We were on the threshold of what the Major had previously named Cataract Canyon, because the declivity within it is so great and the water descends with such tremendous velocity and continuity that he thought the term rapid failed to interpret the conditions. The addition of the almost equal volume of the Grand—indeed it was now a little greater owing to extra heavy rains along its course—doubled the depth and velocity of the river till it swirled on into the new canyon before us with a fierce, threatening intensity, sapping the flat sand-bank on which our camp was laid and rapidly eating it away. Large masses with a sudden splash would drop out of sight and dissolve like sugar in a cup of tea. We were obliged to be on the watch lest the moorings of the boats should be loosened, allowing them to sweep pell-mell before us down the gorge. The long ropes were carried back to their limit and made fast to stakes driven deep into the hard sand. Jack and I became dissatisfied with the position of our boat and dropped it down two or three hundred yards to a place where the conditions were better, and camped by it. There were a few small cottonwoods against the cliff behind the sand-bank, but they were too far off to be reached by our lines, and the ground beneath them was too irregular and rocky for a camp. These trees, with the hackberry trees across the river and numerous stramonium bushes in full blossom, composed the chief vegetation of this extraordinary locality. No more remote place existed at that time within the United States—no place more difficult of access. Macomb in his reconnaissance in 1859 had tried hard to arrive here, but he got no nearer than the edge of the plateau about thirty miles up Grand River.

It was necessary that we should secure topographic notes and observations from the summit, and we scanned the surroundings for the most promising place for exit. The Major was sure we could make a successful ascent to the upper regions by way of a narrow cleft on the right or west some distance back up the Green, which he had noted as we came along; so in the morning of Saturday, September 16th, he and Jack, Beaman, Clem, Jones, and I rowed up in the CaÑonita, the current being slow along the west bank, and started up the crevice, dragging the cumbrous photographic outfit along. Prof. remained below for observations for time. The cleft was filled with fallen rocks, and we had no trouble mounting, except that the photographic boxes were like lead and the straps across one's chest made breathing difficult. The climb was tiring, but there was no obstacle, and we presently emerged on the surface of the country 1300 feet above the river and 5160 above the sea. Here was revealed a wide cyclorama that was astounding. Nothing was in sight but barren sandstone, red, yellow, brown, grey, carved into an amazing multitude of towers, buttes, spires, pinnacles, some of them several hundred feet high, and all shimmering under a dazzling sun. It was a marvellous mighty desert of bare rock, chiselled by the ages out of the foundations of the globe; fantastic, extraordinary, antediluvian, labyrinthian, and slashed in all directions by crevices; crevices wide, crevices narrow, crevices medium, some shallow, some dropping till a falling stone clanked resounding into the far hollow depths. Scarcely could we travel a hundred yards but we were compelled to leap some deep, dark crack. Often they were so wide a running jump was necessary, and at times the smooth rock sloped on both sides toward the crevice rather steeply. Once the Major came sliding down a bare slope till at a point where he caught sight of the edge of a sombre fissure just where he must land. He could not see its width; he could not return, and there he hung. Luckily I was where by another path I could quickly reach the rock below, and I saw that the crevice was not six inches wide, and I shouted the joyful news. Steward had not come up with us, but had succeeded in ascending through a narrow crevice below camp. He soon arrived within speaking distance, but there he was foiled by a crack too wide to jump, and he had to remain a stranger to us the rest of the day. At a little distance back from the brink these crevices were not so numerous nor so wide, and there we discovered a series of extremely pretty "parks" lost amidst the million turreted rocks. I made a pencil sketch looking out into this Sinav-to-weap, as the Major called it from information obtained from the Utes.[16] Beaman secured a number of photographs, but not all that were desired, and, as we did not have rations for stopping on the summit, we went back to camp and made the climb again the next day. Fortunately the recent rains had filled many hollows in the bare rock, forming pockets of delicious, pure water, where we could drink, but on a hot and dry summer's day travelling here would be intolerable, if not impossible. Fragments of arrow-heads, chips of chalcedony, and quantities of potsherds scattered around proved that our ancient Shinumos had known the region well. Doubtless some of their old trails would lead to large and deep water-pockets. There are pot-holes in this bare sandstone of enormous size, often several feet in depth and of similar diameter, which become filled with rain-water that lasts a long time. The Shinumos had numerous dwellings all through this country, with trails leading from place to place, highways and byways.

The following day the Major and Jones climbed out on the side opposite camp, that is on the east side, where they found an old trail and evidences of camping during the summer just closed, probably by the Utes. That night, Jones, in attempting to enter our boat in the moonlight, stepped on the corner of the hatch of the middle cabin, which was not on securely; it tipped, and he was thrown in such a way as to severely injure his leg below the knee. This was the first mishap thus far to any one of the party.

The Major entertained some idea of making a boat trip up the Grand, but he abandoned it, and we prepared for the work ahead. The rations, which were now fallen to poverty bulk, were carefully overhauled and evenly distributed among the boats, so that the wrecking of any one would not deprive us of more than a portion of each article. The amount for daily use was also determined; of the bacon we were to have at a meal only half the usual quantity. We knew Cataract Canyon was rough, but by this time we were in excellent training and thoroughly competent for the kind of navigation required; ready for anything that strong boats like ours could live through. At ten o'clock on Tuesday, September 19th, the cabins were all packed, the life preservers were inflated, and casting off from Camp 62 we were borne down with the swift current. The water was muddy, of a coffee-and-cream colour, and the river was falling. Not far below our camp we saw a beaten trail coming down a singular canyon on the left or east side, showing again that the natives understood the way in to the Junction.[17] We knew it was not far to rapids, as we had seen two heavy ones from the brink above, and we soon heard the familiar roar of plunging water, a sound which had been absent since the end of Gray Canyon. Presently we were bearing down on the first one, looking for the way to pass it. On landing at the head it was seen to be a rather rough place, and it was deemed advisable to avoid running it. The boats were carefully let down by lines and we went on. In a short distance we reached a second rapid, where we decided to repeat the operation that took us past the other, but these two let-downs consumed much time and gave us hard work. The water was cold, we were wet and hungry, and when we arrived at a third that was more forbidding than the ones above we halted for dinner at its beginning. The muddy water boomed and plunged over innumerable rocks—a mad, irresistible flood. So great was the declivity of the river bed that boulders were rolled along under water with a sound like distant thunder. We had noticed this also in Lodore, but in Cataract it was more common. The rumbling was particularly noticeable if one were standing in the water, as we so continually were. After dinner the boats were lowered past the rapid, but we had no respite, for presently we came upon another big one, then another, and another, and then still another, all following quickly and giving us plenty of extremely hard work, for we would not risk the boats in any of them. When these were behind us we went on a distance and came to one that we ran, and then, wet through and shivering till our teeth chattered, as well as being hungry and tired, every one was glad to hear the decision to go into camp when we arrived at the top of another very ugly pair of them. The canyon having a north and south trend and it being autumn, the sun disappeared early so far as we were concerned; the shadows were deep, the mountain air was penetrating. As soon as possible our soaking river garments were thrown off, the dry clothing from the rubber bags was put on, the limited bacon was sending its fragrance into the troubled air, the bread took on a nice deep brown in the Dutch oven, the coffee's aromatic steam drifted from the fire, and warm and comfortable we sat down to the welcome though meagre meal. The rule was three little strips of bacon, a chunk of bread about the size of one's fist, and coffee without stint for each man three times a day. Sugar was a scarce article, and I learned to like coffee without it so well that I have never taken it with sugar since. The "Tirtaan Aigles" needed now all the muscle and energy they could command, and an early hour found every man sound asleep. The record for the first day in Cataract Canyon was nine miles, with eight bad rapids or cataracts, as they might properly be called, and out of the eight we ran but one.[18] The river was about 250 feet wide.

photo, canyon

The Major decided the next morning that he would try to get out on the right, and he took me with him. We had no great trouble in reaching the plateau at an elevation of eighteen hundred feet above the river, where we could see an immense area of unknown country. The broken and pinnacled character was not so marked as it had been at the Junction, but it was still a strange, barren land. We expected to find water-pockets on the top, and we had carried with us only one quart canteen of water. While the Major was taking notes from the summit of a butte, I made a zealous search for water, but not a drop could I find; every hole was dry. The sun burned down from a clear sky that melted black into eternal space. The yellow sand threw the hot rays upward, and so also did the smooth bare rock. No bird, no bee, no thing of life could be seen. I came to a whitish cliff upon which I thought there might be water-pockets, and I mounted by a steep slope of broken stones. Suddenly, almost within touch, I saw before me a golden yellow rattlesnake gliding upward in the direction I was going along the cliff wall. I killed it with a stone, and cut off the rattles and continued my reconnaissance. At length I gave up the search. By the time I had returned to the foot of the butte on which the Major was making his observations, the heat had exhausted me till I was obliged to rest a few moments before ascending the sixty feet to where he was. I had carried the canteen all the time, and the water in it was hot from exposure to the sun. The Major bade me rest while he made a little fire, and by the aid of a can and ground coffee we had brought he made a strong decoction with the whole quart. This gave us two cups apiece, and we had some bread to go with it. The effect was magical. My fatigue vanished. I felt equal to anything, and we began the return.

The Major having no right arm, he sometimes got in a difficult situation when climbing, if his right side came against a smooth surface where there was nothing opposite. We had learned to go down by the same route followed up, because otherwise one is never sure of arriving at the bottom, as a ledge half-way down might compel a return to the summit. We remembered that at one point there was no way for him to hold on, the cliff being smooth on the right, while on the left was empty air, with a sheer drop of several hundred feet. The footing too was narrow. I climbed down first, and, bracing myself below with my back to the abyss, I was able to plant my right foot securely in such a manner that my right knee formed a solid step for him at the critical moment. On this improvised step he placed his left foot, and in a twinkling had made the passage in safety.

During our absence the men below had been at work. Camp was moved down the river some three quarters of a mile, while the boats had been lowered past the ugly pair of rapids, and were moored at the camp below the second. In one the current had "got the bulge," as we called it, on the men on the line; that is, the powerful current had hit the bow in such a way that the boat took the diagonal of forces and travelled up and out into the river. For the men it was either let go or be pulled in. They let go, and the boat dashed down with her cargo on board. Fortune was on our side. She went through without injury and shot into an eddy below. With all speed the men rushed down, and Jack, plunging in, swam to her and got on before she could take a fresh start. It was a narrow escape, but it taught a lesson that was not forgotten. Prof. had succeeded in getting some observations, and all was well. It was bean day, too, according to our calendar, and all hands had a treat.

By eight o'clock the next morning, Thursday, September 21st, we were on the way again, with the boats "close reefed," as it were, for trouble, but one, two, three and one half miles slid easily behind. Then, as if to make up for this bit of leniency, six rapids came in close succession, though they were of a kind that we could safely run, and all the boats went flying through them without a mishap of any kind. The next was a plunger so mixed up with rocks that we made a let-down and again proceeded a short distance before we were halted by one more of the same sort, though we were able to run the lower portion of it. A little below this we met a friendly drop, and whizzed through its rush and roar in triumph. But there was nothing triumphant about the one which followed, so far as our work was concerned. We manoeuvred past it with much difficulty only to find ourselves upon two more bad ones. Bad as they were, they were nevertheless runable, and away we dashed with breakneck speed, certainly not less than twenty miles an hour, down both of them, to land on the left immediately at the beginning of a great and forbidding descent. These let-downs were difficult, often requiring all hands to each boat, except the Major, whose one-armed condition made it too hard for him to assist in the midst of rocks and rushing water, where one had to be very nimble and leap and balance with exactness. Two good arms were barely sufficient. Sometimes, in order to pass the gigantic boulders that stretched far off from the shore, the boat had to be shot around and hauled in below, an operation requiring skill, strength, and celerity.

The walls, very craggy at the top, increased in altitude till they were now about sixteen hundred feet, separated from each other by one third of a mile. The flaring character of the upper miles of the canyon began to change to a narrower gorge, the cliffs showing a nearer approach to verticality. At the head of the forbidding plunge we had our slice of bacon, with bread and coffee, and then we fought our way down alongside amongst immense boulders and roaring water. It was an exceedingly hard place to vanquish, and required two and a half hours of the most violent exertion to accomplish it. All were necessary to handle each boat. Hardly had we passed beyond the turmoil of its fierce opposition than we fell upon another scarcely less antagonistic, but yet apparently so free from rocks that the Major concluded it could be run. At the outset our boat struck on a concealed rock, and for a moment it seemed that we might capsize, but luckily she righted, swung free, and swept down with no further trouble. The Nell struck the same rock and so did the CaÑonita, but neither was injured or even halted. These boats were somewhat lighter than ours, having one man less in each, and therefore did not hit the rock so hard. The boats were now heavy from being water-soaked, for the paint was gone from the bottoms. This would have made no difference in any ordinary waters, but it did here, where we were obliged to lift them so constantly.

This was an extremely rough and wet day's work, and the moment the great cliffs cut off the warmth of the direct sun we were thrown suddenly from summer to winter, and our saturated clothing, uncomfortably cool in sunlight, became icy with the evaporation and the cold shadow-air. We turned blue, and no matter how firmly I tried to shut my teeth they rattled like a pair of castanets. Though it was only half-past three, the Major decided to camp as soon as he saw this effect, much as we had need to push on. We landed on the right, and were soon revived by dry clothes and a big fire of driftwood. We had made during the day a total distance of a trifle less than seven miles, one and three quarters since dinner. There were fourteen rapids and cataracts, nine of which we ran, on a river about two hundred feet wide. We had sand to sleep on, but all around us were rocks, rocks, rocks, with the mighty bounding cliffs lifting up to the sky. Our books for the time being were not disturbed, but Whittier's lines, read further up, seemed here exactly appropriate to the Colorado:

It was not long before the blankets were taken from the rubber bags and spread on the sand, and the rapids, the rocks, and all our troubles were forgotten.

The next day was almost a repetition of the preceding one. We began by running a graceful little rapid, just beyond which we came to a very bad place. The river was narrow and deep, with a high velocity, and the channel was filled with enormous rocks. Two hours of the hardest kind of work in and out of the water, climbing over gigantic boulders along the bank, lifting the boats and sliding them on driftwood skids, tugging, pulling, shoving every minute with might and main put us at the bottom. No sooner were we past this one than we engaged in a similar battle with another of the same nature, and below it we stopped for dinner, amidst some huge boulders under a hackberry tree, near another roarer. One of these cataracts had a fall of not less than twenty feet in six hundred, which gave the water terrific force and violence. The canyon walls closed in more and more and ran up to two thousand feet, apparently nearly vertical as one looked up at them, but there was always plenty of space for landings and camps. Opposite the noon camp we could see to a height beyond of at least three thousand feet. We were in the heart of another great plateau. After noon we attacked the very bad rapid beside whose head we had eaten, and it was half-past three when we had finished it. The boats had been considerably pounded and there was a hole in the Dean, and a plank sprung in the Nell so that her middle cabin was half full of water. The iron strip on the Dean's keel was breaking off. Repairs were imperative, and on the right, near the beginning of one of the worst falls we had yet seen, we went into camp for the rest of the day. With false ribs made from oars we strengthened the boats and put them in condition for another day's hammering. It seemed as if we must have gone this day quite a long distance, but on footing up it was found to be no more than a mile and a quarter. Darkness now fell early and big driftwood fires made the evenings cheerful. There was a vast amount of driftwood in tremendous piles, trees, limbs, boughs, railroad ties; a great mixture of all kinds, some of it lying full fifty feet above the present level of the river. There were large and small tree-trunks battered and limbless, the ends pounded to a spongy mass of splinters. Our bright fires enabled us to read, or to write up notes and diaries. I think each one but the Major and Andy kept a diary and faithfully wrote it up. Jack occasionally gave us a song or two from the repertory already described, and Steward did not forget the mouth-organ, but through the hardest part of Cataract Canyon we were usually tired enough to take to our blankets early.

In the morning we began the day by running a little rapid between our camp and the big one that we saw from there, and then we had to exert some careful engineering to pass below by means of the lines. This accomplished we found a repetition of the same kind of work necessary almost immediately, at the next rapid. In places we had to lift the boats out and slide them along on driftwood skids. These rapids were largely formed by enormous rocks which had fallen from the cliffs, and over, around, and between these it was necessary to manoeuvre the boats by lines to avoid the furious waters of the outer river. After dinner we arrived at a descent which at first glance seemed as bad as anything we had met in the morning but an examination showed a prospect of a successful run through it. The fall was nearly twenty feet in about as many yards. The Major and Prof. examined it long and carefully. A successful run would take two minutes, while a let-down would occupy us for at least two hours and it had some difficult points. They hesitated about running the place, for they would not take a risk that was not necessary, but finally they concluded it could be safely accomplished, and we pulled the Dean as quickly as possible into the middle of the river and swung down into it. On both sides the water was hammered to foam amidst great boulders and the roar as usual was deafening. Just through the centre was a clean, clear chute followed by a long tail of waves breaking and snapping like some demon's jaws. As we struck into them they swept over us like combers on the beach in a great storm. It seemed to me here and at other similar places that we went through some of the waves like a needle and jumped to the top of others, to balance half-length out of water for an instant before diving to another trough. Being in the very bow the waves, it appeared to me, sometimes completely submerged me and almost took my breath away with the sudden impact. At any rate it was lively work, with a current of fifteen or eighteen miles an hour. Beaman had stationed himself where he could get a negative of us ploughing through these breakers, but his wet-plates were too slow and he had no success. After this came a place which permitted no such jaunty treatment. It was in fact three or four rapids following each other so closely that, though some might be successfully run, the last was not safe, and no landing could be made at its head, so a very long let-down was obligatory; but it was an easy one, for each crew could take its own boat down without help from the others. Then, tired, wet, and cold as usual, we landed on the left in a little cove where there was a sandy beach for our Camp 67. We had made less than four miles, in which distance there were six rapids, only two of which we ran. At another stage of water the number and character of these rapids would be changed; some would be easier at higher water, some harder, and the same would be true of lower water. Rapids also change their character from time to time as rocks are shifted along the bottom and more rocks fall from the cliffs or are brought in by side floods. The walls were now about two thousand feet, of limestone, with a reddish stain, and they were so near together that the sun shone to the bottom only during the middle hours of the day in September.

It was now September 24th; a bright and beautiful Sunday broke, the sky above clear and tranquil, the river below foaming and fuming between the ragged walls in one continuous rapid with merely variations of descent. In three quarters of a mile we arrived before the greatest portion of the declivity, where, though there seemed to be a clear chute, we did not consider it advisable to make the run because of conditions following; neither could we make a regular let-down or a portage. The least risky method was to carry a line down and when all was ready start the boat in at the top alone. In this way when she had gone through, the men on the line below were able to bring her up and haul her in before reaching the next bad plunge. There was no quiet river anywhere; nothing but rushing, swirling, plunging water and rocks. We got past the bad spot successfully and went on making one let-down after another for about four miles, when we halted at noon for the rest of the day, well satisfied with our progress though in distance it appeared so slight. The afternoon was spent in repairing boats, working up notes, and taking observations. The cliffs were now some 2500 feet in height, ragged and broken on their faces, but close together, the narrowest deep chasm we had seen. It was truly a terrible place, with the fierce river, the giant walls, and the separation from any known path to the outer world. I thought of the Major's first trip, when it was not known what kind of waters were here. Vertical and impassable falls might easily have barred his way and cataracts behind prevented return, so that here in a death trap they would have been compelled to plunge into the river or wait for starvation. Happly he had encountered no such conditions.

An interesting feature of this canyon was the manner in which huge masses of rock lying in the river had been ground into each other by the force of the current. One block of sandstone, weighing not less than six hundred tons, being thirty or forty feet long by twenty feet square, had been oscillated till the limestone boulders on which it rested had ground into it at least two feet, fitting closely. Another enormous piece was slowly and regularly rocking as the furious current beat upon it, and one could feel the movement distinctly. A good night's sleep made all of us fresh again, and we began the Monday early. Some worked on the boats, while Beaman and Clem went up "Gypsum" Canyon, as Steward named it, for views, and the Major and I climbed out for topographic observations. We reached an altitude above camp of 3135 feet at a point seven or eight miles back from the brink. The view in all directions was beyond words to describe. Mountains and mountains, canyons, cliffs, pinnacles, buttes surrounded us as far as we could see, and the range was extensive. The Sierra La Sal, the Sierra Abajo, and other short ranges lay blue in the distance, while comparatively near in the south-west rose the five beautiful peaks just beyond the mouth of the Dirty Devil, composing the unknown range before mentioned. At noon we made coffee, had lunch, and then went on. It was four o'clock by the time we concluded to start back, and darkness overtook us before we were fairly down the cliffs, but there was a bright moon, and by its aid we reached camp.

At half-past eight in the morning of September 26th we were again working our way down the torrential river. Anybody who tries to go through here in any haphazard fashion will surely come to grief. It is a passage that can safely be made only with the most extreme caution. The walls grew straighter, and they grew higher till the gorge assumed proportions that seemed to me the acme of the stupendous and magnificent. The scenery may not have been beautiful in the sense that an Alpine lake is beautiful, but in the exhibition of the power and majesty of nature it was sublime. There was the same general barrenness: only a few hackberry trees, willows, and a cottonwood or two along the margin of the river made up the vegetation. Our first task was a difficult let-down, which we accomplished safely, to find that we could run two rapids following it and half of another, landing then to complete it by a let-down. Then came a very sharp drop that we ran, which put us before another easy one, that was followed by a difficult bit of navigation through a bad descent, after which we stopped for dinner on the right at the head of another rapid. The cliffs now on both sides were about 2800 feet, one quarter mile wide at top, and in places striking me as being perpendicular, especially in the outer curve of the bends. The boats seemed to be scarcely more than chips on the sweeping current and we not worth mentioning. During the afternoon we halted a number of times for Beaman to make photographs, but the proportions were almost too great for any camera. The foreground parts are always magnified, while the distances are diminished, till the view is not that which the eye perceives. Before stopping for the night we ran three more rapids, and camped on the right on a sandbank at the head of another forbidding place. The record for the whole day was six and three quarter miles, with ten runs and two let-downs. At one bad place the Nell got too far over and laboured so heavily in the enormous billows that Cap., who pulled the bow oars, was completely lost to sight and the boat was filled with water. Only about thirty degrees of sky were visible as one looked directly up from our camp. A pretty canyon came in near camp, and some of us took a walk up its narrow way.

photo, canyon

In the morning Beaman made some pictures, and it was eleven o'clock before we resumed our navigation. Our first work was a let-down, which took an hour, and about a mile below we stopped for dinner on the left. Then we continued, making eight miles more, in which distance we ran six rapids and made two line-portages. The last rapid was a bad one, and there we made one of the portages, camping at its foot on the left bank. The walls began to diminish in height and the river was less precipitous, as is apparent from the progress we were able to make. September 28th we began by running two rapids immediately below camp, and the Nell remained at the foot of the second to signal Beaman in the CaÑonita, as he had stayed behind to take some views. Another mile brought us to a rather bad place, the right having a vertical cliff about 2700 feet high, but the left was composed of boulders spread over a wide stretch, so that an excellent footing was offered. The Major and Prof. concluded to climb out here, instead of a point farther down called Millecrag Bend, and, appointing Steward master of the let-down which was necessary, they left us. It was dinner-time when we got the boats below to a safe cove, and we were quite ready for the meal which Andy meanwhile had been cooking. A beautiful little brook came down a narrow canyon on the left, and it was up this stream that the Major went for a mile and a half and then climbed on the side. They were obliged to give it up and come back to the bottom. By this time it was too late to make another attempt, so they turned their backs on "Failure Creek," and, returning to us, said we would go on as soon as we had eaten the supper which Andy was preparing. They would climb out at Millecrag Bend. Andy had cooked a mess of beans, about the last we had, and what we did not eat we put on board in the kettle, which had a tight cover. The Major's manner for a day or two had been rather moody, and when Prof. intimated to me that we would have a lively time before we saw another camp, I knew some difficult passage ahead was on his mind; some place which had given him trouble on the first trip.

About five o'clock we were ready; everything was made snug and tight on the boats, nothing being left out of the cabins but a camp kettle in each standing-room for bailing, and we cast off. Each man had his life-preserver where he could get it quickly, and the Major put his on, for with only one arm he could not do this readily in case of necessity. The current was swift. We were carried rapidly down to where the gorge narrowed up with walls vertical on each side for a height of fifty to one hundred feet. We soon dashed through a small rough rapid. A splash of water over our bow dampened my clothes and made the air feel chilly. The canyon was growing dim with the evening light. High above our heads some lazy clouds were flecked with the sunset glow. Not far below the small rapid we saw before us a complicated situation at the prevailing stage of water, and immediately landed on the left, where there was footing to reconnoitre. A considerable fall was divided by a rocky island, a low mass that would be submerged with two or three feet more water, and the river plunging down on each side boiled against the cliffs. Between us and the island the stream was studded by immense boulders which had dropped from the cliffs and almost like pinnacles stood above the surface. One view was enough to show that on this stage of water we could not safely run either side of the cataract; indeed destruction would surely have rewarded any attempt. The right-hand channel from the foot of the island swept powerfully across to meet the left-hand one and together they boomed along the base of the left-hand cliffs before swinging sharply to the right with the trend of the chasm in that direction. There was no choice of a course. The only way was to manoeuvre between the great boulders and keep in the dividing line of the current till a landing could be effected on the head of the island between the two falls. The difficulty was to avoid being drawn to either side. Our boat went first and we succeeded, under the Major's quick eye and fine judgment, in easily following the proposed course till the Dean began to bump on the rocks some twenty yards above the exposed part of the island. I tested the depth of water here with an oar as Jack pulled slowly along, the current being quite slack in the dividing line, and as soon as practicable we jumped overboard and guided our craft safely to the island. Prof. in the Nell was equally precise, and as he came in we waded out to catch his boat; but the CaÑonita passed on the wrong side of one of the pinnacles and, caught in the left current, came near making a run of it down that side, which would have resulted disastrously. Luckily they were able to extricate themselves and Beaman steered in to us. Had the water been only high enough to prevent landing on this island we would have been in a bad trap, but had it been so high as to make navigation down the centre possible the rapid might perhaps have been run safely.

We were now on the island, with darkness falling, and the problem was to get off. While Prof. and the Major went down to the foot to make a plan we sat in the diminishing light and waited. It was decided to pull the boats down the right-hand side of the island as far as the foot of the worst part of the right-hand rapid, and from there cut out into the tail of waves, pulling through as quickly as we could to avoid contact with the base of the left wall along which the current dashed. We must pull fast enough to get across in the very short time it would take the river to sweep us down to the crucial point. The gorge by this time was quite sombre; even the clouds above were losing their evening colour. We must act quickly. Our boat as usual made the first trial. As we shot out, Jack and I bent to our oars with every muscle we possessed, the boat headed slightly upstream, and in a few seconds we were flying along the base of the cliffs, and so close that our starboard oars had to be quickly unshipped to prevent their being broken. In a few seconds more we were able to get out into the middle, and then we halted in an eddy to wait for the other boats. They came on successfully and in the gloaming we continued down the canyon looking for a place to camp, our hearts much lightened with our triumph over the difficult rapid. Before long night was full upon us and our wet clothes made us shiver. About a mile below a warning roar dead ahead told us to make land at once, for it would be far from prudent to attack a rapid in the dark. Fortunately there was here room to camp on some rocks and sand on the right. Scarcely had we become settled than a tornado broke over the canyon and we were enveloped in a blinding whirl of rain and sand. Each man clung to his blankets to prevent their departure and waited for the wind to pass, which it did in less than ten minutes. The storm-clouds were shattered and up the gorge, directly east from our position, from behind a thousand needle-like spires that serrated the top of the cliffs, the moon like a globe of dazzling silver rolled up with serene majesty, flooding the canyon with a bright radiance. No moon-rise could have been more dramatic. The storm-clouds were edged with light and the wet cliffs sparkled and glittered as if set with jewels. Even the rapid below was resplendent and silvery, the leaping waves and the spray scintillating under the lustrous glare.

Morning brought a continuation of the rain, which fell in a deluge, driving us to the shelter of a projecting ledge, from which comparatively dry retreat we watched the rain cascades that soon began their display. Everywhere they came plunging over the walls, all sizes, and varying their volume with every variation in the downpour. Some dropped a thousand feet to vanish in spray; others were broken into many falls. By half-past eight we were able to proceed, running the rapid without any trouble, but a wave drenched me so that all my efforts to keep out of the rain went for nothing. By ten o'clock we had run four more rapids, and arrived at the place the Major had named Millecrag Bend, from the multitude of ragged pinnacles into which the cliffs broke. On the left we camped to permit the Major and Prof. to make their prospective climb to the top. A large canyon entered from the left, terminating Cataract Canyon, which we credited with forty-one miles, and in which I counted sixty-two rapids and cataracts, enough to give any set of boatmen all the work they could desire. The Major and Prof. reached the summit at an altitude of fifteen hundred feet. They had a wide view over the unknown country, and saw mountains to the west with snow on their summits. Snow in the canyons would not have surprised us now, for the nights were cold and we had warmth only in the middle of the day. Near our camp some caves were discovered, twenty feet deep and nearly six feet in height, which had once been occupied by natives. Walls had been laid across the entrances, and inside were corncobs and other evidences usual in this region, now so well known. Pottery fragments were also abundant. Another thing we found in the caves and also in other places was a species of small scorpion. These venomous creatures were always ready to strike, and somehow one got into Andy's shoe, and when he put on the shoe he was bitten. No serious result seemed to follow, but his general health was not so good after this for a long time. He put tobacco on the wound and let it go. This was the second accident to a member of the party, which now had been out four months.

photo, canyon

The last day of September found us up before daylight, and as soon as breakfast was eaten, a small matter these days both in preparation and consumption, we pulled away, intending to reach the mouth of the Dirty Devil as soon as possible. The morning was decidedly autumnal, and when we arrived at a small rapid, where we had to get overboard to help the boats, nothing ever came harder than this cold bath, though it was confined to our legs. Presently we saw a clear little rivulet coming in on the left, and we ran up to that shore to examine it, hoping it was drinkable. Like the first party, we were on the lookout for better water to drink than the muddy Colorado. The rivulet proved to be sulphurous and also hot, the temperature being about 91 F. We could not drink it, but we warmed our feet by standing in the water. The walls of this new canyon at their highest were about thirteen hundred feet, and so close together and straight that the Major named it Narrow Canyon. Its length is about nine miles. Through half of the next rapid we made a let-down, running the remainder, and then, running two more below which were easy, we could see through to the end of the canyon, and the picture framed by the precipices was beautiful. The world seemed suddenly to open out before us, and in the middle of it, clear and strong against a sky of azure, accented by the daylight moon, stood the Unknown Mountains, weird and silent in their untrodden mystery. By this token we knew that the river of the Satanic name was near, and we had scarcely emerged from Narrow Canyon, and noted the low bluffs of homogeneous red sandstone which took the place of the high cliffs, when we perceived a sluggish stream about 150 feet wide flowing through the barren sandstone on our right. Landing on its west bank, we instantly agreed with Jack Sumner when on the first trip he had proclaimed it a "Dirty Devil." Muddy, alkaline, undrinkable, it slipped along between the low walls of smooth sandstone to add its volume to that of the Colorado. Near us were the remains of the Major's camp-fire of the other voyage, and there Steward found a jack-knife lost at that time. At the Major's request he gave it to him as a souvenir.

Our rising had been so early and our progress from Millecrag Bend so easy that when our camp was established the hour was only nine o'clock, giving us still a whole day. The Major and Prof. started off on an old Indian trail to see if there was a way in to this place for horses, Cap. took observations for time, and the others occupied themselves in various ways, Andy counting the rations still left in our larder.

That night around our camp-fire we felt especially contented, for Cataract and Narrow canyons were behind, and never would we be called upon to battle with their rapids again. The descent from the mouth of Grand River was 430 feet, most of it in the middle stretch of Cataract Canyon.

line drawing, full moon over canyon

photo, canyon

line drawing, river canyon