And now Captain Bishop has kindled a huge fire of driftwood on the bank of the river. This and the fires in the gulch opposite and our own flaming torches light up little patches that make more manifest the awful darkness below. Still, on we go for an hour or two, and at last we see Captain Bishop coming up the gulch with a huge torchlight on his shoulders. He looks like a fiend, waving brands and lighting the fires of hell, and the men in the opposite gulch are imps, lighting delusive fires in inaccessible crevices, over yawning chasms; our own little Indian is surely the king of wizards, so I think, as I stop for a few moments on a rock to rest. At last we meet Captain Bishop, with his flaming torch, and as he has learned the way he soon pilots us to the side of the great Colorado. We are athirst and hungry, almost to starvation. Here we lie down on the rocks and drink, just a mouthful or so, as we dare; then we make a cup of coffee, and spreading our blankets on a sand beach the roaring Colorado lulls us to sleep. September 18.--We are in the Grand Canyon, by the side of the Colorado, more than 6,000 feet below our camp on the mountain side, which is 18 miles away; but the miles of horizontal distance represent but 316 CANYONS OF THE COLORADO. a small part of the day's labor before us. It is the mile of altitude we must gain that makes it a Herculean task. We are up early; a little bread and coffee, and we look about us. Our conclusion is that we can make this a depot of supplies, should it be necessary; that we can pack our rations to the point where we left our animals last night, and that we can employ Indians to bring them down to the water's edge.