ves a very snug little business. And, indeed,
when all the independent trappers are driven by the appearance of winter
into this delightful retreat, and the whole Snake village, two thousand
or three thousand strong, impelled by the same necessity, pitch their
lodges around the fort and the dances and merrymakings of a long winter
are thoroughly commenced, there is no want of customers."

With this happy picture of frontier luxury in the trapper period I will
close the scene. Unwittingly, but no less thoroughly, the trappers had
accomplished a mission: they had opened the gates of the wilderness.
Two-thirds of these intrepid spirits had left their bones on the field,
but theirs had been the privilege of seeing the priscan glory of the
wilderness.

Note.--Near the emigrant crossing of Green River, in Wyoming, early in
1849, a party bound for California discovered an old scow ferry-boat,
twelve feet long and about six feet wide, with two oars. Deciding to
complete their journey by water they embarked. Later they built canoes.
They were: William Lewis Manly (aged 29); M. S. McMahon; Charles and
Joseph Hazelrig; Richard Field; Alfred Watson; and John Rogers. Manly's
account appears entirely truthful. He tells of canyons, rapids, etc.,
till near the mouth of Uinta River they met the Ute chief Walker (Wakar)
who explained by signs that the fury of the river below was worse than
above, and all but two gave up. These two, McMahon and Field, stopped
with the Utes, intending to continue. The others went to Salt Lake.
Wakar (whom McMahon calls "the generous old chief") repeated his
warnings. Field lost courage, and finally McMahon also abandoned the
desire. Manly's story (first published in the Santa Clara Valley Weekly)
is given in his book Death Valley in '49. The volume was edited by the
late Henry L. Brainard, head of the San Jose, California, company which,
in 1894, published it. It was Mr. Brainard who secured the story from
Manly for the Weekly. Mrs. Brainard says of Manly: "He was one of the
dearest old men; kind, loving, gentle, as one seldom meets in this
world. It was a pleasure to meet and know him. His character was
unblemished." At one place which I identify as lower Disaster Falls,
Canyon of Lodore, they came to a deserted camp, "a skiff and some heavy
cooking utensils, with a notice posted on an alder [box-elder] tree,
saying that they had found the river route impracticable... and were
about to start overland to