l, he remarked: "Well, you fellows
are not Mormons; I can tell by the size of your beds!"

Our new friend gave the name of Wolverton. There was another man named
Wilson who owned a ranch just below the dam. Both of these men were
much interested in our experiences. Wolverton had considerable
knowledge of the river and of boats; very little persuasion would have
been necessary to have had him for a companion on the balance of our
journey. But we had made up our minds to make it alone, now, as it
looked feasible. Both Wilson and Wolverton knew the country below
Green River, Utah, having made surveys through much of the surrounding
territory. Wolverton said we must surely see his father, who lived
down the river and who was an enthusiast on motor boats. A few
minutes' work the next morning sufficed to get our boats over the dam.
The dam was constructed of loose rock and piles, chinked with brush
and covered with sloping planks,--just a small dam to raise the water
for irrigation purposes. Much of the water ran through the canal; in
places the planks were dry, in others some water ran over. The boats,
being unloaded were pulled up on these planks, then slid into the
water below. Wilson had a large water wheel for irrigation purposes,
the first of several such wheels which we were to see this day. These
wheels, twenty feet or more in height,--with slender metal buckets
each holding gallons of water, fastened at intervals on either
side,--were placed in a swift current, anchored on the shore to stout
piles, or erected over mill-races cut in the banks. There they
revolved, the buckets filling and emptying automatically, the water
running off in troughs above the level of the river back to the
fertile soil. Some of these wheels had ingenious floating arrangements
whereby they accommodated themselves to the different stages of a
rising or falling river. We took a few pictures of Wilson's place
before leaving. He informed us that he had telephoned to certain
people in Green River who would help us in various ways. Two hours'
rowing, past many pretty little ranches, brought us to the railroad
bridge, a grateful sight to us. A pumping plant stood beside the
bridge under charge of Captain Yokey, one of Wilson's friends. Yokey
owned a large motor boat, which was tied up to the shore. Our boats
were left in his charge while we went up to the town, a mile distant.
Another of Wilson's friends met us, and secured a dark room for us so
t