debouch into a beautiful valley, glide down its length for 10 miles, and
camp under a grand old cottonwood. This is evidently a frequent resort
for Indians. Tent poles are lying about, and the dead embers of late
camp fires are seen. On the plains to the left, antelope are feeding.
Now and then a wolf is seen, and after dark they make the air resound
with their howling.

_June 27.--_Now our way is along a gently flowing river, beset with many
islands; groves are seen on either side, and natural meadows, where
herds of antelope are feeding. Here and there we have views of the
distant mountains on the right. During the afternoon we make a long
detour to the west and return again to a point not more than half a mile
from where we started at noon, and here we camp for the night under a
high bluff. _June 28.--_To-day the scenery on either side of the river
is much the same as that of yesterday, except that two or three lakes
are discovered, lying in the valley to the west. After dinner we run but
a few minutes when we discover the mouth of the Uinta, a river coming in
from the west. Up the valley of this stream about 40 miles the
reservation of the Uinta Indians is situated. We propose to go there and
see if we can replenish our mess-kit, and perhaps send letters to
friends. We also desire to establish an astronomic station here; and
hence this will be our stopping place for several days.

Some years ago Captain Berthoud surveyed a stage route from Salt Lake
City to Denver, and this is the place where he crossed the Green River.
His party was encamped here for some time, constructing a ferry boat and
opening a road.

A little above the mouth of the Uinta, on the west side of the Green,
there is a lake of several thousand acres. We carry our boat across the
divide between this and the river, have a row on its quiet waters, and
succeed in shooting several ducks.

_June 29.--_A mile and three quarters from here is the junction of the
White River with the Green. The White has its source far to the east in
the Rocky Mountains. This morning I cross the Green and go over into the
valley of the White and extend my walk several miles along its winding
way, until at last I come in sight of some strangely carved rocks, named
by General Hughes, in his journal, "Goblin City." Our last winter's camp
was situated a hundred miles above the point reached to-day. The course
of the river, for much of the distance, is through canyons; but