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.

photo, canyon

The rapidity with which the water went down and the walls went up as we cut into the plateau gave a vivid impression of descending into the very bowels of the earth, and this impression seemed daily to intensify. On Monday, August 19th, the same conditions prevailed, the walls being of marble mostly vertical from the water's edge for about seven hundred feet, and then rising by four terraces to two thousand feet, all stained red by the disintegration of iron-stained rocks overhead though the marble is a grey colour. We only made four and one-quarter miles and established Camp 90 on the left, just below a big rapid and in sight of another, with a record for the whole day of four rapids run, three passed by let-downs, and one overcome by a portage. The next day we did not accomplish a much greater distance, only about nine miles, but we were highly successful in our encounters with the enemy, running no less than twelve big rapids and making a portage at another to round out the dozen on the baker's proverbial basis. The average width of the canyon at the top was about one and a quarter miles, while the breadth of the water itself plunging along the bottom was not more than 125 feet, and the total height of wall was 2500 feet. We had marble at the river margin most of the day, a greyish crystalline rock fluted multitudinously in places by the action of high water and sometimes polished like glass. While this was a grey rock the entire effect of the canyon, for the reason stated above, was red. On the right bank we made our camp on some sand at the mouth of a gulch, and immediately put on our dry clothes from the boats. Not far below on the same side was what appeared to be a vast ruined tower. Around the indentations which answered for crumbling windows bunches of mosses and ferns were draped, while from the side, about one hundred feet up from the river, clear springs broke forth to dash down amidst verdure in silvery skeins. The whole affair formed a striking and unusual picture, the only green that so far had been visible in the canyon landscape, for the walls from brink to river were absolutely barren of trees or any apparent vegetation. On the former trip the Major had named the place after a botanist friend of his, Vasey's (Vaysey) Paradise, and this was now recorded in our notes. All day long we had seen in the magnificent walls besides caverns and galleries resemblances to every form of architectural design, turrets, forts, balconies, castles, and a thousand strange and fantastic suggestions from the dark tower against which Childe Roland with his slug-horn blew defiance, to the airy structures evolved by the wonderful lamp of Aladdin.

Starting down again on Wednesday morning we ran past the Paradise and heard a little bird singing there amidst the spray and mosses, a delicate note seeming out of place amidst such gigantic desolation. Only the boom of great cannon or the tone of some enormous organ pipe would be correct with the surroundings. The walls at the water's edge were vertical for long distances up to eight hundred feet, and being now in all about three thousand feet and not a great ways apart, the outlook ahead was something almost overpowering in its deep suggestion of mysterious and untold realms to come. On the first voyage it would have been easy to persuade oneself that the river was soon to become subterranean, but the Major having solved the enigma, we could look with indifference on the threatening prospect. Yet the walls nevertheless seemed to have a determination to close together overhead as we looked down the descending waters before us, with cliff mounting on cliff and the distance from one to the other appearing so very small. Deep and sombre were the shadows at the bends, and the imagination needed no spur to picture there rapids, falls, cataracts, of giant proportions. We made nearly eleven miles and ran ten very big rapids, meeting with no accident, though one was particularly violent and filled us half full of water in the fierce breakers. The stage of water was exactly right for this stretch; a lower stage would certainly have given us far more trouble. Our stop for the night, Camp 92, was made on a wide sandbank on the left, with some mesquite growing nearby, our first acquaintance with this tree on the river. We now were getting on so well and were so comfortable that we felt quite happy and Jack as usual entertained us with several songs. The next day, Thursday the 22d, Jack and Clem took some photographs in the morning and I hunted fossils for the Major in the limestone shales which had run up under the marble. By nine o'clock we were packed up again in our usual good form, everything in the rubber sacks, hatches firmly battened down, life-preservers ready, and we set forth for another day's battle. There were numerous large rapids and the impetuous river, turbid and grim, rushed down with a continuity that kept us alert every instant. Though we descended with terrific velocity, nothing gave us any particular trouble before dinner, which we ate in the shade of a mesquite on the right at the mouth of a couple of giant gulches. Here we discovered a large patch of cacti loaded with the red prickly pears or cactus apples, as we called them. They were ripe,—seeming to me to be half way between a fig and a tomato,—and very welcome for dessert, as we had eaten no fresh fruit since a watermelon brought along as far as the first noon camp. All the vegetation was different from that of the upper canyons and of a kind indicating a hotter climate; cacti, yucca, etc. In the afternoon the walls became greater, the river ran swifter, the descent seemed almost without a break, for rapid followed rapid in such quick succession that it was next to impossible to separate them one from another. At times we could barely maintain control of the boats so powerful and uninterrupted was the turbulent sweep of the great narrow flood. At one place as we were being hurled along at a tremendous speed we suddenly perceived immediately ahead of us and in such a position that we could not avoid dashing into it, a fearful commotion of the waters, indicating many large rocks near the surface. The Major stood on the middle deck, his life-preserver in place, and holding by his left hand to the arm of the well secured chair to prevent being thrown off by the lurching of the boat, peered into the approaching maelstrom. It looked to him like the end for us and he exclaimed calmly, "By God, boys, we're gone!" With terrific impetus we sped into the seething, boiling turmoil, expecting to feel a crash and to have the Dean crumble beneath us, but instead of that unfortunate result she shot through smoothly without a scratch, the rocks being deeper than appeared by the disturbance on the surface. We had no time to think over this agreeable delivery, for on came the rapids or rather other rough portions of the unending declivity requiring instant and continuous attention, the Major rapidly giving the orders, Left, right, hard on the right, steady, hard on the left, hard on the left, h-a-r-d on the left, pull away strong, etc., Jones aiding our oars by his long steering sweep. Rowing for progress was unnecessary; the oars were required only for steering or for pulling as fast as we could to avoid some bad place.

At the same time the walls constantly gained height as the torrent cut down its bed till both together, with the rapidity of our movement, fairly made one dizzy. In turning a bend we saw back through a gulch the summit of the Kaibab's huge cliffs, the total height above our heads being over five thousand feet; a sublime vista. The immediate walls of Marble Canyon were here about 3500 feet, not all vertical but rising in buttresses, terraces, and perpendicular faces, while immediately at the river they were now generally flanked by talus or broken ledges giving ample footing, as seen in the illustration opposite page 219. Words are not adequate to describe this particular day in Marble Canyon; it must be experienced to be appreciated and I will not strive further to convey my impressions. As the sun sank to the western edge of the outer world we were rushing down a long straight stretch of canyon, and the colossal precipices looming on all sides, as well as dead ahead across our pathway, positively appeared about to overwhelm the entire river by their ponderous magnificence, burnished at their summits by the dying sun. On, down the headlong flood our faithful boats carried us to the gloom that seemed to be the termination of all except subterranean progress, but at the very bottom of this course there was a bend to the west, and we found ourselves at the mouth of a deep side canyon coming in from the east, with a small stream flowing into the big river. This was the mouth of the Little Colorado and the end at last of Marble Canyon, one of the straightest, deepest, narrowest, and most majestic chasms of the whole long series. It also had more wall rising vertically from the water's edge than any other canyon we had encountered.

Our distance for the day was eighteen miles with eighteen rapids, one nearly three miles long and all following each other so closely they were well-nigh continuous. We ran seventeen and made one let-down. It was a glorious day and a fitting preparation for our entrance into the next stupendous canyon which the Major styled the "Sockdologer of the World," the now famous Grand Canyon.[32] Our altitude was 2690 feet, giving a descent in the sixty-five and one-half miles of Marble Canyon of 480 feet, leaving 1850 feet still to be overcome before we could reach the mouth of the Grand Wash and the end of the Grand Canyon. I counted sixty-three rapids in Marble Canyon, Prof. sixty-nine. We made four portages and let down by line six times.

photo, canyon

Our Camp 93 was on the left bank of the Little Colorado, and there we remained for Friday, August 23d, to reconnoitre the neighbourhood, and to give Prof. an opportunity to get the latitude and longitude. The Little Colorado was a red stream about sixty feet wide and four or five deep, salty and impossible to drink. The Great Colorado was also muddy and not altogether palatable, for one's hand dipped in and allowed to dry became encrusted with sediment; but the water otherwise was pure. The river had been rapidly rising for several days and was still coming up so that we were likely to have in the Grand Canyon more water than we required. I climbed up the wall on the north side of the Little Colorado thinking I might be able to reach the summit, but when about half-way up I met vast and vertical heights that were impossible and returned to camp. The next morning, Saturday, August 24th, we packed up and entered the Grand Canyon proper on an easy river, making about five miles in half an hour and putting behind six rapids all small, camping at the head of one that was more threatening. Here a little creek came in from the right, or west, near camp. The canyon was wider than above, and we could see the summits around that were six thousand feet above the river, but some miles back. In the morning I made a geological sketch, and in the afternoon I climbed a high peak and put in some of the topography. The next morning we crossed the river to examine a large igneous butte where we found a small vein of copper ore, and after dinner Prof. and I climbed a couple of peaks and did some triangulating. Monday the 26th found us still at Camp 94 to further investigate the surroundings, and the Major, Prof., Jones, and I climbed up on the north about 2600 feet in order to get a better idea of the several valleys which here seemed to compose the bottom of the great chasm, and did not reach camp till after dark. Everything now developed on a still larger and grander scale; we saw before us an enormous gorge, very wide at the top, which could engulf an ordinary mountain range and lose it within its vast depths and ramifications. Multitudinous lofty mesas, buttes, and pinnacles began to appear, each a mighty mountain in itself, but more or less overwhelmed by the greater grandeur of the Cyclopean environment.

Tuesday, August 27th, after Prof. had put a new tube in the second barometer which had somehow been broken, we pushed off once more to see what the day would develop. The rapid just below camp we ran through easily and then made swift progress for seven miles, running nine more rapids, two rather bad ones. The CaÑonita grounded once on a shoal but got off without damage. Where we stopped for dinner we caught sight of two mountain sheep drinking, and Andy and I got our guns out of the cabins as quickly as possible and started after them, but they flew away like birds of the air. Near this point there was a small abandoned hut of mesquite logs. We went into camp farther down on the left for investigations, the Major and I going up the river and finding a small salty creek which we followed for a time on an old trail, the Major studying the geology and collecting specimens of the rocks, which we carried back to camp, arriving after dark. The geology and topography here were complicated and particularly interesting, and we ought to have been able to spend more days, but the food question, as well as time, was a determining factor in our movements, and with only two boats our rations would carry us with necessary stops only to the mouth of the Kanab Canyon where our pack-train would meet us on September 4th. There was no other place above Diamond Creek known at that time, except perhaps the spot near Mount Trumbull, where supplies could be brought in. On Wednesday we ran two or three miles and stopped for our photographers to get some views opposite a rust-coloured sandstone. We also had dinner at this place and then continued the descent. After running four rapids successfully, making a let-down at another, and a portage over the upper end of a sixth we were ready, having made in all six miles, to go into camp part way down the last, one of the heaviest falls we had so far encountered. It was perhaps half a mile long, with a declivity of at least forty feet, studded by numerous enormous boulders. A heavy rain began during our work of getting below, and our clothes being already wet the air became very chilly. We had to carry the cargoes only a short distance, with no climbing, and there was ample room so the portage was not difficult in that respect. But though we could manoeuvre the empty boats down along the shore amidst the big rocks, they were exceedingly heavy for our small band, and in sliding them down between the huge masses, with the water pouring around and often into them, we sometimes had as much as we could do to manage them, each man being obliged to strain his muscle to the limit. Jack from this cause hurt his back so badly that he could not lift at all, and overcome by the sudden weakness and pain he came near sinking into the swift river at the stern of the Dean where he happened at the moment to be working. I heard his cry and clambered over to seize him as quickly as I could, helping him to shore, where we did all that was possible for his comfort. As we were going no farther that day he was able to rest, and in the morning felt much better, though his back was still weak. Andy took his place in our boat to run the lower end of the rapid, which was easily done. We landed below on the same side, enabling Andy to go back to help bring down the CaÑonita, while Jack walked along the rocks to where we were. Here we remained for a couple of hours while I climbed up for the Major and measured the "Red Beds," and Jack rested again, improving very fast. When we were ready to go on his trouble had almost disappeared.

photo, canyon

A dark granite formation had run up at the foot of the last fall and it rose rapidly higher, hemming the water in with steep, forbidding cliffs close together. The river became much narrower and swirled with an oily-looking current around the buttresses of granite that thrust themselves from one side or the other into it. The declivity was not great and the torrent was otherwise placid. After three miles of this ominous docility, just as the dinner hour was near and the threatening black granite had risen to one thousand feet above the water, we heard a deep, sullen roar ahead and from the boats the whole river seemed to vanish instantly from earth. At once we ran in on the right to a small area of great broken rocks that protruded above the water at the foot of the wall, and stepping out on these we could look down on one of the most fearful places I ever saw or ever hope to see under like circumstances,—a place that might have been the Gate to Hell that Steward had mentioned. We were near the beginning of a tremendous fall. The narrow river dropped suddenly and smoothly away, and then, beaten to foam, plunged and boomed for a third of a mile through a descent of from eighty to one hundred feet, the enormous waves leaping twenty or thirty feet into the air and sending spray twice as high.[33] On each side were the steep, ragged granitic walls, with the tumultuous waters lashing and pounding against them in a way that precluded all idea of portage or let-down. It needed no second glance to tell us that there was only one way of getting below. If the rocks did not stop us we could "cross to Killiloo," and when a driving rain had ceased Andy gathered the few sticks of driftwood available for a fire, by which he prepared some dinner in advance of the experiment. Jack and Clem took three negatives, and when the dinner was disposed of we stowed all loose articles snugly away in the cabins, except a camp-kettle in each standing-room to bail with, and then battening down the hatches with extra care, and making everything shipshape, we pulled the Dean up-stream, leaving the CaÑonita and her crew to watch our success or failure and profit by it. The Major had on his life-preserver and so had Jones, but Jack and I put ours behind our seats, where we could catch them up quickly, for they were so large we thought they impeded the handling of the oars. Jack's back had fortunately now recovered, so that he was able to row almost his usual stroke. We pulled up-stream about a quarter of a mile close to the right-hand wall, in order that we might get well into the middle of the river before making the great plunge, and then we turned our bow out and secured the desired position as speedily as possible, heading down upon the roaring enemy—roaring as if it would surely swallow us at one gulp.

sketch, rapid

My back being towards the fall I could not see it, for I could not turn round while waiting every instant for orders. Nearer and nearer came the angry tumult; the Major shouted "Back water!" there was a sudden dropping away of all support; then the mighty waves smote us. The boat rose to them well, but we were flying at twenty-five miles an hour and at every leap the breakers rolled over us. "Bail!" shouted the Major,—"Bail for your lives!" and we dropped the oars to bail, though bailing was almost useless. The oars could not get away, for they had rawhide rings nailed around near the handle to prevent them from slipping through the rowlocks. The boat rolled and pitched like a ship in a tornado, and as she flew along Jack and I, who faced backwards, could look up under the canopies of foam pouring over gigantic black boulders, first on one side, then on the other. Why we did not land on top of one of these and turn over I don't know, unless it might be that the very fury of the current causes a recoil. However that may be, we struck nothing but the waves, the boats riding finely and certainly leaping at times almost half their length out of water, to bury themselves quite as far at the next lunge. If you will take a watch and count by it ninety seconds, you will probably have about the time we were in this chaos, though it seemed much longer to me. Then we were through, and immediately took advantage of an eddy on one side to lie to and bail out, for the boat was full of water. Setting her to rights as quickly as we could, we got ready to make a dash for the crew of the CaÑonita in case she fared worse than we did. We looked anxiously for her to appear, and presently, at the top of what seemed to us now to be a straight wall of foam, her small white bulk hung for an instant and then vanished from our sight in the mad flood. Soon appearing at the bottom uninjured, she ran in to where we were waiting. The CaÑonita, being lighter than our boat, did not ship as much water as in some other places, and altogether we agreed that notwithstanding its great descent and furious aspect the passage was not more difficult than we had made in several previous rapids.

Continuing on down the narrow and gloomy granite gorge, we encountered about a mile farther down a singular rapid, which turned the CaÑonita completely around. About four o'clock we found ourselves before another tremendous fall, and a very ugly one. Landing on the left, we discovered that to be the wrong side, and crossed over to a little cove where there was a patch of gravel, surrounded by vertical walls, the crossing being easily made because the water seemed to slacken before the plunge. We did not intend to run the place if it could be avoided, and the south side gave no opportunity whatever for a portage, while the north side offered no very easy course. Prof. declared this to be one of the worst rapids we had seen, and we were now about two hundred feet above the head of it, with the vertical cliffs between. Immediately at the beginning of the drop on the same side that we were on was a pile of boulders, and our plan was to engineer the boats by lines from where we had landed down to these rocks, from which we believed we could work around over the rocks into an alcove there was there, and thence go down till we reached the lower part of the descent, through which we could navigate. Consequently several of the men entered one boat, and we lowered her from the stern of the second as far as her line would reach, and then lowered the second till the first lodged in the rocks at the desired point at the head of the fall. Then, pulling up the second boat, we who had remained got on board, and by clinging to the projections of the wall, the current close in being quite slow, we succeeded in arriving alongside the first boat. The next thing was to get around into the alcove. The sky above was heavy and rain began to come down steadily, making the dark granite blacker and intensifying the gloomy character of the locality. By hard work we finally got our boats across the rocks and down about two hundred feet farther into a cove, where they rested easily. Up to this time we had made in all, during the day, seven and one-quarter miles. As night was now dropping fast we had to make camp on a pile of broken granite, where a close search yielded an armful or two of small pieces of driftwood, all wet. Under a rock several dry sticks were discovered, and by their aid a fire soon blazed up by which the indomitable Andy proceeded to get supper. There was no use changing wet clothes for dry ones from the rubber bags as long as the rain fell, and it increased till water was dashing off the walls in streams. The thunder roared and crashed as if it were knocking the cliffs about to rearrange them all, and a deluge swept down in which Andy's struggling little fire died with hardly a sputter. The only thing remaining for us to do was to all stand with our backs against the foot of the wall, which was still warm from the day, and wait for something else to happen. The bread-pan seen through the dim and dismal light was a tempestuous lake, with an island of dough in it, while Andy the undaunted stood grimly gazing at it, the rain dribbling from his hat and shoulders till he resembled the fabled ferryman of the River Styx. The situation was so ludicrous that every one laughed, and the Weather God finding that we were not downcast slackened the downpour immediately. Then we put some oars against the wall and stretched a paulin to protect our noble chef, who finally got the wet firewood once more ignited, and succeeded in getting the bread almost baked and the coffee nearly hot and some dried peaches almost stewed. The rain ceasing, we hurriedly donned dry clothes and applied ourselves to the destruction of these viands, which tasted better than might be imagined. Each man then took his blankets, and, selecting rocks that in his judgment were the softest, he went to sleep.

There was another alcove about three hundred yards below our camp, and in the morning, Friday, August 30th, we proceeded to work our way down to this, several men clambering along a ledge about 150 feet above the water with the line, while I remained each time in the boat below with an oar to keep the bow in against the wall, so that she could not take the current on the wrong side—that is, on the side next to the wall—and cut out into the river. In this way we got both boats down to the alcove, whence we intended to pull out into the current and run the lower portion of the rapid. It was only noon when we reached the place, but then we discovered that both boats had been so pounded that they badly needed repairs—in fact, it was imperative to halt there for this purpose,—and we hauled them out on a patch of broken rocks, thirty or forty feet square, filling the curve of the alcove and bounded by vertical rocks and the river. While at work on them we happened to notice that the river was rapidly rising, and, setting a mark, the rate was found to be three feet an hour. The rocks on which we were standing and where all the cargo was lying were being submerged. We looked around for some way to get up the cliff, as it was now too late to think of leaving. About fifteen feet above the top of the rocks on which we were working there was a shelf five or six feet wide, to which some of the men climbed, and we passed up every article to them. When the repairs were done darkness was filling the great gorge. By means of lines from above and much hard lifting we succeeded in raising the boats up the side of the cliff, till they were four or five feet above the highest rocks of the patch on which we stood. This insured their safety for the time being, and if the river mounted to them we intended to haul them still higher. The next thing was to find a place to sleep. By walking out on a ledge from the shelf where our goods were we could turn a jutting point above the rushing river by clinging closely to the rocks, and walk back on a shelf on the other side to a considerable area of finely broken rocks, thirty feet above the torrent, where there was room enough for a camp. Rain fell at intervals, and the situation was decidedly unpromising. While Andy and the others were getting the cook outfit and rations around the point, I climbed the cliffs hunting for wood. I found small pieces of driftwood lodged behind mesquite bushes fully one hundred feet above the prevailing stage of water. I collected quite an armful of half-dead mesquite, which has the advantage of being so compact that it makes a fire hot as coal, and little is needed to cook by. Supper was not long in being despatched, and then, every man feeling about worn out, we put on dry clothes, the rain having ceased, and went to sleep on the rocks. Before doing so we climbed back to examine the boats, and found the river was not coming up farther, though it had almost completely covered the rocks.

Saturday, the 21st of August, 1872, was about the gloomiest morning I ever saw. Rain was falling, the clouds hung low over our heads like a lid to the box-like chasm in the black, funereal granite enclosing us, while the roar of the big rapid seemed to be intensified. We felt like rats in a trap. Eating breakfast as quickly as possible, we got everything together again on the shelf and lowered the boats. Though the river was not rising, it beat and surged into the cove in a way that made the boats jump and bounce the moment they touched the water. To prevent their being broken by pounding, one man at each steadied them while the others passed down the sacks and instrument boxes. Then it was seen that either a new leak had sprung in the Dean amidships or a hole had not been caulked, for a stream as wide as two fingers was spurting into the middle cabin. To repair her now meant hauling both boats back against the side of the cliff and spending another day in this trap, with the chance of the river rising much higher before night so that we might not be able to get away at all—at least not for days. For an instant the Major thought of pulling the boats out again, but as his quick judgment reviewed the conditions he exclaimed, "By God, we'll start! Load up!" It was the rarest thing for him to use an oath, and I remember only one other occasion when he did so—in Marble Canyon when he thought we were going to smash. We threw the things in as fast as we could, jammed a bag of flour against the leak in the Dean, battened down the hatches, threw our rifles into the bottom of the standing rooms where the water and sand washed unheeded over them, and jumped to our oars. The crew of the CaÑonita held our stern till the bow swung out into the river, and then at the signal Jack and I laid to with all our strength—to shoot clear of an enormous rock about fifty feet below against which the fierce current was dashing. The Dean was so nearly water-logged that she was sluggish in responding to the oars, but we swept past the rock safely and rolled along down the river in the tail of the rapid with barely an inch of gunwale to spare,—in fact I thought the boat might sink. As soon as we saw a narrow talus on the right we ran in and landed.

When the CaÑonita was ready to start one of Clem's oars could not be found, and Prof. had to delay to cut down one of the extras for him. Then they got their boat up as far as they could, and while Prof. and Andy kept her from pounding to pieces, Clem got in, bailed out, and took his oars. Prof. then climbed in at the stern, but the current was so strong that it pulled Andy off his feet and he was just able to get on, the boat drifting down stern first toward the big rock. Prof. concluded to let the stern strike and then try to throw the boat around into the river. By this time Andy had got hold of his oars, and the eddy seemed to carry them up-stream some twenty-five feet, so perverse and capricious is the Colorado. They swung the bow to starboard into the main current, and with a couple of strong oar-strokes the dreaded rock was cleared, and down the CaÑonita came to us over the long waves like a hunted deer. We unloaded the Dean and pulled her out for repairs, but it was after four o'clock when we were able to go on again with a fairly tight boat. Then for eight miles the river was a continuous rapid broken by eight heavy falls, but luckily there were no rocks in any of them at this stage of water, and we were able to dash through one after another at top speed, stopping only once for examination. Two of these rapids were portages on the former trip, proving the ease and advantage of high water in some places; but the disadvantages are much greater. Through a very narrow canyon on the right we caught a glimpse of a pretty creek, but we were going so fast the view was brief and imperfect. At 5:15 o'clock we ran up to a wide sandbank on which grew a solitary willow tree and there Camp 99 was made. For a space the inner canyon was much wider than above and the mouth of Bright Angel Creek was just below us; a locality now well known because a trail from the Hotel Tovar on the south rim comes down at this point. The name was applied by the Major on his first trip to offset the name Dirty Devil applied farther up.

photo, canyon

The next day was Sunday, September 1st, and after the Major had climbed the south wall for observations we started once more on a powerful current. For the first three miles there was a continuous rapid with no opportunity to land. We dashed through waves that tossed us badly and filled the boats half full and then half full again before we had a chance to bail. In fifteen minutes we made the three miles and a half mile more, to arrive at a heavy rapid, which we ran and in two miles reached another with fearful waves, which we also ran. In one Jones was overbalanced by his oar hitting the top of a big wave behind the boat and he was knocked out. He clung by his knees and hands, his back in the water, and the boat careened till I thought she would go over. We could not move to help him without upsetting and were compelled to leave him to his own resources. In some way he succeeded in scrambling back. The waves were tremendous and sometimes seemed to come from all directions at once. There were whirlpools, too, that turned us round in spite of every effort to prevent it. The river was about one hundred and fifty feet wide. After an extremely strenuous morning we halted on the right for dinner, continuing as soon as we had disposed of it. Presently we arrived at a sharp fall of about twenty feet, where we made a portage, and waited at the foot for the photographers to take some negatives and also for repairing the CaÑonita. Finally it was decided to camp on the spot. It was Camp 100. Our record for the day was a trifle over seven miles with nine rapids run and one portage.

Almost the first thing in the morning of September 2d was a portage, after which we had fair water for two or three miles, and then reached a very heavy fall, where we landed on the left and had dinner before making another portage. This accomplished, we proceeded on a river still rising and ran a great many bad rapids, some of them having tremendous falls. In one the fierce current set against the cliff so strongly that we were carried within an oar's length of it, notwithstanding our severe effort to avoid so close an acquaintance with the rough wall. Even between rapids the velocity of the water was extremely high and we flew along at terrific speed, while in the huge waves of the rapids the boats leaped and plunged with startling violence. Toward night a sudden halt was made on the left to examine a bad-looking place half a mile below. The Major and Prof. tried to climb where they could get a good view of it, but they failed. The Major said we would run it in the morning, though Prof. was dubious about the feasibility of doing so successfully and said he thought it about the worst place we had yet seen. We camped on a rocky talus where we were. A small sandbank was found nearby for our beds, and we made another discovery, a small pool of clear, pure water, a rare treat after the muddy Colorado which we had been drinking for so long. Twenty rapids were placed to our credit for this one day in a trifle over fifteen miles, and we felt that we were vanquishing the Grand Canyon with considerable success.

Our life now was so strenuous every hour of the day that our songs were forgotten, and when night came every man was so used up that as soon as supper was over rest and sleep were the only things that interested us. Though our beds were as hard and rough as anything could be, we slept with the intensity of the rocks themselves, and it never seemed more than a few minutes before we were aroused by the Major's rising signal "Oh-ho, boys!" and rose to our feet to pack the blankets in the rubber bags, sometimes with a passing thought as to whether we would ever take them out again. For my part, never before nor since have I been so tired. One night when the Major called us to look out for the boats I did not hear him and no one waked me so I slept on, learning about it only the next morning. Our food supply was composed partly of jerked beef, and as this could not be put in rubber because of the grease it became more or less damp and there developed in it a peculiar kind of worm, the largest about an inch long, with multitudinous legs. There were a great many of them and they gave the beef a queer taste. In order to clear the sacks as far as possible of these undesirable denizens I several times emptied them on wide smooth rocks, and while the worms were scrambling around I scraped up the beef without many of them, but could not get rid of all. Andy's method of cooking this beef was to make a gravy with bacon fat and scorched flour and then for a few moments stew the beef in the gravy. Ordinarily this made a very palatable dish but the peculiar flavour of the beef now detracted from it, though we were so hungry that we could eat anything without a query, and our diminishing supply of rations forbade the abandonment of the valuable beef.

When we arose on the morning of September 3d the dubious rapid was tossing its huge waves exactly as on the night before and humanity seemed to be out of the reckoning. By eight o'clock we were ready for it, and with everything in good trim we pushed off. The current was strong from the start, and a small rapid just below camp gave additional speed, so that we were soon bearing down on the big one with wild velocity. The river dropped away abruptly, to rise again in a succession of fearful billows whose crests leaped and danced high in air as if rejoicing at the prospect of annihilating us. Just then the Major changed his mind as to running the place, for now standing on the boat's deck he could see it better than before from the region of our camp. He ordered us to pull hard on our left, intending to land at a spot that was propitious on the left or south bank, but no sooner had he given this command than he perceived that no landing above the fall was possible. He gave another order which put us straight in the middle again and down we flew upon the descent. The Major as usual had put on his life-preserver and I think Jones had on his, but Jack and I, as was our custom, placed ours inflated immediately behind our seats, not wishing to be hampered by them. The plunge was exceedingly sharp and deep, and then we found ourselves tossing like a chip in a frightful chaos of breakers which almost buried us, though the boats rose to them as well as any craft possibly could. I bailed with a camp kettle rapidly and Jack did the same, but the boat remained full to the gunwales as we were swept on. We had passed the worst of it when, just as the Dean mounted a giant wave at an angle perhaps of forty or fifty degrees, the crest broke in a deluge against the port bow with a loud slap. In an instant we were upside-down going over to starboard. I threw up my hand instinctively to grasp something, and luckily caught hold of a spare oar which was carried slung on the side, and by this means I pulled myself above water. My hat was pasted down over my eyes. Freeing myself from this I looked about. Bottom up the boat was clear of the rapid and sweeping on down with the swift, boiling current toward a dark bend. The CaÑonita was nowhere to be seen. No living thing was visible. The narrow black gorge rose in sombre majesty to the everlasting sky. What was a mere human life or two in the span of eternity? I was about preparing to climb up on the bottom of the boat when I perceived Jones clinging to the ring in the stern, and in another second the Major and Jack shot up alongside as if from a gun. The whole party had been kept together in a kind of whirlpool, and the Major and Jack had been pulled down head first till, as is the nature of these suctions on the Colorado, it suddenly changed to an upward force and threw them out into the air.

There was no time to lose, for we did not wish to go far in this condition; another rapid might be in waiting around the corner. Jack and I carefully got up on the bottom, leaving the Major at the bow and Jones at the stern, and leaning over we took hold of the starboard gunwale under water, and throwing ourselves back quickly together we brought the Dean up on her keel, though she came near rolling clear over the other way. She was even full of water, but the cabins supported her. Jack helped me in and then I balanced his effort so as not to capsize again. The bailing kettles were gone, but as our hats had strangely enough remained on our heads through it all we bailed with them as fast as possible for a few seconds till we lowered the water sufficiently to make it safe to get the others on board. The Major came aft along the gunwale and I helped him in, then Jack helped Jones. The oars, fortunately, had not come out of the locks, thanks to our excellent arrangement, and grasping them, without trying to haul in the bow line trailing a hundred feet in the water, we pulled hard for a slight eddy on the left where we perceived a footing on the rocks, and as soon as we were near enough I caught up the rope, made the leap, and threw the bight over a projection, where I held the boat while Jack and Jones bailed rapidly and set things in order so that we could go to the assistance of the CaÑonita. The Major's Jurgenssen chronometer had stopped at 8:26:30 from the wetting.

The CaÑonita, being more lightly laden than the Dean, and also not meeting the peculiar coincidence of mounting a wave at the instant it broke, came down with no more damage than the loss of three oars and the breaking of a rowlock. Probably if the Major had sat down on the deck instead of in the chair we might also have weathered the storm.[34] About a mile and a half below we made a landing at a favourable spot on the right, where the cargoes were spread out to dry and the boats were overhauled, while the Major and I climbed up the wall to where he desired to make a geological investigation. We joked him a good deal about his zeal in going to examine the geology at the bottom of the river, but as a matter of fact he came near departing by that road to another world.

We were now in an exceedingly difficult part of the granite gorge, for, at the prevailing stage of water, landings were either highly precarious or not possible at all, so we could not examine places before running, and could not always make a portage where we deemed it necessary. There were also all manner of whirlpools and bad places. Starting on about three o'clock we descended several rapids in about six miles, when we saw one ahead that looked particularly forbidding. The granite came down almost vertically to the water, projecting in huge buttresses that formed a succession of little bays, especially on the left, where we manoeuvred in and out, keeping close against the rocks, the current there being slack. The plan was for me to be ready, on turning the last point, to jump out on some rocks we had noticed from above not far from the beginning of the rapid. As we crept around the wall I stood up with the bight of the line in one hand, while Jack pulled in till we began to drift down stern foremost alongshore. At the proper moment I made my leap exactly calculated. Unluckily at the instant the capricious Colorado threw a "boil" up between the bow and the flat rock I was aiming at, turning the bow out several feet, and instead of landing where I intended I disappeared in deep water. I clung to the line and the acceleration of the boat's descent quickly pulled me back to the surface. She was gliding rapidly past more rocks and the Major jumped for them with the purpose of catching the rope, but they were so isolated and covered with rushing water that he had all he could do to take care of himself. Jones then tried the same thing, but with the same result. Jack stuck to his post. I went hand over hand to the bow as fast as I could, and reaching the gunwale I was on board in a second. One of my oars had somehow come loose, but Jack had caught it and now handed it to me. We took our places and surveyed the chances. Apparently we were in for running the rapid stern foremost and we prepared for it, but in the middle of the stream there was a rock of most gigantic proportions sloping up the river in such a way that the surges alternately rolled upon it and then slid back. Partly up the slope we were drawn by this power, and on the down rush the boat turned and headed diagonally just right for reaching the left bank. We saw our opportunity and, pulling with every muscle, lodged the Dean behind a huge boulder at the very beginning of the main rapid, where I made the line fast in the twinkle of an eye. Meanwhile the Major had hastily scrambled up to where he could see down the canyon, and he heard Jack's hearty shout of "All right!" Lowering the Dean a couple of rods farther to a sandbank at the mouth of a gulch we went into camp feeling that we had done enough river work for one day, and the CaÑonita's crew without accident lowered down to the same place before Andy had supper ready. My hat had come off in my deep plunge and beyond this I did not have one. Near by was a small clear spring that gave us another treat of palatable water, the Colorado now being muddier than ever, as it was still on the rise, coming up three feet more while we were here. The entire day's run was eight and one-eighth miles. The Major and Prof. succeeded in getting down three miles on foot to reconnoitre.

photo, rapid

Continuing in the morning, September 4th, we lowered the boats past the remainder of the rapid and then shoved out into the terrific current once more. Water could hardly run faster than it now did, except in a fall or rapid. The canyon was narrow and for five miles we encountered the worst whirlpools we had anywhere seen. The descent was swift and continuous, but the river was broken only by the whirlpools and "boils" as we called them, the surface suddenly seeming to boil up and run over. These upshoots, as a rule, seemed to follow whirlpools. In the latter the water for a diameter of twenty or twenty-five feet would revolve around a centre with great rapidity, the surface inclining to the vortex, the top of which was perhaps eighteen or twenty inches lower than the general level. The vortex itself was perfectly formed, like a large funnel, and about six or eight inches in diameter, where it began to be a hole in the water, tapering thence down in four or five feet to a mere point. The same effect is often seen when the water is flowing out of a round wash-basin through a pipe at the bottom. These were the most perfect whirlpools I have ever seen, those above having been lacking in so distinct a vortex. There were many and we could often see them ahead, but try as we would to cleave through without a complete revolution or two of the boat we could not do it. The boats sank down into the hollow, enabling one to look over the side into the spinning opening, but the boats, being almost as long as the whirlpool's usual diameter, could not be pulled in and we were not alarmed. We found it rather interesting to see if we could get through without turning, but we never did. Any ordinary short object or one that could be tipped on end would surely go out of sight. So furious ran the river along this stretch that we found it impossible to stop, the boats being like bits of paper in a mill-race, swinging from one side to the other, and whirling round and round as we were swept along between the narrow walls till we ran the granite under about five miles from our last camp. Finally, after a run all told of fourteen miles with twenty-three rapids, we made Camp 103 with walls of friendly sandstone about us. Here again we discovered a small clear spring for drinking and cooking purposes. There was no rain this day and at night we put on our dry clothes with confidence and had a warm comfortable camp with a good sound sleep.

Thursday morning found us early on the river, which to our surprise turned suddenly in a north-north-east direction. When we had gone about nine miles and had run the granite up and down again, it began to turn to the west. At one point the river was not more than fifty feet wide; the current was everywhere exceedingly strong and there were many rapids, of which we ran twelve, and made a portage at another, and a let-down at still another. We camped at the end of the nine miles on a small sandbank, with the total height of walls about four thousand feet, breaking back in terraces after about eight hundred feet. Clem and Jack made a number of photographs wherever practicable, and altogether they had succeeded in securing a representative collection.

During the morning of Friday, September 6th, we ran two rapids in two miles, which brought us to one which we thought required a let-down and we made it. As it was easy, Jack and Clem busied themselves photographing while we were doing it, and we also had dinner here. About two o'clock we went on and in less than three miles ran four rapids, the fourth being an exceedingly heavy fall, at the foot of which we went into camp on the right bank. A little distance above on the same side of the river was a fine clear cold creek larger than the Paria in quantity of water. We called it Tapeats Creek, because a Pai Ute of that name, who had pointed it out to the Major from the Kaibab, claimed it. During the day the work had been far less strenuous, there were few whirlpools, the river was falling, and it was in every way much easier than above in the granite. A morning was spent at Tapeats Creek for examinations, and we found there some ancient house ruins not far up the side canyon. I discovered a fine large metate or Indian mill, deeply hollowed out, and foolishly attempted to take it to camp. On arriving there it was so heavy I had to drop it and it broke in two, much to the Major's disgust, who told me I ought to have let it alone, a fact which I realised then also. Our rations were now running very low again, for we had taken more days for this passage than were planned, and as soon as we launched forth after dinner we began to look longingly for the mouth of Kanab Canyon and the pack-train. The river was much easier in every respect, and after our experience of the previous days it seemed mere play. The granite ran up for a mile or two, but then we entered sedimentary strata and came to a pretty little cascade falling through a crevice on the right from a valley hidden behind a low wall. We at once recognised it as one which Beaman had photographed when he and Riley had made their way up along the rocks from the mouth of the Kanab during the winter. We remembered that they had called it ten miles to the Kanab from this place, and after we had climbed up to examine what they had named Surprise Valley we went on expecting to reach the Kanab before night. Running several small and one fairly large rapid, we saw, after twelve miles from the last camp, a seeming crack on the right, and a few seconds later heard a wild yelling. In a little while we landed and lowered to the head of a rapid, and running to the right up the backwater into the mouth of the Kanab Canyon, we found George Adair, Nathan Adams, and Joe Hamblin, our three faithful packers, waiting there for us with the rations. They had grown very anxious, for we were several days overdue, and they feared we had been destroyed,—a fear that was emphasised by one of Andy's discarded shirts washing ashore at their feet. We pulled the boats a short distance up the Kanab on the backwater and made a comfortable camp, 106, on its right bank, where we were soon lost in letters and papers the pack-train had brought down.

Our altitude was now 1800 feet above sea-level, showing a descent from the Little Colorado, in about 70 miles, of 890 feet, with 131 rapids run, besides six let-downs and seven portages. The total descent from the Paria was 1370 feet.

line drawing, boat in waves