e manoeuvre was repeated: now here
now there. One would think the chances were about one to a hundred
that he would get through. But by some sort of a system, undoubtedly
aided, many times, by good luck, the man and his boat won to land.

After running a small rapid, we came to another, in the centre of
which was an island,--the last rapid in Cataract Canyon. While not as
bad as the one at Dark Canyon it was rather difficult, and at this
point we found no shore on either side. The south side was rendered
impassable by great boulders, much higher than the river level, which
were scattered through the channel. The opposite channel began much
like the rapid at Dark Canyon, sweeping under the wall until turned by
a bend and many fallen rocks below the end of the island, then crossed
with a line of cresting waves to the opposite side, where it was
joined by the other stream, and the left wall was swept clean in like
manner. We ran it by letting our boats drop into the stream, but
pulled away from the wall and kept close to the island, then when its
end was reached crossed the ridge of waves and pulled for the
right-hand shore. In such rapids as this we often found the line of
waves in the swift-rushing centre to be several feet higher than the
water along the shore.

Then our thoughts reverted to Smith. What would he do when he came to
this rapid? The only escape was a narrow sloping ledge on the right
side, beginning close to the water some distance above the rapid,
reaching a height of sixty or seventy feet above the water at the
lower end, while a descent could be made to the river some distance
below here. It would be possible for him to climb over this with his
provisions, but the idea of taking his boat up there was entirely out
of the question, and, poorly equipped as he was, an attempt to run it
would surely end in disaster. The breaking of an oar, the loss of a
rowlock, or the slightest knock of his rotten boat against a rock, and
Smith's fate would be similar to those others whose bones lay buried
in the sands.

In the next four miles we had no more rapids, but had some fine
travelling on a very swift river. It was getting dusk, but we pulled
away, for just ahead of us was the end of Cataract Canyon. We camped
by a large side canyon on the left named Mille Crag Bend, with a great
number of jagged pinnacles gathered in a group at the top of the
walls, which had dropped down to a height of about 1300 feet. We felt