tween the
Little Colorado and the Kanab the total fall is 890 feet, and the bulk
of this drop occurs in the granite. In one stretch of ten miles the
descent is 210 feet. All through this granite the character of the river
is different from anything above. The falls are short and violent, while
the stretches in between are smooth and not always swift. But the moment
a break occurs the turbulence and commotion are instantly very great.
The summer is the wet season here, and to add to our troubles we were
treated to frequent rains. The next day toward noon, as we were
sailing along between the black walls, on a rather sluggish current, a
deep-toned roar was borne up to our ears. Nothing could be seen of the
cause of it, but a complete disappearance of the river from our sight
warned us to make a landing as soon as possible. Some broken rocks
protruding a few feet above the water at the base of the right-hand
wall afforded the desired opportunity, and running in we stepped out and
mounted them. The cause of the roaring was immediately apparent. For a
third of a mile the river was a solid mass of huge waves and foam and
plunges, and on each side the granite came down so precipitously that
a footing was impossible. It took no second glance to tell us that, at
least with this stage of water, there was but one course, and that was
to run the place. There is nothing like having the inner man fortified
for exertion, therefore with a few bits of driftwood a fire was built,
by means of which Andy prepared dinner. When this had been disposed of
operations were begun. The Canonita was to remain here till our boat was
well through. In case we smashed up they would have a better chance, as
they might profit by our course, and if we went through safely, we would
be prepared to pick them up should disaster overtake them. At last we
were ready. The crew of the Canonita placed themselves where they could
carefully watch our fortunes, and we pulled up the river very close to
the right-hand wall in slack current, for about a quarter of a mile,
when we turned the bow out and struck for the middle, heading there
straight for the descent. I pulled the bow oars, and my back was toward
the terrific roar which, like the voice of some awful monster, grew
louder as we approached. It was difficult to refrain from turning
round to see what it looked like now, but as everything depended on the
promptness with which Hillers and I handled our oars in obedi