packed and shipped to be developed at once. This was quite a load off
our minds.

The following day we prepared to depart, but did not leave until the
afternoon. Then, with promises to let them know the outcome of our
venture, we parted from our friends and rode back to Jensen.

We planned on leaving the following morning. The river had fallen one
foot since we had landed, and we were anxious to have the benefit of
the high water. We were told that it was six feet above the low-water
stage of two weeks before.

On Monday, October the 9th, after loading our boat with a new stock of
provisions,--in which was included few jars of honey, and a few dozen
of eggs, packed in sawdust,--we began what might be called the second
stage of our journey; the 175-mile run to Blake or Green River, Utah,
a little west of south from Jensen. Ten miles below Jensen was a ferry
used by the auto and wagons. Here also was a ranch house, with a
number of people in the yard. We were invited to land and did so. They
had been informed by telephone of our coming and were looking for us;
indeed they had even prepared dinner for us, hoping we would reach
there in time. Not knowing all this, we had eaten our cold lunch half
an hour before. The women were busy preserving fruits and garden
truck, and insisted on us taking two or three jars along. This was a
welcome change to the dried fruit, which was one of our principal
foods. These people made the usual request--"Drop us a post card if
you get through."

The memory of these people that we met on this journey will linger
with us as long as we live. They were always anxious to help us or