We found the fish would not bite, just as our friend, the miner, had said, but we did succeed in landing a fourteen-pound salmon, in one of the deep pools not many miles from this point, and it was served up in steaks the next day.  If our method of securing the salmon was unsportsmanlike, we excused ourselves for the methods used, just as Major Powell justified his appropriation of the Indians’ squash.  If that fish was ever needed, it was then, and it was a most welcome addition to our rapidly disappearing stock of provisions.  We were only sorry we had not taken more “bait.”

The next day we did see a camp-fire, and on climbing the shore, found a little old prospector, clad in tattered garments, sitting in a little dugout about five feet square which he had shovelled out of the sand.  He had roofed it with mesquite and an old blanket.  A rapid, just below, made so much noise that he did not hear us until we were before his door.  He looked at the rubber coats and the life-preservers, then said, with a matter-of-fact drawl, “Well, you fellows must have come by the river!” After talking awhile he asked:  “What do you call yourselves?” This question would identify him as an old-time Westerner if we did not already know it.  At one time it was not considered discreet to ask any one in these parts what their name was, or where they were from.  He gave us a great deal of information about the country, and said that Diamond Creek was about six miles below.  He had come across from Diamond Creek by a trail over a thousand foot ridge, with a burro and a pack mule, a month before.  He had just been out near the top on the opposite side, doing some assessment work on some copper claims, crossing the river on a raft, and stated that on a previous occasion he had been drawn over the rapid, but got out.

When he learned that we had come through Utah, he stated that he belonged near Vernal, and had once been upset in the upper canyons, about twenty years before.  He proved to be the Snyder of whom we had heard at Linwood, and also from the Chews, who had given him a horse so he could get out over the mountains.  Yet here was, a thousand miles below, cheerful as a cricket, and sure that a few months at the most would bring him unlimited wealth.  He asked us to “share his chuck” with him, but we could see nothing but a very little flour, and a little bacon, so pleaded haste and pushed on for Diamond Creek.

The mouth of this canyon did not look unlike others we had seen in this section, and one could easily pass it without knowing that it ran back with a gentle slope for twenty miles, and that a wagon road came down close to the river.  It contained a small, clear stream.  The original tourist camp in the Grand Canyon was located up this canyon.  We packed all our plates and films, ready to take them out.  The supplies left in the boats when we went out the next morning were: 

5 pounds of flour, partly wet and crusted. 2 pounds mildewed Cream of Wheat. 3 or 4 cans (rusty) of dried beef.  Less than one pound of sugar.

We carried a lunch out with us.  This was running a little too close for comfort.