line drawing, men, mules & horse

The day following our arrival at the mouth of the Kanab Canyon was Sunday, September 8th, and with the exception of some observations taken by Prof., and the writing of notes, the whole camp was in a state of rest. After our trying work in the granite we enjoyed immensely the lying around warm and dry with plenty to eat. Monday morning everybody expected to begin preparations for the descent to the Grand Wash. We were surprised just as we were about to rise from our places around the canvas on which breakfast had been spread, when the Major, who was sitting in his chair thinking, suddenly exclaimed, "Well, boys, our voyage is done!" In a way these words were a disappointment, for we all wanted to complete the task and we were entirely ready to go on, notwithstanding that our recent experience with high water in the granite indicated great hazard ahead, where there was more granite; but on the whole the disappointment was agreeable. We knew the second granite gorge toward the lower end of the chasm to be nearly as bad as the first one. There was besides one exceedingly difficult passage there, which Prof. called Catastrophe Rapid, where the Howlands and Dunn had left the first party, which on the prevailing stage of water the Major believed would be foolhardy to attempt. Prof. in his diary says, "It is nonsense to think of trying the lower bend with this water." He and the Major had talked the matter over Saturday night and thought of stopping about forty miles down at Mount Trumbull, where we knew we could climb out; then they thought of sending only one boat that far, but by Sunday night they decided to end all river work here. Prof. said he could map the course from the notes of the first party and that he would rather explore the adjacent country by land.[35] There were some breaks in the notes from here down to Catastrophe Rapid, due to the fact that when the papers were divided on that memorable day on which the Howlands and Dunn left the party, instead of each division having a full copy of all the notes, by a mistake they had only portions of both sets. In addition to the difficulty of the forbidding Catastrophe Rapid there was a possibility of an attack on us by the Shewits. Jacob through one of his Pai Ute friends had information that they were preparing to lay an ambush, and he sent warning to that effect. Jacob knew the natives too well to have given us this notice unless he thought it a real danger, but we did not allow it much consideration at the time. Yet it would have been an easy matter for the Shewits to secrete themselves where they could fall upon us in the night when we were used up by working through some bad rapid, and then, hiding the goods, throw our bodies into the river and burn the boats, or even turn them loose, thus leaving no proof of their action, our disappearance naturally being laid to destruction by the river, a termination generally anticipated. I have sometimes thought that when they killed the Howlands and Dunn they did it deliberately to get their guns and clothes, thinking it would not be found out, or at least that they could put forth a good excuse, as they did.

photo, rapid

We were in the field to accomplish certain work and not to perform a spectacular feat, and the Major and Prof. having decided that the descent of the remainder of the canyon, considering all the circumstances, was for us impracticable and unnecessary, we prepared to leave for Kanab. We unpacked the good old boats rather reluctantly. They had come to possess a personality as such inanimate objects will, having been our faithful companions and our reliance for many a hundred difficult miles, and it seemed like desertion to abandon them so carelessly to destruction. We ought to have had a funeral pyre. The flags of the boats, which Mrs. Thompson had made and which had been carried in them the entire way, were still to be disposed of, and that of the Dean was generously voted to me by the Major, Jack, and Jones, who had crew claims to it; that of the Nellie Powell was awarded to Steward; while Clem received the CaÑonita's. I tried to persuade the Major to pack the Dean out in sections and send her east to be kept as a souvenir of the voyage, but he would not then listen to it, though years later he admitted that he regretted not taking my suggestion. Three years afterward I came back to this place with my own party and would then have executed my desire, but no trace of our former outfit remained except a hatch from one of the middle cabins, and the Major's chair. The latter I carried to Salt Lake, where I presented it to Cap, who was living there.

As before mentioned, the Colorado was so extremely high that the water backed up into the Kanab Canyon, and it was there that we left the boats, each tied to an oar stuck in the ground.[36] We could not get all the goods on the horses of the pack-train, and left a portion to be brought out later. Jack and Clem remained to make photographs, and taking a last look at the boats, with a good-bye to all, we turned our faces up the narrow chasm of the Kanab. A small stream ran in the bottom, and this formed large pools amongst numerous ponderous boulders that had fallen in from the top of the walls some three thousand feet above our heads, the bottom being hardly more than sixty to seventy-five feet wide. It was with considerable difficulty that we got the animals past some of these places, and in one or two the pools were so long and deep they had to swim a little. The prospectors the year before had worked a trail to some extent, but here, where the floods ran high at times, changes occurred frequently. By five o'clock we had gone about eight miles up this slow, rough way, and arrived at a singular spring, where we went into camp. This we called Shower-Bath Spring. The water charged with lime had built out from the wall a semi-circular mass covered by ferns, which was cut away below by the floods till one could walk under in the sprinkling streams percolating through it. It was a very pretty place, but like all of its kind in the deep gorges it was a favourite resort for tarantulas, many of which we had seen in the depths of the Grand Canyon. These, with scorpions, rattlesnakes, and Gila-monsters, were the poisonous reptiles of the gorge.

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The next morning, Tuesday, the 10th of September, our pack-train was early on the way. The walls grew somewhat lower, though still two thousand feet high, and the canyon was usually seventy-five to one hundred feet wide at the bottom. There were patches of alluvial deposit now along the sides of the watercourse, covered by fields of cactus loaded with "apples," the prickly leaves compelling us to keep the trail the prospectors had made by their passage to and from the ephemeral Eldorado. After a time we emerged from the lower canyon into a wider one in the way previously described; that is, like going from one floor to another by an incline between narrow walls. The little stream having vanished, a pool of rain-water helped us out for dinner, and while it was preparing Prof. and I climbed up to secure notes on the topography. A trifle before sunset we arrived at the cedar tree, a short distance below the mouth of the Shinumo Canyon, where our party had camped the previous March. The pockets were full of clear, fresh water, and we had plenty for horses as well as men. Not far off some human bones were found, old and bleached. We thought they must be the remains of one of the Navajo raiders who escaped wounded from the Mormon attack near this locality. The canyon bottom was quite wide at this point and comparatively level, covered by rushes and grass, and the horses were able to get a good meal.

During the day every time I dismounted to take compass bearings on the trail I felt a sharp, peculiar pain shoot up my right leg from in front about half-way between ankle and knee. I could only discover a small red spot at the initial point, and concluded that I must have struck a sharp rock or cactus spine. Our party now again divided, the Major and Jones going up Shinumo Canyon to the Kaibab region, while Prof. and I rode on up the Kanab Canyon, starting at eight o'clock in the morning, Wednesday, September 11th, and riding steadily all day. As we had not expected to come out in this way saddles were scarce. Prof. and the Major had two of the three used by the packers, while the third was awarded to Jones, who was to have a long ride on the Kaibab trip. The rest of us had to make shift as we could, and I rigged up a "sawbuck" pack-saddle, with rope loops for stirrups and a blanket across it to sit on. This was not much better than, or as good perhaps as, bareback, and the horse was a very hard trotter. We wished to reach Kanab that night. We kept on at as rapid a gait as the canyon would permit, though it was easier than in March, when the numerous miners had not yet broken a way by their ingress and egress in search of the fabulous gold that was supposed to exist somewhere in the inaccessibility of the great chasm. The harder a locality is to arrive at the bigger the stories of its wealth, while often in the attempts to reach it the prospector treads heedlessly ground that holds fortunes up to his very eyes. We continued straight up Kanab Canyon, the walls running lower and lower, till there was nothing but rounded hills. Then we emerged on the summit, which was a valley bottom, about twenty miles from Kanab. Shortly after dark we halted for a bite to eat and a brief rest before striking for our old storehouse, a log cabin in Jacob's corral, where we arrived about eleven o'clock, having made about forty miles. I collected all the blankets I could find, and, throwing them on the inside of Jacob's garden fence, I was almost immediately asleep, and knew nothing till Jacob came along and said a "Good-morning." My ablutions over, I went to Sister Louisa's to breakfast with Prof. and Mrs. Thompson. The gardens were now yielding an abundance of fresh fruits, peaches, melons, etc., and I blessed the good management and foresight that directed the immediate planting of these things in a Mormon settlement. It seemed as if I could not get my fill.

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Friday the 13th, the next day, was my birthday and Mrs. Thompson, who was always striving to do something to make our circumstances pleasant, prepared a large peach pie with her own hands in celebration. The Major and Jones having come in the night before, we passed most of the time that day in a large tent eating melons, the Major acting as carver of the fruit. When we had eaten a watermelon he would declare that he thought muskmelon far better. We all agreed. He would cut one only to find when we had eaten it that we had changed our minds and wanted watermelon, which see-saw opinions we kept up till all the melons were gone. It would be impossible for any one who had not had our canyon fare to appreciate the exhilarating effect of this fresh fruit.

My leg, which had developed the pain coming up the Kanab Canyon, now swelled till it was almost the same size throughout and any pressure made an imprint as in a piece of putty. No one knew what to make of it. I rode over to Johnson's, that person being the nearest to a doctor of any one in the country, though the Mormons do not much believe in medicines, and he gave me a liniment to apply. This did no good. In a few days the swelling disappeared except where the spot of keen pain was, and there a lump was left half as large as a man's fist, with two small red spots in the middle of it. I now concluded that these spots marked the bite of a tarantula that must have gotten in my blankets at Shower-Bath Spring. Suppuration set in at the spots where the flesh turned black and all the men said it was a bad-looking wound. They thought I would lose my leg. I concluded to poultice it to draw out any poison that remained, and kept bread-and-milk applied continuously. After a while it seemed to have a tendency to heal.

We ran the base line up through Kanab and at the head of it pitched a small observatory tent over a stone foundation on which Prof, set up a large transit instrument for stellar observations. He got in connection, by the telegraph, with Salt Lake City and made a series of close observations. I began an hourly set of barometrical readings and as soon as Clem came back he helped me to run them day and night for eight consecutive days. Jack meanwhile was preparing for a trip to the Moki Towns, the Major and Jones had gone off for some special work, and Andy started with a waggon for Beaver to bring down rations. Occasional bands of trading Navajos enlivened the days and I secured five good blankets in exchange for old Yawger, who was now about useless for our purposes. Prof. gave him to me to get what I could for him, and he also gave Clem another derelict for the same purpose. On the 9th of October Jack, Andy, and Clem, started with Jacob on his annual trip to the Mokis by way of Lee's Lonely Dell while Jones went north to Long Valley on the head of the Virgin, for topography. The Major on foot, with a Mormon companion and a Pai Ute, explored from Long Valley down the narrow canyon of the Virgin to Shunesburg, about 20 miles, a trip never before made.[37] The canyon is about two thousand feet deep and in places only twenty or thirty feet wide, twisting in such a way that the sky was not visible at times, and the stream often filled it from side to side so that they had to swim.

photo, canyon

About eleven o'clock that night Prof. came to wake me up to say that a telegram had arrived stating that Najavos again had been raiding and had stolen seventy head of horses from Parowan. They were supposed to be making for El Vado and nobody in the absence of Jacob seemed to know just what to do about it. Prof. had advised them to organise a party and cut off the raiders, but they preferred to consult Jacob before doing anything. Prof. now asked me if I would be willing to ride at once to the Navajo Well where Jacob had expected to camp and notify him of the raid, no one else in town understanding where the well was, few besides ourselves and Jacob ever having travelled that way. I said I would go if I could have one companion. It was a lonely journey, and besides I might come on the Navajos before reaching the well. Charley Riggs, a splendid fellow whom I liked exceedingly, volunteered. Filling our overcoat pockets with cartridges, and each with a good Winchester across his saddle, we started about 12:30 under a fine moon and a clear sky. I knew the way perfectly, even by moonlight. We took no wrong turns, had no stops, and made excellent time toward the Navajo Well twenty miles away. On we went over the open country, skirting the Vermilion Cliffs on our left.

but not at the headlong gallop by which they brought the news over a first-class road to Aix, we rode steadily as fast as the ground would permit, sometimes on a gallop, sometimes on a trot. About two o'clock, as we neared a canyon where an old trail came down from the north which the raiders might follow, we slowed up and advanced with caution. Dimly we perceived what appeared to be a number of sleeping forms under the ordinary Navajo dark-blue and white striped service blanket. Throwing our guns up ready for action we rode ahead slowly to pass by a detour if not discovered. We then saw that the objects were nothing but peculiar bushes. With a feeling of sympathy for the dear Knight of La Mancha and his worthy Sancho we spurred forward. At half-past four by the watch dawn began to spread on the sky and we rode into the camp at the Navajo Well. A shout and our hoofbeats had roused the sleepers. I delivered my message to Jacob who immediately started for El Vado with Charley Riggs, intending to add several more men to his band at the Paria settlement which he would pass through; a route he had often before followed for a like purpose. My leg was by no means well and it would have been imprudent on this account for me to further lend my services. I let Jacob have my rifle and ammunition and returned to Kanab, Jack, Andy, and Clem going on to Lee's to wait. I reached the settlement before noon, when George Adair and Tom Stewart started heavily armed to join Jacob at the earliest moment. A Pai Ute later came in with a report that a fresh party of Navajos on a trading trip had recently come across the Colorado, and from this we concluded that the alarm was false, or that the culprits were Utes who went off into the Dirty Devil country. Prof. with Adams went out towards the Paria and then to the Kaibab to do some topographic work along the north rim of the Grand Canyon and I was left without any of our party in the village, it being deemed inadvisable for me to do much riding or walking till my wound, which was now doing well, had more nearly healed. I devoted my time to plotting up notes, finishing sketches, drawings of pictographs, etc., and took my meals at Sister Louisa's. I became much interested in the story of her experiences which she told us from time to time, especially as she was one of the women who had pushed a handcart across the plains. After a few days the Major came in from a trip accompanied by several Pai Utes, among whom was Chuarooumpeak, the young chief of the Kaibab band, usually called Frank by the settlers and Chuar by his own people. The Pai Utes having no "F" in their language pronounced his English name "Brank," just as they called me "Bred." Their usual name for me was Untokarowits, derived from the dark red colour of my hair. Frank was a remarkably good man. He had been constantly devoted to the safety and welfare of the whites. A most fluent speaker in his native tongue, he would address his people with long flights of uninterrupted rhetorical skill.

Old Patnish came in occasionally. Though he did not look particularly dangerous his eye was keen and his bearing positive. Nobody would have interfered with him unless prepared for a fight to the finish. One day I rode to Johnson by the trail and learned when I got back that Patnish had arrived at Kanab by the road, so I just missed an interview. The term "old" Patnish signifies "that scoundrel" Patnish, but when the people spoke of "old" Jacob the prefix was one of respect and affection—so contrary is the meaning that can be put into three letters. Charley Riggs and George Adair came back from El Vado saying that no raiding Navajos had been seen, so our opinion of the false alarm was confirmed.

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On the 27th of October we had the first snow of the season, which lasted only a few hours, snow never being heavy at Kanab. The Major had planned another journey to the Uinkaret region and we started November 2d, taking with us three of the Kaibab band—Chuar, another called George, or, as they pronounced it, "Judge," and Waytoots; the Major desiring to talk to them in our camps to continue his vocabulary and the collection of other linguistic material which he had been gathering from them and others in and around Kanab at every opportunity. Our party proceeded to Pipe Spring, camping half a mile below the houses and striking the next day, Monday, November 4th, for the Wild Band Pocket. Finding no water there the natives led on toward a spring they knew of in a low line of cliffs. I was riding a broncho broken only a few weeks before, and at an unexpected moment I was suddenly deemed persona non grata, but I kept my seat and vanquished the beast after a vigorous circus, meeting thereafter with no further opposition. We saw a band of twenty wild horses spinning across the plain one behind another like a train of railway cars, a huge stallion playing locomotive. Perhaps my broncho felt the call of the band! Darkness dropped down on us before we could get to the spring. We had to make a camp that was not exactly dry, though there was no drinking water, for a drizzling rain, half snow, set in, the snow serving to hold the accompanying rain on the surface. We were wading in slush and it was a task to find a decent place for one's blankets. Jones and I bunked together. His side of the bed was a slight hollow, in consequence of which the melting slush formed under him a chilly pool that interfered seriously with his slumbers. I happened to be lying on a lump or ridge and kept fairly dry by never stirring the whole night.

The rain ceased by morning and all day Tuesday we travelled toward the Uinkaret Mountains over a comparatively level desert, but not going rapidly, as we had a waggon. The ground having been softened by the rain the wheels cut deeply, there being of course no road. A flock of antelope blew by. We did not give them a second glance, as they were too far off to be hunted. It was after dark when we arrived at the rocky pool where we had before camped in March, which we learned now from Chuar the natives called the Innupin (or Oonupin) Picavu, or Witch Water-pocket. They said the locality was a favourite haunt of witches. These were often troublesome and had to be driven away or they might hurt one. There was plenty of wood and we were soon comfortable, with a keen November wind to emphasise our blessings. The water in the pocket was clear and pure, but it was full of small "wigglers." We tried to dip up a pail which should be free from them. The Major, seeing our efforts, took a cup and without looking drank it down with the nonchalant remark, "I haven't seen any wigglers." The Pai Utes had killed some rabbits, which they now skinned and cooked. I say cooked, but perhaps I should say warmed. Dexterously stripping off the skins they slit open the abdomen, removed the entrails, and, after squeezing out the contents by drawing between thumb and fingers, they replaced the interminable string in the cavity, closing the aperture with the ears, and stowed the carcass in the hot ashes for a few minutes. Then they ate the whole thing with complete satisfaction. We preferred to fry ours, without the entrails, in a pan with bacon fat. Frequently the Major gave me little talks on science, as he was much interested in my future career, and by the fire this evening he instructed me in some of the fundamental principles of natural philosophy. Chuar having had one of his men remove his shoes, which were heavy "Mericats" ones, was reclining in a princely way smoking a cigarette on a bank near the fire. Suddenly he rose to his feet, intently listening and peering anxiously out through the enveloping gloom of the piÑons and cedars. I asked him what he heard. "Oonupits," he whispered solemnly, never ceasing his watchful gaze. Then cautiously aiming his long muzzle-loading rifle in the direction, he fired a shot and seemed satisfied that the intruder was driven away or destroyed. He described the noise of the Oonupits as a whistling sound. He and his men had a habit of waking in the night in our various camps and singing, first one beginning very low, the others joining in one by one, and increasing the power as they did so till all were singing in full voice. This woke us up. We threw things at them, but with no effect. "What do you do it for?" said I to Chuar. "To drive away the Oonupits," he answered.[38]

In the morning, November 6th, the Major, Prof. and I went off reconnoitring and did not get back to camp till after dark, when we found there a short, fat, Uinkaret whom Chuar introduced as Teemaroomtekai, chief. In the settlements when he ventured to go there he was known as Watermelon, according to Frank Hamblin, who was with us. Teemaroomtekai had a companion and next day Prof. and the Major climbed Mt. Trumbull with them. Wishing to have a talk with the Shewits we moved on the 9th around to Oak Spring, near which some of them were encamped with their kinsmen the Uinkarets. I was interested to see what the slayers of the Howlands and Dunn looked like. Except for a wilder, more defiant aspect, they differed little from other Pai Utes. Their country being so isolated and unvisited they were surly and independent. The Uinkarets on the other hand were rather genial, more like the Kaivavit band. The Major traded for bags of food seeds, baskets, spoons made from mountain sheep's horns, balls of compressed cactus fruit from which the juice had been extracted for a kind of wine, rolls of oose-apple pulp, which they ate like bread, etc., all for the Smithsonian Institution.

With the Shewits the Major and Prof. had a conference. Prof. wished to make a reconnaissance through their region and explained to them what he wanted to do. An agreement was reached by which he was to be permitted without molestation of any kind to go anywhere and everywhere with two Shewits for guides and one of our party as cook and helper, in order that he could tell "Washington" about the country. The helper, however, was to stick to the trail and remain in camp, so that he would know as little as possible, and should not tell that little to the "Mormoni" whom the Shewits disliked. Nathan Adams, a Mormon, was the man to accompany Prof. and he did not enjoy the prospect at all. On Monday, November 11th, the Major, Prof., and Jones climbed Mount Logan for more data and took a general survey of the country, while I went out on foot, climbed, measured and located eight large cinder-cones. When they came down the Major said he had seen a fine, isolated mountain to the west which he had called after me, and I naturally felt much pleased with the honour of having my name stamped on the map.

The next day, November 12th, our party divided into three. Frank Hamblin went out to St. George with the waggon after rations; Prof. with Nathan Adams, one Shewits, named Paantung, and our guide "Judge," who may have been a Shewits also for all we could tell, prepared for the entrance into Shewits land, while the Major, Jones, and I proceeded to the foot of the Toroweap, to a water-pocket near the edge of the Grand Canyon called by the Uinkarets Teram Picavu. Chuar and Waytoots went back to Kanab and we hired Uinkarets to carry our goods nine miles down to the pocket, descending 1200 feet at one point over rough lava. After some work at the canyon we went back to the spring on the 14th, the Uinkarets again acting as our pack-horses. We had no salt left by this time and very little food, but we killed some rabbits and cooked them on hot coals, the adhering ashes making a substitute for salt. I reached the spring first and found little, round, beaming, Teemaroomtekai, who knew our plans, already there with a great big "Mericats" fire to welcome us, as well as a large pile of wood for feeding it. The Major got in soon after, but Jones failed to come at all, which worried us. Before we could go in search of him in the morning he arrived. His horse had given out, compelling him to stay where he was all night. We had travelled hard up and down all kinds of hills, canyons, and mountains, with seldom a trail, and it was wearing on the animals living only on bunch grass.

photo, canyon

I continued measuring and locating the oonagaritchets or cinder-cones, of which there were more than sixty, and got in four more on the 15th. Then the Major decided to move to another water-pocket the Uinkarets told about, farther east across the lava, a pocket they called Tiravu Picavu or Pocket-of-the-Plain. It was on the edge of the basaltic table overlooking what they termed the Wonsits Tiravu or Antelope Plain. They said there was no water now, but as one declared there was a little we decided to go. While the Major followed a waggon-track leading to or from St. George, wishing to make some special observations along it and expecting to meet and stop Frank with the waggon now due, Jones and I struck across on the moccasin trail, leaving our goods to be brought on by the Uinkaret packers. At sunset we rounded a clump of cinder-cones studding a black, barren waste. Far away across the Wonsits Tiravu rose the red cliff land up and up to the eastern sky; behind was the great bulk of Trumbull, together with scores of the smooth, verdureless heaps of volcanic cinders. Everywhere near was the desert of basalt, with nothing but the faint trail to point the way and the night slowly enwrapping us. On we urged our stumbling, weary beasts, their iron clinking on the metallic rocks; on till the thick blackness circled us like a wall. Then we halted and built a little brush fire, thinking to stay till dawn. At the instant a weird cry from far back fell leaden on the strangely heavy winter air. Our packers saw where we were and presently came to us. They were in a rage, pitching along in the dark under their heavy loads. They were cold, tired, famished, for the way had been long, the packs heavy. Frost was in the wind. They now pretended not to know where the end was. I thought this was to see what we would say or do. We did not care; we said and did nothing with all the nonchalance born of the feeling that the further we went the worse it was. Then one remembered. The pocket was near and he struck out for it, the rest following as best we could through the thick night, the guide occasionally lighting a torch of grass. After a quarter of a mile he stopped in the bottom of a deep basaltic gulch. Here was the place. The Uinkarets threw down their loads and squatted glum and silent. From the hill Jones and I scraped together an armful of brush and got a small fire started in the bottom of the desolate hollow. At the upper end of it on a sort of bench eight feet wide was a depression covered with ice three or four inches thick. With some difficulty pounding a hole through this we found beneath a small amount of thick, slimy water, full of green scum. We drank some, the Uinkarets drank some, but we could not see well enough to get any out for the animals. We tied them to rocks to prevent them from leaving in the night. The Indians thawed a little under the influence of the fire, but they would barely speak when spoken to. They skinned a wildcat they had killed on the way and boiled the red meat briefly in our kettle and ate it like hungry wolves, while Jones and I, all the time wondering what had become of the Major, made a light lunch on some of our scanty supply. Then we climbed the hill, and getting together a little more brush Jones sat keeping a signal fire going as long as he had fuel. But the wind was keen and strong, wood limited, and he gave it up. Spreading our blankets we went to sleep. Morning came clear and sharp. I took my glasses and went up to scan the country for some sign of the Major or our waggon and I rejoiced to discover him not a quarter of a mile distant. He had headed for the fire, and losing it kept on by a star till he thought he was near us, when he made a small fire of his own, tied his mule, and waited for day. We had a bite together and thawed out some of the ice in our kettle, providing a diminutive drink for each horse; then leaving the natives in charge of the baggage we rode down into the plain to find our waggon, taking along our last bit of bread for lunch. In about ten miles we came to it and Frank Hamblin gave us the latest news, "Grant elected and Boston burned." After a lunch we turned back, making a camp at the foot of the basalt, thawing out more ice for the animals, and giving the Indians some food. About two o'clock the Major and I rode over to the Innupin Picavu while Jones and the waggon went around, as it could not cross the basalt. We arrived at seven, while the waggon did not come till half past eleven, when we prepared a good supper for all hands, turning in about three in the morning. Not a man awoke before ten, though the strong sun fell on our faces. The animals were used up and we did what we could on foot that day. I climbed four more cinder-cones, reaching camp at dark. Every day I climbed several of the cones, but some were so far away that I had to make a special camp from which to operate. The waggon was loaded with ice from the water-pocket, and a supply of provisions, and driven about seven miles to a basaltic gulch, in a well-wooded locality on the edge of a treeless valley, where the load was dropped and I was left with my horse. Before dark I gathered a lot of wood, made a good fire, and melted some of the ice that formed my water supply, in a brass kettle, watering my horse, which I then tethered with a long rope where there was good grass. I did not intend to waste time hunting my mount in the morning. After supper I spread my blankets near the fire and by the light of a bright piÑon blaze I began to read Great Expectations, a paper edition with the last leaves gone having gotten into camp. As I read Pip's interview in the twilight with the convict on the dreary marshes I was in deep sympathy with the desperate hunger of the terrible man, and when Mrs. Joe buttered the end of the loaf and carved off the slices I myself was hungry enough to cook supper over again. Butter had now been absent from my bill of fare, with a few exceptions, for nearly two years. I was careful to place my fire where it would be well screened and not easily seen from a distance. I did not care to have any Shewits or even Uinkarets visit me and I hoped they were all in their own camps, though I sometimes had a feeling that one might be watching from the shadows of the great basaltic rocks. This, of course, was due to the circumstances and not to any probability, though I kept my Winchester near my hand. When I again got back to the main camp the Major told me that the first night of my absence several of the natives came in and, not seeing me around, inquired my whereabouts. He gave them an evasive answer, believing that it was quite as well not to apprise them of the situation.

The following day, Thursday, November 21st, I covered a wide territory, climbing five cinder-cones a great distance apart and each quite high. Several times I crossed recent moccasin tracks, but met no natives, and at nightfall I was still a long way from my camp. When the darkness became so dense that I could not see even faint outlines I took a star for guidance till clouds blotted it out. Then I was completely adrift in a sea of mountains. I could not tell one direction from another. Throwing the reins on the broncho's neck I sat back in my saddle to see what would come of it. Slowly, cautiously the animal plodded over broken, rocky ground succeeded by smoother footing, as I could tell by the motion, and in about an hour suddenly and quietly halted. I perceived that I was in the midst of cedars. A light spot appeared almost beneath. Dismounting I dropped to my hands and knees and found that it was the ashes of my fire. The broncho, the same that had tried to buck me off a few days before, had come back to the camp of a single night, about the best example of horse sense that I ever experienced. After another comfortable evening with Dickens I was prepared to go on with my special task, and finished it in this place by climbing the group of cones near the Tiravu Picavu the next day. About two in the afternoon I got back to my camp with a very tired mount, but I loaded all my traps on my saddle, the ice being almost exhausted, and started to find a new locality where I was to meet the Major. My pack was high, my broncho tired. While crossing a small open valley near sunset the poor beast suddenly lay down with me. There being no water anywhere in that locality, I was forced to use some brutality to get the animal up. Without further incident I came to the place agreed on and found the Major there in advance. We camped at the spot and the next day, Saturday, November 23d, I climbed five more cones, reaching the camp at sunset. Sunday the Major went on with his particular task while I added six more of the cones to my list, getting back to the side camp late in the day. The Major was to go in by himself when he was ready, so I took all the outfit on my horse again, reached the Oak Spring trail at sunset, and the main camp two hours after dark, glad enough to drop the load of pails, bags, blankets, etc., in which my broncho sympathised more deeply than could be expressed.

photo, canyon

Monday morning, November 25th, we turned our faces toward Kanab, and I climbed four more cones on the way out, overtaking the waggon about an hour after dark. The night was very cold and I was ready to enjoy the warmth of a fire by the time I reached the camp. In the morning we had a visit from Lieutenant Dinwiddie of Lieut. Wheeler's survey. I rode over to the cinder-cone region again and climbed the remaining ones, seven or eight, reaching camp after dark, the days being very short at this time of year. The camp had been moved nearer to the spring in the low line of cliffs where we had halted coming out and the Major with his usual original ideas had caused the waggon to be lowered by ropes into a deep gulch. He had estimated that it was possible to go out through the cliffs that way instead of going all the way around. His geological knowledge did not lead him astray. There was no trouble whatever in taking the waggon up the gulch, and when we emerged we were many miles on the road to Pipe Spring, where the Major and I arrived in advance of the others. We had dinner and he then went on alone to Kanab, where the whole party arrived the next day—Thanksgiving Day. Prof. had come in on the 25th by way of St. George, having had a successful tour through the Shewits region, all agreements on both sides having been carried out to the letter. He had been two weeks in the wild country and Adams declared that to him the time was years, his only comfort being that he was wearing his "endowment garment," a sure protection from all evil. Prof. had climbed Mount Dellenbaugh, though the Shewits objected to Adams's going up and he remained on the trail. It was found to be a basaltic peak 6650 feet above sea-level, but only 1200 or 1500 above its base. On the summit were the ruins of a Shinumo building circular in shape, twenty feet in diameter, with walls remaining about two feet high. It was not far from the base of this mountain that the Howlands and Dunn were killed, Paantung, Prof.'s guide, saying it was done by some "no sense" Shewits. Prof. was of the opinion that the guide had been of the party himself.

All was preparation in our camp for the departure of the Major for Salt Lake and Washington. I had expected to go east at this time also, but both the Major and Prof. being desirous of having me remain a while longer, to help finish up the preliminary map, I agreed to do so and on the 30th of November all the original party set out but Prof., Mrs. Thompson, and myself. A new member, John Renshawe, had arrived a few days before to assist at the topography. When the party had been gone some time it was discovered that they had forgotten several things. I took a horse and rode over with the articles to the camp they intended to make at Johnson, where I remained till morning. The Major was so eager to get an early start that he had all hands up long before sunrise. When breakfast was eaten we had to sit by the fire three quarters of an hour before there was light enough for the men to trail the horses. Then I said good-bye; they went on and I went back. Jones and Andy I never saw again.

Prof. concluded to make winter headquarters in Kanab and a lot was rented for the purpose. On December 3d, we put up a large tent in one corner, with two small ones for rations and saddles. The next day we put up one in the other corner for Prof. and Mrs. Thompson, and at the back of the lot we arranged a corral for the horses or mules we might want to catch. The large tents were floored with pine boards and along the sides heavy cedar boughs were placed in crotches around which the guy ropes were passed before staking. The tents thus were dry inside and could not blow down. A conical iron stove on a boxing of earth heated the large tent like a furnace. In the middle of the general tent we placed a long drafting-table and were ready for work. Another tent, half boards, was erected near ours for kitchen and dining-room, and Riley, who had turned up again, hired as cook and master of this structure. Riley, who had spent his whole life in camp and saddle, was the best frontier or camp cook I ever saw. Scrupulously clean to the last detail of his pots and pans, he knew how to make to perfection all manner of eatables possible under the circumstances. Prof. arranged for a supply of potatoes, butter, meats, and everything within reason, so we lived very well, with an occasional dash of Dixie wine to add zest, while on Christmas Day Riley prepared a special feast. Though the sky was sombre the town was merry and there was a dance in the school-house, but I did not attend. Rainy weather set in on the 26th, and the old year welcomed the new in a steady downpour, making January 1, 1873, rather a dismal holiday. Even the mail which arrived this day was soaked. Toward evening the skies lifted somewhat and a four-horse waggon appeared, or rather two mules and two horses on a common freighting waggon, in which Lyman Hamblin and two others were playing, as nearly in unison as possible, a fiddle, a drum, and a fife. While we were admiring this feat we heard Jack's hearty shout and saw our waggon returning under his charge from Salt Lake with supplies, with a cook stove for our kitchen, and with a new suit of clothes for me accompanied by the compliments of Prof. and the Major.

Our camp in Kanab was now as complete and comfortable as any one might wish, and our work of preparing the map went forward rapidly. As soon as it could be finished I was to take it to Salt Lake, and send it by express to the Major in Washington, to show Congress what we had been doing and what a remarkable region it was that we had been investigating. In the evenings we visited our friends in the settlement or they visited us, or we read what books, papers, and magazines we could get hold of. John and I also amused ourselves by writing down all the songs that were sung around camp, to which I added a composition of my own to the tune of Farewell to the Star Spangled Banner, an abandoned rebel one. These words ran:

etc., with a mention in the various stanzas of each member of the party and his characteristics. The horses became high-spirited with nothing to do and plenty of good feed. One of our amusements was to corral several, and then, putting saddles on the most prancing specimens, mount and ride down on the plain, the horse running at top speed, with the impression that he was full master of the situation and expecting us to try to stop him. Instead we enjoyed the exhilaration of it, and let the charger alone till after a couple of miles he concluded the fun was all on our side and took a more moderate gait of his own accord. There were several horse races also, and the days flew by. On February 3d I finished plotting the river down to the Kanab Canyon, and as if to emphasise this point a snow-storm set in. By the 5th the snow was five inches deep, and we had word that the snow on the divide to the north over the culmination of the various lines of cliffs, where I would have to pass to go to Salt Lake, was very heavy. On the 7th the mail rider failed to get through. We learned also that an epizoÖtic had come to Utah and many horses were laid up by it, crippling the stage lines. It had been planned that I should go north with our own horses till I could connect with some stage line, and then take that for the remainder of the distance to the Utah Southern Railway, which then had been extended south from Salt Lake as far as Lehi.

On the 16th of February, which was Sunday, I put the last touches on the map, drawn from the original on a large sheet of tracing cloth, rolled it carefully up, and placed it in a long tin tube we had ordered from the local tinsmith. This I carried on my back, as I did not mean to be separated from it a minute till I gave it into the hands of Wells, Fargo & Co.'s express in Salt Lake. Jack was to go with me. Saying a last good-bye to Prof. and Mrs. Thompson, to John, and to some of my Kanab friends who came to see the start, we left a little after noon, with one pack on a broncho mule, Jack riding a mule and I a favourite horse of mine called by the unusual name of Billy. The pack-mule always had to be blindfolded before we could handle him, and if the blind should accidentally slip off there was an instantaneous convulsion which had a most disrupting effect. Going straight up the canyon, we crossed over finally into Long Valley, and were on the headwaters of the Virgin. At sunset we came to a little settlement called Mt. Carmel, but continued to Glendale, where we arrived about half-past seven, having come in all thirty miles. At the bishop's house we were welcomed and there got some supper, putting our three animals in his corral. We did not care to sleep in the house, choosing for our resting-place the last remains of a haystack, where we spread our blankets, covering the whole with a paulin, as the sky looked threatening. I never slept more comfortably in my life, except that I was half-aroused in the stillness by water trickling down my neck. Half-asleep we pulled the canvas clear up over our heads and were troubled no more. When we awoke in the morning a heaviness on top of us we knew meant snow. We were covered by a full foot of it, soft and dry. Valley, mountain, everything was a solid expanse of white, the only dark spot being our red blankets as we threw back the paulin. The sky was grey and sullen. More snow was in the air. As soon as breakfast was eaten we slung our pack, saddled, and rode up the valley, following as well as we could the directions given by the bishop. Neither Jack nor I had been this way before. We could see the slight depression in the surface of the snow which indicated a waggon-rut beneath, and by that token continued up the ever-narrowing valley; the slopes sprinkled by large pine trees. Snow fell thickly. It was not always easy to see our way, but we went on. At a certain point we were to turn to the left up a side gulch, following it till we came to the divide, some eight thousand or nine thousand feet above sea-level, where we expected to go down to the head of the Sevier Valley, where Jack had before been by another route. At the gulch we deemed the correct one, no road or trail being visible, we turned late in the afternoon to the left and rapidly mounted higher, with the fresh snow growing correspondingly deeper till it was about two feet on the level. The going was slow and hard, the sky still dropping heavy flakes upon us. About five o'clock we found ourselves on the summit of a high bald knob topping the world. In every direction through the snow-mist similar bald knobs could be seen looming against the darkening sky. The old drifts were so deep that where a horse broke through the crust he went down to the end of his leg. This excited them, and they plunged wildly. I finally got them all three still and quiet, while Jack scanned the outlook intently. "See any landmark, Jack?" said I. "Not a damned thing I ever saw before!" answered Jack. At brief intervals the falling snow would cease, and we could see more clearly, except that the impending night began to cast over all a general obscurity.

There was a deep valley beyond to the right. While it was not possible to tell directions we felt that our course must lie there, and I led the way down a long treeless slope, breaking a path as well as I could, my horse following behind; the others urged on by Jack from the rear. The snow became shallower near the bottom. We mounted and I rode in the direction that Jack thought we ought to take to come to the road down the Sevier where he had before travelled. We crossed the valley in doing this, but at one point in the very bottom my horse wanted to turn to the left, which would have taken us down the deepening valley. I prevented his turning and we continued up a gulch a mile or two, where it narrowed till we could barely proceed. Jack then climbed up on a cliff and disappeared, endeavouring to see some familiar object, the falling snow having at last stopped. I stood in my tracks with the three animals and waited so long I began to be afraid that Jack had met with an accident. Just then I heard him descending. It was nearly dark. He could not see any sign of the region he had been in before. Snow and darkness puzzle one even in a familiar country. We then went back to the valley where the horse had wished to turn and followed it down, now believing that it might be the right way after all, for Billy had been over the road several times. Another example of horse sense, which seems to prove that horses know more than we think they do. We had expected to reach Asa's ranch before night and had not brought an axe, in consequence. Keeping down the valley till we came to a group of cedars, some of which were dead, and a tall pine tree, we camped, pulling branches from the cedars and bark from the pine for a fire, which quickly melted its way down to the ground, leaving a convenient seat all round about twenty inches high, upon which we laid blankets to sit on. Our pack contained enough food for supper; breakfast would have to take care of itself. We also had some grain, which we fed to the hungry animals and tied them under the cedars, where they were protected in a measure from the sharp wind though they were standing in deep snow. For ourselves we cut twigs from the green cedars and made a thick mattress on the snow with them. Our blankets on top of these made a bed fit for a king. The storm cleared entirely; a brilliant moon shone over all, causing the falling frost in the air to scintillate like diamonds.

In the morning, Tuesday, February 18th, we packed up at once, having nothing left to eat, and proceeded down the valley wondering if we were on the right road or not. The sky arched over with that deep tone that is almost black in winter in high altitudes, and the sun fell in a dazzling sheet upon the wide range of unbroken white. The surface was like a mirror; the eyes closed against the intense light instinctively. As we went on northwards and downwards a faint, double, continuous hollow began to appear on the snow—a waggon-track at the bottom. It became more and more distinct and we then felt sure that we were on the right road, though we were not positive till near noon when, approaching a rocky point, we suddenly heard the clear ring of an axe on the metallic air. A few moments later turning this we saw a large, swift stream flowing clear between snowy banks, and beyond a log cabin with blue smoke rising from the immense stone chimney. In front was a man chopping wood. His dog was barking. It was a welcome, a beautiful picture of frontier comfort. It was Asa's ranch. Asa was one of the men who helped the Major on his arrival at the mouth of the Virgin in 1869, now having changed his residence to this place. We were soon made welcome in the single large room of the cabin where all the family were, and while the horses were having a good feed an equally good one for us was prepared by Mrs. Asa on the fire burning snugly in the great chimney. Never did fried ham, boiled eggs, and hot coffee do better service. We could not have been more cordially received if these Mormons had been our own relatives.

We rested there till about three o'clock, when we bade them all good-bye and rode on down the valley, the snow continually lessening in depth, till, when we reached the much lower altitude of Panguitch at sunset, twenty-six miles from our night's camp, there were only three or four inches and the temperature was not nearly so low, though still very cold. According to custom we applied to the bishop for accomodation for ourselves and our stock and were again cordially received. We were quickly made comfortable before a bright fire on the hearth which illumed the whole room. While the good wife got supper, the bishop, an exceedingly pleasant man, brought out some Dixie wine he had recently received. He poured us out each a large goblet and took one himself. After a hearty supper Jack and I put down our blankets on the bishop's haystack and knew nothing more till sunrise. Leaving Panguitch we rode on down the Sevier, crossing it frequently, and made about forty miles, passing through Sevier Canyon and Circle Valley, where there were a number of deserted houses, and arrived for night at the ranch of a Gentile named Van Buren. By this time my eyes, which had been inflamed by the strong glare of the sun, began to feel as if they were full of sand, and presently I became aware that I was afflicted with that painful malady snowblindness. I could barely see, the pain in both eyes was extreme, and a river of tears poured forth continually. Other men whom we heard of as we went on were blinded worse than I. All I could do, having no goggles, was to keep my hat pulled down and cut off the glare as much as possible.[39] At Marysvale the stage had been abandoned. We kept on, finding as we advanced that all the stages were put out of business by the epizoÖtic. There was nothing for Jack to do but to go on with me to Nephi.

In riding through one village I saw a sign on the closed door of a store just off the road and my curiosity led me to ride up close enough to read it. I did not linger. The words I saw were "SMALL POX." That night we reached Nephi under the shadow of the superb Mount Nebo, where I tried again for a stage so that Jack could return. No stage arrived and the following morning we rode on northward over very muddy roads, finally reaching Spanish Fork, where a fresh snow-storm covered the country about a foot, making travelling still more difficult. Another day's journey put us as far as American Fork, only three miles from the end of the railway, a place called Lehi, for which we made a very early start the next day, Wednesday, February 25th, but when we arrived there through the mud and slush the train had taken its departure. Our pack mule was now very lame and travelled with difficulty, but we continued on toward Salt Lake. The train had become stalled in the immense snowdrifts at the Point-of-the-Mountain and there we overtook it. I was soon on board with my tin case and other baggage, but it was a considerable time before the gang of men and a snow plough extricated the train. About five o'clock we ran into the town. I went to the Walker House, then the best hotel, and that night slept in a real room and a real bed for the first time in nearly two years, but I opened the windows as wide as they would go. In the morning I sent off the map and then turned my attention to seeing the Mormon capital. Cap. was now living there and it was Fennemore's home. I also found Bonnemort and MacEntee in town, and Jack came on up the remaining short distance in order to take a fresh start for Kanab.

Nearly forty years have slipped away since the events chronicled in this volume. Never was there a more faithful, resolute band of explorers than ours. Many years afterward Prof. said in a letter to me speaking of the men of the Second Powell Expedition, "I have never seen since such zeal and courage displayed." From out the dark chasm of eternity comes the hail, "Tirtaan Aigles dis wai!" and already many of that little company have crossed to Killiloo. The Major and Prof. repose in the sacred limits of Arlington. Strew their graves with roses and forget them not. They did a great work in solving the last geographical problem of the United States.

line drawing, flowers

[35] Professor Thompson declared to me not long before his death that the river was accurate as far as Catastrophe Rapid, (about where longitude 113.39 intersects the river) but from there to the Virgin it might need some corrections.