light and shade. Away to the south the Uinta Mountains stretch in a long
line,--high peaks thrust into the sky, and snow fields glittering like
lakes of molten silver, and pine forests in somber green, and rosy
clouds playing around the borders of huge, black masses; and heights and
clouds and mountains and snow fields and forests and rock-lands are
blended into one grand view. Now the sun goes down, and I return to
camp.

_May 25._--We start early this morning and run along at a good rate
until about nine o'clock, when we are brought up on a gravelly bar. All
jump out and help the boats over by main strength. Then a rain comes on,
and river and clouds conspire to give us a thorough drenching. Wet,
chilled, and tired to exhaustion, we stop at a cottonwood grove on the
bank, build a huge fire, make a cup of coffee, and are soon refreshed
and quite merry. When the clouds "get out of our sunshine" we start
again. A few miles farther down a flock of mountain sheep are seen on a
cliff to the right. The boats are quietly tied up and three or four men
go after them. In the course of two or three hours they return. The cook
has been successful in bringing down a fat lamb. The unsuccessful
hunters taunt him with finding it dead; but it is soon dressed, cooked,
and eaten, and makes a fine four o'clock dinner.

"All aboard," and down the river for another dozen miles. On the way we
pass the mouth of Black's Fork, a dirty little stream that seems
somewhat swollen. Just below its mouth we land and camp.

_May 26.--_To-day we pass several curiously shaped buttes, standing
between the west bank of the river and the high bluffs beyond. These
buttes are outliers of the same beds of rocks as are exposed on the
faces of the bluffs,--thinly laminated shales and sandstones of many