CHAPTER X

The Mouth of Fremont River (The Dirty Devil River)

Photograph by theBrown Expedition, 1889

line drawing, river canyon

TheCañonitaLeft Behind—Shinumo Ruins—Troublesome Ledges in the River—Alcoves and Amphitheatres—The Mouth of the San Juan—Starvation Days and a Lookout for Rations—El Vado de Los Padres—White Men Again—Given up for Lost—Navajo Visitors—Peaks with a Great Echo—At the Mouth of the Paria.

Having now accomplished a distance down this turbulent river of nearly six hundred miles, with a descent toward sea-level of 2645 feet, without a serious accident, we were all in a happy frame of mind, notwithstanding the exceedingly diminutive food supply that remained. We felt that we could overcome almost anything in the line of rapids the world might afford, and Steward declared our party was so efficient he would be willing to "run the Gates of Hell" with them! Barring an absence of heat Cataract Canyon had been quite a near approach to that unwelcome entrance, and the locality of the mouth of the Dirty Devil certainly resembled some of the more favoured portions of Satan's notorious realm. Circumstances would prohibit our lingering here, for our long stretch on short rations made the small amount we could allow ourselves at each meal seem almost like nothing at all, and we were desirous of reaching as soon as possible El Vado, something over a hundred miles below, where our pack-train was doubtless now waiting.

The plan of leaving a boat at this place for a party to bring down, which should penetrate the unknown country the next year and then complete what we might now be compelled to slight, was carried out. TheCañonitawas chosen and the day after our arrival, Sunday, October 1st, we ran her down a short distance on the right, and there carried her back about twohundred feet to a low cliff and up thirty or forty feet above the prevailing stage of water, where we hid her under an enormous mass of rock which had so fallen from the top as to lodge against the wall, forming a perfect shelter somewhat longer than the boat. All of her cargo had been left at camp and we filled her cabins and standing-rooms with sand, also piling sand and stones all about her to prevent high water from carrying her off. When we were satisfied that we had done our best we turned away feeling as one might on leaving a friend, and hoping that she would be found intact the following year. As nine o'clock only had arrived, the Major and Jones then climbed out from this place, while Prof. with theNellran down about a mile and a half to the mouth of a gulch on the right where he and the Major had traced the old trail. The rest of us returned to camp. Prof. and Cap. climbed out, after following the trail up the gulch six miles, and they saw that it went toward the Unknown Mountains, which now lay very near us on the west. Steward got out by an attempt not so far up the canyon and reached an altitude of 1950 feet, where he had a clear, full view of the mountains. With his glass he was able to study their formation and determined that lava from below had spread out between the sedimentary strata, forming what he called "blisters." He could see where one side of a blister had been eroded, showing the surrounding stratification.[19]

When the Major and Jones came back we put the cargo of theCañonitaon theDean, and all of us embarked, seven in number, and ran down to where theNellwas moored. Here we camped for the night. The crews were then rearranged, Beaman being assigned to my bow oars, Clem and Andy going in theNell, while I was to sit on the middle cabin of theDeanin front of the Major, where I could carry on my sketching. We were now a shaggy-looking lot, for our clothes had been almost worn off our bodies in the rapids. Our shoes, notwithstanding that the Major had brought us a fresh supply at Gunnison Crossing, were about gone, and we were tanned tillwe could hardly have been distinguished from the old Shinumos themselves; but we were clean. Steward was a great lover of Burns and could quote him by the page, though what he most liked to repeat just now was:

"O wad some Power the giftie gie usTo see oursels as others see us!"

I think theAddress to the Deilwould have been appropriate for this particular environment, but I do not remember that Steward quoted:

"Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee,An' let poor damned bodies be;I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie,E'en to the deil,To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me,An' hear us squeel!"

The cargo of theCañonitawas distributed among the cabins of theDeanand theNell, and Cap. was somewhat disturbed by having an addition to the bow compartment in theNell. Each man had charge of a cabin and this was Cap.'s special pride. He daily packed it so methodically that it became a standing joke with us, and we often asked him whether he always placed that thermometer back of the fifth rib or in front of the third, or some such nonsensical question, which of course Cap. took in good part and only arranged his cabin still more carefully.

The next morning, the 2d of October, at eight o'clock, we continued our voyage, now entering a new canyon, then called Mound, but it was afterwards consolidated with the portion below called Monument, and together they now stand as Glen Canyon. In about three and one half miles we ran several sharp little rapids, but they were not of much consequence, and we stopped to examine a house ruin we saw standing up boldly on a cliff on the left. It could be seen for a long distance in both directions, and correspondingly its inmates in the old days could see every approach. Doubtless the trail we had seen on the right had its exit on the other side near it. The walls, neatly built of thin sandstone slabs, still stood aboutfifteen feet high and fifteen inches thick. The dimensions on the ground were 12 × 22 feet outside. It had been of two or three stories, and exhibited considerable skill on the part of the builders, the corners being plumb and square. Under the brink of the cliff was a sort of gallery formed by the erosion of a soft shale between heavy sandstone beds, forming a floor and roof about eight or ten feet wide, separated by six or seven feet in vertical height. A wall had been carried along the outer edge, and the space thus made was divided by cross walls into a number of rooms. Potsherds and arrow-heads, mostly broken ones, were strewn everywhere. There were also numerous picture-writings, of which I made copies.

As we pulled on and on the Major frequently recited selections from the poets, and one that he seemed to like very much, and said sometimes half in reverie, was Longfellow's:

"Often I think of the beautiful townThat is seated by the sea;Often in thought go up and downThe pleasant streets of that dear old town,And my youth comes back to me.And a verse of a Lapland songIs haunting my memory still:'A boy's will is the wind's will,And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'"

He would repeat several times, with much feeling:

"A boy's will is the wind's will,And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

Another thing he enjoyed repeating was Whittier'sSkipper Ireson's Ride:

"Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,Tarred and feathered and carried in a cartBy the women of Marblehead!"

Towards evening we came to another Shinumo ruin, where we made camp, having run altogether sixteen miles, withten rapids, all small, between walls of red, homogeneous sandstone, averaging about one thousand feet in height. The river, some three hundred and fifty feet wide, was low, causing many shoals, which formed the small rapids. We often had to wade alongside to lighten the boats, but otherwise these places were easy. A trifle more water would have done away with them, or at least would have enabled us to ignore them completely. The house ruin at our camp was very old and broken down and had dimensions of about 20 × 30 feet. Prof. climbed out to a point 1215 feet above the river, where he saw plainly the Unknown Mountains, Navajo Mountain, and a wide sweep of country formed largely of barren sandstone. Steward felt considerably under the weather and remained as quiet as possible.

In the morning we were quickly on the water, pushing along under conditions similar to those of the previous day, making twenty-seven miles and passing eleven very small rapids, with a river four hundred feet wide and the same walls of homogeneous red sandstone about one thousand feet high. The cliffs in the bends were often slightly overhanging, that is, the brink was outside of a perpendicular line, but the opposite side would then generally be very much cut down, usually to irregular, rounded slopes of smooth rock. The vertical portions were unbroken by cracks or crevices or ledges, being extensive flat surfaces, beautifully stained by iron, till one could imagine all manner of tapestry effects. Along the river there were large patches of alluvial soil which might easily be irrigated, though it is probable that at certain periods they would be rapidly cut to pieces by high water.

Prof. again climbed out at our noon camp, and saw little but naked orange sandstone in rounded hills, except the usual mountains. In the barren sandstone he found many pockets or pot-holes, a feature of this formation, often thirty or forty feet deep, and frequently containing water. Wherever we climbed out in this region we saw in the depressions flat beds of sand, surrounded by hundreds of small round balls of stone an inch or so in diameter, like marbles—concretions and hardfragments which had been driven round and round by the winds till they were quite true spheres.[20]

The next day, October 4th, we ran into a stratum of sandstone shale, which at this low stage of water for about five miles gave us some trouble. Ledge after ledge stretched across the swift river, which at the same time spread to at least six hundred feet, sometimes one thousand. We were obliged to walk in the water alongside for great distances to lighten the boats and ease them over the ridges. Occasionally the rock bottom was as smooth as a ballroom floor; again it would be carved in the direction of the current into thousands of narrow, sharp, polished ridges, from three to twelve inches apart, upon which the boats pounded badly in spite of all exertions to prevent it. The water was alternately shallow and ten feet deep, giving us all we could do to protect the boats and at the same time avoid sudden duckings in deep water. With all our care theNellgot a bad knock, and leaked so fast that one man continually bailing could barely keep the water out. We repaired her at dinner-time, and, the shales running up above the river, we escaped further annoyance from this cause. Even with this interference our progress was fairly good, and by camping-time we had made twenty-one miles.

We had a rapid shallow river again the following day, October 5th, but the water was not so widely spread out and there were fewer delays. The walls were of orange sandstone, strangely cut up by narrow side canyons some not more than twenty feet wide and twisting back for a quarter of a mile where they expanded into huge amphitheatres, domed and cave-like. Alcoves filled with trees and shrubs also opened from the river, and numerous springs were noted along the cliffs. Twelve miles below our camp we passed a stream coming in on the left through a canyon about one thousand feet deep, similar to that of the Colorado. This was the San Juan, now shallow and some eight rods wide. We did not stop till noon when we were two miles below it near one of the amphitheatres orgrottoes to which the first party had given the name of "Music Temple." The entrance was by a narrow gorge which after some distance widened at the bottom to about five hundred feet in diameter leaving the upper walls arching over till they formed a dome-shaped cavern about two hundred feet high with a narrow belt of sky visible above. In the farther end was a pool of clear water, while five or six green cottonwoods and some bushes marked the point of expansion. One side was covered with bright ferns, mosses, and honeysuckle. Every whisper or cough resounded. This was only one of a hundred such places but we had no time to examine them. On a smooth space of rock we found carved by themselves the names of Seneca Howland, O. G. Howland, and William Dunn, the three men of the first party who were killed by the Shewits in 1869. Prof. climbed up eight hundred feet and had a fine view of Navajo Mountain which was now very near. We then chiefly called it Mount Seneca Howland, applied by the Major in memory of that unfortunate person but later, the peak already having to some extent been known as Navajo Mountain, that name was finally adopted. No one had ever been to it, so far as we knew, and the Major was desirous of reaching the summit.

photo, canyon

Glen Canyon.

Photograph byE. O. Beaman, 1871.

Leaving the Music Temple, which seemed to us a sort of mausoleum to the three men who had marked it with their names, we soon arrived at a pretty rapid with a clear chute. It was not large but it was the only real one we had seen in this canyon and we dashed through it with pleasure. Just below we halted to look admiringly up at Navajo Mountain which now loomed beside us on the left to an altitude of 10,416 feet above sea level or more than 7100 feet above our position, as was later determined. The Major contemplated stopping long enough for a climb to the top but on appealing to Andy for information as to the state of the supplies he found we were near the last crust and he decided that we had better pull on as steadily as possible towards El Vado. We ran down a considerable distance through some shallows and camped on the left having accomplished about twenty miles in the day towards our goal. Here the remaining food was divided into two portions, one for supper, the other for breakfast in themorning. Though we were running so close to the starvation line we felt no great concern about it. We always had confidence in our ability somehow to get through with success. Andy, particularly, never failed in his optimism. Generally he took no interest in the nature of a rapid, lying half asleep while the others examined the place, and entirely willing to run anything or make a portage or even swim; he cared not. "Nothing ever happens to any outfit I belong to," he would declare shifting to an easier position, "Let her go!" and now so far as Andy's attitude was concerned we might have possessed unlimited rations. Jack lightened the situation yet more with his jolly songs and humorous expressions and no one viewing that camp would have thought the ten men had before them a possibility of several days without food, except what they might kill in the barren country, and perhaps a walk from El Vado over an unknown trail about one hundred miles out to Kanab. In the morning, Friday, October 6th, we got away as quickly as we could and pulled down the river hoping that El Vado was not far ahead and feeling somewhat as Escalante must have felt a century before when he was trying to find it. He had the advantage of having horses which could be eaten from time to time. Of course we knew from the position of the San Juan and of Navajo Mountain, that we could reach El Vado in at most two days, but the question was, "would we find any one there with rations?" The Major apparently was unconcerned. He told me a story about a farmer's son in his neighbourhood when himself a boy who had no shoes, no good clothes, no decent hat, but who went to the father and declared he wanted a "buzzum pin," and nothing but a buzzum pin would he have, though his parent called his attention to his lack of other necessaries, one after the other. "No Pa," the boy would repeat "I want a buzzum pin."

photo, canyon

Looking down upon Glen Canyon.

Cut through homogeneous sandstone.Photograph byJ. K. Hillers, U. S. Colo. Riv. Exp.

As we rowed along the Major sang softly another of his favourites:

"Flow gently, sweet Afton! among thy green braes,Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream—Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream."

The almost vertical walls ran from two hundred to one thousand feet in height, cut by many very narrow side canyons opening into large glens or alcoves. On and on we steadily pulled till noon, making 13-1/2 miles when we stopped on the right on a sandstone ledge against a high cliff. Andy had a few scraps left, among them a bit of bacon which Jack enterprisingly used for baiting a hook and soon drew out several small fish, so that after all we had quite a dinner. The walls became more broken as we went on apparently with numerous opportunities for entrance from the back country, though the sandstone even where not very steep was so smooth that descent over it would be difficult. We had gone about three miles after dinner when we saw a burned place in the brush on the right where there was quite a large piece of bottom land. We thought this might be some signal for us but we found there only the tracks of two men and horses all well shod proving that they were not natives. About three miles farther down we caught a glimpse of a stick with a white rag dangling from it stuck out from the right bank, and at the same moment heard a shot. On landing and mounting the bank we found Captain Pardyn Dodds and two prospectors, George Riley and John Bonnemort, encamped beside a large pile of rations. Dodds was one of the men with Old Jacob who had tried desperately to reach the mouth of the Dirty Devil with our supplies. He thought he had arrived at a point where he could see it and went back to inform Jacob when they received an order from the Major to come to this place, El Vado de los Padres, by September 25th, and here he was. Jacob had come with him but had gone on to Fort Defiance, the Navajo Agency, to settle some Indian business, leaving him to guard the rations. Having left Kanab early in September they had no late news. They had become discouraged by our non-appearance and concluded that we would never be heard from again. Consequently they had planned to cache the rations and leave for the settlement on Sunday. That night Andy was able to summon us to "go fur" the first "square" meal we had eaten for nearly a month. There was among the supplies some plug tobacco which we cut up, all but Steward,Prof., and Cap. who did not smoke, and rolled in cigarettes with thick yellow paper, the only kind we had, having learned to make them Spanish fashion from the Hamblins, and we smoked around the fire talking to Dodds and the prospectors over the general news. They told us they had found small quantities of gold along the river. A great many papers, magazines, and letters for everybody were in the packs supplying us with reading matter enough for weeks. Though the papers were of ancient dates they were new to us.

The whole next day was consumed in preparing maps, notes, specimens, fossils, etc., to be sent by pack-train to the settlement of Kanab one hundred miles off whither the Major himself had decided to start with the outfit the next morning and go from there to Salt Lake City about 400 miles north. None of us had a chance to write even a line to expectant relatives far away and we were naturally disappointed till Prof. persuaded the Major to hold over till Tuesday which he willingly did when he realised the situation. We wrote late by the light of a diminutive fire, wood being scarce. He then left us on October 10th with Jack, Captain Dodds, and the miners who had waited only to learn something about the river above as a place for prospecting. The trail up over the barren sandstone was so steep and smooth that two of the pack-animals lost their footing and rolled back to the bottom but received no injury except scraping the skin off their knees.

Not the least welcome articles among the supplies were a pair of good heavy shoes and a pair of strong overalls, which the foresight of the Major had secured for each one of us, our clothing, as before mentioned, having been completely worn out. My watch, which I had carried all the way in a little rubber pocket sewed to my shirt near the neck, where it seldom got wet enough to stop it, though occasionally it refused to go till I punched it up with a large pin kept for the purpose, which my wicked companions called my "starting bar," at last had stopped permanently, and I sent it out by Jack for repairs. After they had gone we settled down again to our accustomed labours. We were to run down thirty-five miles farther to the mouth of the Paria, whence there was another known trail tothe settlement, and cache the boats. The pack-train was to come back to us there with additional supplies and horses and take us out to Kanab, where we were to make headquarters for our winter explorations in the practically unknown Grand Canyon region as well as in that to the eastward. During this interval we expected to discover some point between the Paria and Diamond Creek where rations could be brought in to us while working through the Grand Canyon the next season. We did not then know that the winter is the safest and best time for making the passage through that wonderful gorge.[21]

Our appetites were now enormous, and as we could eat all we wanted, the supplies diminished in an astonishing way, but as we were soon to receive more we did not care. Every man braced up; all but Steward, who felt quite sick. Jones began to feel trouble brewing in the leg which he had hurt at the Junction; Andy showed the effects of the scorpion bite by becoming thin and pale, thinner than our previous lack of rations justified; Cap., who had been shot in the Civil War through and through near the heart, now felt the effects of the long exposure; and neither Clem nor Beaman considered their health perfect. Altogether, however, we had come through very well. Our worst work was over for this year, and the maladies portending seemed not dangerous. Prof., desiring to get some notes from up the river, went on the 11th, with Cap., Beaman, and Clem, back six miles in theDeanto the foot of some rapid water they could not pass. Arriving there about half-past twelve, they spent all afternoon going up numerous gulches, trying to find a way out. As there was a large area of bottom land, with old camp-fires and much broken pottery, they were sure there was a path, but it was late before they discovered a place where modern natives had piled brush and stones to make a horse trail, and another where the old Shinumos for fifty feet had cut steps in the smooth rock. The party followed the Shinumo trail, finding the steps in placesalmost worn out by time, in others still quite good and large enough to get the toe of a shoe in. By the time they came to the top it was too late for observations, and they returned to the river for camp, making the same climb by the steps the next day and securing the observations. They got back to our Camp 79 late in the afternoon. Meanwhile Steward's illness had increased, and I spent much of the night trying to relieve his pain. The air was cold and he was most uncomfortable, the only shelter being a wickiup of boughs we had built to protect him from the sun. We had opium pills in our medicine chest, and I had the little flask of brandy referred to. With several of the pills and my brandy, which I at last persuaded him to take as medicine (he despised alcoholic drinks), his suffering was somewhat relieved, and he was able to lie still on his bed of willows. During the next day his condition was no better, and Prof. returning, was much distressed by it. By drawing further on the medicine chest, which contained numerous remedies, he was able to relieve him a little more. The exposure had brought on a trouble of the back which had originally developed during the campaigns of the Civil War.

photo, Navajo man

Tom.

A Typical Navajo.Photograph byWittick.Tom became educated and no longer looked like an Indian.

Before leaving this point Prof. wanted some observations from the heights, and he and Cap. tried to climb the near-by cliffs, but failed. They then took a hammer and chisel, and by cutting "holds" in the sandstone after the manner of the old Shinumos, they got up 850 feet and secured the bearings Prof. desired. The following day they went out on the trail toward Kanab five miles, trying to find another point of exit to the summit, but did not succeed. While they were gone we heard a sudden shout, and saw an Indian standing on the rocks not far away. We beckoned for him to come, and thereupon he fell back to another, and together they approached. We saw by their dress, so different from the Ute (red turbans, loose unbleached cotton shirts, native woven sashes at the waist, wide unbleached cotton trousers reaching to a little below the knee and there slashed up on the outer side for seven or eight inches, bright woven garters twisted around their red buckskin leggins below the knee, and red moccasins withturned up soles and silver buttons), that they were Navajos.[22]They indicated that they were father and son, the father announcing himself in a lordly way as "Agua Grande." He was over six feet tall and apparently sixty or seventy years old. The son was a fine young lad of about fifteen. Their bearing was cordial, yet proud and dignified. They had not long been with us when Prof. came in, and during the next hour seven more Navajos arrived, all dressed very much as the first ones were. They expressed great friendliness by embracing us after their custom and delivering long speeches, of which we understood not a word. One had a short black mustache which came straight out sidewise and then turned at right angles down past the corners of his mouth. I never had heard of an Indian with a mustache before. They had no visible firearms, being armed with strong bows and cougar-skin quivers full of iron-headed arrows.[23]Old Agua Grande became much interested in our sick man, and made signs by placing two spread fingers of one hand inverted upon one finger held horizontally of the other hand, and moving them north-westerly to indicate that he ought to ride out to the Mormon settlement, whither they were bound, and that they would take him along. As the chief had exhibited a document, signed by the agent at Fort Defiance, to the effect that he and his band were peaceable and going on a trading expedition to the Mormon settlements, we felt certain they would take good care of the invalid, but Steward said he preferred to remain with us.

We now had no further work for this immediate locality, and concluded to run down a mile or so to separate ourselves from the Navajos, one having disclosed a tendency tosurreptitiously appropriate small articles belonging to us. A bed was made on the middle deck of one of the boats for Steward, and when all was ready we carried him down to it. The Navajos ranged themselves along the bank to see us off, and Clem, with his customary urbanity, went down the line all smiles, shaking each one cordially by the hand, and requesting him to "Give my love to all the folks at home," and "Remember me, please, to Eliza Jane," and similar expressions. The Navajos did not understand the words, but being themselves great jokers they saw that it was fun, and they all laughed, making remarks which doubtless were of the same kind. Just below was El Vado de los Padres by which these Navajos had now come across. It was also sometimes called the Ute Ford. The necessary route was indicated by a line of small piles of stones showing above water. It was not an easy crossing, feasible only at low water, and quite impossible for waggons, even had there been a road to it. A shoal was followed up the middle of the river half a mile with deep channels cutting through it, reached from the south over a steep slope of bare sandstone and from the north through a very narrow, small canyon, not over ten feet wide. Escalante in 1776, after the failure of his attempt to reach California, had great difficulty in finding the place, which for centuries has been known to all the tribes of the region. About three miles below our last camp we landed on the left on a very pretty piece of bottom land, inaccessible except by river, being bounded behind by a high, vertical, unscalable wall. Here we made Camp 80, with plenty of food, water, and wood, and all were comfortable by a fine fire; all but Steward, who, feeling very sick, was lying on the bed we had prepared for him. He had another bad night, but after this his condition seemed gradually to improve.

photo, rock spire

Glen Canyon.

Sentinel Rock—about 300 Feet High.Photograph byE. O. Beaman, 1871.

Prof.'s favourite quotation now was Charles Fenno Hoffman's poem:

"We were not many—we who stoodBefore the iron sleet that day;Yet many a gallant spirit wouldGive half his years if but he couldHave been with us at Monterey."

In the morning he went with Jones across the river and climbed out while the rest of us did nothing but lie around camp doing what was possible to make Steward comfortable. It was Sunday as well and whenever practicable we rested the whole or part of that day. Monday we started late and ran only a short distance before dinner which we ate on the right. Steward still was unable to sit up and he was carried on the middle deck of theNellwhere he had a rope to cling to so that he should not roll off into the water when the boat lurched. Toward evening we camped at the head of a small rapid near a fine little stream coming in from the left which we named Navajo Creek. The river was about four hundred feet wide with walls on each side of four hundred feet in height. The next morning Prof., Cap. and I climbed out for bearings reaching an altitude a mile or so back from the river of 875 feet. Everywhere we discovered broken pottery, fragments of arrow-heads, and other evidences of former Shinumo occupancy. Even granting only a few persons at each possible locality, the canyons of the Colorado and Green must have been the former home of a rather large population. In the afternoon we ran the little rapid and kept on for about six miles making twenty in all from El Vado, when we camped on a heavy talus on the left. The following morning, October 18th, we had not gone more than a mile when we came to a singular freak of erosion, a lone sandstone pinnacle on the right, three hundred or four hundred feet high, the river running on one side and a beautiful creek eight feet wide on the other. We named these Sentinel Rock and Sentinel Creek and camped there for Beaman to get some photographs. Prof. and I went up the creek and tried to climb out for observations, but though we made three separate attempts we had to give it up. Steward grew so much better that he was able to walk a little, but now Jones began to feel more pain in his injured leg. On Thursday, the 19th, we made nearly seven miles between walls about eight hundred feet high and one quarter of a mile apart, so nearly vertical that we could not get out.

The next day we ran six miles more with walls one thousand feet high, camping at a place where there was a wide bottom with many signs of old native camps, probably Navajo. In themorning Prof., Cap., and I climbed a steep slope of bright orange sand a little below our camp, a rather hard task as the sand was loose, causing us to slip backward at every step. After twelve hundred or fifteen hundred feet of this kind of climbing we reached the base of three rocky peaks several hundred feet higher. We had considerable difficulty in surmounting one of these, being forced around to the opposite side, where there was a sheer descent from our position of some fifteen hundred feet, with sharp black rocks at the bottom where any one slipping would fall. There were some narrow transverse crevices in the rock by means of which we got up. One man, having been pushed aloft from the solid ledge by the two below, would lie back against the slope, brace himself with one heel in a transverse fissure, and lower the free foot as a handhold for the others to mount by. The next trouble was a crevice wide enough for us to pass through to the top, but holding exactly midway a large rock lodged in such a manner that we could not crawl under and yet seeming in danger of rolling down if we went over it. It was precarious not only for the man ahead who tried to pass but for those below waiting for results, but it was more firmly wedged than it appeared to be and each one in turn climbed over it. Emerging from this crack we were on the summit 2190 feet above the river and 5360 above the sea, with standing room no more than six or eight feet square. The view was superb. The peaks formed the northern end of a long line of cliffs running back to the south at the end of Glen Canyon, and we looked out across a wonderful region, part of that on the south being the "Painted Desert," so called by Ives. Mountains solid and solitary rose up here and there and line upon line of strangely coloured cliffs broke across the wide area, while from our feet stretching off to the south-west like a great dark dragon extending miles into the blue was the deep gorge of Marble Canyon, its tributary chasms appearing like mighty sprawling legs. Far away west were the San Francisco Mountains, and the Kaibab, while behind we saw Navajo Mountain and others.

This peak, or cluster of peaks, of course had never been named, had never been climbed before, but they soon namedthemselves. For amusement I tried to shoot into the river with Cap.'s 44 Remington revolver. As I pulled the trigger the noise was absolutely staggering. The violent report was followed by dead silence. While we were remarking the intensity of the crash, from far away on some distant cliffs northward the sound waves were hurled back to us with a rattle like that of musketry. We tried again with the same result, the interval between the great roar and the echo being twenty-four seconds by the watch. We could call the place nothing but Echo Peaks, and since then the name has been applied also to the line of cliffs breaking to the south. Our descent was easy and we reached camp without any incident except the loss of my sheath knife.

Nobody did anything the next day, for it was Sunday, so when Monday morning came we were eager to be off for the mouth of the Paria, which we had seen from the top of Echo Peaks. Two or three miles down we reached it; a small river coming through a great canyon on the right. The cliffs of Glen Canyon broke back south-westerly and south-easterly in a V form with the point at the foot of Glen Canyon, leaving a wide platform of different rock rising gently from under them and mounting steadily toward the south. Into the middle of this the river immediately slashed a narrow gorge very much as a staircase might be cut through a floor, beginning the next canyon of the series, called Marble, through which we would not descend till the following year. We went into camp on the left bank of the Paria and the right of the Colorado, Camp 86, in the tall willows. A rough scow lay there, which the Major had built the year before when on his way from Kanab to the Moki Towns, for there is no ford.

We were to wait here for our pack-train which the Major, on arriving at Kanab, was to start back with rations and some extra horses. Our altitude was 3170 feet, showing a total descent for the season of 2905 feet, 913 feet from Gunnison Crossing. Our work on the water for the present was now over; we would pursue it with mule and pack instead of with boats. As the 23d of October had arrived we were glad to avoid daily saturation.

FOOTNOTES:[19]These blisters were later called laccolites by G. K. Gilbert after his careful study of the locality. See hisGeology of the Henry Mountains, published by the government.[20]The illustration on page 43 ofThe Romance of the Coloradowell shows the character of the Glen Canyon country, and that on page 63 the nature of the pot-holes.[21]We learned later that while we were working through Cataract Canyon, Lieutenant George M. Wheeler, U. S. Engineers, was coming up from Fort Mohave. After great labour he reached the mouth of Diamond Creek, SeeThe Romance of the Colorado, Chapter XII.[22]For further description of the Navajo costume, seeThe North Americans of Yesterday, by F. S. Dellenbaugh, pp. 148, 150.[23]Like all the tribes of the region of that time, the Navajos considered the Mormons a different people from the Americans. They had been at war with the Mormons, from whom they stole horses and cattle, and there had been some bloodshed. Old Jacob had induced them to make peace, and this party now on its way to trade was the first to try the experiment. Vanquished by our troops, a few years before, the Navajos were very poor and anxious to acquire live stock and firearms, for which they had blankets and other articles of their own make to trade.

[19]These blisters were later called laccolites by G. K. Gilbert after his careful study of the locality. See hisGeology of the Henry Mountains, published by the government.

[20]The illustration on page 43 ofThe Romance of the Coloradowell shows the character of the Glen Canyon country, and that on page 63 the nature of the pot-holes.

[21]We learned later that while we were working through Cataract Canyon, Lieutenant George M. Wheeler, U. S. Engineers, was coming up from Fort Mohave. After great labour he reached the mouth of Diamond Creek, SeeThe Romance of the Colorado, Chapter XII.

[22]For further description of the Navajo costume, seeThe North Americans of Yesterday, by F. S. Dellenbaugh, pp. 148, 150.

[23]Like all the tribes of the region of that time, the Navajos considered the Mormons a different people from the Americans. They had been at war with the Mormons, from whom they stole horses and cattle, and there had been some bloodshed. Old Jacob had induced them to make peace, and this party now on its way to trade was the first to try the experiment. Vanquished by our troops, a few years before, the Navajos were very poor and anxious to acquire live stock and firearms, for which they had blankets and other articles of their own make to trade.

line drawing, camp

More Navajos Arrive with Old Jacob—The Lost Pack-train and a Famished Guide—From Boat to Broncho—On to Kanab—Winter Arrives—Wolf Neighbours too Intimate—Preparing for Geodetic Work—Over the Kaibab to Eight-mile Spring—A Frontier Town—Camp below Kanab—A Mormon Christmas Dance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

sketch

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