—8&s— 
off in company in the afternoon, we covered, at a 
more rapid pace than usual, about twelve miles, and 
then camped on a branch of the New Fork, whose 
shores were framed with fine pines. It was the 
Fourth of July, the great holiday of the United 
States. Our camp, however, presented its humdrum 
daily appearance. We stretched out around the fires, 
smoked and, in expectation of what the morrow 
would bring, went quietly asleep. The next morning 
we started early, and reached toward noon the Green 
River, so long desired. The Green River (Colo- 
rado of the West) rises in the northwestern slope of 
the Wind River Mountains, flows in southwestern 
direction, and empties into the Gulf of California. 
Where we first saw it, it is a clear, rippling stream- 
let, abounding in trout; neither very broad, nor very 
deep; but later on it becomes a broad, rushing stream. 
Its navigation is said to present enormous difficulties. 
We crossed the river, and were then in the acute an- 
gle formed by it and the Horse Creek (a brook com- 
ing from the northwest and emptying here into the 
Green River). The space between is level; the 
ground a loamy sand. The camping place was about 
two miles above the Horse Creek, along the right 
bank of the Green River. The plain between the 
two streams is here about three miles broad. The 
rendezvous has repeatedly been held here. Accord- 
ing to observations formerly made, the place is in 
longitude 107 degrees 12 minutes west, and between 
44 and 45 degrees north latitude. So we were about 
The Yearly 
Rendezvous 
