tiersman named Hardy. When
he had been revived he told his story. It was that he had come on a raft
through the Grand Canyon above, and all the canyons antecedent to
that back to a point on Grand River. The story was apparently
straightforward, and it was fully accepted. At last, it was thought, a
human being has passed through this Valley of the Shadow of Death and
lived to tell of its terrors. Hardy took him down to Fort Mohave, where
he met Dr. Parry,* who recorded his whole story, drawn out by many
questions, and believed it. This was not surprising; for, no man ever
yet having accomplished what White claimed to have done, there was no
way of checking the points, of his tale. "Now, at last," remarks Dr.
Parry, "we have a perfectly authentic account, from an intelligent
source, from a man who actually traversed its formidable depths, and
who, fortunately for science, still lives to detail his trustworthy
observations of this remarkable voyage." The doctor was too confiding.
Had I the space I would give here the whole of White's story, for it
is one of the best bits of fiction I have ever read. He had obtained
somehow a general smattering of the character of the river, but as there
were trappers still living, Kit Carson, for example, who possessed a
great deal of information about it, this was not a difficult matter. But
that he had no exact knowledge of any part of the river above the lower
end of the Grand Canyon, is apparent to one who is familiar with
the ground, and the many discrepancies brand the whole story as a
fabrication. In the language of the frontier, he "pitched a yarn," and
it took beautifully. Hardy, whom I met in Arizona a good many years
ago, told me he believed the man told the truth, but his belief was
apparently based only on the condition White was in when rescued. That
he was nearly dead is true, but that is about all of his yarn that is.
White was thirty-two years old, and from Kenosha, Wisconsin. He said
that, with two others, he was prospecting in Southwestern Colorado in
the summer of that year, 1867, when, on Grand River, they were attacked
by the Utes. Baker, the leader, fell mortally wounded. Of course, White
and the other man, Strole, stood by their leader, in the teeth of the
enemy's fire, till he expired. What would the story have been without
this example of devotion and fortitude? Then, holding the pursuers in
check, they slowly retreated down the side canyon they were in to the
main