enly, you turn a
rock angle, and the yellow, muddy, turbulent flood of the Colorado
swirls past you, tempestuous, noisy, sullen and dark, filling the narrow
canyon with the war of rock against water. What seemed to be mere
foothills far above, now appear colossal peaks sheer up and down,
penning the angry river between black walls. It was no longer hot. We
could hear a thunder shower reverberating back in some of the valleys of
the Canyon; and the rain falling between us and the red rocks was as a
curtain to the scene shifting of those old earth and mountain and water
gods hiding in the wings of the vast amphitheater.

And if you want a wilder, more eery trail than down Bright Angel, go
from Dripping Springs out to Gertrude Point. I know a great many wild
mountain trails in the Rockies, North and South; but I have never known
one that will give more thrills from its sheer beauty and sheer daring.
You go out round the ledges of precipice after precipice, where nothing
holds you back from a fall 7,000 feet straight as a stone could drop,
nothing but the sure-footedness of your horse; out and out, round and
round peak after peak, till you are on the tip top and outer edge of one
of the highest mountains in the Canyon. This is the trail of old Louis
Boucher, one of the beauty-loving souls who first found his way into the
center of the Canyon and built his own trail to one of its grandest
haunts. Louis used to live under the arch formed by the Dripping
Springs; but Louis has long since left, and the trail is falling away
and is now one for a horse that can walk on air and a head that doesn't
feel the sensations of champagne when looking down a straight 7,000 feet
into darkness. If you like that kind of a trail, take the trip; for it
is the best and wildest view of the Canyon; but take two days to it, and
sleep at Louis' deserted camp under the Dripping Springs. Yet if you
don't like a trail where you wonder if you remembered to make your will
and what would happen if the gravel slipped from your horse's feet one
of these places where the next turn seems to jump off into atmosphere,
then wait; for the day must surely come when all of the Grand Canyon's
217 miles will be made as easily and safely accessible to the American
public as Egypt.

CHAPTER IX

THE GOVERNOR'S PALACE OF SANTA FE

It lies to the left of the city Plaza--a long, low, one-story building
flanking the whole length of one side of the Plaza, with bi