliff, 84 lonely dell, 211 long valley, route _via_, 262 lost creek (crescent creek), 209 louisa, a wife of jacob hamblin, 174, 195, 250 lower disaster falls, 42 m macentee, 166; leaves party, 179; in salt lake, 267 mackenzie, general, ix., map a, facing page 95 macomb, 95 "major, the" viii., _see_ powell, john wesley mangum, joseph, 153; the lost guide, 155, 157 manti, mormon settlement, 99, 174 map, accuracy of plat of colorado river, vi., vii., 243; sheets giving colorado river, viii.; preliminary, finished, 262; sent to washington, 267 marble canyon, 150; miners wrecked in, 195, 217; enter it, 216; total length with grand canyon, 217; height of walls, 216, 217-222; end of 222; descent in, 223; number of rapids in, 223 markargunt plateau, 191 meek, joseph, goes through lodore on the ice, 95 melvin falls, 86 millecrag bend, 129, 132 moki (hopi) ruin, 79 monument built 1869 by powell, 78 mookoontoweap or little zion valley, 190 mormon, settlements, 96; method of pioneering, 167, 174; dance, 173 mt. carmel, mormon settlement, 262 mount dellenbaugh, named, 254; altitude, 259; shinumo remains on, 259 mount ellen, henry mountains, 208 mount hillers, henry mountains, 208 mount logan, 188, 253 mount nebo, 266 mount pennell, henry mountains, 207, 208 mount seneca howland (navajo mt.), 141 mountain meadows massacre, 195; lee's version, 211 music temple, grotto, 141, 210 n narrow canyon, 3, 133 natural arches in canyon of desolation, 87, 88 navajos, agency, 143; meet with, 146; afraid of our boats, 153; dance with, 154; ceremonial, 177 navajo creek, 149 navajo mountain, 139, 141, 201 navajo well, 175, 248 nephi, 266 new year's day, 1872, 174; 1873, 260 _no-name_, boat, wreck of, 38 north side mountains (uinkaret mts.), 186 o oak spring, 187, 188, 191 old jacob, _see_ jacob hamblin old spanish trail, 95, 246 oonupits, sound made by, 252; described, 252; indian shoots at, 252 orange cliffs, 110 order of going, 11, 72, 136, 215 overland stage co. road, salt lake to denver _via_ provo, robideau crossing, and golden, 67 p paantung, thompson's shewits guide, 259 painted desert, 150 pai ute women, jacob hamblin, scaled to, 174; language without an "f," 250; name for major powell, 250; name for professor thompson, 250; name for dellenbaugh, 250; george, waytoots, chuar, 250; _see also_ chuarooumpeak; method of cooking rabbits, 252 pai utes, despised by navajos, 170; kaibab band of, 177; wickiups, 177; arms, 178; rabbit skin robe, 178; fire obtained by drill, 178; ceremonial, 178; songs, 178, 179; stone arrowhead making, 178 panguitch, arrive at, 265 paria, 95, 151, 197; up cliffs at, 155; settlement, 166 parowan, 248 patnish, chief of renegades, 8, 167, 250 photographic outfit, 6, 58 pictographs, 61 pierce, fort, 188, 191 pine valley mountains, 189, 190 pink cliffs, 164 pipe spring, 185; wash, 185 plateau province, the, 109 point f, 184 portage, line, 26; method of making, 40 potato valley, 199 powell, clement, letters from to chicago _tribune_, v.; place in boat, 11; duties of, 11; leaves party, 259 powell, emma dean (mrs. j. w.), 7; and infant daughter, 165; in middle park, 172; leaves for washington, 179 powell, john wesley (the major), the conqueror of the colorado, 2; title in volunteer army, 2; first descent of colorado; v., 3, 96, no right arm, 8; titles of reports, v., vi., position in boat, 11; duty of, 11; goes up yampa, 50; on yampa river 1868, 50; goes ahead to uinta, 56; to salt lake, 67, 70, 99, 144, 179, 259, 266; songs of, 73; rejoins party, 98; fails to reach dirty devil overland, 99; leaves for washington, 179, 259; reports through smithsonian institution, vi.; runs course of river, vii; buried at arlington, 267 price river, 92 "prof.," viii., _see_ thompson, a. h. provo to golden, waggon road, 67 _putnam's magazine_, copy found, 43 r rabbits, pai ute method of cooking, 252 rain cascades, 105, 106, 132 rapid, the first, 21; method of running, 35, 36; tails of, 36; eddys at, 36; catastrophe, vi., 242, 243 rations, 4, 111, 119 red canyon, 2; entrance of, 22; upset of _nellie powell_ in, 23; width of river in, 24; speed of current, 24; height of cliffs, 24, 28; end of, 30 red canyon park, 29 red cliff, 176 red lake utes, jacob pacifies them, 170; meet with band of, 204 regiment marches from salt lake to denver, 68 renshawe, john, joins party, 259 richardson, frank c. a., 10; position in boats, 11; skill in dressing deer, 16; leaves party, 31 riggs, 157 riggs, charley, 248 riley, george, 143; head of pack train, 156; cook, 260 rio, san buenaventura, 67; san clemente, 67; san rafael, 95, 103; san juan, 140, 210 robideau, crossing of green river, 67; fort, 67 rocking stones in current, 127 roundy, lorenzo w., 153 rudder useless on the colorado, x. s sag, the, at disaster falls, 38 st. george, mormon settlement, 194 salmon, white, caught, 98 salt lake city, 7, 17; the major goes to, 67, 70, 99, 144, 179, 259, 266 salt lake to denver, waggon road, _via_ provo and golden, 67 san clemente, rio, escalante's name for white river, 67 san francisco mts., seen from mt. trumbull, 187; from echo peaks, 250 san juan river, mouth of, 140; pass it, 1872, 210 san rafael river, 95; arrive at, 103 santa fé and los angeles trail, 94 santa fé railway to the grand canyon, x. scorpions, 132 second powell expedition, the, vi., 3; material used for report on first expedition, vi.; supplies of, 4; method of sacking rations, 6; ready to start, 8; personnel of, 11 selden, 95 sentinel rock and sentinel creek, 149 sevier canyon, 266 sharp mountain falls, 91 shewits, killed powell's men, vii., 96; territory of, 186; afraid of us, 191; plan to ambush us, 243; meet us, 253; conference and agreement, 253; thompson's guide, 259 shinumo, the, 112, 149; trail, 113, 145; caves, 132; canyon, 184; ruin on mt. dellenbaugh, 259 shower bath spring, 245 shunesburg, powell descends virgin river to, 248 sierra, escalante, 43; la lal, 103; abajo, 127 simpson, captain, 95 sinav-to-weap, 117 sister emma, 211 sister louisa, 174 smithsonian institution, powell reported through, vi. snowblind, 266 soap creek, 159; frank m. brown, drowned near mouth of, 159, 217; rapid, 217 "sockdologer, of the world," 222; rapid, 226 songs of the camp, 73, 74 sorghum molasses, 172 spanish fork, 266 spanish trail, old, 95 split mountain canyon, 57; enter it, 58; end of, 60; length of, 60 springs in river bottom, 103 stanton, r. b., proves the white story incorrect, v.; completed brown expedition, ix.; canyon railway project, x steward, john f., place in boat, 11; duty of, 11; on a raft, 16; discovers gigantic fossil, 20; determines nature of unknown mts., 136; ill, 146; recovers, 152; leaves party, 160 stewart, bishop, of kanab, 167; saw-mill of, on kaibab, 181 stewart, john, goes with powell to grand canyon, 172; returns with news of gold find, 174 stillwater canyon, beginning of, 110; nature of walls, 111, 113; house ruins in, 112; width, 113; end of, 113; length, 114 summit valley, 164 sumner amphitheatre, 79 sumner, jack, 7 supplies, nature of, 4; to be brought in at three places, 7 surprise valley, 241 swallow canyon, 31 swallow park, 197 t table mountain, 198 tapeats creek, 240 tavaputs plateau, 80 teemaroomtekai, uinkaret chief, 253 teram picavu, 254 thompson, professor alvin harris, vi., vii., ix., 7; place in boat, 11; duty of, 11; first white man to explore shewits country, 254; to climb mt. dellenbaugh, 259; buried at arlington, 267 thompson, mrs. ellen powell, 7, 165, 166, 172, 181, 195, 216, 259 tiravu picavu, 254 tirtaan aigles, slogan, 75, 267 tokerville, mormon settlement, 190 tom, pai ute guide, 197; leaves party, 199 toroweap valley, 192 trachyte creek, 208 trail up cliffs of paria, 155 _tribune_, chicago, letters to, from clement powell, v. trin alcove, 107 triplet falls, 43 trumbull, mt., why so called, 186; climbed, 187, 192; height of, 187 trumbull, senator, 186 tuba, a moki (hopi), goes home with jacob, 169; ceremony on crossing colorado river, 169 u uinkaret, indians, 186; region, 186; plateau, 190; chief, 253 uinta, indian agency, 7, 8, 71 uinta mountains, 1; first view of from river, 15 uinta river, pass mouth of, 76; arrival at, 66; powell goes ahead to, 56; mouth astronomically determined, 95 uinta utes, 61 undine springs, 103 union pacific railway, crossing of green river, 3; _see_ descent _and_ distance unknown country, the, 95, 96, 199, 200, 201, 202 unknown mountains (henry mts.) viii., 104, 127, 133; steward determines nature of, 136; position of dirty devil (frémont) river with reference to, 199; arrive at, 207; map of, 207 untokarowits, pai ute name for f. s. dellenbaugh, 250 utah southern railway finished to lehi, 262 utah, from, into colorado, 31 utes of wonsits valley, uinta and white river, 61 ute crossing of colorado in uinkaret region, 188 ute ford, the (el vado de los padres), 148 ute law as applied to capture, 71 v van buren, gentile settler on the sevier, 266 vasey's paradise, 219 vermilion cliffs, 158, 164; length of, 164 vermilion river, 31 virgin mountains, 194 virgin river, canyon of, explored down to shunesburg, 248; little zion or mookoontoweap valley of, 190 volunteers march from salt lake to denver, 68 voyage, canyon, the end of, 242 w walcott, professor, vii. walker house, salt lake city, 267 wasatch cliffs, 200 wheeler, lieut. george m., goes up colorado to diamond creek, 145 whirlpool canyon, 53; end of, 55; descent in, 56 whirlpools described, 239 whiskey not taken, 6 white, james, 2; story of his trip through canyons disproved, v. white river, 66; journey down, 69; pass mouth, 76 white river utes, 61 whitmore, dr., killed by navajos, 169; ranch, 188 wild band pocket, 251 winnie's grotto, 35 winsor, of pipe spring, 185; castle, 185 winter quarters, 1872-73, 260 witch water-pocket (innupin picavu), 251 wolfskill, william, pioneer, 94 wolves, 161, 162, 165 wonsits tiravu, 254 wonsits valley, 60 woonoopits, _see_ oonupits workman's ranch, 190 wreckage found in lodore, 41 wyoming, from, into utah, 16 y yampa river, 48, 49; powell on it in 1868, 50; goes up, in boat, 50 young, brigham, 170, 185; alfred, 187 ----------------------------------------------------------------| transcriber's notes: | | | | the original contained inconsistencies in spelling and | | hypenation. the following variations were retained: | | | | air-line airline | | arm-chair armchair | | arrow-heads arrowheads | | ball-room ballroom | | bow-knot bowknot | | near-by nearby | | row-lock rowlock | | sand-bank sandbank | | school-house schoolhouse | | ship-shape shipshape | | south-westerly southwesterly | | up-stream upstream | | clarkson clarkston | | frémont fremont | | konéco koneco | | de motte demotte | | | | the following typographical errors in the original were | | corrected: | | | | pg 62: "eaving" to "leaving" | | ("leaving us hardly a rock") | | | | pg 175: "bame" to "came" | | ("came to the edge") | | | | pg 198: added "of" | | ("like the roof of a house") | | | | pg 220: "bat-battened" to "battened" | | ("hatches firmly battened") | | | | pg 229: "dashig" to "dashing" | | ("water was dashing") | | | | pg 250: "prononnced" to "pronounced" | | ("in their language pronounced") | | | | pg 273: "canyon" to "kanab canyon" | | ("kanab canyon, journey up") | | | ----------------------------------------------------------------