The first thirty miles out of Evanston we had an excellent road. There was a charming desert flower growing in the dusty road and alongside, white and somewhat like a single petaled water-lily. Its buds were pink, and it sprang from a whorl of leaves like those of a dandelion. Its fragrance was most delicate. There was also the lovely blue larkspur, and there were clusters of a brick-red flower which grew rather tall. Then there were clumps of something very like a dark scarlet clover. The fine mountain scenery, the fantastically carved buttes, sometimes like miniature canyons, the glorious air, all put us in delightful humour with ourselves and the world. At the little town of Granger on the railroad line we met two young pedestrians who were walking on a wager from Kearney, Nebraska, to Seattle. They were to have $500. apiece if they reached Seattle by the first of August. Their yellow outing shirts bore the inscription, "Walking from Kearney, Nebraska, to Seattle." They told us they were able to make forty miles a day. When they reached Salt Lake City they were to have substantial new walking boots from the merchants at Kearney, the bargain being that at that point they were to return their worn boots to be exhibited in the shop windows of Kearney. They had been halted at Granger because of lack of money, having miscalculated their needs. They had just had a telegram from home, sending them money and assuring them of more help if they needed it. They looked strong and fit and were perfectly confident that they would win the wager. We also met two young motor-cyclists from Akron, Ohio, en route for the coast. There were several eating places at Granger, but it was too early for luncheon, so we pressed on to Green River, a Union Pacific Railway town. From Granger to Green River the road was poorer and more bumpy. Fine masses of rock and carved tableland rose on the horizon as we drove along. As we approached Green River a splendid red, yellow, and clay-colored mountain loomed on the horizon, which as we neared the town resolved itself into long lines of buttes back of the town. Teakettle Rock, an immense, isolated butte, rose to the left, and Castle Rock was just back of the town. The butte scenery both approaching and leaving Green River was very fine. The coloring was extremely rich; soft reds, yellows, browns, and clay colors. There were long lines of round buttresses and great concavities of rock, more like the famous Causses of southern France than anything I have ever seen. We had luncheon at Green River in the spacious dining room of the Union Pacific Station, and felt ourselves quite in touch with the East to be eating in the same dining room with passengers of the long overland train.