least, of meeting with some geological
change that will let us out of the granite; but, arriving at the point,
I can see below only a labyrinth of deep gorges.

_August 19._ Rain again this morning. Still we are in our granite
prison, and the time is occupied until noon in making a long, bad
portage.

After dinner, in running a rapid, the pioneer boat is upset by a wave.
We are some distance in advance of the larger boats, the river is rough
and swift, and we are unable to land, but cling to the boat, and are
carried down stream over another rapid. The men in the boats above see
our trouble, but they are caught in whirlpools, and are spinning about
in eddies, and it seems a long time before they come to our relief. At
last they do come; our boat is turned right side up, bailed out; the
oars, which fortunately have floated along in company with us, are
gathered up, and on we go, without even landing.

Soon after the accident the clouds break away, and we have sunshine
again.

Soon we find a little beach, with just room enough to land. Here we
camp, but there is no wood. Across the river, and a little way above, we
see some driftwood lodged in the rocks. So we bring two boatloads over,
build a huge fire, and spread everything to dry. It is the first
cheerful night we have had for a week; a warm, drying fire in the midst
of the camp and a few bright stars in our patch of heavens overhead.

_August 20._ The characteristics of the canon change this morning. The
river is broader, the walls more sloping, and composed of black slates,
that stand on edge. These nearly vertical slates are washed out in
places--that is, the softer beds are washed out between the harder,
which are left standing. In this way curious little alcoves are formed,
in which are quiet bays of water, but on a much smaller scale than the
great bays and buttresses of Marble Canon.

The river is still rapid, and we stop to let down with lines several
times, but make greater progress as we run ten miles. We camp on the
right bank. Here, on a terrace of trap, we discover another group of
ruins. There was evidently quite a village on this rock. Again we find
mealing stones, and much broken pottery, and up in a little natural
shelf in the rock, back of the ruins, we find a globular basket, that
would hold perhaps a third of a bushel. It is badly broken, and, as I
attempt to take it up, it falls to pieces. There are many beautiful
flint-chips, as if this ha