“And, then, from the top, you can get the full contrast of the colors in the layers of rocks. You’ll see a wall of black granite rusty with the iron that is in it, and, a short distance away, you’ll see red, amber and green pinnacles with white tops. We’ll have to climb some to get to the shack where Uncle David lived, and so you may be able to satisfy your love of nature without going to the top.”
“Did any one ever sail down through this canyon?” asked Alex.
“Yes,” Don answered, “Major Powell succeeded in getting through with a boat, but some members of his party lost their lives. We can nose the Rambler up for quite a distance yet, but of course we can’t go through.”
“Then suppose we camp in the canyon itself to-night?” Alex questioned. “It will be fine to hear the waters singing!”
“We may safely do that,” Don answered. “We will, of course, be in what is known as the inner gorge, that is, away down to bed rock! We can get to within a couple of miles of the shack by night and make camp there. Then, in the morning, we can climb up and have a look at the old place.”
“You lived there for a time with your uncle?” asked Case.
“Yes, for a couple of years. But Uncle never made much of us boys. He seemed to want to be alone, and, besides, he often said that we ought to be out in the world learning to fight humans! Uncle had a notion that men and women were worse than wild animals!
“So, after a time, he sent us away, giving us tickets to Chicago by way of San Francisco and the S. P. While on the way back, as I have already told you, we visited the old house at Yuma. I never saw Uncle again. He was a strange old fellow. Where he got all his wealth is more than I know, but he certainly was rich.”
It was hard work sailing against the currents of the Colorado, but the motors were strong and reliable, and at night the boys found themselves shut in by towering walls of rock. Above, on either side, were shelves, ledges and precipices. Away at the top grew yellow pine and fir, below juniper thrived, and farther down were willows and various kinds of bushes. The light was dim long before sunset, and the river ran dark and sullen between the frowning walls.
“We’ve got to stop here,” Don declared, as the Rambler reached a point where the inner gorge widened out into a small valley—a very small valley indeed—“for the shelf where the shack stands can be reached only from this point.”