in our next day's travel. What we did find were usually large, but we
ran them all without difficulty. About noon we met five men in a boat,
rowing up the stream in a long, still stretch. They told us they were
working on a dam, a mile or two below. They followed us down to see us
make the passage through the rapid which lay above their camp. The
rapid was long and rocky, having a seventeen-foot fall in a half mile.
We picked our channel by standing up in the boat before entering the
rapid and were soon at the bottom with no worse mishap than bumping a
rock or two rather lightly. We had bailed out and were tying our
boats, when the men came panting down the hill up which they had
climbed to see us make this plunge. A number of men were at work here,
but this being Sunday, most of them had gone to Green River, Utah,
twenty-one miles distant.

Among the little crowd who came down to see us resume our rowing was a
lady and a little girl who lived in a rock building, near the other
buildings erected for the working-men. Emery showed the child a
picture of his four-year-old daughter, Edith, with her mother--a
picture he always carried in a note-book. Then he had her get in the
boat with him, and we made a photograph of them. They were very good
friends before we left.

In a few hours we emerged from the low-walled canyon into a level
country. A large butte, perhaps 700 feet high, stood out by itself, a
mile from the main cliffs. This was Gunnison Butte, an old landmark
near the Gunnison trail. We were anxious to reach Blake or Green
River, Utah, not many miles below, that evening; but we failed to make
it. There were several rapids, some of them quite large, and we had
run them all when we came to a low dam that obstructed our passage,
While looking it over, seeing how best to make a portage, a young man