n with trees. But although we looked carefully as we passed,
there was no sign of a trail or of human life. Some egrets preened
their silken feathers on the bank; sand-hill cranes and two coyotes,
fat as hogs and dragging tails weighted with mud, feasted on the
lively hermit-crabs, which they extracted from their holes--and that
was all.

The sun, just above the lilac-tinted mountains, hung like a great
suspended ball of fire. The cloudless sky glared like a furnace. Deep
purple shadows crept into the canyons slashing the mountain range. The
yellow dust-waves and the mirages disappeared with the going down of
the sun. Still we were carried on and on. We would go down with the
tide. Now the end of the island lay opposite the line of cliffs; soon
we would be in the Gulf.

So ended the Colorado. Two thousand miles above, it was a beautiful
river, born of a hundred snow-capped peaks and a thousand crystal
streams; gathering strength, it became the masterful river which had
carved the hearts of mountains and slashed the rocky plateaus,
draining a kingdom and giving but little in return. Now it was going
under, but it was fighting to the end. Waves of yellow struggled up
through waves of green and were beaten down again. The dorsal fins of
a half-dozen sharks cut circles near our craft. With the last
afterglow we were past the end of the island and were nearing the
brooding cliffs. Still the current ran strong. The last vestige of day
was swallowed in the gloom, just as the Colorado was buried 'neath the
blue. A hard wind was blowing, toward the shore; the sea was choppy. A
point of rocks where the cliffs met the sea was our goal. Would we
never reach it? Even in the night, which was now upon us, the distance
was deceptive. At last we neared the pile of rocks. The sound of
waters pounding on the shore was heard, and we hurriedly landed, a
half-mile above it, just as the tide turned.

The beach was a half-mile wide, covered with mud and sloughs. There
was no high shore. But an examination showed that the tide ran back to
the cliffs. One of us had to stay with the boat. Telling Phillipps to
get what sleep he could, I sat in the boat, and allowed the small
breakers which fox-chased each other to beat it in as the tide rose.

An arctic explorer has said that having an adventure means that
something unexpected or unforeseen has happened; that some one has
been incompetent. I had the satisfaction of knowing that the fault of
t