It was a glorious record, and I do not recall another day which was more exhilarating.

We had arrived at the end of Marble Canyon and the beginning of the Grand Canyon, there being nothing to mark the division but the narrow gorge of the Little Colorado.

In Marble Canyon we had found sixty-nine rapids in the sixty-five and one half miles, with a total descent of 480 feet.

Of these we ran sixty, let down by lines five times, and made four portages.

Here at the mouth of the Little Colorado was the place where White's imagination pictured overwhelming terrors and his worst experience in a whirlpool opposite.
But in reality the Colorado at this particular point is very tame, and when we were there the Little Colorado was a lamb.
Now the Grand Canyon, as named by Powell on his former trip, was before us, and soon we were descending through the incomparable chasm.