ard which we
were headed. We remarked, jokingly, to Jimmy that this was a good
sign. He replied without smiling that he "hoped so." Jimmy's songs had
long since ceased, and we suspected him of homesickness. With the
exception of a short visit to some friends on a large ranch, Jimmy had
never been away from his home in San Francisco. This present
experience was quite a contrast, to be sure! We did what we could to
keep him cheered up, but with little success. Jimmy had intimated that
he would prefer to leave at the first opportunity to reach a railroad,
and we willingly agreed to help him in every possible way. Emery and I
also agreed between ourselves that we would not take any unnecessary
risks with him; but would leave him out of the boats at all rapids, if
there was any passage around them.

The river had taken a sharp turn to the south soon after passing the
post-office, heading directly towards the mountains. Camp was pitched
just above the mouth of Lodore. This twenty-mile canyon bears a very
unsavory reputation, having a descent of 425 feet in that short
distance, the greater part of the fall occurring in a space of twelve
miles. This would mean wild water somewhere!

We were camped on a spot recently occupied by some engineers of the
United States Conservation Department, who had been trying to
determine if it was feasible to dam the river at this place. The plan
was to flood the hole of Brown's Park and divert the water through the
mountains by a tunnel to land suitable for cultivation and in
addition, allow the muddy water to settle and so prevent the vast
amount of silt from being washed on down, eventually to the mouth of
the Colorado. The location seemed admirably suited for this stupendous
project. But holes drilled beside the river failed to find bottom, as
nothing but quicksand existed even at a depth of nearly three hundred
feet; and without a strong foundation, such a dam would be utterly
useless.

CHAPTER V

THE BATTLE WITH LODORE

Camp routine was hurriedly disposed of the next morning, Saturday,
September the 23d. Everything was made snug beneath the hatches,
except the two guns, which were too long to go under the decks, and
had to be carried in the open cockpits. "Camp No. 13, at the head of
Lodore," as it is entered in my journal, was soon hidden by a bend in
the river. The open, sun-lit country, with its pleasant ranches and
its grazing cattle, its rolling, gray, sage-covered hi