From here to the Kanab was ten miles, and we sailed along with lightened hearts, knowing that our sadly depleted and half-ruined stock of rations would soon be replenished, and that mail from the world would be delivered by the pack-train we expected to find there.

Late in the afternoon we arrived at the narrow cleft, and our men, who had waited long, were overjoyed to greet us once more, for, as we were several days overdue, they had been filled with forebodings, and had made up their minds they would never see us again.
From the Little Colorado we had travelled over ninety difficult miles, run one hundred and thirty-one rapids, made seven portages, and let down six times.

The water had now fallen again some three feet, but it was still so high that it had backed up into the side canyon, where we ran the boats on account of an excellent camping-place.

Sunday was spent resting here, and Thompson took observations for time.

On Monday morning we expected to pack up again and proceed down the gorge, but Powell, instead of directing this course, announced that he had decided to end the river work at this point on account of the extreme high water, which would render impassable the rapid where the Rowlands and Dunn had left.
In addition, word was brought that the Shewits were in a state of war and had resolved to ambush us as we came down, a plot that had been revealed by a friendly member of the tribe to Jacob Hamblin.