among the rocks. With this understanding we moved down the centre of the river, toward where it fell away roaring down among the rocks. Swifter and

In a short time it was accomplished, by clambering along the slippery rocks, fending her off from the sharp angles, holding to the bight of the straining rope, until at last we were through it all safe, though drenched.

Once more all embarked, and we went floating down the more gentle current below. Now we were passing where the river had cut through an ancient lake basin, and the cliffs on either side were the white infusorial marl-chalk, as the people here call it. It has a curious and not pleasant effect among the green herbage. The dust is white, fine, and light, powdering everything. Cattle, and even the scampering rabbits, stir up a cloud of it as they pass. For twelve miles the river traverses this marl.

As we float noiselessly down in midchannel we take by surprise many of the wild denizens of the river. Flocks of ducks are overtaken, and some fall before Lieber's gun. A mink, watching us from the river side of a clump of willows, is the next victim. As evening came on we went ashore on a little island, and there made our camp. By this time we had gained confidence in the seaworthiness of our boat, and next morning we determined to try the midchannel passage through the rapids we heard roaring below.

Hilda was set ashore to walk across the bend; everything was tied down in the boat. Lieber took his place in the bow, Jim amidships, and myself in the stern. We had fully discussed the course to be pursued. No matter how swift the river ran, we must all paddle hard, so as to get headway in the swiftest current to enable us to steer through

foaming among the bowlders in-shore; and now, as we pitch down the slope of the rapid, the boiling foam-waves seem to leap in chaotic confusion all over the channel in front; but a steady eye can see a narrow path of darker water among the breakers. With arrow speed we enter it, and, partly by steering, partly by being fended off by the cushion of water that boils back from the rocks, we get through, and shoot out through the heaving slopping waves below the rapid, our boat full of water, and our hearts full of triumph at our success. Lower down we pass the mouth of Rising River, coming in from the left, and I landed to inspect it.

A little way up I saw the dam built by the Indians to impede the ascent of the salmon, and the little foot-bridge of poles where they stand to spear the salmon struggling over the impediment. Less than four miles above, the river rises up from under a bluff of lava, and in its short course is a spawning-ground for most of the salmon that ascend the Pit. A little farther down we pass Thomas' Ferry and enter on the unexplored cañon. But first we pass the mouth of Birney Creek, rushing down through a portal of dark lava. This is a stream of rare interest. Like Rising River, it comes up from under the lava a short distance above. It has a surface channel, but that channel runs dry toward the close of summer. Two miles above where it enters the Pit it plunges down in a water-fall, in many respects the most beautiful in California.

The falls of Birney Creek are very difficult to describe. On the left of a level valley, overgrown with yellow pine, flows the creek. As you follow it down along its banks it begins to rush and roar into

a rapid; then it divides to embrace a little isle-like rock, and disappears in space. As you walk to the edge you find yourself looking down into a great amphitheatre-like chasm, about 150 feet deep, the sides and slopes of which are blocks of dark lava, with here and there a tall fir-tree planted among them. Into this abyss the creek plunges. Coming round in front, where you can look back upon it, you see that the water from above, which you have followed down, is but a small part of what is falling into the deep blue pool beneath. Like the two ends of a white scarf, it waves to and fro in front of the dark rocky wall on either side of a green buttress of moss-grown rock, the top of which is the islet we have seen above. Half-way down the fall a strange phenomenon appears. For more than a hundred yards along the face of the rocks, making an arc of nearly half a circle, the water gushes out and tumbles down in a white spray. This is, in fact, a second rising of the river, at the base of the oldest lavaflow and in the vertical face of the cliff. The whole effect is at once strange and beautiful. Only on the artist's canvas could you get an adequate idea of it. Let us hope that some time soon a Hill or a Keith will find the spot. The stream is well stocked with trout, and is quite tempting to the angler.

Shortly below the mouth of Birney Creek the Pit River plunges in between high mountain walls—a rapid winding stream-and at many a point our nerves were tried by the thickening dangers around us. Many a Scylla and Charybdis yawned for our little craft, but by the middle of the afternoon we had penetrated about five miles into this cañon in safety, and, as everything was soaked with water, I judged it well to camp and get dry. As I went forward to examine a little flat for a good spot to camp, I came upon two large otters swimming close to the shore, in their tawny sum

mer fur looking exactly like lions in color. I shot one, and was so eager to secure it that I got into the water beyond my depth, and in the struggle with the wounded animal was being carried down into the rapid below. Only by drifting against a rock did I escape the danger. I climbed on to this bowlder, and, leaping as far as possible toward shore, swam out. The rest of the day was spent basking in the sunshine like lizards, with all our wet traps spread out to dry.

We were camped on a little flat covered with great pines and firs. On the south side the cliffs, though steep, were covered with a dense growth, composed principally of ceanothus-brush and young firs; but on the north side the cliffs were too steep for vegetation, showing the formation to be coarse gray sandstones, hard brittle slates, and above them a deep cap of lava. While I was tracing with the eye the flexures of the contorted slate strata, an eagle darted down and seized some animal among the rocks. For a moment there was a struggle, then both combatants rolled down the talus a short distance, when the eagle let go, and, after wheeling round the spot once, soared over to the top of a pine-tree on our side of the river. The animal that foiled his attack so completely I think must have been a badger, but I could not be certain from where I was lying.

The next day we made about twelve miles, the whole distance through a cañon like that already described. This was a hard day's work. The distance made was so short because we found it necessary to go forward often and reconnoitre the rapids in order to find a way through among the rocks. The speed of the boat when in the current was so great that there was no time to look for a channel, and a mistake at any point might be destruction. Often, in going forward to see the rapids, we had to climb along the face of a sheer precipice or over some talus of broken rocks, so

steep that any displacement of the rocks in stepping would bring a slide down from hundreds of feet above, threatening to hurl us into the river below.

Soaking wet, as usual, we were glad to camp by the middle of the afternoon. Above the camp was a little terrace notched in the mountain side, shaded with fir-trees. From this spot I startled a herd of deer, and saw from the number of deer-beds that it must be a favorite place of repose for them. After running up the slope a short distance two of the bucks stopped to watch me; though I fired twice at some quail, they still remained, but were gone when Jim came back with the rifle. Our fire was built between a great yellow pine and a cedar. On both of these trees were the fresh marks of a grizzly's claws. These animals seem to have a habit of tearing and scratching at the bark of trees, apparently for the exercise of their claws.

Two more days of cañon navigation passed, so fraught with dangers and excitements that we could only note in a general way the changes in the geological formation. The lava-cap changed to a porphylite, then disappeared. Limestones, as well as slates and sandstones, appeared in the cliffs. On the third day a great wedge of granite was passed. The evening of that day found us camped on the north bank among some oak-trees. The main course of the river was still south of west. I had expected before this to find it bearing northward. Anxious to see ahead, I took my rifle and started to climb a near peak. The flat on which we were camped was 100 acres or more in extent, and bore a scattered growth of white-oaks. After climbing several hundred feet up a steep slope covered with cherry and wild - plum bushes, I came to another similar flat. Following the ridge still higher, I soon got among the firs and pines again. I saw abundance of deer-tracks, yet no deer; but a black bear jumped from a

log on which he had been standing. watching me, and made his escape into the manzanita thicket.

After a long climb I reached a point from which I had a view both up and down the river. I was half-way up what I found to be a mountain, and it was just sunset. The grandeur of the view I enjoyed it would take long to describe. What pleased me most was to see that below me the river's winding course bore a little north of the setting sun, so I thought I could nearly tell the point in the cañon we had reached. I noticed that below us in the river the rapids still occurred very frequently, three or four in every mile. Just beyond me rose another mountain, with sides of dark rugged rocks. At the foot of this mountain the river wound with many sharp curves and bends, giving promise of whirlpools and dangers to come.

On my return to camp I found that Mr. Lieber and Jim had captured a string of fine large trout, and with these, our game, and Hilda's excellent bread, we had just such a dinner as we needed, and were in the right spirit to enjoy our camp-fire, chatting until late in the night. It was well we enjoyed that night, for it was our last pleasant camp. Many a saying of that night was impressed on my memory by the event that followed.

Next morning we embarked as usual, and had turned many a curve and bend, and shot down many rapids, until I knew we were winding along the foot of the high mountain I had noticed the evening before. As we glided along we came to a little flat formed by a landslide, a portion of which had been cut off by an arm of the river, making a narrow island. Just below the island was a sharp bend and a rapid. As we neared the head of the island the Indians called out “Knope, knope!" (deer), and pointed to a buck feeding on the little flat. I ran the boat into the bank, and,

taking the rifle, jumped ashore, intending to get a shot at the deer and then go down and measure the angle in the river. The deer was startled and got away, so I told them to go on down and wait for me below the rapid. Jim sent Hilda ashore to walk past this more than usually rough passage, and gave her the shot-gun to carry. This proved a most fortunate circumstance for us.

The bank of the river at the bend was a precipice. I had to climb some 200 feet on the rocks to get past it. While upon the rocks measuring the angle of the river, I saw the boat coming down the main channel, which was there close to the island. Some long alder-boughs overhung the channel, and Lieber had leaned back to avoid them, and lay there with folded arms as the boat shot down. Jim, too, I noticed had stopped paddling. I was startled at the risk they ran in drifting down such a dangerous rapid without headway enough with which to steer. On they came, dashing down with fearful speed among the foam toward the cliff beneath me. Suddenly Lieber appeared to see some danger, and sprung to the bow with his paddle. At that moment the boat disappeared from my sight under the brow of the rocks. I watched eagerly for their re-appearance round the bend, but the next thing I saw was blankets, paddles, and broken boards drifting down among the foam. "Smashed to pieces," I involuntarily exclaimed, as I threw away my rifle and rushed down over the rocks to the water's edge. My clothes were stripped off in a moment, and just then I caught sight of Jim's black head as he clambered out upon a rock. "Where is Lieber?" I shouted. At the same moment our blankets came drifting by, and I plunged in to rescue them. I drifted some distance down before I could reach the rocks again. Jim hauled the blankets up, and as soon as I could climb out, I again asked him

where Lieber was? "We will never see Lieber any more," he replied, at the same time running excitedly up toward the foot of the precipice, against which the water plunged and roared. I was shocked at this confirmation of my worst fears, and followed him as fast as I could along the rocks up toward where the boat had struck. By jumping in and swimming in the eddy close to the rock, I got past the angle of the wall of rock, and could see over the whole rapid. No Lieber was in sight. Allowing myself to drift down again, I sent Jim to a point some hundred yards below, while I took my station at the foot of the rapid to watch for any sign of the missing man. Long, long we watched, while the waters roared and foamed past us; the last fragment of our poor boat had long gone by, but no vestige of my comrade was to be seen. While I sat and began to realize that his brave cheerful face was hidden by those rushing waters forever, a feeling of utter desolation came over me. My mind was full of regrets. Above all I regretted that I had left the boat when there was any danger to be encountered.*

All hope of ever seeing him was long past before Jim and Hilda came up to ask what we should do. Jim had rescued our saddle-bags and a small sack of flour that had been tied to one of the seats. I told him we must spread out what we had saved to dry. While it was drying on the warm rocks I felt glad that I could watch the water a little longer. I could not bear to think that our comrade must be abandoned to the whirlpool.

William Lieber was a German by birth, and just in the prime of young manhood. In his short life he had traveled and studied in many lands. He was a taxidermist by profession, and was a devoted naturalist. His love for science and the hope of collecting rare specimens led him to volunteer on this expedition, and to face all its dangers and hardships.

Throughout he was active, brave, and patient. It was sad, indeed, that one with so many good and promising qualities should so early perish.

Evening came on at last, and we carried what was left of our effects to a little strip of beach at the head of the next rapid, and there made our desolate camp. Next morning our first thought was to search the shore and the rocks where the drift came in, but nothing more was seen. We were in a sad predicament. Without means of transportation, on the north or uninhabited side of the river, in the middle of the cañon; the country about us a nest of steep rocky mountains, their sides, where not steep rocks, covered with dense thickets of manzanita and ceanothus almost impenetrable. Nearly destitute of food, all our cooking utensils gone, our only resource was the guns and some ammunition that by chance we had ashore at the time of the wreck. We made our effects into three packs, and, each one shouldering a load, we sorrowfully moved away.

We soon found it to be impossible to follow down the river, cliffs and precipices compelling us to go higher and higher up the mountain, until at last we found that the best we could do was to follow the spur we were on to the very top. And thus, as my barometer showed, for 2,800 feet in height we toiled over the rocks and through the chaparral, until, tired and parched with thirst, we reached the top. In our toilsome ascent I could not help but notice the endurance and courage of the Indian girl. With a pack heavier than mine, she bore it with less fatigue, and even on the most difficult slopes coolly avoided the rocks that I unavoidably dislodged.

Once on the top, we found we were on a ridge that at this point receded from the river, sweeping away to the northward in a great curve. At one point on the slope a slide had occurred exposing the strata for a mile across, showing the rocks to be white almost as snow; probably another of those infusorial deposits already mentioned.

As soon as Jim saw this he exclaim

VOL. 15.-37.

ed: "Paas Bully! I know this place; it is Paas Bully. Wintoon yahmin (Indian road) over there"-indicating the place beyond the slide-"Cherri-poem is not very far."

I was very glad to hear this, for I judged that Cherri-poem (sandy place) must be in the Big Bend, and was, I knew, an Indian crossing-place. If necessary, I thought we could reach the stage - road from there. However, we had not yet reached Cherri-poem, and we were parched with thirst. Far below us I could see a little flat formed by a land-slide, and the dense growth of verdure with which it was covered led me to think that we would find water there. On reaching it we found it covered with a growth of maples and oaks, and under these a dense growth of ferns and large-leafed plants. Bear and deer had broken their way through in different directions. Following one of these trails, we soon found the much-needed water.

We had to toil over another high ridge before we could get down to the banks of the river again. The western slope of this last ridge was exceedingly steep, almost a precipice for 1,800 feet. It was with great difficulty, burdened as we were, that we made the descent. Before we were half-way down, Hilda discovered Indians crossing the river. Although Jim was afraid, I was too eager to see anyone who could help us, to let them go. So I shouted, and my shout was answered from beneath. But it was a long time before we got down to the river's bank. There we were confronted by two Indians armed with rifles. Jim addressed them, but they could not understand him. I went up to one, and, throwing down my pack, told him in English and by signs to take it up and lead us across the river. After some hesitation he handed his rifle to his companion, took up my bundle, and marched on down to the river. Then they pulled