ion of the passing line; the boat
breaks away and speeds with great velocity down the stream. The "Maid of
the Canyon" is lost! So it seems; but she drifts some distance and
swings into an eddy, in which she spins about until we arrive with the
small boat and rescue her.

Soon we are on our way again, and stop at the mouth of a little brook on
the right for a late dinner. This brook comes down from the distant
mountains in a deep side canyon. We set out to explore it, but are soon
cut off from farther progress up the gorge by a high rock, over which
the brook glides in a smooth sheet. The rock is not quite vertical, and
the water does not plunge over it in a fall.

Then we climb up to the left for an hour, and are 1,000 feet above the
river and 600 above the brook. Just before us the canyon divides, a
little stream coming down on the right and another on the left, and we
can look away up either of these canyons, through an ascending vista, to
cliffs and crags and towers a mile back and 2,000 feet overhead. To the
right a dozen gleaming cascades are seen. Pines and firs stand on the
rocks and aspens overhang the brooks. The rocks below are red and brown,
set in deep shadows, but above they are buff and vermilion and stand in
the sunshine. The light above, made more brilliant by the bright-tinted
rocks, and the shadows below, more gloomy by reason of the somber hues
of the brown walls, increase the apparent depths of the canyons, and it
seems a long way up to the world of sunshine and open sky, and a long
way down to the bottom of the canyon glooms. Never before have I
received such an impression of the vast heights of these canyon walls,
not even at the Cliff of the Harp, where the very heavens seemed to rest
on their summits. We sit on some overhanging rocks and enjoy the scene
for a time, listening to the music of the falling waters away up the
canyon. We name this Rippling Brook.

Late in the afternoon we make a short run to the mouth of another little
creek, coming down from the left into an alcove filled with luxuriant
vegetation. Here camp is made, with a group of cedars on one side and a
dense mass of box-elders and dead willows on the other.

I go up to explore the alcove. While away a whirlwind comes and scatters
the fire among the dead willows and cedar-spray, and soon there is a
conflagration. The men rush for the boats, leaving all they cannot
readily seize at the moment, and even then they have their clot