When he learned that we had come through Utah, he stated that he
belonged near Vernal, and had once been upset in the upper canyons,
about twenty years before. He proved to be the Snyder of whom we had
heard at Linwood, and also from the Chews, who had given him a horse
so he could get out over the mountains. Yet here was, a thousand miles
below, cheerful as a cricket, and sure that a few months at the most
would bring him unlimited wealth. He asked us to "share his chuck"
with him, but we could see nothing but a very little flour, and a
little bacon, so pleaded haste and pushed on for Diamond Creek.
The mouth of this canyon did not look unlike others we had seen in
this section, and one could easily pass it without knowing that it ran
back with a gentle slope for twenty miles, and that a wagon road came
down close to the river. It contained a small, clear stream. The
original tourist camp in the Grand Canyon was located up this canyon.
We packed all our plates and films, ready to take them out. The
supplies left in the boats when we went out the next morning were:
5 pounds of flour, partly wet and crusted.
2 pounds mildewed Cream of Wheat.
3 or 4 cans (rusty) of dried beef.
Less than one pound of sugar.
We carried a lunch out with us. This was running a little too close
for comfort.
The mouth of Diamond Creek Canyon was covered with a growth of large
mesquite trees. Cattle trails wound through this thorny thicket down
to the river's edge.
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