At the mouth of the Paria we established ourselves for a stay of several days. Not only did we have the pack-train to wait for, but there were maps to finish, boats to cache, and all manner of things to attend to before we could leave for the winter. Steward recovered so that he could slowly walk around, but to balance this Jones developed inflammatory rheumatism in both knees, but especially in the one which had been injured by the fall at the Junction. Though he was perfectly cheerful about it, he suffered excruciating pain, and was unable to move from the bed of willows which we made for him. The medicine chest was drawn on again, and we hoped that the attack would not last long. Andy remained wan and thin, but he insisted on sticking to his work. So liberally had we used our rations that we were nearing the end, and we began to look hopefully in the direction from which we expected the pack-train to arrive. Four days passed and still there was no sign of it. We had to put ourselves on half-rations once more, and Prof. declared that if the train did not soon arrive either he or I, being the only entirely well members of the party, would have to walk out to Kanab and obtain relief. None of us knew anything about the trail. On the 26th Prof. and I climbed the cliffs back of camp to a height of two thousand feet, and had a remarkable view similar to that from Echo Peaks. On Saturday, October 28th, in the morning we were surprised to hear from the opposite or south side of the river an Indian yell, and looking across we perceived what appeared to be three natives, with horses, standing on the edge of the canyon wall, here very low. We prepared one of the boats to cross and find out what was wanted, when a fourth figure joined the group, and in good English came the words, "G-o-o-d m-o-r-n-i-n-g," long drawn out. On landing we were met by a slow-moving, very quiet individual, who said he was Jacob Hamblin. His voice was so low, his manner so simple, his clothing so usual, that I could hardly believe that this was Utah's famous Indian-fighter and manager. With him were three other white men, Isaac Haight, George Adair, Joe Mangum, and nine Navajos, all on their way to the Mormon settlements. They desired to be put across the river, and we willingly offered the services of ourselves and our boats. Some of the Navajos had never before seen so large a stream, and were free to express their surprise. We took on board Jacob and one or two others, and after landing them made several trips with both boats to ferry the rest over, including all their saddles and baggage. The Navajos were rather afraid of the boats, which to them probably looked small and wobbly, but they all got on board with much hilarity, except one who preferred to swim. He struck boldly out with a sort of dog-paddle stroke. Having no confidence in his swimming ability, we followed closely. The water was cold; the distance greater than the Navajo had imagined. Before he was one third of the way over he consented to be pulled into our boat and finish the passage that way. The horses were towed over, swimming behind the boats, a rope being held by a man sitting in the stern. There was a rapid not far below, and we feared if driven in to swim loose they might be drawn into it. One horse refused to swim or even to try, and made repeated efforts to plunge his head under, giving us a lot of trouble, but by holding his head close to the boat we towed him across in spite of his opposition. Without the boat he would surely have gone down the river. When everybody and everything were safely across the hour was so late that Jacob concluded to camp with us for the night.[24]

The Navajos were found to be a very jolly set of fellows, ready to take or give any amount of chaff, and perfectly honest. They were taking blankets of their manufacture to trade for horses and sheep. Their spirits ran high, they sang their wild songs for us, and we had the liveliest evening we had seen in many a month. Finally we joined in a circle with them, dancing and singing around the smouldering fire, while the chief KonÉco, a noble-looking fellow, sitting at one side, with a patriarchal expression, monotonously drummed an accompaniment with a willow root on the bottom of one of the camp-kettles. When any of us would stumble on a stick they were all convulsed with laughter. The blankets they had were beautiful, and Jacob possessed one valued at $40, which had taken seventy days to make. After the Navajos had gone to rest we listened to some Mormon songs by Jacob's party. They left us the next morning, Sunday, October 29th, Prof. obtaining from Jacob some red Mexican beans to eke out our supplies; also a description of the trail. I traded a cap I happened to have to one of the Navajos for his feather plume, and a pair of shoes to one of the white men for some Mishongnuvi moccasins. Monday we took the Dean across the river, and some distance down we hauled her by means of ropes up high above the water under a large rock, where we concealed her well. Then we made five caches near camp of goods not needed till next year, covering our traces by fires and other devices. Jones was so much improved that he managed to hobble about on a pair of crutches I had made for him out of strong willow sticks, and we felt much encouraged as to his ability to stand riding when the time came to start for Kanab.

On Tuesday we built a shelter back of camp for the Nell and housed her there. The next day was the first of November and we thought surely the pack-train would come, but the sun went down behind the cliffs and no one arrived. Prof. could not understand what the trouble was, but he went on with his observations. The next morning, as we were about to eat our bean breakfast beside the fire, we were astonished by the extremely cautious appearance through the willows, without a word of announcement, of a single, ragged, woebegone, silent old man on as skinny and tottering a pony as ever I saw. The old man was apparently much surprised to find himself here, and with the exclamation, "My God! I have found you!" he dropped to the ground. When at last he spoke he said his name was Mangum of Kanab, and that he had been employed to guide our pack-train, of which Riley, one of the prospectors we had met at El Vado, was leader. "Well, where is the train?" we asked, for if he were all that remained of it we wanted to know it soon. "Several miles back on the trail," he said. Not having eaten a mouthful since the morning before it was no wonder he was weak and silent. We gave him the best breakfast we could command from our meagre stock and then like a spectre he vanished on his scrawny steed up the Paria Canyon. All the day long we watched and waited for his triumphal return with the longed-for supplies at his back, but the sun departed without his approach and the twilight died into that mystery which leaves the world formless against the night. And still we had faith in the stranger's story. Early the next morning Prof., Clem, and I started on his track thinking we would soon meet the train. It led us up the valley of the Paria, between the great cliffs about three miles, and then we had another surprise, for it swung sharply to the right and climbed a steep sandy slope towards the only apparent place where the two-thousand-foot cliffs could possibly be scaled with horses. We saw that he had followed a very old Indian trail. When we had mounted to the base of the vertical rocks we travelled zig-zagging back and forth across the face of the precipice till presently the trail passed through a notch out upon the plateau. From an eminence we now scanned the whole visible area without discovering anything that apparently had not been there for several thousand years. Save the coming and going tracks of our strange visitor there was nothing to show that any living animal had trod this place in centuries. We could see to where Prof. and I previously climbed to this same plateau, and to-day was like yesterday and yesterday like the year before last. Time and the years were as little grains of drifting sand.

Leaving Clem as a sentinel on our observation point Prof. followed the out track and told me to follow the in till three o'clock. It was now high noon. I walked on and on through an arid, wonderful maze of sand, rocks, and cacti, feeling that the old horseman was no more than a phantom, when in half an hour I almost fell upon our lost pack-train meandering slowly and silently through a depression. I fired our signal shots and Prof. soon joined us. The situation was precarious. The animals were nearly dead from thirst, one had been abandoned, and Riley was in a state of pent-up rage that was dangerous for the spectre guide, who had nearly been the destruction of the whole outfit, for he did not know the trail and was himself lost. Of course he blamed Riley—it was his only defence. Riley broke loose in a string of fiery oaths, declaring he would shoot "the old fool," then and there. But receiving no encouragement from Prof. or me he didn't. There was a third member of the party, Joe Hamblin, a son of Jacob, a very sturdy young fellow. He said afterwards that he thought often that Riley would "sure let daylight through the old man." Our next care was to successfully manoeuvre the pack-animals down the difficult trail across the face of the cliff, which had not seen a horse for many a year and probably never had been traversed by animals with packs on their backs. We had to watch that they did not crowd each other off, but with all our exertions one fell and rolled down a few feet. He was not injured and we continued the descent, finally reaching the bottom without so much as a scratch of any consequence. There, at the Paria, the horses enjoyed the first full drink for several days and we followed it down to camp. Riley had started from Kanab October 23d and had been twelve days making a journey that required at most only four or five by the regular trail. Mangum had not known the way, had led toward El Vado, and his finding the Indian trail to the mouth of the Paria was an accident.

Provisions were now plenty again, and by the light of a big fire we overhauled the mail, finding letters, newspapers and magazines enough to satisfy any party. Word was received from the Major to move to a place called House Rock Spring, and Prof. said we would leave Camp 86 on November 5th, which gave us a day intervening in which to pack up. About noon of this packing day we were not surprised when two horsemen, Haight and Riggs, galloped into camp at full speed leading a lightly laden pack-mule. They had come through in two and one half days, at top speed, by direction of Jacob, who on reaching Kanab with the Navajos learned that our pack-train had left long before, and he had seen nothing of it. On the pack-mule were fifty pounds of flour and several rolls of butter; the first time we had seen any of this latter article since the final breakfast at Field's on May 22d. They were greatly relieved to know that the train was found and that all was well. They brought news of the burning of Chicago about a month before. In the evening Isaac Haight favoured us with some Mormon songs and recited examples of the marvellous curative effects of the Mormon "laying on of hands." Heavy clouds had settled along the face of the cliffs and the air grew wintry. We felt the chill keenly, as we were not clad for cold weather. In the morning snow began to drop gently out of the leaden sky and continued all day, preventing any one from starting. Soon the cliffs and Echo Peaks were white and we knew that now autumn was gone. Toward evening the sun flared across the rocky landscape, turning everything to gold, and we believed the next day would be fair. We were not disappointed. Monday the 6th of November came sharp and cold. Haight, Riggs, Mangum, and Joe Hamblin left early and we got under way as soon as we could. With two very sick men and a new method of travel it was not easy. We had to learn the art of packing on mules and horses from Riley, who was an expert in this line and who could "sling the diamond hitch" with great skill. He was just as handy with a lasso and seldom missed if he wished to catch an animal, but Prof. did not approve of the lasso method, for it makes stock wild and unmanageable. His way was the quiet one and he was right, for we soon had the entire herd so that there was no rumpus at starting-time. With a free use of the lasso preparations to start partake of the activity of a tornado.

Steward by this time was able to walk slowly. Andy was well enough to travel on his feet, but Jones could not move at all without crutches. We did not have extra horses for all to ride, so Steward and Andy changed off, while the rest of us had to walk. Jones we lifted as gently as possible, though it was pain even to be touched in his condition, upon Riley's special horse called Doc, a well-trained, docile animal, who walked off with him. It was after noon before the start was accomplished, and meanwhile I went back on the incoming trail of the lost pack-train to the foot of the steep precipice for Riley's canteen, which had been forgotten there, and when I returned all were gone but Steward, Clem, and Beaman, who had remained behind to round up a young steer which had been driven in with the train for us to convert into beef at a convenient opportunity. As the advance party travelled very slowly we soon caught them, the steer being gentle as a kitten. The trail followed south along the foot of the cliffs which emerged from Paria Canyon, and to which the Major had given the name of Vermilion on account of their rich red colour. We wound in and out of deep alcoves, around the heads of impassable lateral canyons running to the Colorado, and past enormous rocks balanced in every conceivable position on extremely slender pedestals. After about eight miles we arrived at a diminutive spring, which gave enough water for Andy to make bread and coffee with, but none for the stock. There we camped. A few armfuls of scraggy sage-brush furnished wood for a fire, but it was not enough to make our invalids comfortable, and the night was cold and raw. We did all we could for them and they did not grumble.

In the morning a pair of bronchos—that is, recently broken wild horses—made the camp lively for a time, but they were subdued and the caravan again got under way. Our next camp was to be Jacob's Pools, so called from the fact that Jacob was the first white man to camp there. We had gone only a mile or so when we crossed in a small canyon a little stream already enjoying two names, Clear and Spring (now called Badger) Creek, and a little farther on another called Soap Creek, still holding that name.[25] When first travellers enter a country they naturally bestow names on important objects, and two or three parties of white men who had passed this way had named these two creeks. After this we had no more water, and we pushed slowly ahead, looking for the Pools. Snow began to fall again in widely scattered, reluctant flakes, but melted on touching the ground. Late in the afternoon the trail turned the corner of the cliffs, which here broke to the west, and we saw a wide, desolate open plain stretching away to the foot of a distant table-land, which we knew to be the Kaibab Plateau or Buckskin Mountain. None of the party had been over the trail before, but it was easy to follow, especially for a man of Riley's experience. It was an old Navajo trail, and was here fairly well worn. The sun went down as we plodded on, the light faded from the west, and still we saw no Jacob's Pools. The air was biting, and with our thin, worn garments we felt it keenly and wished for a fire. At last just as the darkness began to thicken a patch of reeds on the right between some low hills was discovered, where it seemed there might be water, and we could not well go farther. The ground was moist, and by digging a hole we secured red, muddy liquid enough for Andy to make a little bread and a cup apiece of very poor coffee. The men and animals came straggling in out of the darkness. We gathered a lot of sage-brush and made a fire, and as soon as Jones came we lifted him off and put him as near the warmth as possible, for he was chilled through. There was no water for the stock, but the grass was wet and they did not suffer. Everything was damp and uncomfortable, and the fire was too small to dry anything out, so all turned in to the limited blankets and passed a cold, half-sleepless, uncomfortable night.

Morning was a relief, though the thermometer stood at 11 F. There was water enough in the holes for breakfast, and as soon as this meal was over the pack-train was on the move towards Jacob's Pools, which we found not two miles farther on. There were two of them, each seven or eight feet long, supplied by fine clear water oozing out of a hill-side. The lower one we turned over to the animals, reserving the upper for ourselves. We approached the plateau all day, and late in the afternoon we were within three or four miles of it, when the right-hand cliffs turned sharply to the north in a line parallel with the plateau, forming a long narrow valley. Cedars and piÑons now grew about us, so that we were assured of a good fire. About sunset we passed two large boulders which had fallen together, forming a rude shelter, under which Riggs or some one else had slept, and then had jocosely printed above with charcoal the words "Rock House Hotel." Afterward this had served as identification, and Jacob and the others had spoken of "House Rock" Spring and House Rock Valley. We called it the same, and finally it went on the maps and is now permanent. A few yards beyond the House Rock the trail led into a gulch, at the head of which was a good spring. Plenty of cedars and piÑons grew about, and we soon had a fire that compensated for the meagre ones of the preceding nights. The sick men became warm and dry, and we all felt much better. The whole outfit halted two days, and on the second the poor little steer, gazing sadly at us, was shot and cut up. In an hour the quarters were swinging from a tree and some of the beef was in the pan. Necessity is a sauce that makes every grist palatable. We were hungry, and nothing could have tasted better than that fresh beefsteak. The entrails and refuse were left on the ground in the neighbouring gulley where we had killed the steer, and next morning the place was about cleaned up by the lurking wolves.

Prof. decided to go on across the Kaibab to Kanab with the two very sick men, and leave Cap., Clem, Andy, and me here at House Rock Spring until the plan for the winter's campaign had been better formulated. Steward concluded that his condition was too precarious to risk further exposure, and said he would now leave the expedition permanently, which we learned with deep regret, but it was plainly imperative. Jones thought that a week or two of warmth and rest, accompanied by a change of diet, would make him whole again and enable him to stay till the end of our special task. On Saturday, November 11th, the party started, with the invalids riding the gentlest and easiest horses, though Steward found it less painful at times to walk. I accompanied them to the summit of the Kaibab to bring back one of the horses we called Thunderbolt, on which Jones was to be carried to the top and there change to Doc. After I left them I halted many times to look out into the wonderful land to the west and north. When I got back to the spring, our Camp 3 of the land operations, we immediately set up a stout 6 by 8 tent that was in the outfit brought from Kanab, and it made a very snug sleeping-place for the four of us. Around the fire we rolled big stones for seats, and soon had the gulch in a homelike condition. There was an abundance of dead, fat piÑon, which burned like a candle, and we could easily extend our reading into the evenings.

From all around us there arose the frequent bay and bark of the wolves. They were of different kinds, numerous and rather bold. At night they came in and cleared up what was left of the entrails of the steer, also securing a fine, large piece of beef which Cap. had hung in a tree, but not high enough to escape their efforts. We took turns bringing the four horses left with us to water, and in that way kept ourselves informed about them. During these trips, especially in the late afternoon, the wolves were apt to trot along near by, and on one occasion Clem was obliged to drive one out of the trail with stones, not having his rifle. One morning, as I was riding along not far from camp, a huge whitish fellow followed behind like a dog about twenty yards back, licking his chaps. At first I thought he might be the dog of some Indian camped near, but remembering that there were none in the valley, and also that an Indian dog, or any strange dog, would have run from me, I saw that he was a hungry wolf unused to man. I had no rifle with me, but I took a walk over the same ground next morning with my Winchester, hoping to see my acquaintance again, but he discreetly kept out of sight. We had little now to occupy us except to examine the locality, chop wood for our fire, and read over and over the newspapers and magazines. The nights were very cold, the spring always freezing over, but the days were delightful. The beef had to be jerked to preserve it. We cut it up into thin long strips, which we strung through the ends on long withes, these in turn being hung on a framework that left the strips swinging within two or three feet of a slow fire. One hour's neglect of this tempting array would have seen it vanish to the four winds, so we kept a constant watch day and night, taking turns through the dark hours. Every article which had grease or leather about it had to be carefully put away to prevent its disappearance. Riley had lost his spurs on the way out from this cause, the leather on them making sweet morsels for the watchers.

Cap. concluded to profit by this appetite, and in an adjoining gulch he built a trap between two rocks, in which he set his Remington six-shooter, so that a wolf picking up a scrap of beef would pull the trigger by a string and receive the ball in his head. That night during my watch over the beef I roasted a piece on a stick for a lunch, and as the savory odour drifted off on the crisp winter air howl after howl of ravenous desire rang out from many directions, followed by the bang of the revolver in the trap. Cap. went over, but found no game, though later he often came back with a fine large specimen, bearing a perfect coat of fur, which Cap. always removed by the firelight at once. About every night except Sunday, when Cap. refused to set the trap—for he never did any work on that day that was not absolutely necessary—there was a fatal shot, and he accumulated a lot of excellent large skins, which he tacked on trees to preserve them. He thought he had put them up securely high, but one morning every skin had disappeared. The wolf relatives had carried them away to the last shred.

sketch

The Kaibab was too far away for us to go there to hunt deer, and there were none around the spring, though one night at supper-time, the western sky being a broad sweep of deep orange, we saw a large wild animal of some sort on the crest of the hill silhouetted against the colour. I started for it with my rifle, but of course it did not wait; no animal ever does if he can help it, unless he is carnivorous and famished. The weather remained generally fair, though one day we had a wild gale that nearly relieved us of the tent in the midst of thick flurries of snow. We often climbed among the cliffs, and everywhere we found picture-writings, poles laid up, stepping-stones, fragments of pottery, arrowheads, and other evidences of former occupation. The poles and stones may have been placed by the Pai Utes as well as by the old Shinumos, who once were numerous over all this country. Cap. was by no means well. An extreme nervousness connected with the old gunshot wound developed, and he said he felt sure he could not continue the work in the field during the winter, much less go through the Grand Canyon with us the next year. Clem also felt under the weather, and besides was growing homesick. He confided to me one day that he also had concluded not to remain with us. As there was little the matter with him I undertook to argue him out of his determination not to go through the Grand Canyon, pointing out the disappointment he would feel when we had accomplished the passage and he realised that he might as well have come along. This produced some impression, but I was uncertain as to its lasting result.

By November 17th we began with confidence to look for some one to come over the mountains from Kanab, and just after sunset we heard Riley's long shrill "ee—ii—oooooooo," which he could deliver upon the air in such a fashion that it carried for miles. Presently Prof. and he rode into our camp with fresh supplies and a great bundle of mail that included papers giving the details of the burning of Chicago. Prof. with Cap. then reconnoitred the neighbourhood, and on the 21st he returned to Kanab, leaving us as before, except that Riley remained two days longer. The Major had not yet arrived at Kanab from Salt Lake and our winter work could not begin till he came. The days rolled by with occasional rain and snow and we began to grow impatient with our inaction, especially when November passed away. The second day of December was fading when we distinguished in the distance the familiar Riley yell, and in a little while he came into view with welcome news. We were to move at once to a spring eight miles from Kanab. He also brought some apples, native raisins and a large canteen full of fresh wine from "Dixie" as the country along the Virgin was called. These luxuries together with a number of letters from home made that night one of the most cheerful we had known for a long time. Monday morning, December 4th we left House Rock Spring behind with our pack-train, followed the trail across the open valley, climbed two thousand feet to the top of the Kaibab, and were soon traversing the forest on its broad summit. Riley having been over the trail now several times we went ahead steadily, and about sunset arrived at the farther side of a narrow longitudinal depression of the top which Cap. immediately put down in his notes as Summit Valley, a name that holds to-day. There we threw off our packs and made camp for the night. Though there was no water the ground was covered by a thin layer of snow, that made the long bunch grass palatable to the horses and for ourselves we had sufficient water in two small kegs and several canteens. A bright fire blazed cheerfully, the dense cedars broke the wind, and everybody felt that it was a fine camp. The others spent the evening playing euchre by firelight, but I preferred to read till bedtime.

The next morning, after crossing some rough gulches, we came to the western edge of the great plateau, and emerging from the forest of pine and cedar we saw again the magnificent, kaleidoscopic, cliff country lying to the north. First about twenty miles away was a line of low chocolate-coloured cliffs, then a few miles back of this the splendid line of the Vermilion Cliffs, the same which began at the mouth of Glen Canyon and which we had skirted to House Rock Spring. From there the line continued northward till it passed around the north end of the Kaibab, when it struck southwesterly far to our left, where it turned back to the north again, forming one of the longest and finest cliff ranges anywhere to be seen. Above them and some miles still farther back, rising higher, was a line of greyish cliffs following the trend of the Vermilion, and still above these was the broken meandering face of the Pink Cliffs, frosted with snow, whose crest marks the southeastern limit of Fremont's "Great Basin," the end of the High Plateaus, and tops the country at an altitude of some 11,000 feet above sea-level. A more extraordinary, bewildering landscape, both as to form and colour, could hardly be found in all the world. Winding our way down to the barren valley, in itself more a high plateau than a valley, we travelled the rest of the day in the direction of the great cliffs. The sun was just gone when we reached the first low line, and passing through a gap turned into a side gulch thickly studded with cedars, where we saw before us two white-covered waggons, two or three camp-fires blazing, and friends. We heard a hearty voice cry, "Tirtaan Aigles dis wai!" and we sprang from our horses to grasp Jack's welcoming hand and greet all the others, some of whom were new acquaintances. The fragrance of coffee and frying bacon filled the sharp air, while from the summits of the surrounding cliffs the hungry chorus of yelping wolves sent up their wail of disappointment.

In an alcove a large tent had been put up, which the Major's family was occupying, for Mrs. Powell and her baby daughter had come from Salt Lake with him, arriving a few days before. The daughter was but three months old and was happy in a big clothes-basket for a cradle. Mrs. Thompson, Prof.'s wife, and sister of the Major, had also come from Salt Lake and another large tent sheltered them, while still another of equal size, not yet erected, was designed for the men. It was a specially interesting camp to us who had come over from House Rock for it was novel to see so many people around. The Major himself was absent at Kanab. Before the camp was asleep the hour was late, and so soundly did every one rest that the sneaking wolves without the least molestation carried off two large sacks of the jerked beef from near our heads, where we had put it against a huge rock thinking they would not come so close; but as they had pulled a ham the night before from under the head of Captain Dodds where he had placed it for safety, we ought to have been more sensible. Two or three nights later, as I was sleeping in a special bed one of the men then absent had made by a big rock some yards from the main camp, I was awakened by a wolf crunching bones by the fire not eight feet from my head. I wanted to shoot the impertinent wretch, but his form was indistinct and my rifle lying by my side had to be trained his way. This took some time, as I had to move cautiously, and in the midst of my effort my elbow slipped. Like a shadow he flitted into the deeper gloom and I went to sleep again. I did not want to shoot without certainty, though some nights later I did shoot with Riley's huge double-barrelled shotgun loaded with buckshot straight into our mess kit, not killing the wolf that was there, but putting holes in numerous tin plates through which bean soup delighted to percolate, so that I never heard the last of this midnight effort of mine to diminish the wolf family.

The day following our arrival the Major came from Kanab and the plans for our winter's campaign were put in operation. A base line for our geographic work was necessary and this was to run south from Kanab, so Prof. on December 7th, with Mrs. Thompson, Cap., Clem, Andy, Jones (who had recovered his health), and one of the new men named MacEntee, left us with loaded waggons to establish another camp nearer to the scene of this work. Another member of the party was Fuzz, Mrs. Thompson's dog, an intelligent Dandie Dinmont. As I was much interested to see Kanab, of which so much had been said, and as it was now nearly seven months since I had seen an occupied house, I decided to take a Sunday ride in that direction. On the 17th, about noon, I put a saddle on a white mule which Jack had named Nigger and was soon on my way. Emerging from the Chocolate Cliffs the road led along the foot of the Vermilion Cliffs, crossing long ridges covered with cedars and piÑons with a vast view to the Kaibab on the south and east, and soon joining a road that led from a canyon to eastward where there was a very small settlement called Johnson's, and from two or three houses which had been built where the El Vado trail crossed the Paria River. Nigger went along very well and I was in Kanab by three o'clock. The village, which had been started only a year or two, was laid out in the characteristic Mormon style with wide streets and regular lots fenced by wattling willows between stakes. Irrigating ditches ran down each side of every street and from them the water, derived from a creek that came down a canyon back of the town, could be led into any of the lots, each of which was about one quarter of an acre; that is, there were four lots to a block. Fruit trees, shade trees, and vines had been planted and were already beginning to promise near results, while corn, potatoes, etc., gave fine crops. The original place of settlement was a square formed by one-story log houses on three sides and a stockade on the fourth. This was called the fort and was a place of refuge, though the danger from Navajo attack seemed to be over and that from any assault by the Pai Utes certainly was past. One corner of the fort was made by the walls of the schoolhouse, which was at the same time meeting-house and ball-room. Altogether there were about 100 families in the village. The houses that had been built outside the fort were quite substantially constructed, some of adobe or sun-dried brick. The entire settlement had a thrifty air, as is the case with the Mormons. Not a grog-shop, or gambling saloon, or dance-hall was to be seen; quite in contrast with the usual disgraceful accompaniments of the ordinary frontier towns. A perfectly orderly government existed, headed by a bishop appointed by the church authorities in Salt Lake, the then incumbent of this office being an excellent man, Bishop Stewart. I rode to the fort, where I found Clem and Beaman domiciled with their photographic outfit, with a swarm of children peeping through every chink and crevice of the logs to get a view of the "Gentiles," a kind of animal they had seldom seen. Every one was cordial. Beaman even offered me a drink made with sugar-water and photographic alcohol, but it did not appeal to my taste. It was after sunset when I started Nigger towards Eight Mile Spring and I enjoyed the ride in the edge of night with not a living thing, besides Nigger (and Nigger was a mule), to disturb my reveries.

I had as yet seen none of the natives of the locality. They were now very friendly and considered harmless, thanks to Jacob's wise management. The only Indians the settlers dreaded were some renegades, a band of Utes and Navajos, collected by a bold and skillful chief named Patnish, whose "country" was south of the Colorado around Navajo Mountain. He was reputed to be highly dangerous, and the Kanab people were constantly prepared against his unwelcome visits. He had several handsome stalwart sons, who dressed in white and who generally accompanied him. Though Patnish was so much feared, I do not remember to have heard that he committed any depredations after this time. There had been much trouble with the Navajos, but Jacob, growing tired of the constant warfare, had resolved to go to them and see if he could not change the state of affairs. When he had guided the Major to the Moki Towns and Fort Defiance the year before (1870), about six thousand Navajos were assembled at the Agency. The chiefs were invited to meet in council on the 2d of November, and all the principal chiefs but one and all subchiefs but two were there. The Major led the way by introducing Jacob and speaking in highly complimentary terms of the Mormons; and Jacob then gave a long talk in his low-voiced way, illustrating the great evils of such warfare as had existed, and closed by saying:

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:

photo, canyon

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,

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.

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:

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.

line drawing, dwelling

line drawing, forest, man on horseback