OH, SHOOT! 



a blurred photograph, then that my kneecaps 

 were striking sparks, like a flint and steel. 



But all things are comparative; no matter 

 how sick we are, we can always get worse. 

 When I recrossed the Canon, three weeks later, 

 when I clambered down off the north rim and 

 struck the Bass Trail up the south side, it 

 looked like Broadway. 



That first night we camped among some 

 bowlders near a spring, and winged Zulus 

 assagaied us. No tourists had passed this 

 way in a long time, and those mosquitoes were 

 on their last legs, but we saved them. It was 

 hot; there was sand in the butter; there were 

 rocks under our blankets; our cigars were 

 broken and were becoming dried out. How- 

 ever, we bore these hardships stoically and 

 looked forward to the time when we would 

 romp about in the exhilarating ozone of the 

 Kaibab Plateau, engaging the cougar in its 

 native sports and pastimes. 



Bass's Ferry consists of four spidery wires 

 spanning the gorge of the Colorado. From 

 these wires is suspended a rickety wooden 

 cage which works with a windlass. It is a 

 sort of magnified cash conveyer, and by means 

 of it we set about crossing our horses and out- 



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