STEEP TRAILS 



above his shoulders, wild red blood beating and 

 hissing through every fiber of him like the 

 wind through a quivering mountain pine. 



Deer also are occasionally met in the canon, 

 making their way to the river when the wells 

 of the plateau are dry. Along the short spring 

 streams beavers are still busy, as is shown by 

 the Cottonwood and willow timber they have 

 cut and peeled, found in all the river drift- 

 heaps. In the most barren cliffs and gulches 

 there dwell a multitude of lesser animals, well- 

 dressed, clear-eyed, happy little beasts — 

 wood rats, kangaroo rats, gophers, wood mice, 

 skunks, rabbits, bob-cats, and many others, 

 gathering food, or dozing in their sun-warmed 

 dens. Lizards, too, of every kind and color 

 are here enjoying life on the hot cliffs, and 

 making the brightest of them brighter. 



Nor is there any lack of feathered people. 

 The golden eagle may be seen, and the osprey, 

 hawks, jays, hummingbirds, the mourning 

 dove, and cheery familiar singers — the black- 

 headed grosbeak, robin, bluebird, Townsend's 

 thrush, and many warblers, sailing the sky 

 and enlivening the rocks and bushes through 

 all the canon wilderness. 



Here at Hance's river-camp or a few miles 

 above it brave Powell and his brave men 

 passed their first night in the canon on their 

 376 



