ns that it be sent to his sister in the event of the river
party being annihilated, and the duplicate records of the trip were
separated, one set being given to Howland, who at the last begged them
not to go on down the river, assuring them that a few miles more of
such river as that now ahead of them would consume the last of the scant
rations and then it would be too late to try to escape. In fact each
party thought the other was taking the more desperate chance. By a
mistake the duplicate records were wrongly divided, each party having
portions of both sets. This afterwards made gaps in the river data below
the Paria as far as Catastrophe Rapid. Powell entered the Maid of the
Canyon and pulled away while the departing men stood on an overhanging
crag looking on. Both boats succeeded in going through without accident,
and it was then apparent that the place was not so bad as it looked and
that they had run many that were worse. Down below it they waited for a
couple of hours hoping the men would change their minds, take the Dean,
and come on. But they were never seen again by white men. They climbed
up the mighty cliffs to the summit of the Shewits Plateau, about
fifty-five hundred feet, and that it is a hard climb I can testify, for
I climbed down and back not far above this point. At length they were
out of the canyon, and they must have rejoiced at leaving those gloomy
depths behind. Northward they went, to a large water-pocket, a favourite
camping-ground of the Shewits, a basin in the rocky channel of an
intermittent stream, discharging into the Colorado. The only story of
their fate was obtained from these Utes. Jacob Hamblin of Kanab learned
it from some other Utes and afterwards got the story from them. They
received the men at their camp and gave them food. During the night
some of the band came in from the north and reported certain outrages by
miners in that country. It was at once concluded that these whites were
the culprits and that they never came down the Colorado as they claimed.
In the morning, therefore, a number secreted themselves near the edge
of the water-pocket. The trail to the water leads down under a basaltic
cliff perhaps thirty or forty feet high, as I remember the spot, which I
visited about six years later. As the unfortunate men turned to come
up from filling their canteens, they were shot down from ambush. In
consequence I have called this the Ambush Water-pocket.* The guns,
clothing, etc