It is the beginning of Cataract Canyon, and forty-one miles must be put behind us before we would see its end--forty-one miles of bad river, too.

From a point not far up the Green, which we easily reached with a boat, a number climbed out by means of a cleft about fifty feet wide, taking the photographic outfit along.

The country above was a maze of crevices, pinnacles, and buttes, and it seemed an impossibility for any human being to travel more than a few hundred yards in any direction.

The character of the place may best be illustrated by stating that Steward, who had gone up by a different route, was unable to reach us, though we could talk to him across a fissure.

Many of these breaks could be jumped, but some of them were too wide for safety.