xceedingly
"close," the rocks rising vertically from the edge of the water. There
were few places where a landing could be made, but luckily no landing
was necessary, except for night. The darkness fell before we found
a suitable camp-ground. Some of our supplies had now to be used with
caution, for it became evident that we would run short of food before we
could get any more.

* Actually a pinnacle and a butte--not a single mass.{See page 275}.

Long ago, no one knows how long, we might have been able to purchase of
the natives who, a few miles below this camp, had tilled a small piece
of arable land in an alcove. Small huts for storage were found there in
the cliffs, and on a promontory, about thirty feet above the water, were
the ruins of stone buildings, one of which, twelve by twenty feet in
dimensions, had walls still standing about six feet high. The canyon
here was some six hundred feet wide; the walls about nine hundred feet
high, though the top of the plateau through which the canyon is carved
is at least fifteen hundred feet above the river. We discovered the
trail by which the old Puebloans had made their way in and out. Where
necessity called for it, poles and tree-trunks had been placed against
the rocks to aid the climbers. Some of our party trusted themselves
to these ancient ladders, and with the aid of a rope also, reached the
summit.

Beyond this place of ruins, the river flowed between walls not over four
hundred and fifty feet apart at the top. The current was about three
miles an hour, with scarcely a ripple, though it appeared much swifter
because of the nearness of the cliffs. At the end of seven miles of
winding canyon, there came a sharp turn to the east, which brought into
view, at the other end, another canyon of nearly equal proportions and
similar appearance. In the bottom of this flowed a river of almost the
same size as the Green. The waters of the two came together with a
good deal of a rush, the commingling being plainly visible. Neither
overwhelmed the other; it was a perfect union, and in some respects it
is quite appropriate that the combined waters of these streams should
have a special name to represent them. The new tributary was Grand
River, and when our boats floated on the united waters, we were at
last on the back of the Dragon. Away sped the current of the Colorado,
swirling along, spitefully lashing with its hungry tongue the narrow
sand-banks fringing the rugged