is given in his book Death Valley in ’49.  The volume was edited by the late Henry L. Brainard, head of the San Jose, California, company which, in 1894, published it.  It was Mr. Brainard who secured the story from Manly for the Weekly.  Mrs. Brainard says of Manly:  “He was one of the dearest old men; kind, loving, gentle, as one seldom meets in this world.  It was a pleasure to meet and know him.  His character was unblemished.”  At one place which I identify as lower Disaster Falls, Canyon of Lodore, they came to a deserted camp, “a skiff and some heavy cooking utensils, with a notice posted on an alder [box-elder] tree, saying that they had found the river route impracticable ... and were about to start overland to Salt Lake.”  Manly took down the signed names of this party but his diary was later lost by fire.  Apparently the cooking utensils, etc., were the same we saw twenty-two years later at that place and thought were wreckage (see p. 255).  Manly died February 5, 1903, and is buried at Merced, California.

CHAPTER VI

Fremont, the Pathfinder—­Ownership of the Colorado—­The Road of the Gold Seekers—­First United States Military Post, 1849—­Steam Navigation—­Captain Johnson Goes to the Head of Black Canyon.

The great Western wilderness was now no longer “unknown” to white men.  By the year 1840 the American had traversed it throughout, excepting the canyons of the Colorado, which yet remained, at least below the mouth of Grand River, almost as much of a problem as before the fur trade was born.  Like some antediluvian monster the wild torrent stretched a foaming barrier miles on miles from the mountains of the north to the seas of the south, fortified in a rock-bound lair, roaring defiance at conquistadore, padre, and trapper alike.

Till now the trappers and fur companies had been the chief travellers through this strange, weird land, but as the fourth decade of the century fairly opens, a new kind of pioneer appears suddenly on the field; a pioneer with motives totally different from those of the preceding explorers.  Proselyting or profit had been heretofore the main spurs to ambition, but the commanding figure which we now observe scanning, from the majestic heights of the Wind River range, the labyrinthian maze of unlocated, unrecorded mountains, valleys, rivers, and canyons, rolling far and away to the surf of the Pacific, is imbued with a broader purpose.  His mission is to know.  The immediately previous elements drifted across the scene like rifle-smoke on the morning breeze, making no more impression on the world’s knowledge.  They recorded little, and, so far as information was concerned, they might almost as well never have set foot in the wilderness.  But the new man records everything:  the wind, the cold, the clouds, the trees, the grass, the mice, the men, the worms, the birds, etc., to the end of his time and his ability.  He is the real explorer,