Morning found us very sorry that we had not erected our tent, for it rained nearly all night, but when once in our beds it was a question which was preferable; to get out in the rain and put up our tent, or remain in our comfortable beds.  We remained where we were.  As we prepared to leave, we offered Smith a chance to accompany us through Cataract Canyon, telling him that we would help him with his boat until the quiet water of Glen Canyon was reached.  He declined the opportunity, saying that he would rather travel slowly and do what trapping he could.  He welcomed a chance to take a ride on the Defiance, however.  We took him over two small rapids, and gave him an insight into our method of avoiding the dangers.  He was very enthusiastic about it.  On reaching the next rapid we all concluded it would be very unwise to carry any passengers, for it was violent water, so he got out on the shore.

Smith had once seen some moving pictures of Japanese shooting rapids, but he said they were nothing compared to these, remarking that a bronco could hardly buck any harder.  The next rapid was just as bad, Rapid No. 14 for Cataract Canyon, and Smith helped us secure a motion picture.  Then he prepared to return to his camp.  Just before leaving he explained rather apologetically, that ranchers, or others, were usually very unfriendly to a stranger coming into their section of the country.  He had heard us shooting at the ducks and he imagined we belonged in some of the side canyons or on the top.  This explained his puzzling attitude at our first meeting.  If he had any beaver skins in his pack this would make him even more suspicious of strangers.  We wished him nothing but the best of luck, and were good friends when we parted.  His decision to make the trip alone, poorly equipped as he was, seemed like suicide to us.  He promised to write to us if he got out, and with a final wave of the hand we left him on the shore.

The rapid just passed was possibly the scene of the disaster discovered by the Stone expedition.  They found a clumsy boat close to the shore, jammed in a mass of rocks, smashed and abandoned.  There were tracks of three people in the sand, one track being a boy’s.  A coat was left on the shore.  The tracks disappeared up a box canyon.  Mr. Stone corresponded with the only settlements in all that region, few in number, and far distant; but nothing was ever heard of them, Two other parties have left Green River, Utah, within a year of this find and disappeared in like manner.  This seemed to be the usual result of these attempts.  In nearly every case they have started in boats that are entirely unfitted for rough water, and, seemingly without any knowledge of the real danger ahead, try to follow where others, properly equipped, have gone through.