We had now climbed the back bone of the continent and in a few minutes afterward we were racing down its other side, past the Black Canon of the Gunnison, that we could see but dimly in the darkness, we thundered, and it was long after midnight when, weary with sight-seeing and the unusual fatigue of the day, we retired to our berths.
Breakfasting the next morning at Green River, we soon afterwards entered the mountains of Utah, that seemed more like hills of mud than anything else after viewing the wonders of the Rockies.
On the night of October 30th we reached Salt Lake City, the stronghold of the Mormon faith, and one of the handsomest and cleanest cities that the far West can boast of.

That morning we took in the tabernacle, the Great Salt Lake and other sights of the town, returning to the Walker House in time for dinner.

The ball ground there was a fairly good one, and we started to play our first game in the presence of 2,500 people.
In the first half of the fifth inning it started to rain, and how it did rain! The water did not come down in drops, but in bucketfuls.

The game, which was called at the end of the fourth inning resulted in a victory for the All-Americans, they winning by a score of 9 to 3.

All night long the rain fell, and as it was anything but pleasant under foot, we were content, that is, most of us, to remain within the friendly shelter of the hotels.