he plateau being about 8,000
feet above the level of the sea, it is in a region of moisture, as is
well attested by the forests and grassy valleys. The plateau seems to
rise gradually to the west, until it merges into the Wasatch Mountains.
On these high table-lands elk and deer abound; and they are favorite
hunting grounds for the Ute Indians.

A little before sunset Howland and I meet again at the head of the side
canyon, and down we start. It is late, and we must make great haste or
be caught by the darkness; so we go, running where we can, leaping over
the ledges, letting each other down on the loose rocks, as long as we
can see. When darkness comes we are still some distance from camp, and a
long, slow, anxious descent is made toward the gleaming camp fire.

After supper, observations for latitude are taken, and only two or three
hours for sleep remain before daylight.

_July 11.--_ A short distance below camp we run a rapid, and in doing so
break an oar and then lose another, both belonging to the "Emma Dean."
Now the pioneer boat has but two oars. We see nothing from which oars
can be made, so we conclude to run on to some point where it seems
possible to climb out to the forests on the plateau, and there we will
procure suitable timber from which to make new ones.

We soon approach another rapid. Standing on deck, I think it can be run,
and on we go. Coming nearer, I see that at the foot it has a short turn
to the left, where the waters pile up against the cliff. Here we try to
land, but quickly discover that, being in swift water above the fall, we
cannot reach shore, crippled as we are by the loss of two oars; so the
bow of the boat is turned down stream. We shoot by a big rock; a reflex
wave rolls over our little boat and fills her. I see that the place is
dangerous and quickly signal to the other boats to land where they can.
This is scarcely completed when another wave rolls our boat over and I
am thrown some distance into the water. I soon find that swimming is
very easy and I cannot sink. It is only necessary to ply strokes
sufficient to keep my head out of the water, though now and then, when a
breaker rolls over me, I close my mouth and am carried through it. The
boat is drifting ahead of me 20 or 30 feet, and when the great waves
have passed I overtake her and find Sumner and Dunn clinging to her. As
soon as we reach quiet water we all swim to one side and turn her over.
In doing this, Dunn loses hi