It will be remembered that we had left one of our boats near the mouth of the Dirty Devil River.  A party was to go overland to that point and bring this boat down to the Paria, and on the 25th of May (1872) Thompson started at the head of the party to try to explore a way in to the mouth of the Dirty Devil, at the same time investigating the country lying in between and examining the Unknown or Dirty Devil Mountains which had been seen from the river, just west of the course of the Dirty Devil River, now named Fremont River.  We went west to a ranch called Johnson after the owner, thence north-westerly, passing the little Mormon settlement of Clarkson, and then struck out into the wilderness.  Keeping a north-westerly course we crossed the upper waters of the Paria and made our way to the head of a stream flowing through what was called Potato Valley, and which the party of the previous year had followed down, endeavouring to find a trail by which to bring rations to us, under the impression that it was the head of the Dirty Devil.  We also turned our course down it with the same idea.  We had taken with us a Pai Ute guide whom we called Tom, but as we advanced into this region so far from his range, Tom got nervous and wanted to go back, and we saw him no more till our return.  Six years before a Mormon reconnoitring party had penetrated as far as this, and in one place en route we passed the spot where one of their number who had been killed by the Utes had been buried.  The grave had been dug out by the wolves, and a few whitened bones lay scattered around.  It was a place where there was no water and we could not stop to reinter them.  Several days after this we reached a point where progress seemed to be impossible in that direction, and Thompson and Dodds climbed up on high ground to reconnoitre.  When they came back they said we were not on the headwaters of the Dirty Devil at all, and would be obliged to change our course completely.  The Dirty Devil entered the Colorado on the other side of the Unknown Range and the stream we were on joined it on this side, the west, therefore it was plain that we had made a mistake.  Accordingly, our steps were retraced to a point where we managed to ascend to the slopes of what is now called the Aquarius Plateau.  Three men were sent back to Kanab after more rations, while Thompson with the other six pushed on around the slopes, trying to find a way to cross the labyrinth of canyons to the Unknown Mountains.  On the 9th of June we were at an altitude of ten thousand feet above sea-level, with all the wilderness of canyons, cliffs, and buttes between us and the Colorado spreading below like a map, or rather like some kaleidoscopic phantasm.  The slopes we were crossing were full of leaping torrents and clear lakes.  They were so covered with these that the plateau afterwards was given the name Aquarius.  Beaman, who had been photographer on our river trip, had left us, and we now had a new man from Salt Lake, named Fennemore.