FARROW CAffON. 67 
than we have ever known it. The water fills it from wall to wall, giving us 
no landing place at the foot of the cliff; the river is very swift, the canon 
is very tortuous, so that we can see but a few hundred yards ahead; the walls 
tower over us, often overhanging so as to almost shut out the light. I stand 
on deck, watching with intense anxiety, lest this may lead us into some dan 
ger; but we glide along, with no obstruction, no falls, no rocks, and, in a 
mile and a half, emerge from the narrow gorge into a more open and broken 
portion of the canon. Now that it is past, it seems a very simple thing 
indeed to run through such a place, but the fear of what might be ahead 
made a deep impression on us. 
At three o'clock we arrive at the foot of Cataract Canon. Here a long 
canon valley comes down from the east, and the river turns sharply to the 
west in a continuation of the line of the lateral valley. In the bend on the 
right, vast numbers of crags, and pinnacles, and tower shaped rocks are 
seen. We call it Mille Crag Bend. 
And now we wheel into another canon, on swift water, unobstructed by 
rocks. This new canon is very narrow and very straight, with walls verti 
cal below and terraced above. The brink of the cliff is 1,300 feet above 
the water, where we enter it, but the rocks dip to the west, and, as the course 
of the canon is in that direction, the walls are seen to slowly decrease in 
altitude. Floating down this narrow channel, and looking out through the 
canon crevice away in the distance, the river is seen to turn again to the 
left, and beyond this point, away many miles, a great mountain is seen. 
Still floating down, we see other mountains, now to the right, now on the 
left, until a great mountain range is unfolded to view. We name this Nar 
row Canon, and it terminates at the bend of the river below. 
As we go down to this point, we discover the mouth of a stream, which 
enters from the right. Into this our little boat is turned. One of the men 
in the boat following, seeing what we have done, shouts to Dunn, asking if 
it is a trout-stream. Dunn replies, much disgusted, that it is "a dirty devil," 
and by this name the river is to be known hereafter. The water is exceed 
ingly muddy, and has an unpleasant odor. 
Some of us go out for half a mile, and climb a butte to the north. The 
course of the Dirty Devil River can be traced for many miles. It comes 
