Out
On Swamp Point Again I Am Shown Bass Camp On The South Rim.
It is scarcely
discernible even with glasses, the distance is so vast.
We all walk down
the steep descent from this Point and make quick time to the place where we
camped Sept. 3. We descend one thousand nine hundred feet in one hour and
twenty minutes. After lunch, the men then cache much of the remaining
provisions and cooking outfit for future use, and we go on riding as fast
as possible down the dry bed of the stream. Then out of this, through a
narrow canyon, past the gray-rock walls and gulch with black cave at bottom
and slide in the talus above, over the fertile plateau, long descent on
foot, where as I zigzag I see the men and the burros what seem to be
hundreds of feet below.
"On down another dry stream bed, many stony descents in a shut-in canyon.
Out of this into more open country, but over ridges, up and down. We come
down to that part of the trail which I feared most in daylight and now we
have only the starlight to enable us to descend. Mr. Bass takes me in
charge and Mr. James goes up over the ridges to round up the burros which
have been left to their own devices. A torch of sage-brush is lighted to
find the trail. At last we reach the bottom. The men throw some blankets on
the ground for me and I fall upon them.
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