lateral canyon. Elsewhere the park is inaccessible. Through this land
entrance by the side canyon there is a trail made by Indian hunters, who
come down here in certain seasons to kill mountain sheep. Great hollow
domes are seen in the eastern side of the rock, against which the Green
sweeps; willows border the river; clumps of box-elder are seen; and a
few cottonwoods stand at the lower end. Standing opposite the rock, our
words are repeated with startling clearness, but in a soft, mellow tone,
that transforms them into magical music. Scarcely can one believe it is
the echo of his own voice. In some places two or three echoes come back;
in other places they repeat themselves, passing back and forth across
the river between this rock and the eastern wall. To hear these repeated
echoes well, we must shout. Some of the party aver that ten or twelve
repetitions can be heard. To me, they seem rapidly to diminish and merge
by multiplicity, like telegraph poles on an outstretched plain. I have
observed the same phenomenon once before in the cliffs near Long's Peak,
and am pleased to meet with it again.

During the afternoon Bradley and I climb some cliffs to the north.
Mountain sheep are seen above us, and they stand out on the rocks and
eye us intently, not seeming to move. Their color is much like that of
the gray sandstone beneath them, and, immovable as they are, they appear
like carved forms. Now a fine ram beats the rock with his fore foot,
and, wheeling around, they all bound away together, leaping over rocks
and chasms and climbing walls where no man can follow, and this with an
ease and grace most wonderful. At night we return to our camp under the
box-elders by the river side. Here we are to spend two or three days,
making a series of astronomic observations for latitude and longitude.

_June 18.--_We have named the long peninsular rock on the other side
Echo Rock. Desiring to climb it, Bradley and I take the little boat and