Ii6 Audubon's Western Journal 



east to northwest, and we took it up-stream; it 

 runs through miles of sandstone worn into cliffs 

 and fissures, presenting the most fantastic shapes 

 imaginable, delighting us at every turn. We 

 looked in vain for fish in the most tempting of 

 eddies and holes, but saw very few; little trout 

 about five inches long were all that rewarded our 

 search. We crossed and re-crossed this stream 

 twenty-two times in about seven miles, and 

 encamped on a sandy bottom covered with fine 

 pines. Here I saw Steller's jays and Clement shot 

 one for me; I also saw a fox squirrel, but I could 

 not get it, and do not know its species. A magnifi- 

 cent hawk flew over us ; he had two white bands 

 on his tail — could it be Falco lagopus? 



Fourth of July. Paso Chapadaro. Calm, misty, 

 silent. The sun soon threw its red light over all 

 we saw to the west, but was hidden by the range of 

 mountains to the east which we had passed, till 

 mastering at an effort, as it seemed, the highest 

 ridge, it burst forth in all its splendor. In the 

 bottom of my saddle-bags, rolled in a handker- 

 chief, was a flag given me by poor Hamilton 

 Boden, and by the time the haze had gone, it 

 floated in the breeze, from the top of the highest 

 tree near our camp; nature was all in a smile, and 

 we prepared to spend the day according to our 

 various inclinations. Some slept, some basked in 

 indolence, some started off to look for game, some 



