bank beside
smooth-flowing waters, some picture writings were found, the first
indications, since the wreckage at Disaster Falls, outside of occasional
signs of Powell's other party, that human beings had ever been in the
country. The tail-piece at the end of the preface to this volume is a
reduction of a drawing I made of the largest figure, which was about
four feet high. The river now flowed gently between low banks covered in
many places with cottonwoods, and it required hard labour of a different
kind to get the boats along. Signs of Utes began to appear, and one
morning a fine fellow, gaily dressed, and mounted on a splendid horse,
rode into camp with a "How--how!" Farther on we came to him again, with
his squaw, a good-looking young woman, very well dressed in a sort
of navy blue flannel, and wearing numerous ornaments. We ferried them
across the river, and afterwards found they were runaways from White
River,--an elopement in reality.

After a good deal of hard rowing we finally reached the mouth of the
Uinta. Thompson went up to the Agency, about forty miles away, and found
that Powell had gone out to Salt Lake. When the latter came back to the
Agency it was to direct Thompson to go on with our party, while Powell
went out again to see about the ration-supply at the mouth of the Dirty
Devil. The men sent there had been unable to find the place, or, indeed,
to get anywhere near it. Powell was to meet us again at the foot of
Gray Canyon, about one hundred and fifty miles farther down. When
our supplies had been brought from the Agency and all was ready, we
proceeded on our way, passing the elopers near the end of the valley,
where they were very happy in a good camp with a fresh deer and plenty
of vermilion, which they used liberally their faces. Below this the
river was full of beaver, and had Pattie or some of the early trappers
been there, they could have reaped a rich harvest. The current was slow,
and Thompson read Emerson aloud as we drifted. Gradually the hills began
to grow rocky, and then distinct low cliffs appeared, till finally we
discovered ourselves fairly within the walls of another canyon,
which from the barren character of its cliffs is called the Canyon of
Desolation. It is ninety-seven miles long, and immediately at its foot
is Gray Canyon, thirty-six miles long. Then comes Gunnison Valley, and
it was there that Powell was to return to us. The first indication of
descending waters was a slight