it ran against the upended cliff. The gorgeous colours were the same
as those on the opposite side, and, to a certain degree, were also
found in Whirlpool Canyon.

Our two and a half hours' dash through the fourteen miles of rapid
water in Whirlpool Canyon put us in a joyful frame of mind. Rapid
after rapid was left behind us without a pause in our rowing, with
only a hasty survey standing on the deck of the boats before going
over. Others that were free from rocks were rowed in bow first, the
big waves breaking over our boats and ourselves. We bailed while
drifting in the quiet stretches, then got ready for the next rapids.
Two large rapids only were looked over from the shore and these were
run in the same manner. We could hardly believe it was true when we
emerged from the mountain so quickly into a little flat park or valley
sheltered in the hills. This was Island or Rainbow Park, the latter
name being suggested by the brilliant colouring of the rocks, in the
mountains to our left. Perhaps the form of the rocks themselves helped
a little, for here was one end of the rainbow of rock which began on
the other side of the mountains. Jagged-edged canyons looking almost
as if their sides had been rent asunder came out of these mountains.
There was very little dark red here except away on top, 2300 feet
above, where a covering of pines made a soft background for
light-cream and gorgeous yellow-coloured pinnacles, or rocky walls of
pink and purple and delicate shades of various hues. Large cottonwoods
appeared again along the river banks, in brilliant autumn colours,
adding to the beauties of the scene. Back from the river, to the west,
stretched the level park, well covered with bunch-grass on which some
cattle grazed, an occasional small prickly pear cactus, and the ever
present, pungent sage. Verdure-covered islands dotted the course of
the stream, which was quiet and sluggish, doubling back and forth like