way.  The current was so swift all the time that objects on shore flitted past as they do when one looks from a window of a railway train.  Just opposite our camp on this night the cliff was almost perpendicular from the water’s edge to the height of about twenty-five hundred feet.  The walls seemed very close together, only a narrow strip of sky being visible.  As we sat after supper peering aloft at this ribbon of the heavens, the stars in the clear sky came slowly out like some wonderful transformation scene, and just on the edge of the opposite wall, resembling an exquisite and brilliant jewel, appeared the constellation of the Harp.  Immediately the name “Cliff of the Harp” suggested itself and from that moment it was so called.  Here and there we discovered evidences of the former journey, but nothing to indicate that human beings had ever before, that been below Disaster Falls.  There we saw the same indications of an early disaster which Powell had noticed on the first trip, a rusty bake-oven, some knives and forks and tin plates, in the sand at the foot of the second fall.  The day after the Cliff of the Harp camp we began by making a line-portage around a very ugly place, which took the whole morning.  In the afternoon there was another similar task, so that by night we had made only three or four miles, and camped at the beginning of a decidedly forbidding stretch.  Just below us were three sharp rapids which received the name of Triplet Tails.  A great deal of work was required to pass these, and then we ran three or four in good style, which brought us, in the late afternoon, to where the whole river spread out amongst innumerable rocks and for more than half a mile the water was a solid sheet of milky foam, sending up the usual wild roar, which echoed and echoed again and again amongst the cliffs around and above us.  Some one proposed the name of “Hell’s Half-Mile” for this terrible place and the idea was at once adopted, so appropriate did it seem.  The turmoil of the dashing waters was almost deafening, and, even when separated by only a few feet, we could only communicate with each other by shouting at the top of our lungs.  It was a difficult task to get our little ships safely below this half-mile, but it was finally accomplished, and on we went in search of the next dragon’s claw.  At our camp the fire in some way got into a pine grove and soon was crackling enough to rival the noise of the rapid.  The lower region seemed now to be sending its flames up through the bottom of the gorge and the black smoke rolled into the sky far above the top of the walls.  Many and varied were our experiences in this magnificent canyon, which for picturesqueness and beauty rivals even the Grand Canyon, though not on such a giant scale.  Its passage would probably be far easier at low water.  At last, one evening, as the soft twilight was settling into the chasm, a strange, though agreeable silence, that seemed almost oppressive, fell around us.