A wild and ragged wilderness stretched out in all directions, while down in the canyon--more of a narrow valley than a canyon after the entrance was passed--the river swept along, marked, here and there, by bars of white we knew to be rapids.

Crags and pinnacles shot up from every hand, and from this circumstance it was at first uncertain whether to call the canyon Craggy or Split-Mountain.

The latter was decided on, as the river has sawed in two a huge fold of the strata--a mountain split in twain.
When we entered it with our boats to again descend, we had gone but a little distance before massive beds of solid rock came up straight out of the water on both sides and we were instantly sailing in a deep, narrow canyon, the beds at length arching over, down stream, high above our heads.

It was an extraordinary sight.

While we were looking at the section of the great fold, we discovered some mountain sheep far up the rocks.