A COUGAR HUNT 27 



The last days before we left this beautiful 

 holiday region we spent on the table-land called 

 Greenland, which projects into the canyon east 

 of Bright Angel. We were camped by the Drip- 

 ping Springs, in singular and striking surround- 

 ings. A long valley leads south through the 

 table-land; and just as it breaks into a sheer 

 walled chasm which opens into one of the side 

 loops of the great canyon, the trail turns into 

 a natural gallery along the face of the cliff. For 

 a couple of hundred yards a rock shelf a dozen 

 feet wide runs under a rock overhang which 

 often projects beyond it. The gallery is in 

 some places twenty feet high; in other places 

 a man on horseback must stoop his head as he 

 rides. Then, at a point where the shelf broadens, 

 the clear spring pools of living water, fed by 

 constant dripping from above, lie on the inner 

 side next to and under the rock wall. A little 

 beyond these pools, with the chasm at our feet, 

 and its opposite wall towering immediately in 

 front of us, we threw down our bedding and 

 made camp. Darkness fell; the stars were 

 brilhant overhead; the fire of pitchy pine 

 stumps flared; and in the light of the wavering 

 flames the cliff walls and jutting rocks mo- 

 mentarily shone with ghastly clearness, and 

 as instantly vanished in utter gloom. 



