Emery showed the child a
picture of his four-year-old daughter, Edith, with her mother--a
picture he always carried in a note-book. Then he had her get in the
boat with him, and we made a photograph of them. They were very good
friends before we left.
In a few hours we emerged from the low-walled canyon into a level
country. A large butte, perhaps 700 feet high, stood out by itself, a
mile from the main cliffs. This was Gunnison Butte, an old landmark
near the Gunnison trail. We were anxious to reach Blake or Green
River, Utah, not many miles below, that evening; but we failed to make
it. There were several rapids, some of them quite large, and we had
run them all when we came to a low dam that obstructed our passage,
While looking it over, seeing how best to make a portage, a young man
whom we had just seen remarked: "Well, boys, you had better tie up and
I will help you in the morning."
It was 5.30 then, and we were still six miles from Green River, so we
took his advice and camped. On seeing our sleeping bags, tightly
strapped and making rather small roll, he remarked: "Well, you fellows
are not Mormons; I can tell by the size of your beds!"
Our new friend gave the name of Wolverton. There was another man named
Wilson who owned a ranch just below the dam. Both of these men were
much interested in our experiences. Wolverton had considerable
knowledge of the river and of boats; very little persuasion would have
been necessary to have had him for a companion on the balance of our
journey.
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