badly in the middle compartment.  But there was no chance to stop longer here for repairs, as the river seemed to be still rising.  A bag of flour was jammed against the hole, the boat was loaded, the hatches were battened down, we grasped our oars, and while the Canonita crew held our stern to give us a fair start we pulled straight out as hard as we could to clear a huge rock just below, upon which the current was fiercely dashing.  Our boat was so wet and full of water that the gunwales were barely above the surface as we rolled heavily along through large waves.  I felt very uncertain as to whether or not she would remain afloat till we could make a landing, but luckily she did, and we halted at the first opportunity.  This was at a talus on the right where the entire cargo was spread out on the rocks to dry in the sun which now cheered us by its warm rays, and the leak in the boat was stopped.  The Canonita soon came down safely.  She was of a slightly better build than the Dean, and, with one less man in her, was able to ride more buoyantly.  It was after four o’clock before we were ready to go on, and we started once more with a fairly tight boat, dry inside.  Then we had a wild ride.  The descent was steady.  For eight miles there was a continuous rapid, accentuated by eight heavy falls.  The boats sped along at high speed, but the way being clear we did not often stop, passing two places where the former expedition made portages.  We had a glimpse of a creek coming in on the right which looked interesting, but it was left behind in a moment as the boats shot along between the dark granite walls.  At a quarter past five we ran up to a sand-bank where a lone willow tree was growing.  Here we made a camp.  The canyon spread a little and the wide sand-bank appeared to our eyes like a prairie.  Just below our camp there came in a muddy stream, which on the other trip was clear and was then named Bright Angel to offset the application of Dirty Devil to the river at the foot of Narrow Canyon.

It was now the beginning of September, but the water and the air were not so cold as they had been the year before in Cataract Canyon, and we did not suffer from being so constantly saturated.  Running on the next day following the Bright Angel camp, we found the usual number of large rapids, in one of which a wave struck the steering oar and knocked Jones out of the boat all but his knees, by which he clung to the gunwale, nearly capsizing us.  We found it impossible to help him, but somehow he got in again.  The river was everywhere very swift and turbulent.  One stretch of three and a half miles we ran in fifteen minutes.  There were numerous whirlpools, but nothing to stop our triumphant progress.  On the 2d of September there were two portages, and twenty rapids run, in the fifteen miles made during the day.  Many of these rapids were very heavy descents.  That night we camped above a bad-looking place, but it was decided to run it in the morning.  Three-quarters