--usually referred to by us as the M.P.C.--this
delicate work always falling to Emery, for he alone could do it.

There was much to interest us here. Major Powell reported finding the
name "Ashley" painted under an overhanging rock on the left side of
the river. Underneath was a date, rather indistinct, but found to have
been 1825, by Dellenbaugh, after carefully tracing the career of
Colonel Ashley who was responsible for the record. Accompanied by a
number of trappers, he made the passage through this canyon at that
early day. We found a trace of the record. There were three
letters--A-s-h--the first two quite distinct, and underneath were
black spots. It must have been pretty good paint to leave a trace
after eighty-six years!

Resuming our journey we passed into deep canyon again,--the deepest we
had found up to this time,--with steeply sloping, verdure-covered
walls about 2700 feet high. The rapids still continued. At one rapid
the remark was made that "Two feet of water would cover two hundred
rocks so that our boats would pass over them." But we did not have the
two feet needed.

We had previously been informed that some of these mountains were the
hiding-places of men who were "wanted" in the three states which
bordered near here. Some escaping prisoners had also been traced to
the mountains in this direction; then all tracks had ceased. The few
peaceable ranchers who lived in these mountains were much alarmed over
these reports. We found one such rancher on the plateau above the
canyon, whom we will call Johnson for convenience,--living in one of
the upper canyons. He sold us some provisions. In return he asked us
to help him swim some of his horses across the river. He said the high
water had taken out his own boat. The horses were rounded up in a
mountain-hidden valley and driven into the water ahead of the boat.
After securing the horses, Johnson's welcome seemed to turn to
suspicion and he questioned our reasons for being there, wanting to
know what we could find in that wild country to interest us. Johnson's
sons, of whom there were several, seemed to put in most of their time
at hunting and trapping, never leaving the house without a gun. The
cabin home looked like an arsenal, revolvers and guns hanging on all
the walls--even his daughters being familiar with their use. Although
we had been very well treated after all, Mrs. Johnson especially
having been very kind to us, we felt just a little relieved