ll, with a five-or six-mile an hour current close to the wall. We
took advantage of all this current, hugging the wall, with the stern
almost touching, and with the bow pointed out so we would not run into
the walls or scrape our oars. Then, when it seemed as if our necks
were about to be permanently dislocated, from looking over one
shoulder, the river would reverse its curve, the channel would cross
to the other side, and we would give that side of our necks a rest.
Once in a great while I would bump a rock, and would look around
sheepishly, to see if my brother had seen me do it. I usually found
him with a big grin on his face, if he happened to be ahead of me.

We rowed about twenty miles down the river before we learned what had
caused the noises heard in the morning. On rounding a turn we saw the
strange spectacle of fifteen or twenty men at work on the
half-constructed hull of a flat-bottomed steamboat, over sixty feet in
length. This boat was on the bank quite a distance above the water,
with the perpendicular walls of a crooked side canyon rising above it.
It was a strange sight, here in this out-of-the-way corner of the
world. Some men with heavy sledges were under the boat, driving large
spikes into the planking. This was the noise we had heard that
morning.

The blasting, we learned later, was at some coal mines, several miles
up this little canyon, which bore the name of Warm Creek Canyon. A
road led down through the canyon, making it possible to haul the
lumber for the boat, clear to the river's edge. The nearest railroad
was close to two hundred miles from this place, quite a haul
considering the ruggedness of the country. The material for the boat
had been shipped from San Francisco, all cut, ready to put together.
The vessel was to be used to carry coal down the river, to a dredge
that had recently been installed at Lee's Ferry.

The dinner gong had just sounded when we landed, and we were taken
along with the crowd. There were some old acquaintances in this group
of men, we found, from Flagstaff, Arizona. These men had received a
Flagstaff paper which had published a short note we had sent from
Green River, Utah. They had added a comment that no doubt this would
be the last message we would have an opportunity to send out. Very
cheering for Emery's wife, no doubt. Fortunately she shared our
enthusiasm, and if she felt any apprehension her few letters failed to
show it.

We resumed our rowing at on