The next day was begun by accomplishing the portage over the rapid which had punished the prospectors for their temerity and for their lack of proper morals, and then we made most excellent progress, successfully putting behind us eleven lively rapids free from rocks before we were admonished to pause and make a let-down. Then camp was established for the night with the record of ten and three-eighths miles for our day's work. At one place we passed a rock in the water so large that it almost blocked the entire stream, which had averaged about two hundred feet in width, though narrowing at many places to no more than seventy-five. The current was always extremely swift, while many whirlpools added their demands, though they gave us no serious trouble. It is exasperating, however, to be turned around against one's will. The canyon at the top for a considerable distance was not over three-quarters of a mile wide. The depth was now from fifteen hundred to eighteen hundred feet. There were always rapids following quickly one after another, but so often they were free from rocks, the dangerous part of most rapids, that we were able to sail through them in triumph. On the 20th, out of thirteen sharp descents, we easily ran twelve, all in a distance of less than seven miles. The average width of the river was one hundred and twenty-five feet, while the walls rose to over two thousand feet, and at the top the canyon was about a mile and a quarter from brink to brink. This brought us to Vasey's Paradise, so named after a botanist friend of his, by Powell on the first descent. It was only a lot of ferns, mosses, and similar plants growing around two springs that issued from the cliffs on the right about seventy-five feet above the river, and rippled in silver threads to the bottom, but as it was the first green spot since leaving the Paria its appearance was striking and attractive to the eye that had been baffled in all directions except above, in a search for something besides red. Now the narrow, terraced canyon, often vertical on both sides for several hundred feet above the water, grew ever deeper and deeper, two thousand, twenty-five hundred, three thousand feet and more, as the impetuous torrent slashed its way down, till it finally seemed to me as if we were actually sailing into the inner heart of the world. The sensation on the first expedition, when each dark new bend was a dark new mystery, must have been something to quite overpower the imagination, for then it was not known that, by good management, a boat could pass through this Valley of the Shadow of Death, and survive. Down, and down, and ever down, roaring and leaping and throwing its spiteful spray against the hampering rocks the terrible river ran, carrying our boats along with it like little wisps of straw in the midst of a Niagara, the terraced walls around us sometimes fantastically eroded into galleries, balconies, alcoves, and Gothic caves that lent to them an additional weird and wonderful aspect, while the reverberating turmoil of the ever-descending flood was like some extravagant musical accompaniment to the extraordinary panorama flitting past of rock sculpture and bounding cliffs.

The 22d was a day to be particularly remembered, for the walls, though more broken at the water's edge, were now some thirty-five hundred feet high and seemed to be increasing by leaps and bounds, for at one place, through a side gorge on the right, we could discern cliffs so far above our heads that tall pine trees looked no larger than lead pencils. It was the end of the Kaibab, whose summit was more than five thousand feet higher than the river at this point. Cataract followed rapid and rapid followed cataract as we were hurled on down through the midst of the sublimity, which, parting at our advance, closed again behind like some wonderful phantasmagoria. At times in the headlong rush the boats could barely be held in control. Once, a wild mass of breakers appeared immediately in the path of our boat, from which it was impossible to escape, even though we made a severe effort to do so. We thought we were surely to be crushed, and I shall not forget the seconds that passed as we waited for the collision which never came, for when the boat dashed into the midst of the spray, there was no shock whatever; we glided through as if on oil,—the rocks were too far beneath the surface to harm us. So constant was the rush of the descending waters that our oars were needed only for guidance.

Late in the day there came a long straight stretch, at the bottom of which the river appeared to vanish. Had any one said the course was now underground from that point onward, it would have seemed entirely appropriate. In the outer world the sun was low, though it had long been gone to us, and the blue haze of approaching night was drawing a veil of strange uncertainty among the cliffs, while far above, the upper portions of the mighty eastern walls, at all times of gorgeous hue, were now beautifully enriched by the last hot radiance of the western sky. Such a view as this was worth all the labour we had accomplished. When the end of this marvellous piece of canyon was reached a small river was found to enter on the left through a narrow gorge like the main canyon. It was the Little Colorado, and beside it on a sand-bank we stopped for the night, having ended one of the finest runs of our experience, about eighteen miles with but a single let-down; yet in this distance there were eighteen rapids, one of which was about two and one half miles long. It was a glorious record, and I do not recall another day which was more exhilarating. We had arrived at the end of Marble Canyon and the beginning of the Grand Canyon, there being nothing to mark the division but the narrow gorge of the Little Colorado. In Marble Canyon we had found sixty-nine rapids in the sixty-five and one half miles, with a total descent of 480 feet. Of these we ran sixty, let down by lines five times, and made four portages. Here at the mouth of the Little Colorado was the place where White's imagination pictured overwhelming terrors and his worst experience in a whirlpool opposite. But in reality the Colorado at this particular point is very tame, and when we were there the Little Colorado was a lamb.

Now the Grand Canyon, as named by Powell on his former trip, was before us, and soon we were descending through the incomparable chasm. Three or four miles below the Little Colorado the walls break away, and the canyon has more the appearance of a valley hemmed in by beetling cliffs and crags which rise up in all directions over 5000 feet, distant from the line of the river five or six miles. On the right were two minor valleys within the canyon called Nancoweap and Kwagunt, named by Powell after the Pai Utes, who have trails coming down into them.*

* Kwagunt was the name of a Pai Ute who said he owned this valley—that his father, who used to live there, had given it to him.

As we went on, the canyon narrowed again, becoming wilder and grander than ever, and on the 28th, late in the day, we came to the first bad fall in this division, where a portage was necessary, and we made a camp. A short distance below this camp the granite ran up. To any one who has been in this chasm with a boat, the term "the granite runs up" has a deep significance. It means that the First Granite Gorge is beginning, and this First Granite Gorge, in the Kaibab division of the canyon, less than fifty miles in length as the stream runs, contains the wildest, swiftest, steepest piece of river on this continent except a portion in Cataract Canyon. The declivity is tremendous. Between the Little Colorado and the Kanab the total fall is 890 feet, and the bulk of this drop occurs in the granite. In one stretch of ten miles the descent is 210 feet. All through this granite the character of the river is different from anything above. The falls are short and violent, while the stretches in between are smooth and not always swift. But the moment a break occurs the turbulence and commotion are instantly very great. The summer is the wet season here, and to add to our troubles we were treated to frequent rains. The next day toward noon, as we were sailing along between the black walls, on a rather sluggish current, a deep-toned roar was borne up to our ears. Nothing could be seen of the cause of it, but a complete disappearance of the river from our sight warned us to make a landing as soon as possible. Some broken rocks protruding a few feet above the water at the base of the right-hand wall afforded the desired opportunity, and running in we stepped out and mounted them. The cause of the roaring was immediately apparent. For a third of a mile the river was a solid mass of huge waves and foam and plunges, and on each side the granite came down so precipitously that a footing was impossible. It took no second glance to tell us that, at least with this stage of water, there was but one course, and that was to run the place. There is nothing like having the inner man fortified for exertion, therefore with a few bits of driftwood a fire was built, by means of which Andy prepared dinner. When this had been disposed of operations were begun. The Canonita was to remain here till our boat was well through. In case we smashed up they would have a better chance, as they might profit by our course, and if we went through safely, we would be prepared to pick them up should disaster overtake them. At last we were ready. The crew of the Canonita placed themselves where they could carefully watch our fortunes, and we pulled up the river very close to the right-hand wall in slack current, for about a quarter of a mile, when we turned the bow out and struck for the middle, heading there straight for the descent. I pulled the bow oars, and my back was toward the terrific roar which, like the voice of some awful monster, grew louder as we approached. It was difficult to refrain from turning round to see what it looked like now, but as everything depended on the promptness with which Hillers and I handled our oars in obedience to Powell's orders, I waited for the plunge, every instant ready to execute a command. We kept in the middle of the stream, and as we neared the brink our speed began to accelerate. Then of a sudden there was a dropping away of all support, a reeling sensation, and we flew down the declivity with the speed of a locomotive. The gorge was chaos. The boat rolled and plunged. The wild waters rolled over us, filling the open spaces to the gunwale. With the camp kettles that were left out of the cabins for that purpose, Hillers and I bailed as hard as we could, letting the boat go with the current, but it seemed to do little good, for every moment the waves broke over the craft from end to end, and our efforts might as well have been made with a teaspoon, though in many other rapids the kettles had proved effective. Here and there, as we shot down, I could look back under a canopy of foam and see the head of a great black rock. Fortunately we safely cleared everything, and in probably less than a minute we were at the bottom, lying to in an eddy, bailing fast and watching for the other boat. No sign of any living thing could be discovered as we peered up the rapid, which from below had the appearance of an almost vertical fall. Presently at the top of the foam a white speck moved, clearly seen against the dark background. It was the Canonita on the edge of the fall. I can see her yet, pausing for an instant, apparently, and then disappearing completely amidst the plunging waters. A minute later she reappeared at the bottom and ran alongside of us in good order. Owing to the large amount of water there seemed to be not much danger of striking a rock, and our boats did not capsize easily. After the plunge was begun we did not try to guide the boats—it would have been useless. The fall here was about forty feet in a third of a mile. Some of the men called it the Sockdologer. The picture of it from above, on page 219, does not give a correct impression, as the plate was too slow, but it was the best that could be done at the time. The canyon continued very narrow at the bottom, the river averaging about one hundred and fifty feet. Late in the afternoon we arrived at a much worse place than the Sockdologer, though the fall was not so great. Landing on the left on some broken rocks, we saw no chance of getting around the rapid there, so we crossed to the right and landed on another little pile of rocks in a small alcove. The walls rose vertically, or nearly so, from the water's edge. We saw the only thing to do was to lower one boat, with two men on board, by her line for some distance (a hundred feet of best Manila rope were attached to each boat by a strong iron ring; in the stern was also an iron ring), and from the stern let the other cautiously down to the very head of the fall, where there was a second pile of rocks which received the boat between them and held her fast. The upper boat was then pulled back to where we had remained, the line from the second being tied to her stern. Entering her we clung to projections of the wall with our hands, to prevent the current from swinging the boat out, while the men who were in the lower boat carefully hauled on the stern line till at last we also reached the rocks. With a great deal of labour we then worked both boats from these rocks to some others nearer the right wall, from which they were manoeuvred across to a pile about two hundred feet away against the foot of the cliff, This ended our struggle for the day, as night was upon us. The black rocks towering so far above made the gorge darken early, and rain began to fall. A little damp driftwood was collected with which a fire was started in order that Andy might prepare supper. When this was almost ready peal after peal of thunder suddenly crashed among the cliffs, which seemed to collapse and fall down upon us, and a flood from the sky descended. The fire died without a sputter, everything not in rubber was soaked, and all we could do was to stand in the darkness, cold and hungry, and wait for the deluge to cease. At last we were able to start the fire once more, and had a half-cooked supper before hunting the soft sides of the rocks for beds. The next day it required hard work till one o'clock to get the boats down two hundred yards farther. At one place to keep the bow in, I was in one of the boats, being lowered along the wall, while the other men were a hundred feet above my head, holding the end of two hundred feet of rope, as they clambered along a ledge. The situation all around was rather precarious, but we had no accident. This brought us to a small alcove where there was a limited talus. The boats were so much bruised that we were obliged to halt on these rocks for repairs, instead of starting out again into the current as we intended. This work took so long that darkness approached before all was done. At the same time we discovered that the river was rising rapidly, at the rate of three or four feet an hour, submerging the rocks. Fortunately, about twenty feet up the cliff was a narrow shelf, and to this the rations were passed to guard them from the rising waters. Then there was danger of the boats pounding to pieces, as the space they were on was rapidly decreasing, and waves from the rapid swept into the cove, so it was decided to raise them up on the side of the wall as far as necessary. By means of the ropes we succeeded in swinging them at a height of about six feet and there made them fast for the night. There was not room on the ledge for a camp, but by going out around a projection a talus was available, though there was a dearth of wood and level spots. I managed to find enough half-dead mesquite bushes for a fire, and Andy did his best on the supper. One hundred feet above the river I found driftwood. To add to the discomfort of the occasion the rain began again, and the river continued its rise. Through the night a watch was kept on the boats, so that they could be lifted farther if necessary. The morning of August 31st was wet and gloomy in the black gorge. Some of the rocks were still above water, against the wall. When the boats were lowered they pounded about at a frightful rate on the surges that swept into the alcove. Then it was found that a hole in the Dean had been forgotten or overlooked, and she was leaking badly in the middle compartment. But there was no chance to stop longer here for repairs, as the river seemed to be still rising. A bag of flour was jammed against the hole, the boat was loaded, the hatches were battened down, we grasped our oars, and while the Canonita crew held our stern to give us a fair start we pulled straight out as hard as we could to clear a huge rock just below, upon which the current was fiercely dashing. Our boat was so wet and full of water that the gunwales were barely above the surface as we rolled heavily along through large waves. I felt very uncertain as to whether or not she would remain afloat till we could make a landing, but luckily she did, and we halted at the first opportunity. This was at a talus on the right where the entire cargo was spread out on the rocks to dry in the sun which now cheered us by its warm rays, and the leak in the boat was stopped. The Canonita soon came down safely. She was of a slightly better build than the Dean, and, with one less man in her, was able to ride more buoyantly. It was after four o'clock before we were ready to go on, and we started once more with a fairly tight boat, dry inside. Then we had a wild ride. The descent was steady. For eight miles there was a continuous rapid, accentuated by eight heavy falls. The boats sped along at high speed, but the way being clear we did not often stop, passing two places where the former expedition made portages. We had a glimpse of a creek coming in on the right which looked interesting, but it was left behind in a moment as the boats shot along between the dark granite walls. At a quarter past five we ran up to a sand-bank where a lone willow tree was growing. Here we made a camp. The canyon spread a little and the wide sand-bank appeared to our eyes like a prairie. Just below our camp there came in a muddy stream, which on the other trip was clear and was then named Bright Angel to offset the application of Dirty Devil to the river at the foot of Narrow Canyon.

It was now the beginning of September, but the water and the air were not so cold as they had been the year before in Cataract Canyon, and we did not suffer from being so constantly saturated. Running on the next day following the Bright Angel camp, we found the usual number of large rapids, in one of which a wave struck the steering oar and knocked Jones out of the boat all but his knees, by which he clung to the gunwale, nearly capsizing us. We found it impossible to help him, but somehow he got in again. The river was everywhere very swift and turbulent. One stretch of three and a half miles we ran in fifteen minutes. There were numerous whirlpools, but nothing to stop our triumphant progress. On the 2d of September there were two portages, and twenty rapids run, in the fifteen miles made during the day. Many of these rapids were very heavy descents. That night we camped above a bad-looking place, but it was decided to run it in the morning. Three-quarters of a mile below camp there was a general disappearance of the waters. We could see nothing of the great rapid from the level of the boats, though we caught an occasional glimpse of the leaping, tossing edges, or tops, of the huge billows rolling out beyond into the farther depths of the chasm. About eight o'clock in the morning all was ready for the start. The inflated life-preservers, as was customary in our boat, were laid behind the seats where we could easily reach them. The Major put his on, a most fortunate thing for him as it turned out, but we who were at the oars did not for the reason before mentioned,—that they interfered with the free handling of the boat. The men of the Canonita took positions where they could observe and profit by our movements. Then out into the current we pushed and were immediately swept downward with ever-increasing speed toward the centre of the disturbance, the black walls springing up on each side of the impetuous waters like mighty buttresses for the lovely blue vault of the September sky, so serenely quiet. Accelerated by the rush of a small intervening rapid, our velocity appeared to multiply till we were flying along like a railway train. The whole width of the river dropped away before us, falling some twenty-five or thirty feet, at least, in a short space. We now saw that the rapid was of a particularly difficult nature, and the order was given to attempt a landing on some rocks at its head, on the left. At the same instant this was seen to be impossible. Our only safety lay in taking the plunge in the main channel. We backwatered on our oars to check our speed a trifle, and the next moment with a wild leap we went over, charging into the roaring, seething, beating waves below. Wave after wave broke over us in quick succession, keeping our standing-rooms full. The boat plunged like a bucking broncho, at the same time rolling with fierce violence. As rapidly as possible we bailed with our kettles, but the effort was useless. At length, as we neared the end, an immense billow broke upon our port bow with a resounding crack. The little craft succumbed. With a quick careen she turned upside down, and we were in the foaming current. I threw up my hand and fortunately grasped a spare oar that was fastened along the outside of the boat. This enabled me to pull myself above the surface and breathe. My felt hat had stuck to my head and now almost suffocated me. Pushing it back I looked around. Not a sign of life was to be seen. The river disappeared below in the dark granite. My companions were gone. I was apparently alone in the great chasm. But in a moment or two Powell and Hillers, who had both been pulled down by the whirlpool that was keeping all together, shot up like rockets beside me, and then I noticed Jones clinging to the ring in the stern. As we told Powell, after this experience was over, he had tried to make a geological investigation of the bed of the river, and this was not advisable. Hillers and I climbed on the bottom of the upturned boat, and by catching hold of the opposite gunwale, and throwing ourselves back, we brought her right-side up. Then we two climbed in, an operation requiring nice calculation, for she rolled so much with the load of water that her tendency was to turn over again on slight provocation. We bailed with our hats rapidly. There was need for expeditious work, for we could not tell what might be around the corner. Presently enough water was out to steady the boat, and we then helped Powell and Jones to get in. Our oars had fortunately remained in the rowlocks, and grasping them, without waiting to haul in the hundred feet of line trailing in the current, we made for the left wall, where I managed to leap out on a shelf and catch the rope over a projection, before the Canonita, unharmed, dashed up to the spot; her only mishap was the loss of a rowlock and two oars.

Starting once more on the swift current, we found rapids sometimes so situated that it was difficult to make a landing for examination. At one of these places, towards evening, a good deal of time was spent working down to the head of an ugly looking spot which could not be fairly seen. An enormous rock lay in the very middle at the head of the descent. There was no landing-place till very near the plunge, and in dropping down when we came to the point where it was planned that I should jump out upon a projecting flat rock, a sudden lurch of the boat due to what Stanton afterwards called fountains, and we termed boils, caused me, instead of landing on the rock, to disappear in the rushing waters. The current catching the boat, she began to move rapidly stern foremost toward the fall. Powell and Jones jumped out on rocks as they shot past, hoping to catch the line, but they could not reach it, and Jones had all he could do to get ashore. Meanwhile I had come to the surface, and going to the boat by means of the line which I still held, I fairly tumbled on board. Hillers handed me one of my oars which had come loose, and we were ready to take the fall, now close at hand, albeit we were stern first. As we sped down, the tide carried us far up on the huge rock, whose shelving surface sank upstream below the surging torrent, and at the same moment turned our bow towards the left-hand bank. Perceiving this advantage we pulled with all our strength and shot across the very head of the rapid, running in behind a large rock on the brink, where the boat lodged till I was able to leap ashore, or rather to another rock where there was a footing, and make fast the line. It was a close shave. The Canonita, forewarned, was able to let down to this place, from whence we made a portage to the bottom the next morning. When once started again, we found ourselves in a very narrow gorge, where for four or five miles it was impossible to stop on account of the swift current which swept the boats along like chaff before a gale, swinging them from one side to the other, and often turning them round and round in the large whirlpools despite every effort we made to prevent this performance. In fact, we had no control of the craft in this distance, and it was fortunate that there was nothing worse to be here encountered. The whirlpools were the most perfect specimens I ever saw. Usually they were about twenty feet in diameter, drawing evenly down toward the vortex, the centre being probably about eighteen inches to two feet below the rim. The vortex at the top was about six to ten inches in diameter, diminishing in five or six feet to a mere point at the bottom. Our boats were twenty-two feet long, and as they were turned around in these whirls they about reached across them, while we could look over the side and see the vortex sucking down every small object. The opposite of these was the fountains, or boils, where the surface was exactly the reverse of the whirls: a circular mass of water about twenty feet in diameter would suddenly lift itself a foot or two above the general surface with a boiling, swirling movement. As I remember them they were usually the forerunners of the whirlpools.

The river was still on the rise, scoring at the last camp another three feet. With such a dashing current the time we made where we were not compelled to move cautiously was admirable. On this day fourteen miles were traversed, we ran twenty-three rapids, and, what pleased us most, we saw the granite disappear, and the comfortable-looking red strata were again beside us. The river widened somewhat, and was now about two hundred and fifty feet. A cascade was passed on the 7th, which we recognized as one Beaman, who had climbed up to it during the winter, from the mouth of the Kanab, had photographed. From here to the Kanab was ten miles, and we sailed along with lightened hearts, knowing that our sadly depleted and half-ruined stock of rations would soon be replenished, and that mail from the world would be delivered by the pack-train we expected to find there. Late in the afternoon we arrived at the narrow cleft, and our men, who had waited long, were overjoyed to greet us once more, for, as we were several days overdue, they had been filled with forebodings, and had made up their minds they would never see us again.

From the Little Colorado we had travelled over ninety difficult miles, run one hundred and thirty-one rapids, made seven portages, and let down six times. The water had now fallen again some three feet, but it was still so high that it had backed up into the side canyon, where we ran the boats on account of an excellent camping-place. Sunday was spent resting here, and Thompson took observations for time. On Monday morning we expected to pack up again and proceed down the gorge, but Powell, instead of directing this course, announced that he had decided to end the river work at this point on account of the extreme high water, which would render impassable the rapid where the Rowlands and Dunn had left. In addition, word was brought that the Shewits were in a state of war and had resolved to ambush us as we came down, a plot that had been revealed by a friendly member of the tribe to Jacob Hamblin. The ambush plan did not disturb us much, however, but the stage of water for the beginning of the Second Granite Gorge was another matter, and there was no telling when it would fall. It had been demonstrated by our winter's explorations that it would not be absolutely necessary for us to continue below this point so far as perfecting the topographic work was concerned, and as we were there for geographic purposes and not for adventure, the decision was against unnecessary risk. This decision then was, and ever since has been, a matter of great disappointment to me, for I was ready to finish up the Grand Canyon. It was with mingled feelings of regret and relief that I helped unload the boats, those faithful friends, which had carried us safely over so many miles of turbulent river, and from the constant hourly association had almost taken on a personality, till they seemed like members of the party. Sadly I turned my back on their familiar lines and followed the pack-train up the narrow gorge in the direction of Kanab.



CHAPTER XIV

A Railway Proposed through the Canyons—The Brown Party, 1889, Undertakes the Survey—Frail Boats and Disasters—The Dragon Claims Three—Collapse of the Expedition—Stanton Tries the Feat Again, 1889-90—A Fall and a Broken Leg—Success of Stanton—The Dragon Still Untrammelled.

The topographic, geologic, and geodetic work of the survey did not cease with our departure from the river, but was continued in the remarkable country shown in the relief map opposite page 41, till the relationships and distances of the various features were established and reduced to black and white. That autumn, while we were engaged in these labours, Wheeler, with an elaborate outfit, entered the region, pursuing his desultory operations; and, drifting along the north side of the Grand Canyon for a little distance, he proceeded to the neighbourhood of St. George. The following year, for some unknown purpose, he crossed the Colorado at the Paria, though he knew that Powell's parties had previously mapped this area. When the winter of 1872-73 had fairly set in we established a permanent camp at Kanab, where, under Thompson's always efficient direction, our triangulations and topographic notes were plotted on paper, making the first preliminary map of that country. When this was ready, Hillers and I took it, and crossing the southern end of the High Plateaus, then deep with snow, we rode by way of the Sevier Valley to Salt Lake, where the map was sent on by express to Washington, whither Powell had already gone.

Seventeen years passed away before any one again tried to navigate the Colorado. The settling of the country, the knowledge of it Powell had published, the completion of the Southern Pacific Railway to Yuma in 1877, and of the Atlantic and Pacific from Isleta to The Needles, in 1880-83, and of the Rio Grande Western across the Green at Gunnison Valley, simplified travel in the Basin of the Colorado. A new railway was then proposed from Grand Junction, Colorado, down the Colorado River, through the Canyons to the Gulf of California, a distance of twelve hundred miles. At that time coal was a difficult article to procure on the Pacific Coast, and it was thought that this "water-level" road, crossing no mountains, would be profitable in bringing the coal of Colorado to the Golden Gate. At present coal in abundance is to be had in the Puget Sound region, and this reason for constructing a Grand Canyon railway is done away with. There is nothing to support a railway through the three hundred miles of the great gorge (or through the other two hundred miles of canyon to the Junction), except tourist travel and the possible development of mines. These are manifestly insufficient at the present time to warrant even a less costly railway, which, averaging about four thousand feet below the surface of the surrounding country, would be of little service to those living away from its immediate line, and there is small chance to live along the line. In addition the floods in the Grand Canyon are enormous and capricious. Sometimes heavy torrents from cloudbursts plunge down the sides of the canyon and these would require to be considered as well as those of the river itself. To be absolutely safe from the latter the line would probably require, in the Grand Canyon, to be built at least one hundred and twenty feet above low water, so that for the whole distance through the Marble-Grand Canyon there would seldom be room beside the tracks for even a station. But Frank M. Brown had faith, and a company for the construction of the Denver, Colorado Canyon, and Pacific Railway was organised. Brown was the president, and in 1889 he formed an expedition to Survey the line.

On March 25th the preliminary party, consisting of F. M. Brown, F. C. Kendrick, chief engineer, and T. P. Rigney, assistant engineer, left Denver for Grand Junction, a station on the Rio Grande Western (near the C of Colorado, State name on map, p. 51), and the next morning set the first stake for the new railway which was to cost the president so dear. Then they bought a boat from the ferryman, and after repairing it laid in a supply of rations, engaged some men, and ran a half-mile down Grand River. Brown then left to go East in order to perfect his arrangements for this attempt to survey a railway route through the dangerous canyons. The boat party continued down Grand River to the head of the canyon, twenty-four miles, and then more slowly descended over rougher water, averaging five or six miles a day. At a distance of forty-three miles from the start the rapids grew very bad, and at one place they were forced to make a portage for twelve miles. At the end of one hundred miles they came to the little Mormon settlement of Moab. From here to the Junction of the Grand and Green was a distance of sixty miles, and the water was the same as it is just above the Junction, in the canyons of the Green, Stillwater, and Labyrinth, that is, comparatively smooth and offering no obstacles except a rather swift current. Nowhere had the cliffs risen above one thousand feet, and the river had an average fall of five feet to the mile. This was the first party on record to navigate, for any considerable distance, the canyons of Grand River. From the Junction they proceeded up the Green, towing the boat, desiring to reach the Rio Grande Western Railway crossing, one hundred and twenty miles away. By this time their rations were much diminished and they allowed themselves each day only one-half the ordinary amount, at the same time going on up the river as fast as possible, yet at the end of about eight days, when still thirty miles from their destination, they were reduced to their last meal. Fortunately they then arrived at the cabin of some cattlemen, Wheeler Brothers, who, discovering their plight, put their own ample larder, with true Western hospitality, at the surveyors' disposal. Thus opportunely fortified and refreshed, the men reached the railway crossing the following night.

In reviewing all the early travels through this inhospitable region, one is struck by the frequent neglect of the question of food-supplies. In such a barren land, this is the item of first importance, and yet many of the leaders treated it apparently as of slight consequence. Great discomfort and suffering and death often followed a failure to provide proper supplies, or, when provided, to take sufficient care to preserve them.

On the 25th of May, 1889, Brown's party was ready and started from the point where the Rio Grande Western crosses Green River. There were sixteen men and six boats. Five of the boats were new; the sixth was the one Kendrick and Rigney had used on the Grand River trip. The chief engineer of the proposed railway was Robert Brewster Stanton, and that he was not in the very beginning given the entire management was most unfortunate, for Brown himself seems not to have had a realisation of the enormous difficulties of the task before him. But the arrangements were completed before Stanton was engaged. All the men were surprised, disappointed, dismayed, at the character of the boats Brown had provided for this dangerous enterprise, and Stanton said his heart sank at the first sight of them. They were entirely inadequate, built of cedar instead of oak, only fifteen feet long and three feet wide, and weighed but one hundred and fifty pounds each. They would have been beautiful for an ordinary river, but for the raging, plunging, tumultuous Colorado their name was suicide. Then not a life-preserver had been brought. This neglect was another shock to the members of the party and their friends. Stanton was urged to take one for himself, but he declined to provide this advantage over the other men. Since then he has been disposed to blame Powell for not telling Brown that life-preservers are a necessity on the Colorado. It was also said that Powell declared to Brown that they were not imperative and consequently he is censured for the subsequent disasters. There was certainly a misunderstanding in this, for Powell, knowing the situation from such abundant experience, never could have said life-preservers were not necessary, though on his first trip there was but one. In this connection Thompson writes me: "The Major sent for me at once when Mr. Brown called at the office. I think we talked—we three, I mean—for half an hour, then the Major said, 'Professor Thompson knows just as much about the river as I do, and more about what is necessary for such a trip; you talk with him.' I took Mr. Brown to my room and we had a long talk. I think the next day Mr. Brown came again. I had two interviews with him alone. I told him distinctly that life-preservers were necessary. I probably told him we did not wear them all the time, but I told him we put them on at every dangerous rapid, and I showed him the picture in the Major's Report where we were wearing them. I clearly remember telling him to have one arm above and one below the preserver. I am positive about this, for after we received word of the loss of Brown we talked it over and I recalled the conversation. He impressed me as thinking we exaggerated the dangers of the river. He made a memorandum of things I said. I think he also talked with Hillers, and I have no doubt the latter told him to take life-preservers. But he had the Report, and there is no excuse for his neglecting so indispensable an article of the outfit. He was warned over and over again to neglect no precaution. I distinctly remember that the Major told him in so many words, 'not to underestimate the dangers of the river, and to never be caught off guard.'" On a previous page I have remarked that proper boats and a knowledge of how to handle them are more important than life-preservers, but that does not mean that a party should leave the life-preservers behind. In descending the Colorado every possible precaution must be taken. The first of these is the right kind of boats, second, proper arrangement as to food-supplies, and, third, life-preservers, etc. The New York Tribune, after the collapse of this Brown expedition, quotes Powell in an interview as saying that he would not have ventured in the boats Brown selected and that he thought Brown "failed to comprehend the significant fact that nothing can get through the Colorado Canyon that cannot float. Boats are repeatedly upset and inferior boats are mashed like egg-shells." Brown, undoubtedly, was rather inclined to look upon the descent somewhat lightly. Being a brave, energetic man it was hard for him to believe that this river demanded so much extra prudence and caution, when Powell had successfully descended it twice without, so far as the water was concerned, losing a man. However, the ill-fated expedition went on its way.

The boats were named the Ward, the Mason, after Brown's sons, the Mary after his wife, and the Denver and the Colorado. On arriving they were recalked. The bottoms were covered with copper. The party consisted of the following persons: Frank M. Brown, president; Robert Brewster Stanton, chief engineer; John Hislop, first assistant engineer; C. W. Potter, T. P. Rigney, E. A. Reynolds, J. H. Hughes, W.H. Bush, Edward Coe, Edward ——, Peter Hansborough, Henry Richards, G. W. Gibson, Charles Potter, F. A. Nims, photographer, and J. C. Terry. The baggage of each man was limited to twenty-five pounds. The cargoes were packed in tight, zinc-lined boxes three feet long, with one of which each boat was provided, but these were found to be cumbersome and heavy, the boats being down to within one inch of the gunwales in the water, so they were taken out and all lashed together, forming a sort of raft. This carried about one-third of all the supplies, and all the extra oars and rope, a most unwise arrangement from every point of view. The nondescript craft hampered their movements, could not be controlled, and if once it got loose everything was sure to be lost. It would have been better to throw these boxes away at once and take what the boats could carry and no more, but this was apparently not thought of. All things considered, it is a wonder this party ever got through Cataract Canyon alive. At some little rapid, after leaving the railway crossing, the first boat stove a hole in her side, but this was readily repaired and the party ran without further accident over the smooth stretches of river preceding the Junction, arriving at this latter point in four days. They were now on the threshold of Cataract Canyon. Stopping to adjust instruments and repair boats for a day, they proceeded to the battle with the cataracts on May 31st. For forty-one miles they would now have their courage, muscle, and nerve put to the full test. Stanton records seventy-five rapids and cataracts, fifty-seven of them within a space of nineteen miles, with falls in places of sixteen to twenty feet. This, then, was what they were approaching with these frail craft. Two miles down they heard the roar of falling water and the place was reconnoitred, with the result that a large rapid was found to bar the way. The raft of provisions, and the boat that had towed it, were on the opposite side of the river, which afforded no chance for a camp or a portage, and a signal was made for the party to come over. A half mile intervened between this boat and the head of the rapid, but with the encumbering raft it was drawn down so dangerously near the descent that, to save themselves, the rope holding the raft was cut. Thus freed the boat succeeded in landing just at the head of the fall, but the raft went over, and that was the end of it. The sections were found scattered all the way through the canyon. The next twenty-eight miles were filled with mishaps and losses. Twelve miles farther down, the boat in which Brown, Hughes, and Reynolds were running a rapid capsized. The men clung to her for a mile and a half and then succeeded in getting ashore. The rapids in this part are very close together, and to these men it seemed like one continuous cataract, which it very nearly is. On the same day another boat containing the cooking outfit struck a rock and went to pieces. The provisions she carried were, most of them, contributed to the maw of the dragon to follow those of the unfortunate raft. Sometimes the boats got away from the men altogether, running wild, finally lodging somewhere below to be found again with the contents missing. Soon they had so many large holes in them that one, No. 3, had to be broken up to obtain materials for repairing the others. Thus the party, by the time they had fairly arrived at the deepest and worst portion of this splendid chasm, were in a sad plight, but a plight mainly due to the original bad planning and mismanagement, and not necessary in navigating this gorge. They seldom attempted to cross the river, working down along one side and never entering the boats at all except where absolutely necessary.* Thus they were greatly hampered in their movements. With our boats we never gave the crossing of the river a thought, and were in them continually, except where a portage was demanded. We could therefore always choose our course with as much freedom as is possible. But it must not be forgotten that the Brown party were in Cataract Canyon about the time of high water, while we passed through at a lower stage. This would make a difference, low water being in all the canyons far safer, though the work is harder on the men and the boats. By the 15th of June all provisions had disappeared except a sack and a half of flour, presumably one hundred pounds to the sack, a little coffee, some sugar, and condensed milk. The flour was all baked and divided equally, each man receiving two and one half pounds of bread, one pound of sugar, and four ounces of coffee. At one point they fortunately found a barrel of cut loaf-sugar amongst the driftwood. This had been lost from some army-supplies crossing at Gunnison Valley up the Green, or up Grand River, and they also found, a little below this, pieces of a waggon with the skeleton of a man. These also had, of course, come from at least a hundred miles above the Junction on the Green, or sixty miles up the Grand, as no waggon could get to the river at any place nearer to Cataract Canyon. The waggon-box had probably acted as a raft, bearing its gruesome passenger all these long miles into the heart of the mighty gorge, where the dragon stored his prize, and for many a year treasured it among the deep shadows.

* Mr. Stanton has called my attention to the fact that as he was running a railway survey DOWN ONE SIDE, he wanted to keep to that side the left side.

They had still fifteen miles of Cataract Canyon and the ten miles of the more kindly Narrow before them, and Brown was now to hurry along and attempt to reach some placer mines at Dandy Crossing, near the mouth of Fremont River, where there were a few miners and where some food might be obtained. Ancient dwellings were seen all along the gorge in the side canyons, some completely ruined, others in a fair state of preservation, but the inhabitants had gone long ago, and no help could be hoped for in this direction. Most of the men now became thoroughly discouraged at the dismal prospect and wished to abandon immediately and entirely the enterprise, but Stanton was not of that mind. The difficulties showed him how hard it would be to do this part over again, and he resolved to stay and finish the work as far as possible now. His first assistant, Hislop, G. W. Gibson, the coloured cook, and the coloured steward, H. C. Richards, volunteered to stand by him, and the next morning the eleven others pushed on, leaving a boat for these five to follow with. For six days this determined little crew worked along at the rate of about four miles a day, with a ration of one small scrap of bread, a little coffee, and some condensed milk for breakfast and supper, and three lumps of sugar for dinner. Stanton says there was not a murmur of discontent from the men "carrying the survey over the rocks and cliffs on the side of the canyon, and handling the boat through the rapids of the river. At night, when they lay down on the sand to sleep, after a meal that was nine-tenths water and hope and one-tenth bread and coffee, it was without complaint." Relief was had on the sixth day, when they met a boat being towed up with provisions. This was near the end of Narrow Canyon. At one point in the lower part of Cataract they passed a place where, on a rock surface about six feet above the level of the water, they saw the inscription, "D. JULIEN—1836." They thought it could have been cut only from a boat or raft, and concluded that it was done by a party of Canadians which they heard had tried to explore this country at that early day. This inscription occurs also in two other known places, near the lower part of Stillwater Canyon (four or five miles above mouth of Grand River), and farther up, about the middle of Bowknot Bend, Labyrinth Canyon, Green River. (See cut, page 352.) At Dandy Crossing, the party rested a few days, the boats were repaired, and fresh supplies of food purchased. They met near here Jack Sumner, of Powell's first party. From this place to the head of Marble Canyon, the mouth of the Paria, it is plain and easy going, at least for any one who has been through Cataract Canyon. Brown and Stanton went ahead with six men, the others coming along later with the survey.

At Dandy Crossing three of the party left the river—J. N. Hughes, J. C. Terry, and T. P. Rigney. One man joined the party, Harry McDonald, a frontiersman and an experienced boatman. At Lee Ferry, Reynolds left and Brown went to Kanab for supplies, for Dandy Crossing was not a metropolis, and more rations were needed before venturing to enter the Grand Canyon. Only one transit instrument was left, and it was decided that Brown, Stanton, Hislop, McDonald, Hansborough, Richards, Gibson, and Nims, the photographer, should form the party to proceed, making an examination, taking notes and photographs, but not attempting an instrumental survey. Brown returned from Kanab by July 9th, and an immediate start was made with the three boats,—boats entirely unfitted for the work in Cataract Canyon, and tenfold more inadequate for the giant gorge, with its terrible descents, now before them. It seems a pity they did not realise this and leave the continuation of the work till proper boats could be had, but it appears as if they again underestimated the dangers of the river. At any rate they went bravely forward with a courage that deserved a better reward. The first ugly rapids in Marble Canyon are the two near together about ten miles below Lee's Ferry, where the prospectors met their punishment early in July, 1872. These the Brown party reached safely, and made the necessary portages, camping at the foot of the Soap Creek or lower fall. Brown appeared to feel lonely and troubled, and asked Stanton to come and sit by his bed and talk. They smoked and talked till a late hour about home and the prospect for the next day. Brown's wife and two children were at this time travelling in Europe and probably the thought of them so far away made him somewhat blue. Then, if he had before thought that this canyon would be easy, the nature of the rapids around him served to undeceive his mind. The deepening gorge, inadequate boats, and increasingly bad rapids probably affected his nerves, for that night he dreamed of the rapids, and this troubled him so much that he mentioned it to Stanton in the morning. Breakfast over, they went on. We had camped at the head of the Soap Creek Rapids, and this party at the foot. In the first rapid below, which was one of five that we easily ran before stopping for dinner, Brown's boat was capsized. He and his oarsman McDonald, were thrown out on opposite sides, McDonald into the current and Brown unfortunately into the eddy, where he was drawn under by one of the whirlpools numerous in this locality, and was never seen again. A half-minute later Stanton's boat passed the spot, but all he saw was the lost leader's note-book on the surface of the angry waters which had so suddenly swallowed up its owner. The whole day long the party sat sadly watching the place to see if the treacherous river would give up the dead, but darkness fell in the gorge, and the Colorado dashed along toward the sea as if no boat had ever touched its relentless tide. What was one man more or less to this great dragon's maw! For three days after the others battled their way along without further disaster, and then came Sunday, when they rested. On Monday, while Stanton and Nims were making notes and photographs, the men were to finish up the lower end of the second of two very bad rapids where portages were made. Stanton's boat, containing Hansborough and Richards, was following the first boat, which had made the stretch with difficulty because the current set against the left-hand cliff. The second boat was driven against the foot of this wall under an overhanging shelf, and in the attempt to push her off she was capsized and Hansborough never rose again. Richards, who was a strong swimmer, made some distance down-stream, but before the first boat could reach him he sank, and that was the end for him. This terrible disaster, added to the death of Brown, and the foolhardiness of proceeding farther with such boats as they had, forced the decision which should have been made at Lee's Ferry. Stanton resolved to leave the river, but with the determination to return again to battle with the dragon at the earliest opportunity. The next thing was to get out of the canyon. They searched for some side canyon leading in from the north, by means of which they might return to the world, and just above Vesey's Paradise they found it and spent their last night in Marble Canyon at that point. From the rapid where Brown was lost, to Vesey's Paradise, my diary records that on our expedition of 1872 we ran twenty-six rapids, let down four times, and made two portages, all without any particular difficulty. I mention this merely to show the difference proper boats make in navigating this river, for the season was nearly the same; Brown was there in July and we in August, both the season of high water. The night passed by Stanton and his disheartened but courageous band at Vesey's Paradise was long to be remembered, for one of the violent thunderstorms frequent in the canyon in summer, came up. The rain fell in floods, while about midnight the storm culminated in a climax of fury. Stanton says that in all his experience in the Western mountains he never heard anything like it. "Nowhere has the awful grandeur equalled that night in the lonesome depths of what was to us death's canyon." The next day was fair, and by two in the afternoon, July 19th, they were on the surface of the country, twenty-five hundred feet above the river, and that night reached a cattle ranch.

By November 25th of the same year (1889) the indefatigable Stanton had organised a new party to continue the railway survey. He still had confidence in the scheme, and he refused to give up. And this time the boats were planned with some regard to the waters upon which they were to be used. McDonald was sent to superintend their building at the boatyard of H. H. Douglas & Co., Waukegan, Illinois. There were three, each twenty-two feet long, the same as our boats, four and one-half feet beam, and twenty-two inches deep, and each weighed 850 pounds. They were built of half-inch oak, on plans furnished by Stanton, with ribs one-and-one-half by three-quarters of an inch, placed four inches apart, all copper fastened. Each boat had ten separate air-tight galvanised-iron compartments running around the sides, and they were so arranged that the canned goods could be put under the foot-boards for ballast. There was a deck fore and aft, and there were life-lines along the sides. They were certainly excellent boats, and while in some respects I think our model was better, especially because the two transverse bulkheads amidships in ours tended to make their sides very strong and stiff, yet these boats of Stanton's were so good that the men would be safe as long as they handled them correctly. Cork life-preservers of the best quality were provided, and the order was for each man to wear his whenever in rough or uncertain water. All stores and provisions were packed in water-tight rubber bags, made like ocean mail-sacks, expressly for the purpose. The expedition was thus well provided.

From the railway* the boats were hauled on waggons to the mouth of Crescent Creek near Fremont River, so as to avoid doing Cataract Canyon over again. There were twelve men, of whom four had been with the Brown party. They were R. B. Stanton, Langdon Gibson, Harry McDonald, and Elmer Kane, in boat No. 1, called the Bonnie Jean, John Hislop F. A. Nims, Reginald Travers, and W. H. Edwards in boat No. 2, called the Lillie; and A. B. Twining, H. G. Ballard, L. G. Brown, and James Hogue, the cook, in the Marie, boat No. 3. Christmas dinner was eaten at Lee's Ferry, with wild flowers picked that day for decoration. On the 28th they started into the great canyon, passed the old wreck of a boat and part of a miner's outfit, and on the 31st reached the rapid where Brown was lost. It was now the season of low water, and the rapid appeared less formidable, though on entering it the place was seen to be in general the same, yet the water was nine feet lower. The next day Nims, the photographer, fell from a ledge a distance of twenty-two feet, receiving a severe jar and breaking one of his legs just above the ankle. The break was bandaged, and one of the boats being so loaded that there was a level bed for the injured man to lie on, they ran down about two miles to a side canyon coming in from the north. By means of this Stanton climbed out, walked thirty-five miles to Lee's Ferry, and brought a waggon back to the edge. Nims was placed on an improvised stretcher, and carried up the cliffs, four miles in distance and seventeen hundred feet in altitude. At half-past three in the afternoon the surface was reached. Twice the stretcher had to be swung along by ropes where there was no footing, and twice had to be perpendicularly lifted ten or fifteen feet. No one was injured. Nims was taken to Lee's Ferry and left with W. M. Johnson, who had been a member of our land parties during the winter of 1871-72, and who had come with the Canonita party through Glen Canyon. Nims was in good hands. After this accident Stanton was obliged to assume the duties of photographer and took some seven hundred and fifty views without previous experience.

* The Rio Grande Western. The route was west of the river.

By January 13th they had arrived at Point Retreat, where the canyon had before been abandoned, and here they found the supplies and blankets they had cached in a marble cave in perfect condition. The new boats were so well suited to the river work that they were able to run most of the rapids just as we had done, often going at the rate of fifteen miles an hour, and sometimes by actual measurement, twenty. Ten miles below Point Retreat, and twenty-five miles above the Little Colorado, when they were going into camp one evening they discovered the body of Peter Hansborough. The next morning, with a brief ceremony, they buried the remains at the foot of the cliff, carving his name on the face of the rock, and a point opposite was named after the unfortunate man. From Point Hansborough the canyon widens, "the marble benches retreat, new strata of limestone, quartzite, and sandstone come up from the river," writes Stanton, "and the debris forms a talus equal to a mountain slope. Here the bottoms widen into little farms covered with green grass and groves of mesquite, making a most charming summer picture, in strong contrast with the dismal narrow canyons above." They then passed the Little Colorado and entered the Grand Canyon proper, meeting with a lone prospector in the wide portion just below the Little Colorado, the only person they had seen in any of the canyons traversed.

Arriving at the First Granite Gorge (Archaean formation), they were at the beginning of the wildest stretch of river of all, perhaps the wildest to be found anywhere, the fall in the first ten miles averaging twenty-one feet to the mile, the greatest average except in Lodore and a portion of Cataract, and as this descent is not spread over the ten miles, but occurs in a series of falls with comparatively calm water between, it is not hard to picture the conditions. Stanton also pronounces these rapids of the First Granite Gorge the most powerful he saw, except two in the Second Granite Gorge. On January 29th they had cautiously advanced till they were before the great descent some of our party had called the Sockdologer, the heaviest fall on the river, about eighty feet in a third of a mile. They proceeded all along in much the same careful fashion as we had done, and as everyone who hopes to make this passage alive must proceed. The water being low, they were able to let their boats by line over the upper end of the Sockdologer with safety, but, in attempting to continue, the Marie was caught by a cross-current and thrown against the rocks, turned half over, filled with water, and jammed tightly between two boulders lying just beneath the surface. In winter, the air in the canyon is not very cold, but the river coming so swiftly from the far north is, and the men with lines about their waists who tried to go through the rushing waist-deep water found it icy. Taking turns, they succeeded with a grappling-hook in getting out the cargo, losing only two sacks of provisions, but though they laboured till dark they were not able to move the boat. Giving her up for lost, they tried to secure a night's rest on the sharp rocks. Had a great rise in the river occurred now the party would have been in a terrible predicament, but though it rose a few days later it spared them on this occasion. It came up only two feet, and this was a kindness, for it lifted the Marie so that they were able to pull her out of the vise. When they saw her condition, however, they were dismayed for one side was half gone, and the other was smashed in. The keel remained whole. By cutting four feet out of the centre and drawing the ends together, five days' hard work made practically another boat. They were then able to proceed, and, going past Bright Angel Creek, arrived on February 6th at what Stanton describes as "the most powerful and unmanageable rapid" on the river. This, I believe, was the place where we were capsized. Thompson at that time, before we ran it, declared it looked to him like the worst rapid we had encountered but at the stage of water then prevailing we could not get near it. Stanton wisely made a portage, of the supplies and let the boats down by lines. His boat, the Bonnie Jean, played all sorts of pranks, rushing out into the current, ducking and diving under water, and finally floating down sideways. Then they thought they would try what Stanton calls Powell's plan of shooting a boat through and catching it below. Such a harum-scarum method was never used on our expedition, and I never heard Powell suggest that it was on the first. Stanton cites as authority one of Powell's statements in the Report. At any rate in this instance it was as disastrous as might have been expected. The poor Marie was again the sufferer, and came out below "in pieces about the size of toothpicks." The Lillie was then carried down and reached the river beyond in safety. A day or two after this McDonald decided to leave the party, and started up a little creek coming in from the north, to climb out to the plateau, and make his way to Kanab. This he succeeded in doing after several days of hard work and tramping through the heavy snow on the plateau. The other ten men concluded to remain with Stanton and they all went on in the two boats. Several days later they passed the mouth of the Kanab. The terrible First Granite Gorge was well behind them. But now the river began to rise. Before reaching the Kanab it rose four feet and continued to rise for two days and nights, altogether some ten or twelve feet. A little below the Kanab, where the canyon is very narrow, they came upon a peculiar phenomenon. They heard a loud roar and saw breakers ahead. Thinking it a bad rapid, they landed immediately on some rocks, and, going along these to examine the place, the breakers had disappeared, but as they stood in amazement there suddenly arose at their feet the same huge waves, twelve or fifteen feet high and one hundred and fifty feet long, across the river, "rolling down-stream like great sea waves, and breaking in white foam with a terrible noise." These waves, as was later ascertained, were the result of a cloudburst on the headwaters of the Little Colorado, and indicate what might be expected in here in the event of a combination of such waves with the highest stage of water. The next day they were diminished, and the river fell somewhat, but it was still so powerful they could barely control the boats and had a wild and tumultuous ride, sometimes being almost bodily thrown out of the boats. By this time their rations were getting low, but by pushing on as fast as possible they reached Diamond Creek on March 1st, where supplies were planned to meet them. Remaining there ten days to recuperate they went on with only eight men, three concluding to leave at this place. The Second Granite Gorge begins about eighteen miles above Diamond Creek, and is about thirty miles long. It is much like the First Granite Gorge, being the same formation, excepting that it is shorter and that the declivity of the river is not so great. From Diamond Creek down to the end of the canyon is about fifty miles. It is a bad stretch, and contains some heavy falls which, as the river was still somewhat high, were often impossible to get around, and they were obliged to run them. The stage of water in both these Granite Gorges makes a great difference in the character of the falls. For example, in the Second Gorge, when Wheeler made his precarious journey in 1871, he was able, coming from below, to surmount the rapids along the sides with two of his boats, because the water happened to be at a stage that permitted this, whereas Stanton found it impossible to pass some of them without running, and Powell found the one that split his party the same way. So it appears that one day finds these gorges easier or harder than another; but at their easiest they are truly fearful places. At one of the worst falls Stanton's boat suddenly crashed upon a rock that projected from the shore, and there she hung, all the men being thrown forward. The boat filled and stuck fast, while the great waves rolled over her and her crew. Stanton tried to straighten himself up, and was taken in the back by a breaker and washed out of the craft altogether into a whirlpool, and finally shot to the surface fifty feet farther down. He had on his cork jacket and was saved, though he was ducked again and carried along swiftly by the tremendous current. The second boat had better luck and came through in time to pick Stanton up. The damaged boat was gotten off with a hole in her side ten by eighteen inches, which was closed by a copper patch, at the first chance, the air chambers having kept the craft afloat. After this the bad rapids were soon ended, and on the morning of March 17th (1890) the party emerged into an open country and upon a peaceful, quiet river. Continuing down through Black and the other canyons, and through the intervening valleys, they reached, on the 26th of April, the salt tide where Alarcon, three and a half centuries earlier, had first put a keel upon these turbulent waters, the only party thus far to make the entire passage from the Junction to the sea. And as yet no one has made the complete descent from Green River Valley to the counter-current of the Tidal Bore, so if there is any reader who desires to distinguish himself here is a feat still open to him. Stanton deserves much praise for his pluck and determination and good judgment in carrying this railway survey to a successful issue, especially after the discouraging disasters of the first attempt. He holds the data and believes the project will some day be carried out. From the foregoing pages the reader may judge the probabilities in the case.

Since the Stanton party several descents successful and unsuccessful have been made. The first was the "Best party," representing the Colorado Grand Canyon Mining and Improvement Company, with eight men and two boats similar to those used by Stanton. The expedition left Green River, Utah, July 10, 1891. The members were James S. Best, Harry McDonald, John Hislop, William H. Edwards, Elmer Kane, L. H. Jewell, J. H. Jacobs, A. J. Gregory, and J. A. McCormick. Four of these, Hislop, McDonald, Kane, and Edwards had been with Mr. Stanton, to whom I am indebted for this information. The men had cork life-jackets. In Cataract Canyon one boat was wrecked but no one was lost, and they made their way to Lee Ferry with the remaining boat and there abandoned the expedition.

In 1891, a steam launch, the Major Powell, thirty-five feet long, with two six-horsepower engines driving twin screws was brought out in the summer from Chicago by way of the Rio Grande Western Railway to the crossing of Green River, and there launched in September of that year. A screw was soon broken, and the attempt to go down the river abandoned. In 1892 another effort was made, but this also was given up after a few miles. But in 1893, W. H. Edwards, who had been with the Stanton party, together with L. H. Johnson and some others, took the Major Powell down to the Junction and back, making a second trip in April. The round trip took fourteen days. They also went up the Grand some distance. Entering the jaws of Cataract Canyon they went to the head of the first rapid. On trying to return the current proved almost too much for the power. With block and tackle to help the engines they finally got above the swift water, and had no further serious trouble. Mr. Johnson says the launch came near being wrecked. Several other steam craft were later put on the river, the Undine being the most pretentious (see cut, page 390). She was wrecked trying to run up a rapid on Grand River above Moab. In 1894 Lieut. C. L. Potter made an unsuccessful attempt to go from Diamond Creek to the mouth of the Virgin, September 20th, 1895, N. Galloway and William Richmond started from Green River, Wyoming, and went down in flat, bottomed boats to Lee Ferry. September, 1896, they started again from Henry's Fork, Wyoming, and went to the Needles reaching there February 10, 1897. Since that time Galloway has made several successful descents. In August, 1896, George F. Flavell and a companion left Green River, Wyoming, and successfully descended to Yuma in flat-bottomed boats, reaching there December, 1896.

In 1907, three miners, Charles Russell, E. R. Monett, and Albert Loper, with three steel boats each sixteen feet long, left Green River, Utah, September 20th, to make the descent. Loper and one damaged boat were left at Hite near the mouth of Fremont river, while Russell and Monett proceeded. In the beginning of the Grand Canyon they lost a boat, but with the remaining one after various disasters, they finally made their exit from the Grand Canyon, January 31, 1908. Their boats of steel were about the most unsuitable of any ever put on the river. They carried a copy of this volume all the way through and found it of value.

A view of the Grand Canyon may now be had without risk or discomfort of any kind, as the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railway runs trains direct to Hotel Tovar at the very edge of the gorge at one of the grandest portions, opposite Bright Angel Creek. There are several trails in this region leading down to the river besides the one from the hotel. It is always a hard climb for those unaccustomed to mountaineering. From the north, for any who are fond of camping, an interesting trip may be made from Modena on the Salt Lake to Los Angeles Railway via St. George to the Toroweap and the Kaibab country, though this is a matter of several weeks, and necessitates an outfit.

The Grand Canyon may be crossed at two points, Bright Angel Trail and Bass's Trail, and the heights of the north rim gained in that manner though it is not an easy trip.

In a general way we have now traced the whole history of the discovery and exploration of this wonderful river, which after nearly four centuries still flings defiance at the puny efforts of man to cope with it, while its furious waters dash on through the long, lonely gorges, as untrammelled to-day as they were in the forgotten ages. Those who approach it respectfully and reverently are treated not unkindly, but woe and disaster await all others. The lesson of these pages is plain, and the author commends it to all who hereafter may be inspired to add their story to this Romance of the Colorado River.

Agreement made by Major Powell with men of his first expedition. From a copy in the handwriting of one of the party.

(COPY) This agreement made this twenty-fifth day of February, eighteen-hundred-and-sixty-nine, between J. W. Powell, party of the first part, and J. C. Sumner, W. H. Dunn, and O. G. Howland, party of the second part, witnesseth, that the said party of the second part agree to do the following work, respectively, for the party of the first part, namely: J. C. Sumner agrees to do all necessary work required with the sextant; W. H. Dunn to make barometrical observations night and morning of each day, when required, also to make observations when needed for determining altitude of walls of the Canon, also to make not more than sixty-two hourly series of not more than eight days each, he to have the aid of an assistant for the last two mentioned classes of observations; O. G. Howland to make a topographical drawing of the course of the rivers. The above and foregoing work to be performed during the proposed exploration of the Green River, from Green River City, Wyoming Territory, to the Colorado River, and of the Colorado River from that point to Callville, (blank space left here evidently for the insertion of the name of the territory in which Callville was situated. F.S.D.) ———; the party of the second part to perform the foregoing work to the best of their ability; the party of the second part also agreeing to do a fair proportion of the work necessary in getting supplies and boats safely through the channels of the aforementioned rivers, for use of the expedition; and also agreeing to save for specimens for stuffing, for the party of the first part, all suitable skins of animals which they may collect while engaged in the above exploration of the Green and Colorado rivers, J. W. Powell, party of the first part, agreeing to allow the party of the second part five days at one time for prospecting for gold and silver, if not too often; also to allow thirty days to the party of the second part for hunting and trapping between the first day of September and the first day of December, eighteen-hundred-and-sixty-nine, and sixty days between the first day of January and the first day of June, eighteen-hundred-and-seventy; the party of the first part also agreeing to pay to the party of the second part, respectively, twenty-five dollars each per month for the time employed in all such service, and also agreeing to pay in addition the annexed prices for all skins procured for him by the party of the second part; J. W. Powell, the party of the first part, to furnish boats, supplies, ammunition, etc., sufficient for the use of the expedition. This agreement to go into effect the first day of June eighteen-hundred-and-sixty-nine, and not to continue over one year.

Should it be necessary to proceed on the journey, without delay on account of disaster to boats or loss of rations, then the time specified for hunting may not be required by either party, nor shall it be deemed a failure of contract to furnish supplies should such supplies be lost in transit.

J. C. Sumner J.W. Powell William H. Dunn In Charge of Col. River Ex. O. G. Howland

Deer . . $1.25 each Martin .$1.50 each Weasel $.35 each Sheep . 1.25 " Otter 3.50 " Bear (grown grizzly) 10.00 " Antelope 1.00 " Beaver 1.00 " " cub . . . 1.00 " Elk . . 2.00 " Wildcat .50 " grown cinnamon 5.00 " Wolf (grey)1.00 " Porcupine .50 " " cub . . . 1.00 " " coyote .50 " Squirrel .35 " grown black . . 3.00 " Fox (cross)1.50 " Rabbit .35 " " cub . . . 1.00 " " red . . .75 " Woodchuck .35 " Mink. . 1.50 " Badger .50 "

and all other skins at proportionate rates.



EPILOGUE

Major Powell had kindly consented to write an introduction to this volume wherein I have inadequately presented scenes from the great world-drama connected with the Colorado River of the West, but a prolonged illness prevented his doing any writing whatever, and on September 23, 1902, while, indeed, the compositor was setting the last type of the book, a funeral knell sounded at Haven, Maine, his summer home, and the most conspicuous figure we have seen on this stage, the man whose name is as inseparable from the marvellous canyon-river as that of De Soto from the Mississippi, or Hendrik Hudson from the placid stream which took from him its title, started on that final journey whence there is no returning. A distinguished cortege bore the remains across the Potomac, laying them in a soldier's grave in the National Cemetery at Arlington. Thus the brave sleeps with the brave on the banks of the river of roses, a stream in great contrast to that other river far in the West where only might be found a tomb more appropriate within sound of the raging waters he so valiantly conquered.

In the history of the United States the place of John Wesley Powell is clear.* A great explorer, he was also foremost among men of science and probably he did more than any other single individual to direct Governmental scientific research along proper lines. His was a character of strength and fortitude. A man of action, his fame will endure as much by his deeds as by his contributions to scientific literature. Never a seeker for pecuniary rewards his life was an offering to science, and when other paths more remunerative were open to him he turned his back upon them. He believed in sticking to one's vocation and thoroughly disapproved of wandering off in pursuit of common profit. The daring feat of exploring the canyons of the Colorado was undertaken for no spectacular effect or pecuniary reward, but was purely a scientific venture in perfect accord with the spirit of his early promise. As G. K. Gilbert remarks in a recent number of Science** it was "of phenomenal boldness and its successful accomplishment a dramatic triumph. It produced a strong impression on the public mind and gave Powell a national reputation which was afterwards of great service, although based on an adventurous episode by no means essential to his career as an investigator." The qualities which enabled him so splendidly to perform his many self-imposed tasks were an inheritance from his parents, who possessed more than ordinary intelligence. Joseph Powell, his father, had a strong will, deep earnestness, and indomitable courage, while his mother, Mary Dean, with similar traits possessed also remarkable tact and practicality. Both were English born, the mother well educated, and were always leaders in the social and educational life of every community where they dwelt. Especially were they prominent in religious circles, the father being a licensed exhorter in the Methodist Episcopal Church. Both were intensely American in their love and admiration of the civil institutions of the United States and both were strenuously opposed to slavery, which was flourishing in America when they arrived in 1830. For a time they remained in New York City and then removed to the village of Palmyra whence they went to Mount Morris, Livingston County, New York, where, on March 24, 1834, the fourth of their nine children, John Wesley, was born. Because of the slavery question Joseph Powell left the Methodist Episcopal Church on the organisation of the Wesleyan Methodist Church and became a regularly ordained preacher in the latter. It was in this atmosphere of social, educational, political, and religious fervor that the future explorer grew up. When he was four or five years old the family moved to Jackson, Ohio, and then, in 1846, went on westward to South Grove, Walworth County, Wisconsin, where a farm was purchased. They were in prosperous circumstances, and the boy was active in the management of affairs, early exhibiting his trait for doing things well. His ploughing, stack-building, and business ability in disposing advantageously of the farm products and in purchasing supplies at the lake ports received the commendation of the countryside.

*I am indebted to Major Powell's brother-in-law, Prof. A. H. Thompson, for many of the facts herein stated, and for revision of dates to his brother Prof. W. B. Powell.

** October 10, 1902.

His early education was such as the country schools provided. He later studied at Janesville, Wisconsin, earning his board by working nights and mornings. His parents ever held before him the importance of achieving the highest education possible. Thus he continually turned to books, and while his oxen were eating or resting, he was absorbed in some illuminating volume. In 1851 his family removed to Bonus Prairie, Boone County, Illinois, where a larger farm had been purchased. About 1853 the Wesleyan College was established at Wheaton, Illinois, and the family removed there in order to take advantage of the opportunities afforded. The father became one of the trustees and Powell entered the preparatory classes. With intervals of teaching and business pursuits, he continued here till 1855, when, largely through the influence of the late Hon. John Davis, of Kansas, he entered the preparatory department of Illinois College at Jacksonville, Illinois. Thus far he had shown no special aptitude for the natural sciences, though he was always a close observer of natural phenomena. His ambition at this period, which was also in accord with the dearest wishes of his parents, was to complete his college course and enter the ministry. Illinois College not possessing a theological atmosphere after a year spent there he departed, and in 1857 began a course of study at Oberlin College, Ohio. Among his studies there was botany, and in this class Powell at last discovered himself and his true vocation—the investigation of natural science. He became an enthusiastic botanist and searched the woods and swamps around Oberlin with the same zeal and thoroughness which always characterised his work. He made an almost complete herbarium of the flora of the county, organising the class into a club to assist in its collection. In the summer of 1858, having returned to Wheaton, Illinois, where the family had settled in 1854, he joined the Illinois State Natural History Society, then engaged in conducting a natural history survey of the State through the voluntary labour of its members. To Powell was assigned the department of conchology. This work he entered upon with his usual application and made the most complete collection of the mollusca of Illinois ever brought together by one man. Incidentally, botany, zoology, and mineralogy received attention, and in these lines he secured notable collections. With the broad mental grasp which was a pronounced trait, he perceived that these studies were but parts of the greater science of geology, which he then announced, to at least one of his intimate friends, was to be the science to which he intended to devote his life. The next year was given to study, teaching, and lecturing, usually on some topic connected with geology.

In the spring of 1860, on a lecturing tour, he visited some of the Southern States, and while there closely observed the sentiment of the people on the subject of slavery, with the result that he expressed the conviction that nothing short of war could settle the matter. In the summer of 1860 he became principal of the public schools of Hennepin, Illinois. These he organised, graded, and taught with a vigour which was characteristic, yet never forgetting his geological investigations in the neighbouring country, where, on Saturdays and at other times when the schools were not in session, he made botanical and zoological collections.

Convinced that war was inevitable, the winter of 1860-61 found him studying military tactics and engineering. When the call came for troops, he was the first man to enroll, and largely through his efforts Company H of the 20th Regiment, Illinois Infantry, was raised in Putnam County. When the regiment was organised at Joliet, Illinois, he was appointed sergeant-major, and in this capacity went to the front. When the force was sent to Cape Girardeau, Missouri, his prescience in studying military engineering made him invaluable. He was practically given charge of planning and laying out and constructing the fortifications at that place, a work he executed so well that it received the unqualified commendation of General Fremont. The second lieutenant of Company H resigning, Powell was elected to fill the vacancy. After a service of a few weeks with his company he was put in charge of the fortifications he had constructed, being retained in this post after the departure of his regiment. In the early winter of 1861-62 he recruited a company of artillery, largely from loyal Missourians. This company was mustered into service as Battery F, 2d Illinois Artillery, John Wesley Powell, Captain. After drilling a few weeks he was ordered to proceed with his battery to Pittsburg Landing, Tennessee, where he arrived the latter part of March, 1862. The battery took part in the battle of Shiloh, April 6th of that year, and during the engagement, as Powell raised his arm, a signal to fire, a rifle ball struck his hand at the wrist glancing toward the elbow. The necessary surgery was done so hastily that later a second operation was imperative, which left him with a mere stump below the elbow-joint. Never for long at a time afterward was he free from pain and only a few years ago a third operation was performed which brought relief.

As soon as the original wound was healed he went back to his command, assisting as Division Chief of Artillery in the siege of Vicksburg. After the fall of this place he took part in the Meridian Raid. Then he served on detached operations at Vicksburg, Natchez, and New Orleans until the summer of 1864, when he was re-assigned to the former command in the Army of the Tennessee. In all the operations after the fall of Atlanta he bore an active part, and when Sherman commenced the march to the sea, Powell was sent back to General Thomas at Nashville, in command of twenty batteries of artillery. At the battle of Nashville he served on the staff of Thomas and continued with this command till mustered out in the early summer of 1865. As a soldier his career was marked by a thorough study and mastery not only of the details of military life, but of military science. Especially was he apt in utilising material at hand to accomplish his ends—a trait that was also prominent in his civil life. Bridges he built from cotton-gin houses, mantelets for his guns from gunny bags and old rope, and shields for his sharpshooters from the mould-boards of old ploughs found on the abandoned plantations. All this time wherever possible he continued his studies in natural science. He made a collection of fossils unearthed in the trenches around Vicksburg, land and river shells from the Mississippi swamps, and a large collection of mosses while on detached duty in Illinois. He also familiarised himself with the geology of regions through which the armies passed to which he was attached. Time and again he was commended for his services and declined promotion to higher rank in other arms of the service. "He loved the scarlet facings of the artillery, and there was something in the ranking of batteries and the power of cannon," writes Thompson, "that was akin to the workings of his own mind."

In 1862 he was married to his cousin, Miss Emma Dean, of Detroit, who still lives in Washington with their daughter, an only child. Mrs. Powell was often his companion in the army and early Western journeys. Upon the return of Powell to civil life in 1865 he was tendered a nomination to a lucrative political office in Du Page County, Illinois, and at the same time he was offered the chair of geology in the Wesleyan University, a struggling Methodist College at Bloomington, Illinois. There was no hesitation on his part. He declined the political honour and its emoluments and accepted the professorship, which he retained two years. At the session of the Illinois Legislature in 1867 a bill was passed, largely through his effort, creating a professorship of geology and natural history in the State Normal University at Normal, Illinois, with a salary of fifteen hundred dollars and an appropriation of one thousand dollars annually to increase the geological and zoological collections. He was elected to this chair and at about the same time was also chosen curator of the Illinois State Natural History Society, whose collections were domiciled in the museum of the Normal University. Attracted by the Far West as a field for profitable scientific research, the summer of 1867 found him using his salary and the other available funds to defray the expense of an expedition to the then Territory of Colorado for the purpose of securing collections. He organised and outfitted at Plattsmouth, Nebraska. All his assistants were volunteers except the cook. A. H. Thompson, afterwards so closely associated with him in the detailed exploration of the Colorado and in subsequent survey work, was the entomologist of the party. They crossed the plains with mule teams to Denver, worked along the east slope of the Front Range, climbed Pike's Peak, and went westerly as far as South Park. Without realising it, apparently, Powell was all these years steadily approaching the great exploit of his life, as if led on and prepared by some unseen power. Now the project of exploring the mysterious gorges of which he heard such wonderful tales dawned upon him. It was as near an inspiration as can be imagined. Henceforth his mind and energy were directed irresistibly toward the accomplishment of this conception. Again in 1868 he was in the field with the same financial backing, to which was added a small allotment from the Illinois Industrial University at Champaign, Illinois, a State school. All but Mrs. Powell and his brother Walter, of this 1868 party, returned East on the approach of autumn, while with these and several trappers and hunters, among whom were the two Rowlands, William Dunn, and William Rhodes Hawkins, afterwards of his party to explore the canyons, he crossed the range to White River and wintered there near the camp of Chief Douglass and his band of Utes. When spring came in 1869 he went out to Granger, on the Union Pacific Railway, and there disposed of his mules and outfit, proceeding immediately to Washington, where he induced Congress to pass a joint resolution endorsed by General Grant authorising him to draw rations from Western army posts for a party of twelve men while engaged in making collections for public institutions. Never was assistance better deserved. Then he returned to Illinois and obtained from the trustees of the Normal University permission to again divert his salary and the other funds to Western work. The trustees of the Illinois Industrial University allotted him five hundred dollars, and the Chicago Academy of Sciences, through the influence of Dr. Andrews, the curator, also contributed two hundred and fifty or five hundred dollars. In addition some personal friends contributed small sums.

The object proposed was to make collections in natural history to be shared accordingly with the contributing institutions. While these collections were one of Powell's objects, others were the examination of the geology, and particularly the solution of the greatest remaining geographical problem of the United States, the canyons of the Green and Colorado rivers. The Green, as has been explained in preceding pages, was known as far as the Uinta Mountains, and here and there at widely separated points on down to about Gunnison Valley. But there were long gaps, and below Gunnison Crossing as far as the Grand Wash the knowledge of the canyons as already pointed out was vague in the extreme. The altitude of Green River Station, Wyoming, was known to be about six thousand feet above sea level, and that of the mouth of the Virgen less than one thousand. How the river made up this difference was not understood and this problem was what Powell now confronted. His fortitude, nerve, courage, and war experience served him well in this endeavour upon which he started, as previously described, in the spring of 1869. The War Department and perhaps the Smithsonian Institution, furnished some instruments. This expedition met with so many disasters that Powell deemed a second descent in the interest of science desirable, and for a continuation of his explorations, Congress voted in 1870 an appropriation of ten thousand dollars. This second expedition was successful, performing its work in the years 1871-72-73. At the Session of 1871-72 another appropriation was made by Congress for proceeding with the topographical and geological survey of the country adjacent to the river. These appropriations were expended under the supervision of the Smithsonian Institution and were continued annually for work under the titles, Exploration of the Colorado River and its Tributaries, and Survey of the Rocky Mountain Region, up to 1879, when the work was consolidated largely through Powell's endeavour, with two other surveys, Hayden's and Wheeler's. The latter thought all this work ought to be done by the War Department, but Powell believed otherwise and his view prevailed. Out of these grew by the consolidation the Geological Survey, of which Clarence King was made director, Powell, because of the earnest efforts he had made to bring about the consolidation, refusing to allow his name to be presented. The new Geological Survey was under the Interior Department, and in 1881, when King resigned the directorship, Powell was immediately appointed in his place. The results of Powell's original field-work were topographic maps of a large part of Utah, and considerable portions of Wyoming, Arizona, and Nevada, constructed under the direction of Powell's colleague, Prof. A. H. Thompson. There were also many volumes of reports and monographs, among them the account of the expedition of 1869, entitled The Exploration of the Colorado River of the West, 1869 to 1872; The Geology of the Uinta Mountains, by Powell; Lands of the Arid Region by Powell; Geology of the High Plateaus of Utah, by C. E. Dutton of the Ordnance Department, U.S.A.; Geology of the Henry Mountains, by G. K. Gilbert; and four volumes of Contributions to North American Ethnology, one of which contained Lewis H. Morgan's famous monograph on "Houses and House Life of the American Aborigines." Early in his Western work Powell became interested in the native tribes. In the winter of 1868, while on White River, he studied language, tribal organisation, customs, and mythology of the Utes and from 1870 to 1873 he carried on studies among the Pai Utes, the Moki, etc., being adopted into one of the Moki clans. On his journeys during these periods he often took with him several of the natives for the purpose of investigating their myths and language. Eventually he became the highest authority on the Shoshonean tribes. In 1874 he was one of the commissioners to select and locate the Southern Pai Utes on a reservation in south-eastern Nevada.