292 
The Colorado River 
October they left us, Hillers going with Powell, while we were 
to run down thirty-five miles farther to the mouth of the Paria, 
and there cache the two boats for the winter. Steward was 
now taken sick, and though some Navajos who came along 
kindly offered to carry him with them to Kanab, he preferred 
to stay with us, so we stretched him out, during our runs, on 
one of the cabins. This was not entirely comfortable for him, 
but the river was smooth and easy as far as the Paria, so there 
was no danger of spilling him off, and he got on fairly well. 
At the Paria, Jones, who had made a misstep in one of the boats 
at the Junction and injured one leg, developed inflammatory 
rheumatism in it, and also in the other. Andy at Millecrag 
Bend had put on his shoe with an unseen scorpion in it, the sting 
of which caused him to grow thin and pale. Bishop’s old 
wound troubled him ; Beaman and W. C. Powell also felt ‘ ‘ under 
the weather,” so that of the whole party left here, Thompson 
and I were the only ones who remained entirely well. Arriving 
at the Paria, we hid the boats for the winter, and waited for 
the pack-train that was to bring us provisions, and take us 
out to Kanab, which would be headquarters. The pack-train, 
however, was misled by a man who pretended to be acquainted 
with the trail, and we ate up all the food we had before it ar¬ 
rived, It came over an extraordinary path. Lost on top of 
the Paria Plateau, it was only able to reach us by the discovery 
of a singular old trail coming down the two-thousand-foot cliffs 
three miles up the Paria. While waiting we had examined the 
immediate neighbourhood and had climbed to the summit of 
some sandstone peaks on the left, where the wall of Glen Can¬ 
yon breaks away to the southward. The view was superb. 
Mountains, solid and solitary, rose up here and there, and lines 
of cliffs, strangely coloured, stretched everywhere across the 
wide horizon, while from our feet, like a veritable huge writhing 
dragon. Marble Canyon zigzagged its long, dark line into the 
blue distance, its narrow tributaries looking like the monster’s 
many legs. I took it into my head to try to shoot from there 
into the water of Glen Canyon beneath us, and borrowed 
Bishop’s 44-calibre Remington revolver for the purpose. When 
I pulled the trigger I was positively startled by the violence of 
