He was a frail man and the trip was almost too much for him.  Down below we saw the smokes of native fires in several places, but we could not tell by what tribe they were made.  At last we came to a point where the plateau broke back to the north, and we paused to search for a way to continue.  I was sent out in one direction with one man, and Thompson went in another.  I had not gone half a mile before I found an old trail which had very recently been travelled by natives, and when I had followed it far enough to get its trend, and as far as I dared, for I feared running on the camp at any point, I returned to report.  Thompson decided to take this trail.  It led us across strange country, and in one place for a long distance over barren sandstone into a peculiar valley.  Here we camped about three miles from a great smoke, and the next morning ran right on top of a Ute encampment.  At first we expected trouble, but there were only seven of the warriors, and they were, as we learned later, out of powder, so when they sighted us they disappeared.  At last they returned, and we had a talk with them, trying to induce one to go with us as guide.  They described the trails, but refused to go along.

We camped one night near them, and then went on, arriving finally, after a great deal of trouble at the Unknown Mountains, since called the Henry Mountains, having taken a wrong trail.  At one place we were obliged to take the whole packtrain up a cliff fifteen hundred feet high, making a trail as we went.  On the top were some water-pockets.  We watered the stock at one of these the next morning, when we were obliged fairly to lift the horses out of the gulch by putting our shoulders to their haunches.  At last, however, we got to the mountains, and though it was now the l7th of June water froze one half inch thick in the kettles in our camp about fifteen hundred feet up the slopes.  Thompson climbed one of the mountains, and I started up another, but my companion gave out.  We crossed through a pass, and on the 22d, after pursuing a winding and difficult road through canyons, succeeded in getting the whole train down to the Colorado a short distance below the mouth of the Dirty Devil.  The Colorado was high, and swept along majestically.  We found it had been up as far as the Canonita, and had almost washed away one of the oars.  We soon ran her down to our camp, and there put her in order for the journey, which from here to the Paria could be nothing more than a pleasure trip.  Thompson, Dodds, and Andy left the rest of us and returned on the trail towards Kanab.  Those left for the boat’s crew besides myself were Hillers, Fennemore, the photographer, and W. D. Johnson.  The latter was from Kanab, and was a Mormon, as was also the photographer, and both were fine fellows.  The river was at flood and we had an easy time of it so far as travelling was concerned.  Our investigations and photographing sometimes consumed half a day, but in the other half