466 The American Naturalist. [May, 
we might be caught in one of these rolls just at the head of a rapid, 
and, unable to stop, be carried over the rapid with the additional force 
of these rushing breakers. ; 
‘ The next morning, to our surprise, we found the flood had begun 
to recede. After an early breakfast we started on what afterwards 
proved to be the wildest, most daring and exciting ride we have had 
on the river. The canyon so narrow, the turns quick and sharp, the 
current rushing first on one side and then on the other, forming whirl- 
pools, eddies and chutes, our boats caught first in one and then in the . 
other, now spun around like leaves in the wind, then shot far to the 
right or left almost against the wall, now caught by a mighty roll and 
first carried to the top of the great waves, and then dropped into the 
‘trough of the sea,’ with a force almost sufficient to take away one’s 
breath, many times narrowly escaping being carried over the rapids 
before we could examine them, making exciting and sudden landings 
by pulling close to shore, and with bow up stream rowing hard to par- 
tially check our speed, while one man jumps with a line toa little ledge 
of rocks and holds on for his life and ours too. 
A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE. 
“At last the expected combination comes. We round a sharp turn 
and see a roaring, foaming rapid below, and as we come in full view of 
it we are caught in a mighty roll of flood wave. 
‘ We try to pull out to an eddy— it is all in vain; we cannot cross 
such a current. We must go down over the rapid. In trying to pull 
out we got our boats quartering with the current, over the rollers and 
through the breakers up to the head of the rapid. In this position they 
travel a course, first in the air and then in the water, only to be com- 
pared to the spirals of a corkscrew. When we find we must go over 
the rapid, with great effort we straighten them round and enter in good 
shape, bow on. It Jasts but a moment, the cross current strikes us and 
we are turned, go broadside down over the worst part of the rapid 
(which proves clear of rocks), then, turned and twisted about, we go 
through the rest of the fall in wild, wizard waltz, to music more weird 
than that of the bagpipe. At the end of the fall our sturdy boats float 
out into an eddy as quietly and gracefully as swans. Noble little 
crafts! May they, the Bonnie Jean and Lillie, live long enough to 
float on more peaceful waters than those of the Colorado river, over 
whose rushing torrents they have glided now near 500 miles and never 
once been upset. And peace be to the ashes (I should say splints) of 
the sweet Marie that we left in the dark canyon above.” — The Even- 
ing Star, Washington, D. C. 
