On to the Smash 



again. We rode half a mile down a timbered slope, 

 and then out into a beautiful, flat forest of gigantic 

 pines. Clarke informed us it was a level bench some 

 ten miles long, running out from the slopes of Buck 

 skin to face the Grand Canon on the south, and the 

 breaks of the Siwash on the west. For two hours 

 we rode between the stately lines of trees, and the 

 hoofs of the horses gave forth no sound. A long, 

 silvery grass, sprinkled with smiling bluebells, cov 

 ered the ground, except close under the pines, where 

 soft red mats invited lounging and rest. We saw 

 numerous deer, great gray mule deer, almost as large 

 as elk. j .es said they had been crossed with elk 

 once, vvhich accounted for their size. I did not see 

 a stump, or a burned tree, or a windfall during the 

 ride. 



Clarke led us to the rim of the canon. Without 

 any preparation for the giant trees hid the open 

 sky we rode right out to the edge of the tremendous 

 chasm. At first I did not seem to think; my faculties 

 were benumbed; only the pure sensorial instinct of 

 the savage who sees, but does not feel, made me take 

 note of the abyss. Not one of our party had ever 

 seen the canon from this side, and not one of us said 

 a word. But Clarke kept talking. 



&quot; Wild place this is hyar,&quot; he said. &quot; Seldom any 

 one but horse wranglers gits over this far. I ve hed 



203 



