"That's where the wild red men are hanging out," said Stacy.

"That's some distance from here. We shan't see it until some days
later," replied the guide. "This, in days long ago, was a Havasupai
Indian trail. You see those things that look like ditches?"

"Yes."

"Those were their irrigating canals. They knew how to irrigate a long
time before we understood its advantages. Their canals conveyed large
volumes of water from springs to the Indian Gardens beyond here. Yonder
is what is known as the Battleship Iowa," said the guide, pointing to
the left to a majestic pile of red sandstone that capped the red wall of
the Canyon.

"Don't shoot," cried Stacy, ducking.

"You'll be shooting down into the Colorado," warned Nance. "You'd
better watch out."

The rock indicated did very much resemble a battleship. The boys
marveled at it. Then a little further on they came upon a sandstone
plateau from which they could look down into the Indian Garden,
another plateau rich with foliage, green grass and a riot of flowers.
It was like looking into a bit of the tropics.

"Here is the worst piece of trail we have yet found," called Nance.
"Go carefully," he directed when they reached the "blue lime." For the
next few minutes, until they had passed over this most dangerous portion,
little was said. The riders were too busy watching out for their own