at Green River City--as others
had done before, to write last messages to those who were nearest and
dearest to us. A telegram to our parents in an Eastern city; and
another to Emery's wife and little girl, at Bright Angel, more than
eight hundred miles down this self-same river--these, somehow, took
longer to write than the letters themselves. But whatever we may have
felt, we finished this final correspondence in silence, and hurried
back to the river.

Something of a crowd had gathered on the bridge to wish us _bon
voyage_. Shouting up to them our thanks for their hospitality, and
telling them to "look pleasant," we focussed the motion-picture camera
on them, Emery turning the crank, as the boat swung out into the
current.

So began our journey, on Friday, September the 8th, 1911, at 9.30
A.M., as entered in my journal.

CHAPTER II

INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING

All this preparation--and still more, the vexatious delays--had been a
heavy tax upon us. We needed a vacation. We took it--six pleasant
care-free days--hunting and fishing as we drifted through the sixty
miles of southern Wyoming. There were ducks and geese on the river to
test our skill with the shot-gun. Only two miles below Green River
City Emery secured our first duck, a promise of good sport to follow.
An occasional cottontail rabbit was seen, scurrying to cover through
the sage-brush, when we made a detour from the boats. We saw many
jack-rabbits too--with their long legs, and exaggerated
ears--creatures swifter, even, than the coyotes themselves.

We saw few people, though an occasional rancher hailed us from the
shore. Men of the open themselves, the character of our expedition
appealed to them. Their invitations to "come up to the ranch, and
spend the evening" were always hearty, and could seldom be refused if
the day was nearly gone.

The Logan boys' ranch, for instance, was our first camp; but will be
one of the last to be forgotten. The two Logan boys were sturdy,
companionable young men, full of pranks, and of that bubbling,
generous humour that flourishes in this Western air. We were amused by
their kindly offer to allow Jimmy to ride "the little bay"--a
beautiful animal, with the shifty eye of a criminal. But Jimmy, though
city-bred, was not to be trapped, and declined; very wisely, as we
thought. We photographed their favourite horses, and the cabin; also
helped them with their own camera, and developed some pla