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