e unfriendly lands.
Later marauding Navajo used this trail, crossing the canyon to the
north side, raiding the scattered Mormon settlements, bringing their
stolen horses, and even sheep, down this canyon trail. Then they drove
them across on a frozen river, and escaped with them to their mountain
fastness. The Mormons finally tired of these predatory visits, and
shut off all further loss from that source by blasting off a great
ledge at the north end of the trail. This ruined the trail beyond all
hope of repair, and there is no travel at present over the old Ute
Crossing. The fording of the river on horseback was effected by
dropping down to the river through a narrow side canyon, and crossing
to the centre on a shoal, then following a centre shoal down quite a
distance, and completing the crossing at a low point on the opposite
side. This was only possible at the very lowest stage of water.

The morning following our arrival here, we walked about a mile up the
gravelly slope on the south side, to see if we could locate the pass
by which the trail dropped down over these 3000-foot walls. The canyon
had changed in appearance after leaving the mountain, and now we had a
canyon; smaller, but not unlike the Grand Canyon in appearance, with
an inner plateau, and a narrow canyon at the river, while the walls on
top were several miles apart, and towering peaks or buttes rose from
the plateau, reaching a height almost equal to the walls themselves.
The upper walls were cream-tinted or white sandstone, the lower
formation was a warm red sandstone. We could not discover the pass
without a long walk to the base of the upper cliffs, so returned to
the boats.

About this time we heard shots, seeming to come from some point down
the river, and on the north side. Later a dull hollow sound was heard
like pounding on a great bass drum. We could not imagine what it was,
but knew that it must be a great distance away. We had noticed
instances before this, where these smooth, narrow canyon had a great
magnifying effect on noises. In the section above the San Juan, where
the upper walls overhung a little, a loud call would roll along for
minutes before it finally died. A shot from a revolver sounded as if
the cliff were falling.

Our run this morning was delightful. The current was the best on which
we had travelled. The channel swung from side to side, in great half
circles, with most of the water thrown against the outside bank, or
wa