Suddenly we ran out into a beautiful little valley on the right known to trappers as Little Brown's Hole, and renamed by our party Red Canyon Park.

Here we camped for a day and then went on between high walls over a number of rapids, to emerge into Brown's Park.

This place, I take it, was the end of Ashley's journey down the river.

Sailing along on a quiet current in a valley six miles wide, we ran upon a camp of cattle herders, where Richardson left us, as Powell decided that he was not able to stand the work.

He regretfully went back with some of the cattlemen to Green River Station.
The temperature was now often 99 degrees F.in the shade, and rowing on the slow current was irksome, so we lashed the boats together and drifted along while the Major in his armchair read aloud selections from Scott, Emerson, and others, whose condensed poetical works and a couple of Bibles were all the literature to be found in the party, as books are heavy and weight was to be avoided.