A Canyon Voyage Part 5

CHAPTER VII

On to Battle--A Concert Repertory--Good-bye to Douglas Boy--The Busy, Busy Beaver--In the Embrace of the Rocks Once More--A Relic of the Cliff-Dwellers--Low Water and Hard Work--A Canyon of Desolation--Log-cabin Cliff--Rapids and Rapids and Rapids--A Horse, Whose Horse?--Through Gray Canyon to the Rendezvous.

We were up early on the morning of August 5th prepared to leave Camp 32. Prof. took a lunar observation, and at eight we entered the boats and turned our backs on "Fort" Robideau, the only house on or near the whole river at that time from the mouth of the Virgin, to our Camp No. 1 where we had the snow-storm, a distance of about one thousand miles. We had vanquished many rapids and now we pushed on ready for our next battle with the river in the Canyon of Desolation, just before us. The order of going was slightly changed in the absence of the Major, for Prof., being now in sole command, went ahead with his boat, the _Nellie Powell_, while ours, the _Emma Dean_, for the time being took second place. The river for a brief distance ran smoothly with only enough current, about two miles an hour, to help us along without hard rowing.

I missed the Major while we were on the water, probably more than any one else in the party, for as we were facing each other the whole time and were not separated enough to interfere with conversation we had frequent talks. He sometimes described incidents which happened on the first voyage, or told me something about the men of that famous and unrivalled journey. Besides this he was very apt to sing, especially where the river was not turbulent and the outlook was tranquil, some favourite song, and these songs greatly interested me. While he had no fine voice he sang from his heart, and the songs were those he had learned at home singing with his brothers and sisters. One of these was an old-fas.h.i.+oned hymn, _The Home of the Soul_, or rather the first two verses of it. These verses were among his special favourites.[12]

"I will sing you a song of that beautiful land, The far away home of the soul, Where no storms ever beat on the glittering strand, While the years of eternity roll, While the years of eternity roll; Where no storms ever beat on the glittering strand While the years of eternity roll.

"Oh! that home of the soul in my visions and dreams, Its bright jasper walls I can see; Till I fancy but thinly the veil intervenes Between the fair city and me Till I fancy, etc."

Another was a pretty four-part song, _The Laugh of a Child_, of which he sang the air. The words ran:

"I love it, I love it, the laugh of a child.

Now rippling, now gentle, now merry and wild.

It rings through the air with an innocent gush, Like the trill of a bird at the twilight's soft hush, It floats on the breeze like the tones of a bell, Or music that dwells in the heart of a sh.e.l.l.

Oh, the laugh of a child is so wild and so free 'T is the merriest sound in the world to me."

Still another of which he sang the English words often was the well-known air from _Figaro_. I give a few bars:

[Ill.u.s.tration:

_NON PIU ANDRAI_--PLAY NO MORE.

Air. Figaro.

Non piu andrai, far-fal-lo-ne a-mo-ro-so, Not-te gior-no d'in-tor-no gi-ran-do; Del-le bel-le tur-ban-do il ri-po-so, Nar-ci-set-to, A-don-ci-no d'a-mor!

Del-le bel-le tur-ban-do il ri-po-so, Nar-ci-set-to, A-don-ci-no d'a-mor!

Play no more, boy, the part of a lov-er, Nor a-bout beau-ty fool-ish-ly hov-er; In the wars you'll more pleasure dis-cov-er, When your heart beats to glo-ry and fame!

In the wars you'll more pleasure dis-cov-er, When your heart beats to glo-ry and fame!]

At times he imitated a certain pathetic yet comical old woman he had heard singing at some camp-meeting, "The dear blessed Bible, the Fam-i-ly Bible," etc. He told me one day that this fondness for singing, especially amid extremely unpromising or gloomy circ.u.mstances, had on more than one occasion led the men of the first expedition to suspect his sanity. When he was singing, I could see that frequently he was really not thinking about his song at all, but of something quite foreign to it, and the singing was a mere accompaniment. Our party as a whole commanded an extensive repertory of song for an exploring expedition and while most of the voices were somewhat below concert requirement, there was no one to object, and one of us, Jack, did have an excellent voice. A song often heard was, _Sh.e.l.ls of Ocean_ and also that one most appropriate, _What Are the Wild Waves Saying?_ Then there was _If I Had but a Thousand a Year, Gaffer Green_, and of course, _Annie Laurie_. Never was there an American or an English expedition to anywhere that did not have that song, as well as _Way Down upon the Suwanee River_. In addition to all these and the ones previously mentioned of which

"Oh, the lone starry hours give me Love When still is the beautiful night,"

was a special favourite, Jack's individual repertory contained an exhaustless number, both sad and gay. There were _Carry me Back to Old Tennessee_, _The Sailor's Grave_, _Aura Lee_, with her golden hair, who brought suns.h.i.+ne and swallows indiscriminately to each locality which she graced with the said golden hair, and _Come where my Love Lies Dreaming_, _Seeing Nellie Home_, and scores or at least dozens that I fail to recall.

But while we had a great store of songs we were deficient to the last degree in musical instruments, the one solitary example being an humble mouth-organ which in a moment of weakness I had thrown in with my outfit. We just escaped having a flute. Frank, who left us on the 10th of June, possessed one, and when he was preparing to go Steward negotiated for this instrument. He gave Cap. his revolver to trade for it, considering the flute more desirable property for the expedition.

Cap., being an old soldier, concluded to fire at a mark before letting the revolver pa.s.s forever from our possession. Presently there was an explosion which demolished the pistol and all our prospects of acquiring the musical treasure at one and the same moment. Possibly Fortune was kinder to us than we dreamed. The mouth-organ then remained the sole music machine in all that immense area. I did not feel equal to the position of organist but Steward boldly took up the study, and practised so faithfully that he became a real virtuoso.

As a boy in New York Jack, though not a Hibernian himself, had a.s.sociated closely with descendants of the Shamrock Isle, and he could speak with a fine emerald brogue. A refrain of one of his songs in this line was: "And if the rocks, they don't sthop us, We will cross to Killiloo, whacky-whay!" This sounded our situation exactly, and it became a regular accompaniment to the roaring of the rapids. Jack had many times followed in the wake of the Thirteen Eagles fire company, one of the bright jewels with a green setting, of the old volunteer service.

The foreman, fitting the rest of the company, was Irish too, and his stentorian shout through the trumpet "Tirtaan Aigles, dis wai!" never failed to rise above the din, and when the joyful cry smote the ears of the gallant "Tirtaan," the rocks nor the ruts nor the crowds nor anything could stop them; through thick and through thin they went to the front, for there was rivalry in those days and when the Aigles time after time got first water on, they won triumphs which we of this mercenary epoch cannot understand. The Aigles were in for glory, nothing else. So when we heard the roar of a rapid and sniffed the mist in the air, "Tirtaan Aigles dis wai," was our slogan.

Where the river now ran smoothly, as it did for a considerable distance below the Robideau crossing we could drift with the slow current and enjoy the study of the surroundings, the boats requiring no attention.

Pa.s.sing the mouths of the Uinta and the White, both rivers entering very quietly through a level valley, we pulled gently along watching the banks for something new. When we had thus gone a couple of miles we discovered our first acquaintance of this valley, Douglas Boy, encamped on the right with his runaway bride. They had a snug and secluded hiding-place protected by the river and some low cliffs. We landed to pay our parting call. Both had their faces completely smeared with the bright vermilion obtained by trade from us, and they presented in our eyes a ludicrous appearance. They had recently killed a fat deer and seemed very happy. Prof. exchanged some sugar for enough venison for our dinner and we said farewell to them, the first as well as the last human beings we had met with in this valley. Clem, as usual, gave them various messages for the "folks at home" and a.s.sured them with gracious smiles, that they "would ever be the subject of his most distinguished consideration." They smiled after us and we were soon beyond their vision. Presently low cliffs, 100 to 150 feet began to show themselves, on one side or the other, and the wide valley vanished. The great canyon below was reaching out for us. There were numerous islands covered with immense acc.u.mulations of driftwood or with growing cottonwoods where high enough. Hundreds of beaver swam about. Occasionally a shot from the boats would kill or wound one, but it was next to impossible to secure any as they seemed to sink immediately to the bottom and we gave up trying as long as they were in deep water. The stream being so tranquil reading poetry was more to our taste than hunting the beaver, and Prof.

read aloud from Emerson as we slowly advanced upon the enemy.

After about nine miles of this sort of thing we stopped for dinner in a pretty cottonwood grove at the foot of a cliff on the right with beaver swimming around as if they did not know what a human being was. When our venison had been disposed of the boats were shoved out into the river again and we continued our approach to the canyon. The surrounding region became a desolate waste; a broken desert plateau elevated above us about two hundred feet. Some deer seen on an island caused us to land and try to get a good shot at one, but we failed to get near enough for success and they quickly disappeared. The ground was too difficult for pursuit. After some seventeen miles, camp for the night was made in another grove of rather small cottonwoods at 5.30. We were on a large island with the surrounding waters thick with beaver busy every moment though their great work is done at night. Many trees felled, some of them of a considerable diameter, attested the skill and energy of these animals as woodchoppers. Cap. tried to get one so that we could eat it, but though he killed several he failed to reach them before they sank, and gave it up.

As we looked around we saw that almost imperceptibly we had entered the new canyon and at this camp (33) we were fairly within the embrace of its rugged cliffs which, devoid of all vegetation, rose up four hundred feet, sombre in colour, but picturesque from a tendency to columnar weathering that imparted to them a Gothic character suggestive of cathedrals, castles, and turrets. The next day was Sunday and as Beaman felt sick and we were not in a hurry, no advance was made but instead Prof. accompanied by Steward, Cap., and Jones climbed out for notes and observations. They easily reached the top by means of a small gulch.

They got back early, reporting an increasing desolation in the country on both sides as far as they could see. They also saw two graves of great age, covered by stones. In the afternoon Prof. entertained us by reading aloud from Scott and so the day pa.s.sed and night fell. Then the beavers became more active and worked and splashed around camp incessantly. They kept it up all through the dark hours as is their habit, but only Steward was disturbed by it. This would have been an excellent opportunity to learn something about their ways, but for my part I did not then even think of it.

By 7.30 in the morning of August 7th we were again on our way towards the depths ahead, between walls of rapidly increasing alt.i.tude showing that we were cutting into some great rock structure. Here and there we came to shoals that compelled us to get overboard and wade alongside lifting the boats at times. As these shoals had the peculiarity of beginning gradually and ending very abruptly we got some unexpected plunge baths during this kind of progression. But the air was hot, the thermometer being about 90 F., and being soaked through was not uncomfortable. At one place Prof. succeeded in shooting a beaver which was near the bank and it was secured before it could get to its hole, being badly wounded. Steward caught it around the middle from behind and threw it into the boat--he had jumped into the water--and there it was finished with an oar. It measured three feet from tip to tip. We had heard a good deal about beaver as food and would now have a chance to try it. About eleven o'clock, we stopped for examinations and for dinner on the right but, of course, could not yet cook the beaver. Prof., Steward, and Cap. climbed to the top of a b.u.t.te 1050 feet above the river upon which they found a small monument left there by the Major on the former trip. Though this b.u.t.te was so high the average of the walls was only about five hundred feet. We made seventeen miles this day.

That night our camp (No. 35) was again on an island. There Cap. skinned and dressed the beaver and turned over the edible portions to Andy who cooked some steak for breakfast the next morning. It tasted something like beef, but we were not enthusiastic for I fear this beaver belonged to the same geological epoch as the goose we had cooked at the upper end of the valley. Fortified by the beaver steak we pushed off and ran about a mile on a smooth river when a stop was made for pictures and geologising. This consumed the whole morning, a fact Andy took advantage of to make some beaver soup for dinner. This concoction was voted not a success and we turned to bacon and beans as preferable thereafter.

Opposite this dinner place was a rough lateral canyon full of turrets and minarets which had the remarkable property of twice distinctly repeating a shout as loud as the original, and multiplying a rifle shot to peals of thunder. There had been people here before any white men, for Steward found an artificial wall across an indentation of the cliff, the first work of the ancient builders we had encountered. It was mysterious at the time, the South-western ruins having then not been discovered with one or two exceptions. We ascribed this wall, however, to the ancestors of the Moki (Hopi).

In the afternoon as we pulled along we came to a small rapid and the walls by this time being closer together and growing constantly higher, we knew that we were now fairly within the Canyon of Desolation and for about one hundred miles would have a rough river. Not more than two miles below our dinner camp we reached a locality where the stream doubled back on itself forming a vast and beautiful amphitheatre. We could not pa.s.s this by without taking a picture of it and Beaman was soon at work with his apparatus while I got out my pencils. The photograph did not turn out well, and Prof. determined to remain till the next day. Our camp was on the left in a thick grove of cottonwoods, and box-elders or ash-leaved maples, at the end of the point. As the sun sank away bats flew about and an insect orchestra began a demoniacal concert that shrilled through the night and made us feel like slaughtering the myriads if we could. The noises ceased with the day, or most of them, though some seemed to intensify with the light. We helped Beaman get his dark box and other paraphernalia up to the summit of the ridge back of camp, which was easy so far as climbing was concerned, the rocks rising by a series of shelves or steps. I made several pencil sketches there, which I have never seen since the close of the expedition. The crest of the promontory was about forty yards wide at its maximum and three yards at the minimum, with a length of three-fourths of a mile. From the middle ridge one could look down into the river on both sides, and it seemed as if a stone could almost be thrown into each from one standpoint. The opposite amphitheatre was perhaps one thousand feet high, beautifully carved by the rains and winds. It was named Sumner's Amphitheatre after Jack Sumner of the first expedition. Several of our men climbed in different directions, but all did not succeed in getting out. The day turned out very cloudy with sprinkles of rain and Prof. decided to wait still longer to see if Beaman could get a good photograph, and we had another night of insect opera. The next day by noon the photographer had caught the scene and we continued our descending way. The river was perfectly smooth, except a small rapid late in the day, with walls on both sides steadily increasing their alt.i.tude. Desolation in its beginning is exactly the reverse of Lodore and Split Mountain. In the latter the entrance could hardly be more sudden, whereas the Canyon of Desolation pushes its rock walls around one so diplomatically that it is some little time before the traveller realises that he is caught. The walls were ragged, barren, and dreary, yet majestic. We missed the numerous trees which in the upper canyons had been so ornamental wherever they could find a footing on the rocks. Here there were only low shrubs as a rule and these mainly along the immediate edge of the water, though high up on north slopes pines began to appear. Alt.i.tude, lat.i.tude, and aridity combine to modify vegetation so that in an arid region one notices extraordinary changes often in a single locality. The walls still had the tendency to break into turrets and towers, and opposite our next camp a pinnacle stood detached from the wall on a shelf high above the water suggesting a beacon and it was named Lighthouse Rock. Prof. with Steward and Cap. in the morning, August 11th, climbed out to study the contiguous region which was found to be not a mountain range but a bleak and desolate plateau through which we were cutting along Green River toward a still higher portion. This was afterwards named the Tavaputs Plateau, East and West divisions, the river being the line of separation.

The walls now began to take on a vertical character rising above the water 1200 to 1800 feet, and at that height they were about a quarter of a mile apart. From their edges they broke back irregularly to a separation as nearly as could be determined of from three to five miles, the extreme summit being 2500 feet above the river.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Steward.

Canyon of Desolation.

Photograph by E. O. Beaman, 1871.]

While waiting for Prof. to come down from the cliffs, Beaman made some photographs and then two boats dropped down a quarter of a mile where he made some more and Andy got dinner. I remained with the _Nell_ and about eleven o'clock the climbers came. We went down on the boat to the noon camp, and as soon as we had refreshed the inner man we proceeded thinking it about time for rapids to appear. We had not gone far before we distinguished a familiar roar just preceding the turn of a bend which disclosed three lying within half a mile. They were not bad but the river was wide and shallow, making the descent more difficult than it would ordinarily have been. The river was now approaching its lowest stage, and we saw an uncomfortable looking lot of rocks. High water makes easy going but increases the risk of disaster; low water makes hard work, batters the boats, and delays progress, but as a rule it is less risky. All the boats cleared the first rapid without any difficulty, but in the second the _Nell_ struck a sunken rock, though lightly, while our boat landed squarely on the top of a large boulder partially submerged, where we hung fast with the water boiling furiously around and almost coming over the sides. I tried to get out over the port bow but the current drew me under the boat and I had to get back.

Jack concluded we were only fast by the extreme end of the keel and Jones coming forward Jack slid cautiously out over the stern and felt around with his feet till he touched the rock and put his weight on it.

Thus relieved, the boat lifted slightly and shot away like an arrow but not before Jack leaped on again. As soon as we could we made land and watched the _Canonita_ which fared still worse. She struck so hard that two of the after ribs and some planks were stove in. They then extricated her and pulling her up on the rocky sh.o.r.e we went to work to repair with cleats made from a broken oar. This delayed us an hour and a half. Then saws and hammers were stowed away and the third rapid was run without a mishap. It was only the low stage of water that caused the trouble. A little farther on a fourth rapid was vanquished and we went into camp on the left bank in a cottonwood grove at the head of another.

"If the rocks, they don't sthop us," sang Jack, "We will cross to Killiloo, whacky-whay!" And there were plenty of rocks in the midst of foaming waters, but one great advantage of low water is the decreased velocity, and velocity on a river like this with so heavy and constant a fall is one of the chief factors to reckon with in navigation.

The high cliffs, two thousand feet, red and towering in the bright sun, became sombre and mysterious as the night shadows crept over them, the summits remaining bright from the last western rays when the river level was dim and uncertain. There was plenty of driftwood, and our fires were always cheery and comfortable. The nights were now quite cold, or at least chilly, while the days were hot as soon as the sun came over the edge of the cliffs. Through some of the narrow promontories at this particular camp there were peculiar perforations suggesting immense windows looking into some fairer land. I would have been glad to examine some of these closely, but as it was not necessary they were pa.s.sed by.

It would also have been difficult to reach them as they were very high up.

The rapid at our camp was a starter the next day on a line of them following one after the other till we had run without accident nine before halting for dinner; and nine in 6-3/4 miles was not a bad record.

We landed for noon on the same spot where the first party had stopped and our last night's camp was also coincident with theirs, according to their map which we had for consultation. Prof. decided to remain here for the rest of the day and also the next one which was Sunday. Up in a high gulch some pine trees were visible, and Jack and I climbed up to them and collected several pounds of gum for repairing the boats. Sunday morning Prof., Jones, and Steward struck for the summit up the cliffs to get observations. An hour and a half of steady hard work put them 2576 feet above the river, but they were still three hundred feet below the general level of the great plateau which we were bisecting. Prof.

thought he would like to make better time down the river, which we could easily have done up to this point, but if we arrived at the end of the canyon too soon we would have to wait there and it was better to distribute the wait as we went along. It was now August 14th and we were not due below till September 3d.

On Monday morning we pushed and pulled and lifted the boats through a shallow rapid half a mile long. It was hard work. Then came one which we ran, but the following drop was deemed too risky to trust our boats in, and they were lowered by lines. Then in a short distance this same process was repeated with hard work in a very bad place, and when we had finished that we were tired, hungry, wet, and cold, so under a cottonwood tree on the right we stopped for needed refreshment, and while it was preparing most of us hung our clothes on the branches of a fallen tree to dry. The rapid foaming and fuming presented so vigorous an appearance and made so much noise we thought it ought to be named, and it was called Fret.w.a.ter Falls. At three o'clock we took up our oars again and were whirled along at runaway speed through a continuous descent for half a mile. After another half-mile a small rapid appeared, which we dashed through without a second thought, and then came our final effort of the day, a line-portage over a particularly bad spot. It was a difficult job, requiring great exertion in lifting and pus.h.i.+ng and fending off, so when Prof. gave the word to camp on the left, we were all glad enough to do so. We had made only 5-1/4 miles and seven rapids.

The let-downs had been hard ones, with a couple of men on board to fend off and two or three on the hawser holding back.

The next morning, August 15th, we made another let-down around a bad piece of river, and ran two or three small rapids before dinner. At the let-down the water dropped at least ten feet in two hundred yards, and Prof. estimated thirty in half a mile. The river was also narrow, not more than sixty or seventy feet in one place. Many rocks studded the rapids, and great caution had to be exercised both in let-downs and in runs, lest the boats should be seriously injured. With two or three more feet of water we could have run some that were now impossible.

Fortunately there was always plenty of room on both banks, the cliffs being well back from the water. A series of small rapids gave us no special trouble, and having put them behind, we ran in at the head of a rough-looking one, had dinner, and then made a let-down. Starting on, we soon came to a very sharp rapid, which we ran, and found it was only an introduction to one following that demanded careful treatment. Another let-down was the necessary course, and when it was accomplished we stopped for the night where we were on the sand, every man tired, wet, and hungry. We had made only four miles. A significant note of warning was found here in the shape of fragments of the unfortunate _No-Name_ mixed up with the driftwood, fully two hundred miles below the falls where the wreck occurred.

The precipices surrounding us had now reached truly magnificent proportions, one section near our camp springing almost vertically to a height of 2800 or 3000 feet. On the dizzy summit we could discern what had the appearance of an old-fas.h.i.+oned log-cabin, and from this we called it "Log-cabin Cliff." The cabin was in reality a b.u.t.te of shale, as we could see by means of our gla.s.ses, and of course of far greater size than a real cabin, but from below the illusion was complete. At this camp, No. 40, we remained the next day, Prof. wis.h.i.+ng to make some investigations. He and Jones crossed to the other side and went down on foot two or three miles; then returning he went up some distance, while the rest of us mended our clothes, worked up notes, and did a score of little duties that had been neglected in the river work. Jack and I climbed up the cliffs and got more pine gum, with which we caulked up the seams in our boat. Cap. kindly turned barber and redeemed me from the danger of being cla.s.sed as orang-outang. The air was too hazy for photographing or for getting observations from the summit, and Prof.

concluded to stay till next day at this place and then go to the top of the world; in other words, to the summit. Very early in the morning, August 17th, Steward and Cap. started with Prof. for the climb. Keeping up the main canyon for a mile they came to a side gorge where Prof. had been the day before, which they followed for half a mile and then boldly mounted the cliffs, reaching an alt.i.tude of 3100 feet above the river.

While they were gone, Jack and I climbed after more pine gum, and succeeded in getting five or six pounds for future use. As I was descending along a terrace, Jack being some distance behind and above, a fine, large mountain sheep, sleek and clean, with beautiful strong horns, sprang along four or five hundred feet from me, and stopped in full view listening to Jack's footsteps. I had no gun, and could only admire him till he bounded lightly away.

About one o'clock the climbing party came back. Steward had shot a mountain sheep with a revolver, only to find that a deep canyon intervened between him and his prize and there was no way of getting it.

About half past two we shoved out into the river again, running a small rapid immediately. The water was so shallow that our keel struck a number of times but no damage was done. We had hardly cleared this when we arrived at a drop of about six feet in a few yards with the whole river filled with bad rocks. At this place, according to the map made by the first party, their _Emma Dean_ was capsised. We made a let-down and a quarter of a mile farther on repeated the operation should be.

Following this were some swift shoals which brought us to another ugly descent where the _Nell_ stove a hole in her side and came near upsetting. Prof. was knocked half out of the boat but got in again. The other boats we lowered by lines and they pa.s.sed through uninjured. Near this point a fine clear little stream about a rod wide entered from the west. After running two more rapids Prof. decided to camp which we did on the right, Camp 41. Our run footed up 3-3/4 miles. Our camp was in some cottonwoods and we had to cross a wide rocky bar to get to it but it was preferable to camping on the sand. In this canyon there was generally a valley about one-quarter mile wide on one side or the other, and with the abundant supply of driftwood for fires and a whole river for drink we fared well. The great canyon now appeared deeper than at any point above, about three thousand feet we estimated, the walls being extremely precipitous. One cliff not far from camp appeared to be nearly perpendicular.

Steward got up very early the next morning in order to mend his shoes, and he succeeded so well as cobbler, we declared he had missed his calling, but we did not start till ten o'clock, waiting for Beaman to take views. The first thing we then did was to run a very shallow rapid, followed by another, long, difficult, narrow, and rocky. Then there was a short, easy one, with the next below compelling a very hard let-down.

There was nothing but rocks, large rocks, so close together that it was all we could do to manoeuvre the boats between them. There was no channel anywhere. For the greater part of the way we had to pull them empty over the rocks on driftwood skids which taxed our muscles considerably and of course saturated our clothing for half the time we were in the water, as was always the case at let-downs. This over we had our noon ration of bread, bacon, and coffee and took a fresh start by running a nice, clear rapid and then another a half-mile below, and we thought we were getting on well when we saw ahead a fall of some ten feet in fourteen rods, turbulent and fierce. The only prudent thing for this rapid was a let-down and we went at it at once. It was the usual pulling, hauling, fending, and pus.h.i.+ng, but we got through with it after a while and naming it at the suggestion of some one, Melvin Falls, we went on to the eighth and last rapid for the day. This was half a mile long and very rocky, but it was thought we could run it and all went through safely except the _Nell_ which caught her keel on a rock and hung for a moment, then cleared and finished with no damage. We made Camp 42 on a sand-hill. These hills were a feature of the wide banks, being blown up by the winds, sometimes to a height of fifteen or twenty feet. Our run for the day was less than five miles, yet as we had pa.s.sed eight rapids one way and another, we were all pretty tired and of course wet and hungry. A good big camp-fire was quickly started, our dry garments from the rubber bags donned in place of the flapping wet ones, and we were entirely comfortable, with the bread baking in the Dutch oven, the coffee or tea steaming away, and the inspiring fragrance of frying bacon wafted on the evening air. When we stopped long enough Andy would give us boiled beans or stewed dried apples as a treat. If we desired to enliven the conversation all that was necessary was to start the subject of the "light" back at the camp where we first met Douglas Boy. Every one would soon be involved except Prof. who only laughed and inserted from time to time a well-chosen remark to keep up the interest.

Jack would always give us a half-dozen songs and to this Steward would add a solo on the mouth-organ. The evenings were growing longer, and we sat closer to the fire. Sometimes Cap. and Clem would play a game of euchre, but no one else seemed to care anything about cards. Our beds, when possible, were made by first putting down willows or cedar twigs in regular order, on which the blankets would be spread making a luxurious bed on which sleep instantly overtook us, with the sound of falling water generally the last thing and the first in our ears.

At 7.30 the next morning, August 19th, we were speeding on our way and ran the rapid which had sent its lullaby to our camp. Another came right after it, shallow and bad, and then one more where the channel was beset with innumerable boulders hidden under the surface. Happily the boats were not seriously damaged, they needed no repairs, and we kept on to the next barrier which proved to be not runable with any prospect of getting through whole so we made a portage. Then there was a rapid we ran easily, but as if to revenge itself for making one gentle for us, the river obliged us to work a laborious pa.s.sage at the next two. We had good hard work, lowering by lines, wading alongside where necessary to ease the boats, or clinging to their sides where the water was deep, while the men on sh.o.r.e at the hawser's end lowered away to a shallow place. We were glad to halt at 11.30 for dinner, and a short rest.