It could be seen neither to right nor, to left, nor could any opening be detected in the mountain, except high up where Powell pointed out to us a bare patch of brilliant red rocks saying it was the top of Flaming Gorge, the beginning of the canyon series.

Passing the mouth of Henry's Fork on the right, the river doubled suddenly to the left between two low cliffs, where there was a small whirlpool, which I take to be the "Green River Suck" of Ashley and the early trappers.

Around another point we swept and found ourselves floating on the tranquil waters of Flaming Gorge.

A fine grove of deep green cottonwoods stood out on the left in contrast to the rough red rocks.

There were moored the other boats, which on this occasion had preceded us, and the ever-faithful Andy was engaged in preparing dinner.
The next and first real canyon was the one called Horseshoe, a short and beautiful gorge some sixteen hundred feet in depth, and containing rapid "Number One," a very mild affair, but particularly noticeable because it is the first of the six hundred, great and small, we had the satisfaction of vanquishing in our war against the falling waters.