122 EXPLORATION OF THE CANONS OF THE COLORADO. 
There is this proverb among- the Utes: "Do not murmur when you 
suffer in doing what the spirits have commanded, for a cup of water is pro 
vided." And another: "What matters it who kills the game, when we can 
all eat of it." 
It is long after midnight when the performance is ended. The story 
itself was interesting, though I had heard it many times before; but never, 
perhaps, under circumstances more effective. Stretched beneath tall, som 
bre pines; a great camp fire, and by the fire, men, old, wrinkled, and ugly; 
deformed, blear eyed, wry faced women; lithe, stately young men; pretty 
but simpering maidens, naked children, all intently listening, or laughing 
and talking by times, their strange faces and dusky forms lit up with the 
glare of the pine-knot fire. All the circumstances conspired to make it a 
scene strange and weird. One old man, the sorcerer or medicine-man of the 
tribe, peculiarly impressed me. Now and then he would interrupt the play 
for the purpose of correcting the speakers, or impressing the moral of the 
story with a strange dignity and impressiveness that, seemed to pass to the 
very border of the ludicrous; yet at no time did it make me smile. 
The story is finished, but there is yet time for an hour or two's sleep. 
I take Chu-ar' -ru-um-peak to one side for a talk. The three men who left 
us in the canon last year found their way up the lateral gorge, by which 
they went into the SM'-vwits Mountains, lying west of us, where they met 
with the Indians, and camped with them one or two nights, and were finally 
killed. I am anxious to learn the circumstances, and as the people of the 
tribe who committed the deed live but a little way from and are intimate 
with these people, I ask Chu-ar' -ru-um-peak to make inquiry for me. Then 
we go to bed. 
September 17. Early this morning the Indians come up to our camp. 
They have concluded to send out a young man after the Shi' -v wits. The 
runner fixes his moccasins, puts some food in a sack and water in a little 
wicker work jug, straps them on his back, and starts at a good round pace. 
We have concluded to go down the canon, hoping to meet the Shi'- 
vwits on our return. Soon we are ready to start, leaving the camp and pack 
animals in charge of the two Indians who came with us. As we move out, 
our new guide conies up, a blear eyed, weazen faced, quiet old man, with 
