I did not realize that, as we steamed along between those high perpendicular walls of rock, we were really seeing the lower end of that great chasm which now, thirty years later, has become one of the most famous resorts of this country and, in fact, of the world.
There was some mention made of Major Powell, that daring adventurer, who, a few years previously, had accomplished the marvellous feat of going down the Colorado and through the Grand Canon, in a small boat, he being the first man who had at that time ever accomplished it, many men having lost their lives in the attempt.
At last, on the 8th of September, we arrived at Camp Mojave, on the right bank of the river; a low, square enclosure, on the low level of the flat land near the river.

It seemed an age since we had left Yuma and twice an age since we had left the mouth of the river.

But it was only eighteen days in all, and Captain Mellon remarked: "A quick trip!" and congratulated us on the good luck we had had in not being detained on the sandbars.

"Great Heavens," I thought, "if that is what they call a quick trip!" But I do not know just what I thought, for those eighteen days on the Great Colorado in midsummer, had burned themselves into my memory, and I made an inward vow that nothing would ever force me into such a situation again.

I did not stop to really think; I only felt, and my only feeling was a desire to get cool and to get out of the Territory in some other way and at some cooler season.