As we continued up and down through the thicket, a veritable flight of stone steps too steep for descending on horseback dismounted us, and again quite casually we looked to our right, and saw falls twice the height of Niagara. But Niagara cannot display the same background of vivid cliffs, long canyon vistas, tangled and matted with tropical trees and vines, nor its perfect pool of aquamarine. But to name a waterfall Bridal Veil is like naming a Smith offspring John. Mooney’s Fall, the third and grandest of all in this rare canyon, was more appropriately named, though whether in reverence or irreverence is hard to judge. For this was doubly Mooney’s Fall. Mooney was a prospector, intent on investigating some of the rich veins of lead, gold and silver still unexplored in this canyon. In descending a cliff sheer enough to daunt anyone but an old prospector, he lost his hold. His skeleton was found months later by our own guide, William Bass, at the foot of the falls now bearing his name. Sheer precipices lead to the pool at the base of the cascade, and to reach it, we left our horses and entered a limestone tunnel ingeniously worked in and out the soft rock, and thus threading our way finally reached the bottom, and stood exulting in the suddenly cool air, electric with white spray, falling into the great pool below. Like the caves through which we crawled, the cliff behind the falls was of red limestone, not solid rock but like carved lace, or rather, like the Japanese wave symbol, which seemed to have frozen eternally when at its crest. And this was covered with ferns and moss and bright flowers, while blue birds flashing over the pool in flocks were singing their joy at reaching this cool haven. [Illustration: MOONEY’S FALL, HAVASUPAI CANYON, ARIZONA.] Here was our bath de luxe. I am sure no king or courtesan ever found one more nearly perfect. While the guides explored another canyon, we swam to our hearts’ content, cool for the first time in days. The white lime bottom gave the pool a jewel clearness. Though it came to our shoulders it looked only a few inches deep. Spray-drenched, we swam as near as we dared to the great cascade, which set the pool dancing in eternal waves. When we finished our swim we were invigorated as if a dozen masseuses had spent the day over us.