It may be said in excuse for him, that in some paddling up the river from that point, he had arrived at perhaps an honest conviction of what would happen to any one going below; and also, that other wise men of the town predicted that we would never see "Brown's Hole," at the end of Red Canyon.
At ten o'clock we pushed out into the current.

There were "Good-bye and God-speed" from the shore with a cheer, and we responded with three and then we passed out of sight.

The settlement, the railway, the people, were gone; the magnificent wilderness was ours.

We swept down with a four-mile current between rather low banks, using the oars mainly for guidance, and meeting no difficulty worse than a shoal, on which the boats all grounded for a few moments, and the breaking of his oar by Jones who steered our boat.

About noon having run three miles, a landing was made on a broad gravelly island, to enable Andy to concoct a dinner.
A heavy gale was tearing fiercely across the bleak spot.