th a new difficulty. The
river fills the entire channel; the walls are vertical on either side
from the water's edge, and a bad rapid is beset with rocks. We come to
the head of it and land on a rock in the stream. The little boat is let
down to another rock below, the men of the larger boat holding to the
line; the second boat is let down in the same way, and the line of the
third boat is brought with them. Now the third boat pushes out from the
upper rock, and, as we have her line below, we pull in and catch her as
she is sweeping by at the foot of the rock on which we stand. Again the
first boat is let down stream the full length of her line and the second
boat is passed down, by the first to the extent of her line, which is
held by the men in the first boat; so she is two lines' length from
where she started. Then the third boat is let down past the second, and
still down, nearly to the length of her line, so that she is fast to the
second boat and swinging down three lines' lengths, with the other two
boats intervening. Held in this way, the men are able to pull her into a
cove in the left wall, where she is made fast. But this leaves a man on
the rock above, holding to the line of the little boat. When all is
ready, he springs from the rock, clinging to the line with one hand and
swimming with the other, and we pull him in as he goes by. As the two
boats, thus loosened, drift down, the men in the cove pull us all in as
we come opposite; then we pass around to a point of rock below the cove,
close to the wall, land, make a short portage over the worst places in
the rapid, and start again.

At night we camp on a sand beach. The wind blows a hurricane; the
drifting sand almost blinds us; and nowhere can we find shelter. The
wind continues to blow all night, the sand sifting through our blankets
and piling over us until we are covered as in a snowdrift. We are glad
when morning comes.

_July 13.--_This morning we have an exhilarating ride. The river is
swift, and there are many smooth rapids. I stand on deck, keeping
careful watch ahead, and we glide along, mile after mile, plying
strokes, now on the right and then on the left, just sufficient to guide
our boats past the rocks into smooth water. At noon we emerge from Gray
Canyon, as we have named it, and camp for dinner under a cotton-wood
tree standing on the left bank.

Extensive sand plains extend back from the immediate river valley as far
as we can see on eit