After the rainy season green grass and an abundance of flowers appear in the open meadows scattered through the forest. But, as a rule, the entire absence of water strikes one as being very strange. Where are the springs and running streams which usually abound in mountainous regions? Throughout the whole distance of seventy miles from Flagstaff to the canon, there are but one or two spots where water is to be found. These places are known as "water-holes"; they are simply hollows in the surface of the ground where the water collects after the showers. There is another strange feature about the plateau over which the road leads; instead of sloping down toward the Colorado River and the Grand Canon, the surface slowly rises, so that the little streams which are formed after the heavy rains flow away from the river. Our journey draws to an end, but there is nothing to indicate the presence of the canon until we get glimpses through the trees of an apparently bottomless gulf. The gulf widens upon a closer view, we reach the edge, and all its wonderful proportions burst upon us. Does the Grand Canon look as you thought it would? Probably not, for it is unlike any other in the world. The canon is very deep. The river has worn its way for more than a mile down into the plateau, which once stretched unbroken from the cliffs upon which we stand, across to those upon the opposite side, nearly ten miles away. The clear air makes objects upon the opposite side and in the bottom of the canon seem much nearer than they really are. You may think that it is an easy task to go to the bottom of the canon and climb back again in a day, but in reality it is so difficult an undertaking that only those who are accustomed to mountain climbing can accomplish it. It is not merely the great width and depth of the canon that impress us, but also the bright, variegated colors which the different rock layers display as they stretch in horizontal bands along the faces of the cliffs, or sweep around the towers and pinnacles until their detailed outlines are lost in the distant blue haze. Our eyes wander far down, toward the bottom of the canon, following the alternate lines of precipitous cliffs and slopes covered with rock fragments. The cliffs and slopes succeed each other like the steps in a giant stairway, until at the very bottom the opposite walls meet in a gorge so narrow that in only a few places does the river come into view, glistening like a silver thread. A hotel stands among the trees a short distance from the brink of the canon. Living here is expensive, for every article of food has to be brought upon the cars and wagons for a distance of hundreds of miles. Even the water has to be brought in wagons from a distant spring. [Illustration: FIG. 4.--A SCENE ON THE TRAIL]