e,
however, this is not vouched for, but merely repeated as hearsay.

[Illustration: Wilderness Pinery, Oregon Co. Page 84.]

After a time we stopped to inquire the way of an old man dipping water
from a pond by the roadside. He told us he was dipping water to wash
the wheat he was sowing in the field just over the fence, and that we
reach the forks, then to keep the Van Buren road, pass two houses on the
left, a white one on the right, another on the left and then inquire the
way--anyone could tell us, and Captain Greer would show us to the
Spring, "for he is a mighty accommodating man."

On we went to the forks where in the point of the Y stood a large tree
with a Van Buren sign-board on one side, and in the direction it
pointed, we turned, although rather reluctantly, for it looked little
used and rocky, while the other was in good condition; but we followed
the sign-board and had no misgivings until it began to be realized that
a great deal of time was being passed but no houses. The morning had
been very chilly, but now the atmosphere was just at that balmy point
between warm and cool that makes mere living an unqualified luxury; and
added to this we soon found ourselves in a deep canon no less beautiful
than the justly celebrated North Cheyenne Canon near Colorado Springs.

There was now no doubt that we were on the wrong road, but such
magnificence was unexpected and not to be turned from with indifference.

For some distance the road makes a gradual and rather perilous looking
descent along the steep and broken slope on the shady side of the
ancient river's great retaining-wall, while that opposite is glorified
by the brilliant glow of the afternoon sun, which adds an equal charm to
the rich, luxuriant foliage below and the tall stately pines that adorn,
without concealing, the grey rock they proudly cling to, or that rises
in a protecting rampart three hundred feet higher than the canon bed,
with banners of the long-needled pine waving above to proclaim the
perfection of Nature's undisturbed freedom.

The road descending crosses the thread of water still flowing among the
great rounded bowlders left by the former torrent, and our view is
changed to one of dense, but by no means melancholy, shadows, with a
crown of golden sunlight; and presently the course of the canon turns to
the east, and it is all filled with the yellow rays and we notice the
bright red hawthorn berries, and masses of hydrangea still sh