ne of
the interesting spectacles of this vicinity. Its splendid arch is fully
formed, but the wall against which it rests its full length remains,
broken through in one spot only. How many thousands or hundreds of
thousands of years will be required to wipe away the wall and leave the
bridge complete is for those to guess who will.

[Illustration: _From a photograph by Douglas White_

EL GOBERNADOR, ZION NATIONAL MONUMENT

Three thousand feet high; the lower two thousand feet is a brilliant
red, the upper thousand feet is white]

Here also is the valley end of a wire cable which passes upward
twenty-five hundred feet to cross a break in the wall to a forest on the
mesa's top. Lumber is Dixie's most hardly furnished need. For years sawn
timbers have been cabled down into the valley and carted to the villages
of the Virgin River.

In some respects the most fascinating part of Little Zion is still
beyond. A mile above El Gobernador the river swings sharply west and
doubles on itself. Raspberry Bend is far nobler than its name implies,
and the Great Organ which the river here encircles exacts no imaginative
effort. Beyond this the canyon narrows rapidly. The road has long since
stopped, and soon the trail stops. Presently the river, now a shrunken
stream, concealing occasional quicksands, offers the only footing. The
walls are no less lofty, no less richly colored, and the weary traveller
works his difficult way forward.

There will come a time if he persists when he may stand at the bottom of
a chasm more than two thousand feet deep and, nearly touching the walls
on either side, look up and see no sky.

"At the water's edge the walls are perpendicular," writes Doctor G.K.
Gilbert, of the U.S. Geological Survey, who first described it, "but in
the deeper parts they open out toward the top. As we entered and found
our outlook of sky contracted--as we had never before seen it between
canyon cliffs--I measured the aperture above, and found it thirty-five
degrees. We had thought this a minimum, but soon discovered our error.
Nearer and nearer the walls approached, and our strip of blue narrowed
down to twenty degrees, then ten, and at last was even intercepted by
the overhanging rocks. There was, perhaps, no point from which, neither
forward nor backward, could we discover a patch of sky, but many times
our upward view was completely cut off by the interlocking of the walls,
which, remaining nearly parallel to each othe