and events. Through it all we seemed to hear the roar of the Rio
Colorado.

We looked out of the window the next morning, on a landscape that was
novel, yet somehow familiar. The river, a quarter of a mile away, very
clear and unruffled under its groves of cottonwood, wound through low
barren hills, as unlike as could be to the cliffs and chasms we knew
so well. But the colours--gray, red, and umber, just as Moran has
painted them--reassured us. We seemed not so far from home, after all.

It was Wyoming weather, though; clear and cold, after a windy night.
When, after breakfast, we went down to the river, we found that a
little ice had formed along the margin.

The days of final preparation passed quickly--with unpacking of
innumerable boxes and bundles, checking off each article against our
lists; and with a long and careful overhauling of our photographic
outfit.

This last was a most important task, for the success of our expedition
depended on our success as photographers. We could not hope to add
anything of importance to the scientific and topographic knowledge of
the canyons already existing: and merely to come out alive at the
other end did not make a strong appeal to our vanity. We were there as
scenic photographers in love with their work, and determined to
reproduce the marvels of the Colorado's canyons, as far as we could do
it.

In addition to three film cameras we had 8 × 10 and 5 × 7 plate
cameras; a plentiful supply of plates and films; a large cloth