JOHN C. FREMONT. 167 



"August 24. "We started before sunrise, intend- 

 ing to breakfast at Goat Island. Mr. Preuss ac- 

 companied me, and with us were five of our best 

 men. Here appeared no scarcity of water; and 

 we took on board, with various instruments and 

 baggage, provisions for ten or twelve days. "We 

 paddled down the river rapidly, for our little craft 

 was light as a duck on the water ; and the sun had 

 been some time risen, when we heard before us a 

 hollow roar, which we supposed to be that of a fall, 

 of which we had heard a vague rumor, but whose 

 exact locality no one had been able to describe to 

 us. "We were approaching a ridge, through which 

 the river passes by a place called < canon,' (pro- 

 nounced canyon,) a Spanish word signifying a piece 

 of artillery, the barrel of a gun, or any kind of 

 tube, and which, in this country, has been adopted 

 to describe the passage of a river between perpen- 

 dicular rocks of great height, which frequently 

 approach each other so closely overhead as to form 

 a kind of tunnel over the stream, which foams 

 along below, half choked up by fallen fragments. 



"We passed three cataracts in succession, where 

 perhaps one hundred feet of smooth water inter- 

 vened, and finally, with a shout of pleasure at our 

 success, issued from our tunnel into open day 

 beyond. "We were so delighted with the perform- 



