Passing through Horseshoe,--another very short canyon,--we found deep,
placid pools, and sheer, light red walls rising about four hundred
feet on either side, then sloping back steeply to the tree-covered
mountains. In the middle of this canyon Emery was startled out of a
day-dream by a rock falling into the water close beside him, with
never a sound of warning. Years spent in the canyons had accustomed
Emery and me to such occurrences; but Jimmy, unused to great gorges
and towering cliffs, was much impressed by this incident. After all,
it is only the unusual that is terrible. Jimmy was ready enough to
take his chances at dodging bricks hurled by a San Francisco
earthquake, but never got quite used to rocks descending from a source
altogether out of sight. Small wonder, after all! Later we were to
experience more of this thing, and on a scale to startle a stoic!

We halted at the end of Horseshoe, early in the afternoon of September
14, 1911, one week out from Green River City. Camp No. 6 was pitched
on a gravelly shore beside Sheep Creek, a clear sparkling stream,
coming in from the slopes of the Uintah range. Just above us, on the
west, rose three jagged cliffs, about five hundred feet high,
reminding one by their shape of the Three Brothers of Yosemite Valley.
Here, again, we were treated to another wonderful example of geologic
displacement, the rocks of Horseshoe Canyon lying in level strata;
while those of Kingfisher, which followed, were standing on end. Sheep
Creek, flowing from the west, finds an easy course through the fault,
at the division of the canyons. The balance of this day was spent in
carefully packing our material and rearranging it in our boats, for we
expected hard work to follow.

Tempted by the rippling song of the brook, and by tales of fish to be
found therein, we spent two hours fishing from its banks on the