At this
place there was a long, wide flat in the canyon, with plenty of
driftwood, so we saw no reason why we should quarrel with our
neighbour. Smith accepted our invitation to supper, stating that he
had just eaten before we arrived, but enjoyed some pineapple which we
had kept for some special occasion, and which was served for dessert.
Over the table we became better acquainted, and, after learning what
we were doing, he recounted his experiences. He told us he had left
Green River, Utah, a month before, and had been trapping as he came
along. He knew there was a canyon, and some rapids below, but had no
idea they were so bad, and thought they were about ended. No one had
warned him, for he had told no one what he intended doing. He had
bought an old water-logged boat that had been built by Galloway, and
seeing the uselessness of trying to run the rapids with it, worked it
down along the shores by holding it with a light chain. Once he had
been pulled into the river, twice the boat had been upset, and he was
just about dried out from the last spill when we arrived. He had heard
us shooting at the ducks, so rather expected company--this in brief
was his amazing story.
We were surprised when we examined the boat closely. It had been well
made, but was so old and rotten that it seemed ready to fall to
pieces. In places, the nail heads had pulled through the boards. It
was entirely open on top--a great risk in such water.
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