ey were soon whirling
along on a swift current. Though there were many rapids, landings were
easy, and there was plenty of standing room everywhere, so that in two
days they had the pleasure of pulling out of this Split Mountain Canyon
into the Wonsits Valley, the longest opening in the whole line of
canyons. Thus far, no Amerinds had been seen, not even signs of them,
but here they found some tipi poles and the dead embers of a camp-fire,
showing that other human beings besides themselves had traversed the
lands now about them. Pushing ahead over the sluggish waters of the
river in this valley, they were not long in arriving at the mouth of the
Uinta River, where Powell and two others walked out to the Ute Agency,
about forty miles distant up the Uinta. One of the crew of the wrecked
No-Name, Frank Goodman, here decided that he had seen all the canyons
his education required and took his departure. This was not unwelcome
to Powell, for the boats were still heavily loaded and the three men
who had composed the crew of the wrecked boat were no longer actually
required. Starting again, they arrived, not far below the mouth of
the Uinta, at an island where a small crop had been planted by a
"squaw-man,"* who had visited Powell's camp the previous winter. On
that occasion he had disclosed his intention of tilling this place and
invited Powell to help himself when he passed there in his boats. The
man was not at the farm, and nothing was ripe, but Hall suggested that
potato-tops make good "greens." A quantity was therefore secured, and,
at the noon stop, cooked and eaten, with the obvious result that all
were violently sick. Luckily, the sickness was brief, and they were able
to proceed by the middle of the afternoon. Often, the longing, by men
living on bacon and beans, for something fresh in the vegetable line,
leads to foolish experiments.

* A white man married to a squaw, and living with the tribe.

This Wonsits Valley soon came to an end and once more the rocks closed
in, forming a canyon lacking the vegetation that had accompanied the
cliffs along the river above. Because of this general barren appearance
the gorge was called the Canyon of Desolation. On July 11th, they
approached a rapid which seemed at first glance no more difficult to
run than many they had successfully dashed through. The leading boat
by Powell's direction pulled, into it, but this move was no sooner made
than he perceived that at the bot