{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_44627/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_44627","id":"gutenberg_44627","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44627","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Archaeology & Anthropology","Category: History - Other","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Indians of North America -- Southwest, New"],"text":"The Indians\n of\n The Painted Desert Region\n\n\n\n\n WORKS BY\n\n George Wharton James\n\n\n IN AND AROUND THE GRAND CANYON OF THE\n COLORADO RIVER IN ARIZONA.\n\n THE INDIANS OF THE PAINTED DESERT REGION.\n\n THE MISSIONS AND MISSION INDIANS OF CALIFORNIA.\n\n INDIAN BASKETRY.\n\n\n\n\n [Illustration: IN THE HEART OF THE PAINTED DESERT.]\n\n\n\n\n The Indians\n of the\n Painted Desert Region\n\n _Hopis_, _Navahoes_, _Wallapais_,\n _Havasupais_\n\n\n By\n George Wharton James\n Author of \"In and Around the Grand Canyon,\" etc.\n\n\n [Illustration]\n\n\n _With Numerous Illustrations from Photographs_\n\n\n\n\n Boston\n Little, Brown, and Company\n 1903\n\n\n\n\n _Copyright, 1903_,\n\n BY EDITH E. FARNSWORTH\n\n\n _All rights reserved_\n\n Published October, 1903\n\n\n UNIVERSITY PRESS \u00b7 JOHN WILSON\n AND SON \u00b7 CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.\n\n\n\n _To my Wife_\n\n\n\n CONTENTS\n\n\n PAGE\n\n INTRODUCTORY xiii\n\n CHAPTER\n\n I. THE PAINTED DESERT REGION 1\n\n II. DESERT RECOLLECTIONS 10\n\n III. FIRST GLIMPSES OF THE HOPI 29\n\n IV. THE HOPI VILLAGES AND THEIR HISTORY 44\n\n V. A FEW HOPI CUSTOMS 66\n\n VI. THE RELIGIOUS LIFE OF THE HOPI 82\n\n VII. THE HOPI SNAKE DANCE 102\n\n VIII. THE NAVAHO AND HIS HISTORY 124\n\n IX. THE NAVAHO AT HOME 138\n\n X. THE NAVAHO AS A BLANKET WEAVER 160\n\n XI. THE WALLAPAIS 172\n\n XII. THE ADVENT OF THE WALLAPAIS 188\n\n XIII. THE PEOPLE OF THE BLUE WATER AND THEIR HOME 199\n\n XIV. THE HAVASUPAIS AND THEIR LEGENDS 209\n\n XV. THE SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC LIFE OF THE HAVASUPAIS 220\n\n XVI. THE HAVASUPAIS' RELIGIOUS DANCES AND BELIEFS 248\n\n BIBLIOGRAPHY 265\n\n\n\n\n _ILLUSTRATIONS_\n\n\n In the Heart of the Painted Desert. _Frontispiece_\n\n A Son of the Desert. _Vignette on Title_\n\n In the Heart of the Petrified Forest. _Facing page_ xvi\n\n A Freak of Erosion in the Petrified Forest. \" \" 2\n\n Journeying over the Painted Desert to the\n Hopi Snake Dance. \" \" 2\n\n Ancient Pottery dug from Prehistoric Ruins on\n the Painted Desert. \" \" 8\n\n The Painted Desert near the Little Colorado\n River. \" \" 16\n\n Asleep, Early Morning, on the Painted Desert. \" \" 16\n\n The Colorado River at Bass Ferry, the Vampire\n of the Painted Desert. \" \" 22\n\n Hano, (Tewa) from the Head of the Trail. \" \" 34\n\n Hopi Women building a House at Oraibi. \" \" 38\n\n Mashonganavi from the Terrace below. \" \" 38\n\n Mashongce, an Oraibi Maiden, drying Corn\n Meal. \" \" 42\n\n The Trio of Metates, and Hopi Woman about\n to grind Corn. \" \" 42\n\n An Oraibi Woman shelling Corn in a Basket\n of Yucca Fibre. \" \" 50\n\n The \"Burro\" of Hopi Transportation. \" \" 50\n\n An Aged Hopi at Oraibi. \" \" 54\n\n A Hopi, weaving a Native Cotton Ceremonial\n Kilt. \" \" 54\n\n An Oraibi Basket Weaver. \" \" 60\n\n An Admiring Hopi Mother. \" \" 60\n\n Shupela, Father of Kopeli, Late Snake Priest\n at Walpi. \" \" 68\n\n A Hopi Girl, Oraibi. \" \" 68\n\n Hopi Children, at Oraibi, waiting for a Scramble\n of Candy. \" \" 76\n\n Group of Hopi Maidens at Shungopavi. \" \" 82\n\n Hopi Woman weaving Basket, her Husband\n Knitting Stockings. \" \" 88\n\n Hopi Woman preparing Corn Meal for making\n Doughnuts. \" \" 88\n\n Hopi \"Boomerangs.\" \" \" 96\n\n Hopi Ceremonial Drums. \" \" 96\n\n A Hopi Belle at Shungopavi. \" \" 100\n\n Blind Hopi Boy, Knitting Stockings. \" \" 100\n\n The Beginning of the Hopi Snake Dance,\n Oraibi, 1902. \" \" 102\n\n The Chief Antelope Priest depositing Pahos at\n the Shrine of the Spider Woman. \" \" 106\n\n Throwing the Snakes into the Circle of Sacred\n Meal. \" \" 106\n\n Line-up of Snake and Antelope Priests, Antelope\n Dance, Oraibi, 1902. \" \" 110\n\n The Snake Dance at Oraibi, 1902. \" \" 114\n\n The Snakes in the Kiva at Mashonganavi, after\n the Ceremony of Washing. \" \" 118\n\n After taking the Emetic. Hopi Snake Dance at\n Walpi. \" \" 122\n\n Navaho Silver Necklace and Belt. \" \" 126\n\n Hopi Prayer Sticks or Pahos. \" \" 126\n\n An Aged Navaho, looking over the Painted\n Desert. \" \" 131\n\n An Old Hopi at Oraibi. \" \" 131\n\n Hopi Ceremonial Head-dresses. \" \" 134\n\n Hopi Bahos and Dance Rattles. \" \" 134\n\n Kapata, Antelope Priest, at Walpi. \" \" 140\n\n A Mashonganavi Hopi, going to hoe his Corn. \" \" 140\n\n The Antelope Priests leaving their Kiva for the\n Snake Dance. \" \" 146\n\n The Widow, Daughters, and Grandchildren of\n the Navaho Chief, Manuelito. \" \" 146\n\n Wife of Leve Leve, Wallapai Chief. \" \" 156\n\n The March of the Antelope Priests, Oraibi, 1902. \" \" 156\n\n An Aged Navaho and her Hogan. \" \" 170\n\n Navaho Family and Hogan in the Painted\n Desert. \" \" 170\n\n Navaho Woman on Horseback. \" \" 176\n\n The Winner of the \"Gallo\" Race, at Tohatchi. \" \" 176\n\n A Wallapai, making a Meal on the Fruit of the\n Tuna, or Prickly Pear. \" \" 188\n\n Wallapai Maiden and Prayer Basket. \" \" 188\n\n Susquatami, Wallapai War Chief. \" \" 196\n\n Tuasula, Wallapai Chief. \" \" 196\n\n Havasupai Fortress and Hue-gli-i-wa, or Rock\n Figures. \" \" 206\n\n Chickapanagie's Wife, a Havasupai, parching\n Corn in a Basket. \" \" 210\n\n A Wallapai Woman pounding Acorns. \" \" 210\n\n Havasupai Mother and Child. \" \" 216\n\n A Family Group of Havasupais. \" \" 216\n\n Waluthanca's Daughter, with Esuwa, going for\n Water. \" \" 230\n\n Lanoman's Wife, a Havasupai. \" \" 230\n\n Rock Jones, Leading Medicine Man of Havasupais. \" \" 256\n\n Sinyela, with Esuwa, going for Water. \" \" 256\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY\n\n\nWild, weird, and mystic pictures are formed in the mind by the very\nname--the Painted Desert. The sound itself suggests a fabled rather\nthan a real land. Surely it must be akin to Atlantis or the Island\nof Circe or the place where the Cyclops lived. Is it not a land of\nenchantment and dreams, not a place for living men and women, Indians\nthough they be?\n\nIt _is_ a land of enchantment, but also of stern reality, as those who\nhave marched, unprepared, across its waterless wastes can testify. No\nfabled land ever surpassed it in its wondrousness, yet a railway runs\ndirectly over it, and it is not on some far-away continent, but is\nclose at hand; a portion, indeed, of our own United States.\n\nIn our schoolboy days we used to read of the Great American Desert. The\nmarch of civilization has marched that \"desert\" out of existence. Is\nthe Painted Desert a fiction of early geographers, like unto the Great\nAmerican Desert, to be wiped from the map when we have more knowledge?\n\nNo! It is in actual existence as it was when first seen by the white\nmen, about three hundred and fifty years ago, and as it doubtless will\nbe for untold centuries yet to come.\n\nCoronado and his band of daring conquistadors, preceded by Marcos de\nNiza and Stephen the Negro, reaching out with gold-lustful hands, came\ninto the region from northern Mexico, conquered Cibola--Zuni--and from\nthere sent out a small band to investigate the stories told by the\nZunis of a people who lived about one hundred miles to the northwest,\nwhom they called A-mo-ke-vi. The Navaho Indians said the home of the\nA-mo-ke-vi was a Ta-sa-\u00fbn\u00b4--a country of isolated buttes--so the\nSpaniards called the people Moki (Moqui) and their land \"the province\nof Tusayan,\" and by those names they have ever since been known.\n\nYet these names are not the ones by which they designate themselves and\ntheir land. They are the Hopituh, which Stephen says means \"the wise\npeople,\" and Fewkes, \"the people of peace.\"\n\nIt was in marching to the land of the Hopituh that the Spaniards\ndesignated the region \"el pintado desierto.\" And a painted desert it\ntruly is. Elsewhere I have described some of its horrors,[1] for I have\nbeen familiar with them, more or less, for upwards of twenty years.\nI do not write of that of which I have merely heard, but \"mine eyes\nhave seen,\" again and again, that which I describe. I have been almost\nfrozen in its piercing snow-storms; choked with sand in its whirling\nsand-storms; wet through ere I could dismount from my horse in its\nfierce rain-storms; terrified and temporarily blinded by the brilliancy\nof its lightning-storms; and almost sunstruck by the scorching power of\nthe sun in its desolate confines. I have seen the sluggish waters of\nthe Little Colorado River rise several feet in the night and place an\nimpassable barrier temporarily before us. With my horses I have camped,\nagain and again, waterless, on its arid and inhospitable rocks and\nsands, and prayed for morning, only to resume our exhausting journey in\nthe fiercely beating rays of the burning sun; longing for some pool of\nwater, no matter how dirty, how stagnant, that our parched tongues and\nthroats might feel the delights of swallowing something fluid. And last\nyear (1902), in a journey to the home of the Hopi, my friends and I saw\na part of this desert covered with the waters of a fierce rain-storm\nas if it were an ocean, and the \"dry wash\" of the Oraibi the scene of\na flood that, for hours, equalled the rapids of the Colorado River. We\nwere almost engulfed in a quicksand, and a few days later covered with\na sand-storm; all these experiences, and others, in the course of a few\ndays.\n\n[1] \"In and Around the Grand Canyon.\"\n\nStand with me on the summit of one of the towering mountains that\nguard the region and you will see such a landscape of color as exists\nnowhere else in the world. It suggests the thought of God's original\npalette--where He experimented in color ere He decided how to paint the\nsunset, tint the sun-kissed hills at dawn, give red to the rose, green\nto the leaves, yellow to the sunflowers, and the varied colors of baby\nblue-eyes, violets, portulacas, poppies, and cacti; where He concluded\nto distribute color throughout His world instead of making it all\nsombre in grays or black.\n\nLook! here is a vast flat of alkali, pure, dazzling white, shining\nlike a vivid and horrible leprosy in the noon-day sun; close by is an\narea of volcanic action where a veritable \"tintaro\"--inkstand--has\noverflowed in devastating blackness over miles and miles. There are\npits of six hundred feet depth full of black gunpowder-like substance,\ngardens of hellish cauliflowers and cabbages of forbidding black lava,\nand tunnels arched and square of pure blackness. Yonder is a mural\nface a half thousand feet high and two hundred or more miles long. It\nis nearly a hundred miles away, yet it reveals the rich glowing red of\nits walls, and between it and us are large \"blotches\" of pinks, grays,\ngreens, reds, chocolates, carmines, crimsons, browns, yellows, olives,\nin every conceivable shade, and all blending in a strange and grotesque\nyet attractive manner, and fascinating while it awes. It is seldom one\ncan see a rainbow lengthened out into flatness and then petrified; yet\nyou can see it here. Few eyes have ever beheld a sunset painted on a\ndesert's sands, yet all may see it here.\n\nIt is a desert, surely, yet throughout its entire width flows a monster\nriver; a fiendish, evil-souled river; a thievish, murderous river; a\ngiant vampire, sucking the life-blood from thousands of square miles\nof territory and making it all barren, desolate, desert. And this\nvampire river has vampire children which emulate their mother in their\ninsatiable thirst. Remorselessly they suck up and carry away all the\nmoisture that would make the land \"blossom as the rose,\" and thus add\nmisery to desolation, devastation to barrenness.\n\nIt is a desert, surely, yet planted in its dreary wastes are\nverdant-clad mountains, on whose summits winter's snows fall and\naccumulate, and in whose bosoms springs of life are harbored.\n\nIt is a desert, surely, yet it is fringed here and there with dense\nforests, and in the very heart of its direst desolation threads of\nsilvery streams lined with greenish verdure seem to give the lie to the\nname.\n\nIt is desert, barren, inhospitable, dangerous, yet thousands of people\nmake it their chosen home. Over its surface roam the Bedouins of the\nUnited States, fearless horsemen, daring travellers, who rival in\npicturesqueness, if not in evil, their compeers of the deserts by the\nNile. Down in the deep canyon water-ways of the desert-streams dwell\nother peoples whose life is as strange, weird, wild, and fascinating as\nthat of any people of earth.\n\n[Illustration: IN THE HEART OF THE PETRIFIED FOREST.]\n\nThis is the region and these the people I would make the American\nreader more familiar with. Other books have been written on the Painted\nDesert. One was published a few years ago, written by a clever American\nnovelist, and published by one of America's leading firms, and I\nread it with mingled feelings of delight and half anger. It was so\nbeautifully and charmingly written that one familiar with the scenes\ndepicted could not fail to enjoy it, although indignant--because of the\nerrors that might have been avoided. It claims only to be fiction. Yet\nthe youth of the land reading it necessarily gain distinct impressions\nof fact from its pages. These \"facts\" are, unfortunately, so far from\ntrue that they mislead the reader. It would have been a comparatively\nslight task for the author to have consulted government records and\nthus have made his references to geography and ethnology correct.\n\nIt is needless, I hope, for me to say I have honestly endeavored to\navoid the method here criticised. The bibliography incorporated as part\nof this book will enable the diligent student to consult authorities\nabout this fascinating region.\n\nBut now comes an important question. What are the boundaries of the\nPainted Desert? I am free to confess I do not know, nor do I think any\none else does. The Spaniards never attempted to bound it, and no one\nsince has ever had the temerity to do so. In Ives's map of the region\nhe endeavored to explore, and of which he wrote so hopelessly, he\nplaces the Painted Desert in that ill-defined way that geographers used\nto follow in suggesting the location of the Great American Desert.\n\nThe _conditions_ of color and barrenness that first suggested the name\nexist over a large area; you find them in the plateaus of southern\nUtah and the wild wastes of southern Nevada; they exist in much of New\nMexico and southwestern Colorado. In Arizona if you sweep around north,\nwest, south, and east, they are there. Northward--in the cliffs and\nravines of the Grand Canyon country, in Blue Canyon, in the red mesas,\nthe coal deposits, and in the lava flows around the San Francisco\nMountains; westward--in the wild mountains and wilder deserts that\nlead to the crossings of the Colorado River, past the craters, lava\nflows, Calico Mountains, and Mohave Desert of the country adjoining the\nSanta F\u00e9 Route, and the Salton Sea, mud volcanoes, purple cliffs, and\ntawny sands of the Colorado Desert of the Sunset Route of the Southern\nPacific; southward--in the Red Rock country, Sunset Pass, the meteorite\nbeds of Canyon Diablo, the great cliffs of the Mogollon Plateau, the\nTonto Basin, the Verdi Valley, and away down, over the Hassayampa,\nthrough the Salt River Valley, past the Superstition and other purple\nand variegated mountains, into the heart of northern Mexico itself;\neastward--to the Petrified Forest, across into New Mexico to Mount\nSan Mateo, by the cliffs, craters, lava flows, alkali flats, gorges\nand ravines of the Zuni Mountain country and as far as the Rio Grande\nat Albuquerque, where the basalt is scattered about in an irregular\nway, as if the molten stuff had been washed over the country from\nsome titanic bucket, and left to lie in great inky blots over the\nbright-colored soils and clays.\n\nTo me, _all this_ is Painted Desert region, for much of it is painted\nand much is desert. Indeed, if one Painted Desert were to be staked off\nin any one of the above named States, ten others, equally large, could\nbe found in the remaining ones.\n\nIt is a wonderful region viewed from any standpoint. Scenic! It is\nunrivalled for uniqueness, contrasts, variety, grandeur, desolateness,\nand majesty. Geologic! The student may here find in a few months what a\nlifetime elsewhere cannot reveal. Artistic! The artist will find it his\nrapture and his despair. Arch\u00e6ologic! Ruins everywhere, cavate, cliff,\nand pueblo dwellings, waiting for investigation, and, doubtless, scores\nas yet undiscovered. Ethnologic! Hopi, Wallapai, Havasupai, Navaho,\nApache, and the rest; with mythologies as fascinating and complex\nas those of old Greece; with histories that lose themselves in dim\nlegend and tradition, and that tell of feuds and wars, massacres and\nconflicts, that extend over centuries.\n\nIn the first chapter I have briefly named some of the wonders and\nmarvels of this fascinating land, and though in barest outline, \"the\nhalf has not been told.\"\n\nIt will be noticed that I have not rigidly adhered to the subjects as\nindicated by the heads of the chapters. I have preferred a discursive\nrather than a rigid style, for I deem it will prove itself the more\ninteresting to the generality of my readers, and I merely call\nattention to it so that my critics may know it is not done without\nintent.\n\nOf the Indians of this region I have room to write of four tribes\nonly, viz., the Hopi, the Navaho, the Wallapai, and the Havasupai. Of\nthe former much has been written in late years, owing to the interest\ncentred in their thrilling religious ceremony, the Snake Dance. Of the\nNavaho considerable is known, but of the Wallapai and Havasupai there\nis little known and less written. Indeed, of the Wallapai there is\nnothing in print except the brief and cursory remarks of travellers,\nand the reports of the teachers of the recently established schools\nto the Indian Department. No one is better aware than myself of the\nincomplete and fragmentary character of what I have written, but this\nbook is issued, as others that have preceded it from my pen, in accord\nwith my desire to place in compact form for the general reader reliable\naccounts of places and peoples in the United States hitherto known only\nto the explorer and scientist.\n\nTo all the writers of the United States Bureau of Ethnology and the\nSmithsonian Institution, as well as those of other departments of the\nGovernment who have written on the region, I gratefully acknowledge\nmany indebtednesses, especially to Powell, Fewkes, Matthews, Stephen,\nHodge, Hough, Hrdlicka, Cushing, and Shufeldt.\n\nTo those who know the persistency and conscientiousness of my labors\nin my chosen field, and the pains I take both by observation and\nfrom the works of authorities to gain accurate knowledge, and my\n_over_-willingness to acknowledge by pen and voice those to whom I am\nindebted, it will not be necessary to state that I have endeavored to\nmake this book a standard. If I have failed to give credit where it was\ndue, I do so now with an open heart.\n\nFor the kindly reception my work in the printed page and on the\nplatform has received in the past I hereby express my grateful\nacknowledgments.\n\n GEORGE WHARTON JAMES.\n\n AUTHOR AMPHITHEATRE,\n BASS CAMP,\n GRAND CANYON, ARIZONA.\n\n\n\n\n_THE INDIANS OF THE\nPainted Desert Region_\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE PAINTED DESERT REGION\n\n\nCivilization and barbarism obtrude themselves delightfully at every\nturn in this Wonderland of the American Southwest, called the Painted\nDesert Region.\n\nAncient and modern history play you many a game of hide-and-seek as you\nendeavor to trace either one or the other in a study of its aboriginal\npeople; you look upon a ceremony performed to-day and call it modern.\nIn reality it is of the past, so old, so hoary with antiquity that even\nto the participants it has lost its origin and much of its meaning.\n\nHistory--exciting, thrilling, tragic--has been made in the Painted\nDesert Region; was being made centuries before Leif Ericson landed on\nthe shores of Vinland, or John and Sebastian Cabot sailed from Bristol.\nHistory that was ancient and hoar when the band of pilgrims from Leyden\nbattled with the wild waves of the Atlantic's New England shore, and\nwas lapsing into sleepiness before the guns of the minute-men were\nfired at Lexington or Allen had fallen at Bunker Hill.\n\nIn the Painted Desert Region we find peoples strange, peculiar, and\ninteresting, whose mythology is more fascinating than that of ancient\nGreece, and, for aught we know to the contrary, may be equally ancient;\nwhose ceremonies of to-day are more elaborate than those of a devout\nCatholic, more complex than those of a Hindoo pantheist, more weird\nthan those of a howling dervish of Turkestan.\n\nPeoples whose origin is as uncertain and mysterious as the ancients\nthought the source of the Nile; whose history is unknown except in the\nfantastic, though stirring and improbable stories told by the elders\nas they gather the young men around them at their mystic ceremonies,\nand in the traditional songs sung by their high priests during the\nperformance of long and exhausting worship.\n\nPeoples whose government is as simple, pure, and perfect as that of the\npatriarchs, and possibly as ancient, and yet more republican than the\nmost modern government now in existence. Peoples whose women build and\nown the houses, and whose men weave the garments of the women, knit the\nstockings of their own wear, and are as expert with needle and thread\nas their ancestors were with bow and arrow, obsidian-tipped spear, or\nstone battle-axe.\n\nHere live peoples of peace and peoples of war; wanderers\nand stay-at-homes; house-builders and those who scorn fixed\ndwelling-places; poets whose songs, like those of blind Homer and\nthe early Troubadors, were never written, but enshrined only in the\nhearts of the race; artists whose paints are the brilliant sands of\nmany-colored mountains, and whose brushes are their own deft fingers.\n\n[Illustration: A FREAK OF EROSION IN THE PETRIFIED FOREST.]\n\n[Illustration: JOURNEYING OVER THE PAINTED DESERT TO THE HOPI SNAKE\nDANCE.]\n\nIts modern history begins about three hundred and fifty years ago\nwhen one portion of it was discovered by a negro slave, whose amorous\npropensities lured him to his death, and the other by a priest, of whom\none writer says his reports were \"so disgustful in lyes and wrapped up\nin fictions that the Light was little more than Darkness.\"\n\nOf its ancient history who can more than guess? To most questions it\nremains as silent as the Sphinx. The riddle of the Sphinx, though, is\nbeing solved, and so by the careful and scientific work of the Bureau\nof Ethnology, the riddles of the prehistoric life of our Southwest,\nslowly but surely, are being resolved.\n\nOne of the countries comprised in the Painted Desert Region is the\ntheme of an epic, Homerian in style if not in quality, full of wars\nand rumors of wars, storming of impregnable citadels, and the recitals\nof deeds as brave and heroic as those of the Greeks at Marathon or\nThermopyl\u00e6; a poem recently discovered, after having remained buried in\nthe tomb of oblivion for over two hundred years.\n\nHere are peoples of stupendous religious beliefs. Peoples who can\ntruthfully be designated as the most religious of the world; yet\npeoples as agnostic and sceptic, if not as learned, as Hume, Voltaire,\nSpencer, and Ingersoll. Peoples to whom a written letter is witchcraft\nand sorcery, and yet who can read the heavens, interpret the writings\nof the woods, deserts, and canyons with a certainty never failing and\nunerring. Peoples who twenty-five years ago stoned and hanged the\nwitches and wizards they sincerely thought cursed them, and who, ten\nyears ago hanged, and perhaps even to-day, though secretly, hang one\nanother on a cross as an act of virtue and religious faith, after\ncruelly beating themselves and one another with scourges of deadly\ncactus thorns.\n\nHere are intelligent farmers, who, for centuries, have scientifically\nirrigated their lands, and yet who cut off the ears of their burros to\nkeep them from stealing corn.\n\nA land it is of witchcraft and sorcery, of horror and dread of ghosts\nand goblins, of daily propitiation of Fates and Powers and Princes\nof Darkness and Air at the very thought of whom withering curses and\nblasting injuries are sure to come.\n\nHere dwell peoples who dance through fierce, flaming fires, lacerate\nthemselves with cactus whips, run long wearisome races over the\nscorching sands of the desert, and handle deadly rattlesnakes with\nfearless freedom, as part of their religious worship.\n\nPeoples who pray by machinery as the Burmese use their prayer wheels,\nand who \"plant\" supplications as a gardener \"plants\" trees and shrubs.\n\nPeoples to whom a smoking cigarette is made the means of holy\ncommunion, the handling of poisonous reptiles a sacred and solemn act\nof devotion, and the playing with dolls the opportunity for giving\nreligious instruction to their children.\n\nPeoples who are pantheists, sun worshippers, and snake dancers, yet who\nhave churches and convents built with incredible labor and as extensive\nas any modern cathedral.\n\nPeoples whose conservatism in manners and religion surpass that of the\nveriest English tories; who, for hundreds of years, have steadily and\nsuccessfully resisted all efforts to \"convert\" and change them, and\nwho to-day are as firm in their ancient faiths as ever. Peoples whom\nSpanish conquistadors could not tame with matchlock, pike, and machete,\nnor United States forces with Gatling gun, rifle, and bayonet.\n\nPeoples to whom fraternal organizations and secret societies, for men\nand women alike, are as ancient as the mountains they inhabit, whose\nlodge rooms are more wonderful, and whose signs and passwords more\ncomplex than those of any organization of civilized lands and modern\ntimes.\n\nPeoples industrious and peoples studiously lazy, honest and able in\nthievery, truthful and consummate liars, cleanly and picturesquely\ndirty, interesting and repulsively loathsome, charming and artistically\nhideous, religious and cursedly wicked, peaceful and unceasingly\nwarlike, lovers of home and haters of fixed habitations.\n\nHere are peoples who dwell upon almost inaccessible cliffs, peoples of\nthe clouds, and, on the other hand, peoples who dwell in canyon depths,\nwhere stupendous walls, capable of enclosing Memphis, Thebes, Luxor,\nKarnak, and all the ruins of ancient Egypt, are the boundaries of their\nprimitive residences.\n\nThe Painted Desert Region is a country where rattlesnakes are washed,\nprayed over, caressed, carried in the mouth, and placed before and on\nsacred altars in religious worship.\n\nWhere the worship of the goddess of reproduction with all its\nphallic symbolism is carried on in public processionals, dances, and\nceremonials by men, women, maidens, and children without shameful\nself-consciousness, yet where dire penalties, even unto mutilation and\ndeath, are visited upon the unchaste.\n\nWhere polygamy has been as openly practised as in the days of Abraham,\nand possibly from as early a time, and where to-day it is as common\nto see a man who, openly, has two or more wives, as in civilized lands\nit is common to see him with but one. And yet it is a land in which\npolygamy is expressly forbidden by United States law, and where numbers\nof arrests have been made for violation of that law.\n\nWhere religious rites are performed, so mystic and ancient that their\nmeaning is unknown even to the most learned of those who partake in\nthem.\n\nIndeed, the Painted Desert Region, though a part of the United States\nof America, is a land of peoples strange, unique, complex, diverse,\nand singular as can be found in any similar area on the earth, and the\nphysical contour of the country is as strange and diverse as are the\npeoples who inhabit it.\n\nIt is a land of gloriously impressive mountains, crowned with the snows\nof blessing and bathed in a wealth of glowing colors, changing hues,\nand tender tints that few other countries on earth can boast.\n\nOn its eastern outskirt is a portion of one of the largest cretaceous\nmonoclines in the world, and near by is a natural inkstand, half a mile\nin circumference, from which, centuries ago, flowed fiery, inky lava\nwhich has now solidified in intensest blackness over hundreds of miles\nof surrounding country.\n\nIt is a land of mountain-high plateaus, edged with bluffs, cliffs, and\nescarpments that delight the distant beholder with their richness of\ncoloring and wondrous variety of outline, and thrill with horror those\nwho unexpectedly stand on their brinks.\n\nIt is a land of laziness and indifferent content, where everything\nis done \"poco tiempo\"--\"in a little while\"--and where \"to-morrow\" is\nearly enough for all laborious tasks, and yet a land of such tireless\nenergy, never-ceasing work, and arduous labor as few countries else\nhave ever known.\n\nA land where people live in refinement, education, and all the luxuries\nof twentieth-century civilization side by side with peoples whose\ndress, modes of living, habits of eating and sleeping, styles of food\nand cookery are similar to those of the subjects of Boadicea and\nCaractacus.\n\nIn the Painted Desert Region the root of one dangerous-looking prickly\ncactus is used for soap, and the fruit of another for food.\n\nHere horses dig for water, and mules are stimulated by whiskey to draw\ntheir weighty loads over torrid deserts and up mountain steeps.\n\nIt is a land of ruins, desolate and forlorn, buried and forgotten,\nwith histories tragic, bloody, romantic; ruins where charred timbers,\nghastly bones, and demolished walls speak of midnight attacks,\ntreacherous surprises, and cruel slaughters; where whole cities have\nbeen exterminated and destroyed as if under the ancient commands to the\nHebrews: \"Destroy, slay, kill, and spare not.\"\n\nA desert country, and yet, in spots, marvellously fertile. Barren,\nwild, desolate, forsaken it is, and yet, here and there, fertile\nvalleys, wooded slopes, and garden patches may be found as rich as any\non earth.\n\nWhere atmospheric colorings are so perfect and so divinely artistic in\ntheir applications that weary and desolate deserts are made dreams of\nglory and supremest beauty, and harsh rugged mountains are sublimated\ninto transcendent pictures of tender tints and ever-changing but always\nharmonious combinations of color.\n\nA land where rain may be seen falling in fifty showers all around,\nand yet not a drop fall, _for a year or more_, on the spot where the\nobserver stands.\n\nA land of sculptured images and fantastic carvings. Where water,\nwind, storm, sand, frost, heat, atmosphere, and other agencies,\nunguided and uncontrolled by man, have combined to make figures more\nstriking, more real, more picturesque, more ugly, more beautiful,\nand more fantastic than those of the angels, devils, saints, and\nsinners that crown and adorn the ancient Pagan shrines of the Orient\nand the more modern Christian shrines of the Occident;--a veritable\nToom-pin-nu-wear-tu-weep--Land of the Standing Rocks--more gigantic,\nwonderful, and attractive than can be found elsewhere in the world.\n\nWhere sand mountains, yielding alike to the fierce winds of winter\nand the gentle breezes of summer, slowly travel from place to place,\nirresistibly controlling fresh sites and burying all that obstructs\ntheir path.\n\nA land where, in summer, railway trains are often stopped by drifting\nsands blown by scorching winds over almost trackless Saharas, and\nwhere, in winter, the same trains are stopped by drifting snows blown\nover the same Saharas now made Arctic in their frozen solitude.\n\nA land where once were vast lakes in which disported ugly monsters, and\non the surface of which swam mighty fish-birds who gazed with curious\nwonder upon the enormous reptiles, birds, and animals which came to\nlave themselves in the cooling waves or drink of their refreshing\nwaters.\n\nBut now lakes, fishes, reptiles, and animals have entirely disappeared.\nWhere placid lakes once were lashed into fury by angry winds are now\nonly sand wastes and water-worn rocks where the winds howl and shriek\nand rave, and mourn the loss of the waters with which they used to\nsport; and the only remnants of prehistoric fishes, reptiles, and\nanimals are found in decaying bones or fossilized remains deep imbedded\nin the strata of the unnumbered ages.\n\n[Illustration: ANCIENT POTTERY DUG FROM PREHISTORIC RUINS ON THE\nPAINTED DESERT.]\n\nA land where volcanic fires and fierce lava flows, accompanied by\ndeadly fumes, noxious gases, and burning flames, have made lurid the\nmidnight skies, and driven happy people from their peaceful homes.\n\nA land through which a mighty river dashes madly and unrestrainedly to\nthe sea, and yet where, a few miles away, a spring that flows a few\nbuckets of water an hour is an inestimable treasure. Yes indeed, where,\nin sight of that giant river, thirsty men have gone raving mad for want\nof water, and have hurled themselves headlong down thousand-feet-high\nprecipices in their uncontrolled desire to reach the precious and\ncooling stream.\n\nA land of rich and florid coloring where the Master Artist has revelled\nin matchless combinations. It is a land of color,--sweet, gentle,\ntender colors that penetrate the soul as the words of a lover; fierce,\nglaring, bold colors that strike as with the clenched fist of a foe.\n\nIt is the stage upon which the bronze and white actors of three hundred\nand fifty years ago played their games of life with ambitions, high as\nthey were selfish, determined as they were bold, and unscrupulous as\nthey were successful.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nDESERT RECOLLECTIONS\n\n\nOf the flora and fauna of the Painted Desert Region I have made no\nstudy. That they are fascinating the works of Hart Merriam, Coville,\nLemmon, Hough, and others of later days, and of the specialists of\nthe earlier government surveys, abundantly testify. There are cacti\nof varieties into the hundreds, sagebrush, black and white grama,\nbunch grass, salt grass, hackberry, buck-brush, pines, junipers,\nspruces, cottonwoods, and willows, besides a thousand flowering plants.\nThere are lizards, swifts, rattlesnakes, scorpions, Gila monsters,\nvinegerones, prairie dogs, hedgehogs, turtles, squirrels, cottontail\nand jack-rabbits, antelope, deer, mountain sheep, wildcats, and some\nbear.\n\nIt is more of its physiographic conditions in a general way, however,\nthat I would here write.\n\nMost people's conception of a desert is a flat, level place of\nnothing but sand. It is sand instead of water; a desert instead of\nan ocean. Few deserts conform to this conception,--none, indeed,\nthat I know of in the boundaries of the United States. This Painted\nDesert Region is wonderfully diversified. There is sand, of course,\nbut much rock, many trees, more canyons, some mountains and lava\nflows, extinct volcanoes, forests, and pastures. The Grand Canyon runs\nacross its northern borders, and it is the vampire river that flows\nin that never-to-be-described water-way that drains away the water\nwhich leaves this the desert region it is; for the Colorado has many\ntributaries, and tributaries of tributaries,--the Little Colorado,\nHavasu (Cataract) Creek, Canyon Padre, Canyon Diablo, Walnut Creek, Oak\nCreek, Willow Creek, Diamond Creek, and a score or hundred others.\n\nIts great mountains are the San Francisco range, on the shoulders\nof which Flagstaff is located, Mount San Mateo, seen from the Santa\nF\u00e9 train near Grants in New Mexico, and Williams Mountain, west of\nFlagstaff, at the foot of which the railway traveller will see the town\nof Williams.\n\nNear Flagstaff are a number of extinct volcanoes and great masses of\nlava flow; from the train at Blue Water to the right a few miles one\nmay see the crater Tintaro--the Inkstand. The Zuni Mountains have many\ncraters, chief of which is the Agua Fria crater, and lava flows from\nthe Zuni Mountains and Mount San Mateo meet in the valley, and one\nrides alongside them for miles coming west beyond Laguna.\n\nSouth of Canyon Diablo is a wonderful meteoritic mountain, the\nexplanation of whose existence the scientists have not yet determined.\nFrom Peach Springs a large meteoric rock was sent to the Smithsonian,\nand I have one dug out of a hole of its own making in the Zuni\nMountains, both of which weigh upwards of a ton.\n\nTo the east of the Canyon Diablo Mountain is Sunset Pass, familiar\nto the readers of Gen. Charles King's thrilling Arizona stories, and\nbeyond it to the south are Hell's Canyon,--which does not belie its\nname,--the Verdi Valley, and the interesting Red Rock Country, where\nnumerous cliff and cavate dwellings have recently been discovered and\nexplored by Dr. Fewkes.\n\nIndeed, this whole region is one of cliff and cavate and other\nforsaken dwellings. Everywhere one meets with them. Desert mounds, on\nexamination, prove to be sites of long-buried cities, and hundreds, nay\nthousands of exquisite vessels of clay, decorated in long-forgotten\nways, have been dug up from them and sent to grace the shelves of\nmuseums and speak of a people long since crumbled to dust.\n\nThe miner has found it a profitable field for his operations, the\nJerome and Congress, with the Old Vulture and similar mines, having\nmade great fortunes for their owners. More than half our knowledge of\nthe country came primarily from the daring and courageous prospectors\nwho risked its dangers and deaths in their search for gold.\n\nThe roads in the Painted Desert are long and tedious, and the horses\ndrag their weary way over the scorching sands, the wheels of the wagon\nsinking in, as does also the heart of the sensitive rider who sees the\nefforts the poor beasts are making to obey his will. Yet the animals\nseldom sweat. Such is the rapid radiation of moisture in this dry, high\natmosphere that one never sees any of the sweat and lather so common to\nhard-driven horses in lower altitude.\n\nThe food question for horses is often serious if one goes far from the\nbeaten path of traders or Indians. A desert is not a pasture, though\nits scant patches of grass often have to serve for one. The general\ncustom, where possible, is to carry a small amount of grain, which is\nfed sparingly night and morning. The horses are hobbled and turned\nloose in as good pasture as can be found. Hence the first questions\nasked when determining a camping place are, \"What kind of pasture\nand water does it possess?\" There are times when one dare not run the\nrisk of turning the horses loose. Thirsty beyond endurance, they will\noften travel all night, even though closely hobbled, back to where the\nlast water was secured. Then they must be tracked back, and no more\nexhausting and disheartening occupation do I know than this.\n\nOn one occasion we were compelled to camp where there was little\npasturage. It rained, and there were two ladies in my party. The\ncovered wagon was emptied and their blankets rolled down in it, so that\nthey could be in shelter. Our driver was a German named Hank. Two of\n\"his horses were mules,\" and these were tied one to each of the front\nwheels. The two real horses were tied to the rear wheels. During the\nnight \"Pete,\" one of the mules, got his fore legs over the pole of\nthe wagon, and began to tug and pull so that the ladies were afraid\nthe vehicle might be overturned. Calling to Hank, the poor fellow was\ncompelled to get out of his blankets and in the rain go to Pete's\nrescue. To their intense amusement the ladies heard him remonstrating\nwith the refractory mule, and almost exploded when he wound up his\nremonstrances, hitherto couched in quiet and dignified language, \"Pete,\nyou are von little tefel.\"\n\nSome people do not like to hobble a horse, and so they picket him.\nThere are different ways of \"picketing\" a horse. He may be tied by the\nhalter to a bush, tree, wagon, or stake driven into the ground. But\nthese methods are fraught with danger. I once had a valuable horse\nat a time when Dr. Joseph LeConte, the beloved professor of geology\nof the University of California, was spending a month with me in the\nmountains. We had six horses, and all were \"picketed\" from the halter,\nor a rope around the neck. Three times a day we changed them to fresh\npasturage. At one of the changing times we found the beautiful black\nstretched out cold and stiff. In scratching his head the hoof of his\nhind foot had caught in the rope, and in seeking to free himself he had\npulled the rope tighter and tighter until he had strangled himself. The\ngentle-hearted professor sat down and wept at the tragic end of the\nnoble horse \"Duke\" he had already learned to love.\n\nTo prevent this danger I have often picketed a horse's hind foot to a\nlog heavy enough to drag, so that the hungry animal could move a little\nin search of food, but not run or get far away. There have been two\nor three times, however, in my experience, where I could find neither\ntree, bush, nor stake. Not a rock or log could be found for miles to\nwhich the saddle horse I rode could be picketed. What then could I do?\nSit up all night to care for my horse? Ride all night? Or do as I heard\nof one or two men having done, viz., picket the horse to my own foot? I\nonce heard of a man who was dragged to his death that way. His cayuse\nwas startled during the night and started to run. As the rope tightened\nand he dragged the unhappy wretch attached to him, his fear increased\nhis speed, and not until he was exhausted and breathless did he stop in\nhis wild, mad race. He was found with the corpse, bruised and mangled\nbeyond all recognition, still dragging at the end of the rope.\n\nI had no desire to run such risk. So I did the impossible,--picketed my\nhorse to a hole in the ground.\n\n\"Nonsense! Picket a horse to a hole in the ground? It can't be done!\"\n\nIndeed! But I did it. Watch me. Cut into the ground (especially if it\nis a little grassy) and make a hole a little larger than to allow your\nfull fist to enter. As you dig deeper widen the hole below so that it\nis a kind of a chimney towards the top. Dig fully a foot or a foot and\na half down. Then take the rope, which is already fastened at the other\nend to your horse, wrap the end around a piece of grass, or paper, or\na small stone, or anything; put the knot into the hole, and \"tamp\" in\nthe earth as vigorously as you can. Your horse is then fast, unless he\ngrows desperately afraid and pulls with more than ordinary vigor.\n\nThe scarcity of water makes journeying on the Painted Desert a grave\nand serious problem. The springs are few and far between, and only in\nthe rainy season can one rely upon stony or clay pockets that fill up\nwith the precious fluid. In going from Canyon Diablo to Oraibi there\nare four places where water may be obtained. First in a small canyon a\nfew miles west of Volz's Crossing of the Little Colorado; then at the\nLakes,--small ponds of dirty, stagnant water, where a trading-post is\nlocated and where the journey is generally broken for a night. Next\nday, twenty-two miles must be driven to Little Burro Spring before\nwater is again found, and a few miles further on, on the opposite\nside of the valley, is Big Burro Spring. Then no more water is found\nuntil Oraibi is reached. There are two springs on the western side of\nthe Oraibi mesa, and three miles on the eastern side in the Oraibi\nWash is a good well, some sixty feet deep, of cold and good but not\nover-clear water. There are small pools near Mashonganavi, Shipauluvi,\nand Shungopavi, but the water is poor at best and very limited in\nquantity to those who are used to the illimitable flow of ordinary\nEastern cities. The whole water supply at Mashonganavi, which is by far\nthe best watered town of the middle mesa, would not more than suffice\nfor the needs of a New York or Boston family of six or eight persons,\nand consternation would sit upon the face of the mistress of either\nhousehold if such water were to flow through the faucets of her home.\n\nAt Walpi there are three pool springs on the west side, but all flow\nslowly. One is good (for the desert), another is fair, and the third is\nhorrible. Yet this last is almost equal to the supply on the eastern\nside, where there are three pool springs, only two of which can be used\nfor domestic purposes.\n\nStorms fearful and terrible often sweep across this desert region. I\nhave \"enjoyed\" several notable experiences in them, storms of sand, of\nrain, of wind, of lightning, and of thunder, sometimes one kind alone,\nother times of a combination of kinds. At one time we were camped in\nthe Oraibi Wash not far from the home of the Mennonite missionary,\nmy friend Rev. H. R. Voth. There were seven of us in my party,--five\nmen, two women. Our general custom on making a camp was first of all\nto choose the best place for the beds of the ladies, and then the men\narranged their blankets in picturesque irregularity around them at\nsome distance away, thus forming a complete guard, not because of any\nnecessity, but to make the ladies feel less timid. As my daughter was\none of the ladies, I invariably rolled out my blankets near enough to\nbe called readily should there be any occasion during the night.\n\nWe had not been in our blankets long, that night, before a fearful\nthunder and rain-storm burst upon us. We had all gone to bed tired\nafter our long and weary day watching the Hopi ceremonies, and the camp\nequipage was not prepared for a storm. It was pitch dark except for the\nsharp flashes of lightning which occasionally cut the blackness into\njagged sections, and the deluge of rain waited for no squeamishness on\nmy part. Hastily jumping up, I ran to and fro in my bare feet and night\ngarments, caught up a big wagon sheet, and endeavored to spread it\nover the exposed beds of the ladies. The wind was determined I should\nnot succeed, but I am English and obstinate. So I seized camera cases,\nvalises, boxes of canned food, and anything heavy, and placed them\nupon the edges of the flapping canvas. Running back and forth to the\nwagon, the lightning every now and again revealed a drenched, fantastic\nfigure, and I could hear suppressed laughter and giggles from under the\nblankets whence should have issued songs of thankfulness to me. But \"it\nwas ever thus!\" I succeeded finally in pinning down the canvas, and had\njust rolled my wet and shivering form in my own drenched blankets, when\nMr. Voth, with a lantern in his hand, came and simply demanded that\nthe ladies come over to warmth and shelter in his hospitable house.\nHastily wrapping themselves up, they started, blown about by the wind\nand flaunted by the tempest. The sand made it harder still to walk, and\nout of breath and wildly dishevelled, they struggled up the bank of the\nWash and were soon comfortably ensconsed indoors. Then, strange irony\nof events, the storm immediately ceased, the heavens cleared, the stars\nshone bright, the cool night air became delicious to the nostrils and\ntired bodies, and we who remained outside had a sleep as ineffably\nsweet as that of healthful babes, while the ladies sweltered and rolled\nand tossed with discomfort in the moist heat that had accumulated in\nthe closed rooms.\n\n[Illustration: THE PAINTED DESERT NEAR THE LITTLE COLORADO RIVER.]\n\n[Illustration: ASLEEP, EARLY MORNING, ON THE PAINTED DESERT.]\n\nA few years later I was again at Oraibi, and strangely near the same\ncamping place. This time my companions were W. W. Bass, whose early\nadventures have been recounted in my \"In and Around the Grand Canyon,\"\na photographer, and a British friend of his who had stopped off in\nCalifornia on his way home from Japan. Mr. Britisher had contributed a\nsmall share towards the expenses of the expedition, but with insular\nignorance he had presumed that his small mite would pay the expenses\nof the whole outfit for a long period. It must be confessed that we\nhad had a most arduous trip. The Painted Desert had shown its ugly\nside from the very moment we left the railway. Four miles out we had\nbeen stopped by the most terrific and vivid lightning-storm it has\never been my good fortune to witness and to be scared half out of my\nwits with. At Rock Tanks we had another storm. We had been jolted\nand shaken on our way out to Hopi Point of the Grand Canyon, and had\ncome so near to perishing for want of water that we fell on our knees\nand greedily drank the vilest liquid from an alkali pool, a standing\nplace of horses, on our way to the Little Colorado. At the old Tanner\nCrossing of that stream we had had another rain and lightning-storm\nnear unto the first in fury, and in which our British friend had\nbeen caught in his blankets and nearly frightened to death. In the\nMoenkopi Wash he was offended because I left the wagon to ride to\nthe home and accept the hospitality of the Mormon bishop, which he\ninterpreted again with insular ignorance to mean a palace, a place of\nluxury, exquisite restfulness, good foods, and delicious iced wines,\nwhile he was left to beans, bacon, flapjacks, and dried fruit, and a\nroll of blankets on the rough and uneven ground. (It didn't make any\ndifference that I explained to him next day that I had slept on a\ngrass plot with one quilt and no pillow, cold, shivering, and longing\nfor my good substantial roll of Navaho blankets, left for him to use\nif he so desired, and that our \"banquet\" had been coarse bread and a\nbowl of milk.) Then we had had another storm at Toh-gas-je, which I\nhad partially avoided by riding on ahead in the light wagon of the\nIndian agent who piloted us, while he--Mr. Britisher--was in the\nheavier ambulance. The next night we camped, attempting to sleep on\nthe stony slopes of the hillside at Blue Canyon in wretchedness and\nmisery, because it was too late when we arrived to dare to drive down\ninto the canyon. The next day we drove over the Sahara of America, a\nsandy desert which even to the Hopis is the most a-tu-u-u (hot) of\nall earthly places. That noon we camped in the dry wash of Tnebitoh,\nwhere we had to dig for water, waiting for it slowly to seep into the\nhole we had dug. It was a sandy, alkaline decoction, but we were glad\nand thankful for it, and the way the poor horses stood and longingly\nlooked on as we waited for the inflow was pitiable. At night we camped\nsome twelve or fifteen miles farther on, without water, hobbling the\nhorses and turning them loose. I had engaged an Indian to go with us\nfrom Blue Canyon as helper and guide, so I sent him, in the morning, to\nbring in the horses. Two or three hours later he returned, with but one\nof the animals, and said he had tried to track the others, but could\nnot do so. Imagine what our predicament would have been, in the heart\nof the desert, without horses and water, and many miles away from any\nsettlement. There was but one thing to be done, and Mr. Bass at once\ndid it. Putting a bridle on the one horse, he rode off barebacked after\nthe runaways. Knowing the character of his mules, he aimed directly\nfor the Tnebitoh. When he arrived at the spot where we had watered\nthe day before, he found that, with unerring instinct, the horses had\nreturned to this spot and had dug new watering places for themselves.\nThen, scenting the cool grass of the San Francisco Mountains, they had\naimed directly west, and, hobbled though they were, the tracks showed\nthey were travelling at a lively rate of speed. Knowing the urgency and\ndesperateness of our case, Bass followed as fast as he could make his\nalmost exhausted animal go, and after an hour's hard riding saw, in the\nfar-away distance, the three perverse creatures \"hitting\" the trailless\ndesert as hard as they could. Jersey, a knowing mule, was in the lead.\nHe soon saw Bass, and, seeming to communicate with the others, they\nturned and saw him also. Jack (the other mule) and the horse at once\nshowed a disposition to stop, but Jersey with bite and whinney tried to\ndrive them on. Finding his efforts useless, he stopped with the others,\nand, when Bass rode up, allowed himself to be \"necked\" (tied neck to\nneck) with the other two. Horses and man were as near \"played out\" as\nwe cared to see them when, later in the day, they returned to camp.\n\nIt does not do to go out upon the Painted Desert without some practical\nperson who is capable of meeting all serious emergencies that are\nlikely to arise.\n\nThe next day we drove on to Oraibi, in the scorching sun, over the\nsandy hillocks, where no road would last an hour in a wind-storm\nunless it were thoroughly blanketed and pegged down. We were all hot,\nweary, and ill-tempered. Thinking to help out, I volunteered to walk\nup the steep western trail to the mesa top and secure some corn at\nOraibi for our horses, so that they could be fed at once on reaching\nour stopping place on the east side. When we started I had suggested\nthe hope that we might be able to stop in the schoolhouse below the\nOraibi mesa, as I had several times done in times before; but when\nthe wagon arrived there, and I came down from the mesa, it was found\nto be already occupied by persons to whom it had been promised by the\nIndian agent. Camping, then, was the only thing left open to us, until\nI could see the Hopis and rent one of their houses. Down we drove to\nthe camp, where alone a sufficiency of water was to be found. This\nexplains our close proximity to the camp of the earlier year. We were\njust preparing our meal when a fierce sand-storm blew up. Cooking was\nout of the question; the fire blew every which way, and the sand filled\nmeat, beans, corn, tomatoes with too much grit for comfort. This was\nthe last straw that broke the back of Mr. Britisher's complacency. He\nhad bemoaned again and again the leaving of his comfortable home to\ncome into this \"God-forsaken region,\" in a quest of what our crazy\nwesternism called pleasure, and now his fury burst upon me in a manner\nthat dwarfed the passion of the heavens and the earth. While there\nwas a refinement in his vituperation, there was an edge upon it as\nkeen as fury, passion, and culture could give it. I was scorched by\nhis scarifying lightnings, struck again and again by his vindictive\nthunderbolts, tossed hither and thither by his stormy winds, and\nlifted heavenwards and then dashed downwards by the tornadoes and\nwhirlwinds of his passion. It was dazzling, bewildering, intensely\ninteresting, and then fiercely irritating. I stood it all until he\ndenounced my selfishness. There's no doubt I am selfish, but there is a\nlimit to a fellow's endurance when another fellow claims the discovery\nand rubs it in upon you until he abrades the skin. So I raised my hand\nand also my voice: \"Stop, that's enough. Dare to repeat that and I'll\ntie you on a horse and send you back to the railway in charge of an\nIndian so quickly that you'll wonder how you got there. Selfish, am I?\nI permitted you to come on this trip as a favor to my photographer. The\npaltry sum you paid me has not found one-fourth share of the corn for\none horse, let alone your own food, the hire of the horses, wagon, and\ndriver. To oblige you I have allowed you the whole way to ride inside\nmy conveyance that you might talk together, while I have sat out in the\nhot sun. If any help has been needed by Mr. Bass in driving, I have\nwillingly given it instead of calling upon you. I have done all the\nunpacking and the packing of the wagon at each camp, morning, noon, and\nnight. I have done all the cooking and much of the dish-washing, and\nyet you have the impudence and mendacity to say I have been selfish.\nVery well! I'll take myself at your estimate. In future I'll take my\nseat inside the ambulance; you shall do your share of helping the\ndriver. You shall do your share of the packing; and if you eat another\nmouthful, so long as you remain in my camp, you shall cook it yourself.\nI have spoken! And when I thus speak I speak as the laws of the Medes\nand Persians, which alter not, nor change!\"\n\n[Illustration: THE COLORADO RIVER AT BASS FERRY, THE VAMPIRE OF THE\nPAINTED DESERT.]\n\n\"Well, ---- says you are selfish!\" burst out the somewhat cowed man.\n\n\"Then I put him on the same plane as I put you; and if ever either of\nyou dares to make that charge again, I will--\"\n\nWell, never mind what I, in my, what I still believe to be, just anger\nthreatened. I turned away, went and secured an Indian's house, and that\nnight we removed there.\n\nBut I wish I had the space to recount how those two unfortunates and\nmisfortunates cooked their own meals and mine and Bass's. It is a\nsubject fit for a Dickens or a Kipling. No minor pen can do justice to\nit. How they came and asked with quiet humility, \"What are we going\nto have for supper?\" and how I replied, \"Raw potatoes, so far as I am\nconcerned!\" Neither knew whether a frying-pan was for skimming cream\nfrom a can of condensed milk or for making charlotte russes. Neither\ncould boil water without scorching it. But surreptitiously (with my\nsecret connivance) Bass gave the tyros gentle hints and finally \"licked\nthem\" into fourth-rate cooks, so that I reaped the reward of their\nlabors in selfishly and shamelessly taking some of the concoctions they\nhad slaved over.\n\nI know this plain, unvarnished tale reveals me a \"bad man from Bodie,\"\nbut I started out to give a truthful account of the Painted Desert and\nits storms, and this \"tempest in a frying-pan\" in camp cannot well be\nignored by a veracious chronicler.\n\nLast year, fate designed that we camp at exactly the same spot. The\ntwo wagons came to rest at about the same place where the ambulance\nstood, and exactly the same wind and sand-storm blew up before we had\nbeen there half an hour. I had with me a long, eight-feet-high strip of\ncanvas belonging to a very large circular tent. To ward off the force\nof some part of the storm we stretched this canvas from the trunk of\none cottonwood tree to another, and moved our camp to the sheltered\nside. That was an insult to the powers of the storm. The wind fairly\nhowled with rage, and pulled and tugged and flapped that canvas in a\nperfect fury of anger. Then as we huddled in its shelter, a sudden jerk\ncame, and up it was ripped, from top to bottom, in a moment, and the\nloose ends went wildly flying and flapping every way. In the blowing\nsand I fled with the ladies to Mr. Voth's ever-hospitable house, but\nit was as hot as--well! no matter--in there. Outside, the cottonwoods\nwere bowed over in the fury of the wind, and the sand went flying by in\nsheets. It was easy then to understand the remark of one experienced in\nthe ways of the Painted Desert Region: \"If you ever buy any real estate\nhere, contract to have it anchored, or you'll wake up some morning and\nfind it all blown into the next county.\" The flying sand literally\nobliterated every object more than a few feet away.\n\nNow in this last case I had the pleasure--as peculiar a pleasure as it\nis to watch the coming of a hurricane at sea--to see the oncoming of\nthis storm. We were enjoying perfect calm. Suddenly over the Oraibi\nmesa there came a great brown mass that stretched entirely across the\ncountry. It was the tawny sand risen in power and majesty to drive us\nfrom its lair. It was so grand, so sublime, so alive, that just as\nI instinctively rush to my camera at sight of an interesting face,\nI dashed towards it to secure a photograph of this new, gigantic,\nliving manifestation. But in its fierce fury it swept upon us with such\nrapidity that I was too late. We were covered with it, buried in it.\nAs darkness leaps upon one and absorbs him, so did this storm absorb\nus. In an hour or so its greatest fury subsided; then we thought we\nwould build our camp-fire and proceed to our regular cooking. How the\nwind veered and changed, and changed again as soon as the fire began to\nascend. That is a point to watch in building a camp-fire. Be sure and\nlocate it so that its smoke won't blow upon you when you sit down to\neat. In this case, however, it would not have mattered. In my notebook\nI read: \"We have changed the camp-fire three times, and no matter where\nwe put it, the smoke swoops down upon us. Even now while I write I am\nhalf blinded by the smoke, which ten minutes ago was being blown in the\nopposite direction.\" So that if these few pages have an unpleasant odor\nof camp-fire smoke about them, the reader must charge it to the wilful\nways of the wind on the Painted Desert.\n\nElsewhere I have spoken of the mystery brooding over the peoples of\nthis land. It is also existent in the very colors of it, whether\nnoted in early morning, in the glare of the pitiless Arizona noon, or\nat sunset; in the storm, with the air full of sand, or in the calm\nand quiet of a cloudless sky; when the sky is cerulean or black with\nlowering clouds; ever, always, the color is weird, strange, mysterious.\nOne night at Walpi several of us sat and watched the colorings in the\nwest. No unacquainted soul would have believed such could exist. To\ndescribe it is as impossible as to analyze the feelings of love. It was\nraining everywhere in the west; and \"everywhere\" means so much where\none's horizon is not limited. The eye there roams over what seem to be\nboundless distances. In all this space rain was falling. The sun had\nbut half an hour more to live, and it flooded the sky with an orange\ncrimson. The rain came down in hairy streaks brilliantly illuminated.\nThe sun could be discerned only as a dimly veiled face, with the light\nshed below it--none above--in graceful curves. Then the orange and\ncrimson changed to purple, deepening and deepening into blackness until\nday was done.\n\nSometimes the lighting up of the desert in the early morning gives it\nthe effect of a sea-green ocean, and then the illusion is indescribably\nwonderful. At such times, if there are clouds in the sky, the\nreflections of color are as delicate and beautiful as the tintings of\nthe sea-shells.\n\nOne night standing on the mesa at Mashonganavi looking east and south,\nthe vast ocean-like expanse of tawny sand and desert was converted by\nthe hues of dying day into a gorgeous and resplendent sea of exquisite\nand delicate color. On the further side were the Mogollon Buttes,--the\nGiant's Chair, Pyramid Butte, and others,--with long walls, which,\nin the early morning black and forbidding, were now illumined and\netherealized by the magic wand of sunset.\n\nIf, however, one would know another of the marvellous charms of this\nPainted Desert Region let him see it in the early summer, after the\nfirst rains. This may be the latter part of June or in July and August.\nThen what a change! One seeing it for the first time would naturally\nexclaim in protest: \"Desert? Why, this is a garden!\"\n\nA thin and sparse covering of grass, but enough to the casual observer\nto relieve the whole land from the charge of barrenness; the black and\nwhite grama grasses, with their delicate shades of green; and a host of\nwild flowers of most exquisite colors in glorious combinations. Here\nmasses of flaming marigolds and sunflowers; yonder patches of the white\nand purple tinted flowers of the jimson-weed, while its rich green\nleaves form a complete covering for the tawny sand or rocky desolation\nbeneath. Here are larkspurs, baby blue-eyes, Indian's paint brush,\ndaisies, lilies, and a thousand and one others, the purples, blues,\nreds, pinks, whites, and browns giving one a chromatic feast, none the\nless delightful because it is totally unexpected.\n\nThen who can tell of the glory of the hundreds of cacti in bloom, great\nprickly monsters, barrel shaped, cylindrical, lobe formed, and yet\nall picked out in the rarest, most dainty flowers the eye of man ever\ngazed upon? Look yonder at the \"hosh-kon,\" one of the yucca family, a\nsacred plant to the Navahoes. Its dagger-like green leaves are crowned\nand glorified with the central stalk, around which cluster a thousand\nwaxen white bells, and this one is only a beginning to the marvellous\ndisplay of them we shall see as we ride along. The greasewood veils\nits normal ugliness in revivified leaves and a delicate flossy yellow\nbloom that makes it charming to the eye. Even the sagebrush attains to\nsome charm of greenness, and where the juniper and cedar and pine lurk\nin the shades of some of the rocky slopes, the deepest green adds its\nnever-ending comfort and delight to the scene.\n\nYet you look in vain for the rivers, the creeks, the babbling brooks,\nthe bubbling fountains, the ponds, that charm your eye in Eastern\nlandscapes. Oh, for the Adirondacks,--the lakes and streams which\nabound on every hand. If only these could be transplanted into this\ndesert to give their peculiar delights without any of their drawbacks,\n_then_ the Painted Desert Region would be the ideal land.\n\nIt would never do to bring the Adirondack flies and gnats and\nmosquitoes; its hot, sultry nights and muggy, sweltering days. No!\nThese we can do without. We would have its advantages, but with none of\nits disadvantages.\n\nHow futile such wishes; how childish such longings! Each place\nis itself; and, for myself, I love the Painted Desert even in\nits waterlessness, its barrenness, and its desolation. Think of\nits stimulating altitude, its colors, its clear, cloudless sky,\nits glorious, divine stars, its delicious evening coolness, its\nnever-disturbed solitudes, its speaking silences, its romances, its\nmysteries, its tragedies, its histories. These are some of the things\nthat make the Painted Desert what it is--a region of unqualified\nfascination and allurement.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nFIRST GLIMPSES OF THE HOPI\n\n\nThree great fingers of rock from a gigantic and misshapen hand, roughly\nspeaking, pointing southward, the hand a great plateau, the fingers\nmesas of solid rock thrust into the heart of a sandy valley,--this\nis the home of the Hopi, commonly and wrongly termed the Moki. The\nfingers are from seven to ten miles apart, and a visitor can go from\none finger-nail to another either by descending and ascending the steep\ntrails zigzagged on the fingers' sides, or he can circle around on the\nback of the hand and thus in a round-about manner reach any one of the\nthree fingers. These mesa fingers are generally spoken of as the first\nor east mesa, the second or middle mesa, and the third or west mesa.\nThey gain their order from the fact that in the early days of American\noccupancy Mr. T. V. Keam established a trading-post in the canyon that\nbears his name, and this canyon being to the east of the eastern mesa,\nthis mesa was reached first in order, the western mesa naturally being\nthird.\n\nOn the east mesa are three villages. The most important of all Hopi\ntowns is Walpi, which occupies the \"nail\" of this first \"finger.\" It is\nnot so large as Oraibi, but it has always held a commanding influence,\nwhich it still retains. Half a mile back of Walpi is Sichumavi, and\nstill further back Hano, or, as it is commonly and incorrectly called,\nTewa.\n\nAbout seven miles--as the crow flies--to the west is the second or\nmiddle mesa, and here are Mashonganavi, Shipauluvi, and on an offshoot\nfrom this second mesa, separated from it by a deep, sand-filled ravine,\nis Shungopavi.\n\nTen miles farther to the west is Oraibi, which marks the farthest\nwestern boundary of pueblo civilization.\n\nOh! the pathos, the woe, the untold but clearly written misery\nof the centuries in these cliff-built houses of the mesas, these\nresidences that are fortresses, these steep trail-approached and\nprecipice-protected homes. In a desert land, surrounded by relentless,\nwary, and vigilant foes, ever fighting a hard battle with the adverse\nconditions of their environment, short of water, of firewood, and\nwith food grown in the desert-rescued lands below where at any moment\nthe ruthless marauder might appear, there is no wonder that almost\nevery elderly face is seamed and scarred; furrowed deeply with the\naccumulated centuries of never-ceasing care. Mystery here seems at\nfirst to reign supreme. It stands and faces one as a Presence. It\nhovers and broods, and you feel it even in your sleep. The air is full\nof it. The very clouds here are mysterious. Who are these people?\nFrom whence came they? What is their destiny? What fearful battles,\nrace hatreds, devastating wars, led them to make their homes on\nthese inaccessible cliffs? How did they ever conceive such a mass of\nelaborate ceremonial as now controls them? Solitary and alone they\nappear, a vast question mark, viewed from every standpoint. Whichever\nway one looks at them a great query stares him in the face. They are\nthe chief mystery of our country, an anachronism, an anomaly in our\ntwentieth-century civilization.\n\nWhen we see the ruins of Egypt, India, Assyria, we look upon something\nthat is past. Those peoples _were_: they pertain to the ages that are\ngone. Their mysteries are of lives lived in the dim ages of antiquity.\nBut here are antique lives being lived in our own day; pieces of\ncentury-old civilizations transplanted, in time and place, and brought\ninto our time and place; the past existent in the present; the lapse\nof centuries forgotten, and the days of thousands of years ago bodily\ntransferred into our commercial, super-cultured, hyper-refined age.\n\nThe approach to the first mesa from Keam's Canyon is through a sandy\ncountry, which, in places, is dry, desolate, and bare. But here and\nthere are patches of ground upon which weeds grow to a great height,\nplainly indicating that with cultivation and irrigation good crops\ncould be raised. As we leave the mouth of the canyon the singular\ncharacter of this plateau province is revealed. To the south the sandy\ndesert, in lonesome desolation, stretches away as far as the eye can\nreach, its wearisome monotony relieved only by the close-by corn-fields\nof the Hopis and the peculiar buttes of the Mogollons. With the sun\nblazing down upon it, its forbidding barrenness is appalling. Neither\ntree, shrub, blade of grass, animal, or human habitation is to be seen.\nThe sand reflects the sun's rays in a yellow glare which is irritating\nbeyond measure, and which seems as if it would produce insanity by its\nunchangeableness.\n\nTo the right of us are the extremities of the sandstone plateaus, of\nwhich the Hopi mesas are the thrust out fingers. Here and there are\nbreaks in the plateau which seem like openings into rocky canyons.\nBefore us, ten or more miles away, is the long wall of the first mesa,\nits falling precipices red and glaring in the sun. Immense rocks of\nirregular shape lie about on its summit as if tumbled to and fro in\nsome long-ago-forgotten frolic of prehistoric giants. Right before us,\nand at about the mid distances of the \"finger\" from the main plateau,\nthe mesa wall is broken down in the form of a U-shaped notch or\ngap,--from which Walpi, \"the place of the gap,\" obtains its name; and\nit is on the extremity of the mesa, beyond this notch, that the houses\nof the Hopi towns can now clearly be discerned. Just beyond the notch a\nlittle heap of houses, apparently of the same color as the mesa itself,\nappears. Then a little vacant space and another small heap, followed\nby another vacancy with a larger heap at the extreme end of the mesa.\nThese heaps, beginning at the notch, are respectively Tewa, Sichumavi,\nand Walpi.\n\nDotting the slopes of the talus at the foot of the mesa precipices are\ncorn-fields, peach orchards, and corrals for burros, sheep, and goats.\n\nAs we approach nearer we see that the first mesa is rapidly losing\nits distinctively Indian character. The policy of the United States\nGovernment, in its treatment of these Indians, is to induce them, so\nfar as possible, to leave their mesa homes and reside in the valley\nnearer to their corn-fields. As their enemies are no longer allowed to\nmolest them, their community life on these mesa heights is no longer\nnecessary, and the time lost and the energy wasted in climbing up and\ndown the steep trails could far better be employed in working in the\nfields, caring for their orchards, or attending to their stock. But\nwhile all this sounds well in theory, and on paper appears perfectly\nreasonable, it fails to take into consideration the influence of\nheredity and the personal passions, desires, and feelings of volitional\nbeings. As a result, the government plan is not altogether a success.\nThe Indian agents, however, have induced certain of the Hopis, by\nbuilding houses for them, to consent to a partial abandonment of their\nmesa homes. Accordingly, as one draws nearer, he sees the stone houses\nwith their red-painted corrugated-iron roofs, the schoolhouse, the\nblacksmith's shop, and the houses of the teachers, all of which speak\nsignificantly of the change that is slowly hovering over the Indian's\ndream of solitude and desolation.\n\nBut after our camp is made and the horses sent out in the care of\nwilling Indians to the Hopi pastures, we find that the trails to the\nmesa summit are the same; the glaring yellow sand is the same; the\nred and gray rocks are the same; the fleecy and dark clouds that\noccasionally appear at this the rainy time are the same; the glaring,\npitiless sun with its infernal scorching is the same; and we respire\nand perspire and pant and struggle in our climb to the summit in the\nsame old arduous fashion. Above, in Hano, Sichumavi, and Walpi, the\npot-bellied, naked children, the lithe and active young men, the\nnot unattractive, shapely, and kindly-faced young women, with their\npeculiar symbolic style of hair-dressing, the blear-eyed old men\nand women, the patient and stolid burros, the dim-eyed and pathetic\ncaptive eagles, the quaint terraced-houses with their peculiar\nladders, grotesque chimneys, passageways, and funny little steps, are\npractically the same as they have been for centuries.\n\nThere are two trails from the valley to the summit of the first mesa on\nthe east side, one at the point, and three on the west side. We ascend\nby the northeastern trail, which, on reaching the \"Notch\" or \"Gap,\"\nwinds close by an enclosure in which is found a large fossil, bearing a\nrude resemblance to a stone snake. All around this fossil, within the\nstone enclosure, are to be found \"bahos,\" or prayer sticks, which have\nbeen brought by the devout as their offerings to the Snake Divinities.\nFrom time immemorial this shrine has been in existence, and no Hopi\never passes it without some offering to \"Those Above,\" either in the\nform of a baho, a sprinkling of the sacred meal, the ceremonial smoking\nto the six cardinal points, or a few words of silent but none the less\ndevout and earnest prayer.\n\nAt the head of this trail is Hano, and from this pueblo we can gain\na general idea of Hopi architecture, for, with differences in minor\ndetails, the general styles are practically the same. Where they\ngained their architectural knowledge it is hard to tell, and who they\nare is yet an unsolved problem. It is pretty generally conceded,\nhowever, that all the pueblo peoples of Arizona and New Mexico--of\nwhom the Hopis are the most western--are the descendants of the race,\nor races, who dotted these territories and southern Colorado with\nruins, and who are commonly known as the Cliff and Cave Dwellers. But\nthis is thrusting the difficulty only a few generations, or scores of\ngenerations, further back. For we are at once compelled to the agnostic\nanswer, \"I don't know!\" when asked who are the Cliff Dwellers. Who they\nare and whence they came are still problems upon which such patient\ninvestigators as J. Walter Fewkes is working. He has clearly confirmed\nthe decision of Bancroft and others which affirmed the identity of\nthe Cliff and Cave Dwellers with the Hopis and other pueblo-inhabiting\nIndians of the Southwest.\n\n[Illustration: HANO, (TEWA) FROM THE HEAD OF THE TRAIL.]\n\nAlthough of different linguistic stocks and religion, the homes of\nthe pueblo Indians are very similar. Almost without exception the\npueblos built on mesa summits are of sandstone or other rock, plastered\nwith adobe mud brought up from the water-courses of the valley.\nThose pueblos that are located in the valley, on the other hand, are\ngenerally built of adobe.\n\nNo one can doubt that the Indians chose these elevated mesa sites for\npurposes of protection. With but one or two almost inaccessible trails\nreaching the heights, and these easily defendable, their homes were\ntheir fortresses. Their fields, gardens, and hunting-grounds were in\nthe valleys or far-away mountains, whither they could go in times of\npeace; but, when attacked by foes, they fled up the trails, established\nelaborate methods of defence, and remained in their fortress-homes\nuntil the danger was past.\n\nThe very construction of the houses reveals this. In none of the older\nhouses is there any doorway into the lowest story. A solid wall faces\nthe visitor, with perhaps a small window-hole. A rude ladder outside\nand a similar one inside afford the only means of entrance. One climbs\nup the ladder outside, drops through a hole in the roof, and descends\nthe ladder inside. When attacked, the outer ladder could be drawn up,\nand thus, if we remember the crude weapons of the aborigines when\ndiscovered by the white man, it is evident that the inhabitants would\nremain in comparative security.\n\nOf late years doors and windows have been introduced into many of the\nancient houses.\n\nIt is a picturesque sight that the visitor to the Hopi towns enjoys\nas he reaches the head of the trail at Hano. The houses are built in\nterraces, two or three stories high, the second story being a step\nback from the first, so that a portion of the roof of the first story\ncan be used as the courtyard or children's playground of the people\nwho inhabit the second story. The third story recedes still farther,\nso that its people have a front yard on the roof of the second story.\nAt Zuni and Taos these terraces continue for six and seven stories,\nbut with the Hopis never exceed three. The first climb is generally\nmade on a ladder, which rests in the street below. The ladder-poles,\nhowever, are much longer than is necessary, and they reach up\nindefinitely towards the sky. Sometimes a ladder is used to go from\nthe second to the third story, but more often a quaint little stairway\nis built on the connecting walls. Equally quaint are the ollas used as\nchimneys. These have their bottoms knocked out, and are piled one above\nanother, two, three, four, and sometimes five or six high. Some of the\n\"terraces\" are partially enclosed, and here one may see a weaver's\nloom, a flat stone for cooking _piki_ (wafer bread), or a beehive-like\noven used for general cooking purposes. Here and there cord-wood is\npiled up for future use, and now and again a captive eagle, fastened\nwith a rawhide tether to the bars of a rude cage, may be seen. The\n\"king of birds\" is highly prized for his down and feathers, which are\nused for the making of prayer plumes (bahos).\n\nThere does not seem to have been much planning in the original\nconstruction of the Hopi pueblos. There was little or no provision\nmade for the future. The first houses were built as needed, and then as\noccasion demanded other rooms were added.\n\nIt will doubtless be surprising to some readers to learn that the Hopi\nhouses are owned and _built_ (in the main) by the women, and that the\nmen weave the women's garments and knit their own stockings. Here,\ntoo, the women enjoy other \"rights\" that their white sisters have\nlong fought for. The home life of the Hopis is based upon the rights\nof women. They own the houses; the wife receives her newly married\nhusband into her home; the children belong to her clan, and have her\nclan name, and not that of the father; the corn, melons, squash, and\nother vegetables belong to her when once deposited in her house by the\nhusband. She, indeed, is the queen of her own home, hence the pueblo\nIndian woman occupies a social relationship different from that of most\naborigines, in that she is on quite equal terms with her husband.\n\nIn the actual building of the houses, however, the husband is required\nto perform his share, and that is the most arduous part of the labor.\nHe goes with his burros to the wooded mesas or cottonwood-lined streams\nand brings the roof-timbers, ladder-poles, and door-posts. He also\nbrings the heavier rocks needed in the building. Then the women aid him\nin placing the heavier objects, after which he leaves them to their own\ndevices.\n\nBeing an intensely religious people, the shamans or priests are always\ncalled upon when a new house is to be constructed. Bahos--prayer plumes\nor sticks--are placed in certain places, sacred meal is lavishly\nsprinkled, and singing and prayer offered, all as propitiation to\nthose gods whose especial business it is to care for the houses.\n\nIt is exceedingly interesting to see the women at work. Without\nplumb-line, straight line, or trowel they proceed. Some women are\nhod-carriers, bringing the pieces of sand or limestone rock to the\n\"bricklayers\" in baskets, buckets, or dish pans. Others mix the adobe\nto the proper consistency and see that the workers are kept supplied\nwith it. And what a laughing, chattering, jabbering group it is! Every\ntongue seems to be going, and no one listening. Once at Oraibi I saw\ntwenty-three women engaged in the building of a house, and I then got\na new \"side light\" on the story of the Tower of Babel; The builders of\nthat historic structure were women, and the confusion of tongues was\nthe natural result of their feminine determination to all speak at once\nand never listen to any one else.\n\nI photographed the builders at Oraibi, and the next day contributed a\nnew dress to each of the twenty-three workers. Here are some of their\nnames: Wa-ya-wei-i-ni-ma, Mo-o-ho, Ha-hei-i, So-li, Ni-vai-un-si,\nSi-ka-ho-in-ni-ma, Na-i-so-wa, Ma-san-i-yam-ka, Ko-hoi-ko-cha,\nTang-a-ka-win-ka, Hun-o-wi-ti, Ko-mai-a-ni-ma, Ke-li-an-i-ma.\n\nThe finishing of the house is as interesting as the actual building.\nWith a small heap of adobe mud the woman, using her hand as a trowel,\nfills in the chinks, smooths and plasters the walls inside and out.\nSplashed from head to foot with mud, she is an object to behold, and,\nas is often the case, if her children are there to \"help\" her, no\nmud-larks on the North River, the Missouri, or the Thames ever looked\nmore happy in their complete abandonment to dirt than they. Then when\nthe whitewashing is done with gypsum, or the coloring of the walls with\na brown wash, what fun the children have. No pinto pony was ever more\nspeckled and variegated than they as they splash their tiny hands into\nthe coloring matter and dash it upon the walls.\n\n[Illustration: HOPI WOMEN BUILDING A HOUSE AT ORAIBI.]\n\n[Illustration: MASHONGANAVI FROM THE TERRACE BELOW.]\n\nInside the houses the walls also are whitewashed or colored, and\ngenerally there is some attempt made to decorate them by painting rude\nthough symbolic designs half-way between the floor and ceiling. The\nfloor is of earth, well packed down with water generally mixed with\nplaster, and the ceiling is of the sustaining poles and cross-beams,\nover which willows and earth have been placed. Invariably one can find\nfeathered bahos, or prayer plumes, in the beams above, and no house\ncould expect to be prospered where these offerings to \"Those Above\"\nwere neglected.\n\nThe chief family room serves as kitchen, dining-room,\ncorn-grinding-room, bedroom, parlor, and reception-room. In one\ncorner a quaint, hooded fireplace is built, and here the housewife\ncooks her _piki_ and other corn foods, boils or bakes her squash,\nroasts, broils, or boils the little meat she is able to secure, and\nsits during the winter nights while \"the elders\" tell stories of the\nwondrous past, when all the animals talked like human beings and the\nmysterious people--the gods--from the upper world came down to earth\nand associated with mankind.\n\nThe corn-grinding trough is never absent. Sometimes it is on a little\nraised platform, and is large or small as the size of the family\ndemands. The trough is composed either of wooden or stone slabs,\ncemented into the floor and securely fastened at the corners with\nrawhide thongs. This trough is then divided into two, three, four, or\nmore compartments (according to its size), and in each compartment a\nsloping slab of basic rock is placed. Kneeling behind this, the woman\nwho is the grinder of the meal (the true lady, _laf-dig_, even though\na Hopi) seizes in both hands a narrower flat piece of the same kind of\nrock, and this, with the motion of a woman over a washboard, she moves\nup and down, throwing a handful of corn every few strokes on the upper\nside of her grinder. This is arduous work, and yet I have known the\nwomen and maidens to keep steadily at it during the entire day.\n\nWhen the meal is ground, a small fire is made of corn cobs, over which\nan earthern olla is placed. When this is sufficiently heated the meal\nis stirred about in it by means of a round wicker basket, to keep it\nfrom burning. This process partially cooks the meal, so that it is more\neasily prepared into food when needed.\n\nIn one corner of the house several large ollas will be found full of\nwater. Living as they do on these mesa heights, where there are no\nsprings, water is scarce and precious. Every drop, except the little\nthat is caught in rain-time or melted from the snows, has to be carried\nup on the backs of the women from the valley below. In the heat of\nsummer, this is no light task. With the fierce Arizona sun beating down\nupon them, the feet slipping in the hot sand or wearily pressing up on\nthe burning rocks, the olla, filled with water, wrapped in a blanket\nand suspended from the forehead on the back, becomes heavier and\nheavier at each step. Those of us who have, perforce, carried cameras\nand heavy plates to the mesa tops know what strength and endurance this\nwork requires.\n\nFor dippers home-made pottery and gourd shells are commonly used. Now\nand again one will find the horn of a mountain sheep, which has been\nheated, opened out into a large spoon-like dipper; or a gnarled or\nknotty piece of wood, hacked out with flint knife into a pretty good\nresemblance to a dipper.\n\nNear the water ollas one can generally see a shelf upon which the\nhousehold utensils are placed. Here, too, when corn is being ground,\na half-dozen plaques of meal will stand. This shelf serves as pantry\nand meat safe (when there is meat), and the hungry visitor will seldom\nlook there in vain for a basket-platter or two piled high with _piki_,\nthe fine wafer bread for which the Hopis are noted. _Piki_ is colored\nin a variety of ways. Dr. Hough says the ashes of _Atriplex canescens\nJames_ are used to give the gray color, and that _Amaranthus sp._ is\ncultivated in terrace gardens around the springs for use in dyeing\nit red; a special red dye from another species is used for coloring\nthe _piki_ used in the Katchina dances; and the ashes of _Parryella\nfilifolia_ are used for coloring. Saffron (_Carthamus tinctorius_) is\nused to give the yellow color.\n\nIt is fascinating in the extreme to see a woman make _piki_. Dry\ncorn-meal is mixed with coloring matter and water, and thus converted\ninto a soft batter. A large, flat stone is so placed on stones that\na fire can be kept continually burning underneath it. As soon as the\nslab is as hot as an iron must be to iron starched clothes it is\ngreased with mutton tallow. Then with fingers dipped in the batter\nthe woman dexterously and rapidly sweeps them over the surface of the\nhot stone. Almost as quickly as the batter touches, it is cooked; so\nto cover the whole stone and yet make even and smooth _piki_ requires\nskill. It looks so easy that I have known many a white woman (and\nman) tempted into trying to make it. Once while attending the Snake\nDance ceremonials at Mashonganavi, a young lady member of my party was\nsure she could perform the operation successfully. My Hopi friend,\nKuchyeampsi, gladly gave place to the white lady, and laughingly looked\nat me as the latter dipped her fingers into the batter, swept them\nover the stone, gave a suppressed exclamation of pain, tried again,\nand then hastily rose with three fingers well blistered. My cook, who\nwas a white man, was sure he could accomplish the operation, so he was\nallowed to try. Once was enough. He was a religious man, and bravely\nkept silence, which was a good thing for us.\n\nWhen the _piki_ is sufficiently cooked, it is folded up into neat\nlittle shapes something like the shredded wheat biscuits. One thing I\nhave often noticed is that a quick and skilful _piki_ maker will keep\na sheet flat, without folding, so that she may place it over the next\nsheet when it is about cooked. This seems to make it easier to remove\nthe newly cooked sheet from the cooking slab.\n\nIf you are ever invited into a Hopi house you may rest assured you will\nnot be there long before a piled-up basket of _piki_ will be brought to\nyou, for the Hopis are wonderfully hospitable and enjoy giving to all\nwho become their guests.\n\nAnother object seldom absent is the \"pole of the soft stuff.\" This\nis a pole suspended from the roof beams upon which all the blankets,\nskins, bedding, and wearing apparel are placed. Once upon a time these\nwere very few and very crude. The skins of animals tanned with the\nhair on, blankets made of rabbit skins, and cotton garments made from\nhome grown, spun, and woven cotton, comprised their \"soft stuff.\" But\nwhen the Spaniards brought sheep into the province of Tusayan, and the\nHopis saw the wonderful improvement a wool staple was over a cotton\none, blankets and dresses of wool were slowly added to the household\ntreasures, until now the \"garments of the old,\" except antelope, deer,\nfox, and coyote skins, are seldom seen.\n\n[Illustration: MASHONGCE, AN ORAIBI MAIDEN, DRYING CORN MEAL.]\n\n[Illustration: THE TRIO OF METATES, AND HOPI WOMAN ABOUT TO GRIND\nCORN.]\n\nIt is a remarkable fact that the Hopis wore garments made from cotton\nwhich they grew themselves, prior to the time of the Spanish invasion.\nThey also knew how to color the cotton from unfading mineral and\nvegetable dyes, and in the graves of ancient cliff and cave dwellings,\nwell-woven cotton garments often have been taken.\n\nSometimes to-day one may see an old man or woman weaving a blanket\nfrom the tanned skins of rabbits. Such a garment is far warmer and\nmore comfortable than one would imagine. The dressed pelts are twisted\naround a home-woven string made of shredded yucca fibre, wild flax, or\ncotton, and thus a long rope is formed many yards in length. This rope\nis then woven in parallel strings with cross strands of the same kind\nof fibre, and a robe made some five or six feet square.\n\nThe windows of the ancient Hopi houses were either small open holes\nor sheets of gypsum. Of late years modern doors and windows have been\nintroduced, yet there are still many of the old ones in existence.\n\nHaving thus taken a general and cursory survey of Hano, let us, in\nturn, visit the six other villages on the mesa heights ere we look\nfurther into the social and ceremonial life of this interesting people.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE HOPI VILLAGES AND THEIR HISTORY\n\n\nThe province of Tusayan is dotted over in every direction with ruins,\nall of which were once inhabited by the Hopi people. Indeed, even\nin the \"pueblo\" stage of their existence they seem to have retained\nmuch of the restlessness and desire for change which marked them when\n\"nomads.\"\n\nTraditionary lore among modern Hopis asserts that the well-known ruin\nof Casa Grande was once the home of their ancestors, and Dr. Fewkes has\nconclusively shown a line of ruins extending from the Gila and Salt\nRiver valleys to the present Hopi villages. So there is no doubt but\nthat some, at least, of the Hopis came to their modern homes from the\nSouth. It is, therefore, quite possible that such ruins as Montezuma's\nCastle were once Hopi homes. Every indication seems to point to the\nfact that all these ancient ruins--some of which are caveate, others\ncliff, and still others independent pueblos, built in the open, away\nfrom all cliffs--were occupied by a people in dread of attack from\nenemies. Every home has its lookout. Every field could be watched.\nNearly all the cliff and cave dwellings were naturally fortresses,\nand the open pueblos were so constructed as to render them castles of\ndefence to their inhabitants on occasion.\n\nIn these facts alone we can see an interesting, though to those\nprimarily concerned a tragic state of affairs; a home-loving people,\nsedentary and agricultural, willing and anxious to live at peace,\nsurrounded and perpetually harassed by wild and fierce nomads,\nwhose delight was war, their occupation pillage, and their chief\ngratifications murder and rapine. The cliff- or cave-dwelling husband\nleft his home in the morning to plant his corn or irrigate his field,\nuncertain whether the night would see him safe again with his loved\nones, a captive in the hands of merciless torturers, or lying dead and\nmutilated upon the fields he had planted.\n\nNo wonder they are the Hopituh--the people of peace. Who would not long\nfor peace after many generations of such environment? Poor wretches!\nEvery field had its memories of slaughter, every canyon had echoed\nthe fierce yells of attacking foes, the shrieks of the dying, or the\nexultant shouts of the victors, and every dwelling-place had heard the\nsad wailing of widows and orphans.\n\nThe union of these people, under such conditions, in towns became a\nnecessity--self-preservation demanded cohesion. That isolation and\nseparation were not unnatural or repulsive to them is shown by the\nreadiness with which in later times they branched out and established\nnew towns. These separations often led to bitter and deadly quarrels\namong themselves, and elsewhere[2] I have related the traditional\nstory of the destruction of a Hopi city, Awatobi, by the inhabitants\nof rival cities, who in their determination to be \"Hopituh\"--people of\npeace--were willing to fight and exterminate their neighbors and thus\ncompel peace.\n\n[2] \"The Storming of Awatobi,\" _The Chautauquan_, August, 1901.\n\nOf the present seven mesa cities, towns, or villages of the Hopis, it\nis probable that Oraibi only occupies the same site that it had when\nfirst seen by white men in 1540.\n\nIt will readily be recalled that when Coronado reached Cibola (Zuni)\nand conquered it he was sadly disappointed at not finding the piles of\ngold, silver, and precious stones he and his conquistadors had hoped\nfor. The glittering stories of the gold-strewn \"Seven Cities of Cibola\"\nwere sadly proven to be mythical. But hope revived when the wounded\ngeneral was told of seven other cities, about a hundred miles to the\nnorthwest. _These_ might be the wealthy cities they sought. Unable to\ngo himself, he sent his ensign Tobar, with a handful of soldiers and a\npriest, and it fell to the lot of these to be the first white men to\ngaze upon the wonders of the Hopi villages.\n\nInstead of finding them as we now see them, however, it is pretty\ncertain that the first village reached was that of Awatobi, a town\nnow in ruins and whose history is only a memory. Standing on the mesa\nat Walpi and looking a little to the right of the entrance to Keam's\nCanyon, the location of this \"dead city\" may be seen.\n\nWalpi occupied a terrace below where it now is, and Sichumavi and\nHano were not founded. At the middle mesa Mashonganavi and Shungopavi\noccupied the foothills or lower terraces, and Shipauluvi was not in\nexistence.\n\nWhat an interesting conflict that was, in 1540, between the few\ncivilized and well-armed soldiers of Coronado and the warrior priests\nof Awatobi. Tobar and his men stealthily approached the foot of the\nmesa under the cover of darkness, but were discovered in the early\nmorning ere they had made an attack. Led by the warrior priests, the\nfighting men of the village descended the trail, where the priests\nsignified to the strangers that they were unwelcome. They forbade their\nascending the trail, and with elaborate ceremony sprinkled a line of\nsacred meal across it, over which no one must pass. To cross that\nsacred and mystic line was to declare one's self an enemy and to invite\nthe swift punishment of gods and men. But Tobar and his warriors knew\nnothing of the vengeance of Hopi gods and cared little for the anger of\nHopi men, so they made a fierce and sharp onslaught. When we remember\nthat this was the first experience of the Hopis with men on horseback,\nprotected with coats of mail and metal helmets, who fought not only\nwith sharpened swords, but also slew men at a distance with sticks that\nbelched forth fire and smoke, to the accompaniment of loud thunder, it\ncan well be understood that they speedily fell back and soon returned\nwith tokens of submission. Thus was Awatobi taken. After this Walpi,\nMashonganavi, Shungopavi, and Oraibi were more or less subjugated.\n\nIn 1680, as is well known, Popeh, a resident of one of the eastern\npueblos near the Rio Grande, conceived a plan to rid the whole country\nof the hated white men, and especially of the \"long robes\"--the\npriests--who had forbidden the ancient ceremonies and dances, and\nforcibly baptized their children into a new faith, which to their\nsuperstitious minds was a catastrophe worse than death. The Hopis\njoined in the plan, though Awatobi went into it with reluctance, owing\nto the kindly ministrations of the humane Padre Porras.\n\nThe plot was betrayed, but not early enough to enable the Spaniards to\nprotect themselves, and on the day of Santa Ana, the 10th of August,\n1680, the whole white race was fallen upon and mercilessly slain or\ndriven out.\n\nFor the next nearly twenty years the more timid of the people lived\nin dread of Spanish retaliation. Then it was that Hano was founded.\nAnticipating the arrival of a large force, a number of Tanoan and Tewan\npeople fled from the Rio Grande to Tusayan. Some of the former went to\nOraibi, and the latter asked permission to settle at the head of the\nWalpi trail near to \"the Gap.\"\n\nPossibly about this same time, too, the villages located on the lower\nterraces or foothills moved to the higher sites, as they were thus\nafforded better protection.\n\nSichumavi--\"the mound of flowers\"--was founded about the year 1750\nby Walpians of the Badger Clan, who for some reason or other grew\ndiscontented and wished a town of their own. Here they were joined by\nTanoans of the Asa Clan from the Rio Grande, who for a time had lived\nin the seclusion of the Tsegi, as the Navahoes term the Canyon de\nChelly in New Mexico.\n\nExactly when Shipauluvi was founded is not known, though its name--\"the\nplace of peaches\"--clearly denotes that it must have been after the\nSpanish invasion, for it was the conquerors who brought with them\npeaches. Nor were peaches the only good things the Hopis and other\nAmerican aborigines owed to the hated foreigners. They introduced\nhorses, cows, sheep (which latter have afforded them a large measure of\nsustenance and given to them and the Navahoes the material with which\nto make their useful rugs and blankets), and goats, besides a number of\nvegetables.\n\nHere, then, about the middle of the eighteenth century the Hopi mesa\ntowns were settled as we now find them, and doubtless with populations\nas near as can be to their present numbers.\n\nHano we have already visited. Let us now, hastily but carefully, glance\nat each of the other villages as they appear at the present time.\n\nPassing on to Sichumavi from Hano we find it similar in all its main\nfeatures to Hano, except that none of its houses are as high. In the\ncentre of the town is a large plaza where, in wet weather, a large body\nof rain-water collects. This is used for \"laundry\" purposes, as drink\nfor the burros and goats, and a bathing pond for all the children of\nthe pueblo. It is one of the funniest sights imaginable to see the\nyoungsters playing and frolicking in the water by the hour,--I should\nhave said liquid mud, for the filth that accumulates in this plaza\nreservoir is simply indescribable. Children of both sexes, their brown,\nswarthy bodies utterly indifferent to the piercing darts of the sun,\nlie down in this liquid filth, roll over, splash one another, run to\nand fro, and enjoy themselves hugely, even in the presence of the\nwhite visitor, until a glimpse of the dreaded camera sends them off\nsplashing, yelling, gesticulating, and some of them crying, to the\nnearest shelter.\n\nThat supereminence of Hopi character is conservatism is shown as one\nwalks from Sichumavi to Walpi. Here is a literal exemplification\ndemonstrating how the present generations \"tread in the footsteps\" of\ntheir forefathers. The trail over which the bare and moccasined feet of\nthese people have passed and repassed for years is worn down deep into\nthe solid sandstone. The springy and yielding foot, unprotected except\nby its own epidermis or the dressed skin of the goat, sheep, or deer,\nhas cut its way into the unyielding rock, thus symbolizing the power of\nan unyielding purpose and demonstrating the force of an unchangeable\nconservatism.\n\nBetween these two pueblos the mesa becomes so narrow that we walk on\na mere strip of rock, deep precipices on either side. To the left are\nKeam's Canyon and the road over which we came; to the right are the\ngardens, corn-fields, and peach orchards, leading the eye across to the\nsecond mesa, on the heights of which are Mashonganavi and Shipauluvi.\n\nThese gardens and corn-fields are the most potent argument possible\nagainst the statements of ignorant and prejudiced white men who claim\nthat the Indians--Hopis as well as others--are lazy and shiftless.\n\nIf a band of white men were placed in such a situation as the Hopis,\nand compelled to wrest a living from the sandy, barren, sun-scorched\nsoil, there are few who would have faith and courage enough to attempt\nthe evidently hopeless task. But with a patience and steadiness that\nmake the work sublime, these heroic bronze men have sought out and\nfound the spots of sandy soil under which the water from the heights\npercolates. They have marked the places where the summer's freshets\nflow, and thus, relying upon sub-irrigation and the casual and\nuncertain rainfalls of summer, have planted their corn, beans, squash,\nmelons, and chili, carefully hoeing them when necessary, and each\nseason reap a harvest that would not disgrace modern scientific methods.\n\nAll throughout these corn-fields temporary brush sun-shelters are seen,\nunder which the young boys and girls sit, scaring away the birds and\nwatching lest any stray burro should enter and destroy that which has\ngrown as the result of so much labor.\n\n[Illustration: AN ORAIBI WOMAN SHELLING CORN IN A BASKET OF YUCCA\nFIBRE.]\n\n[Illustration: THE \"BURRO\" OF HOPI TRANSPORTATION.]\n\nHere, too, in the harvesting time one may witness busy and interesting\nscenes. Whole families move down into temporary brush homes, and women\nand children aid the men in gathering the crops. Tethered and hobbled\nburros stand patiently awaiting their share of the common labor.\n\nYonder is a group of men busy digging a deep pit. Watch them as it\nnears completion. It is made with a narrow neck and \"bellies\" out to\nconsiderable width below. Indeed, it is shaped not unlike an immense\nvase with a large, almost spherical body and narrow neck. In depth\nit is perhaps six, eight, ten, or a dozen feet. On one side a narrow\nstairway is cut into the earth leading down to its base, and at the\nfoot of this stairway a small hole is cut through into the chamber.\nOur curiosity is aroused. What is this subterranean place for? As we\nwatch, the workers bring loads of greasewood and other inflammable\nmaterial, kindle a fire in the chamber, and fill it up with the wood.\nNow we see the use of the small hole at the foot of the stairway. It\nacts as a draught hole, and soon a raging furnace fire is in the vault\nbefore us. When a sufficient heat has been obtained, the bottom hole is\nclosed, and then scores of loads of corn on the cob are dropped into\nthe heated chamber. When full, every avenue that could allow air to\nenter is sealed, and there the corn remains over night or as long as\nis required to cook it,--self-steam it. It is then removed, packed in\nsacks or blankets on the backs of the patient burros, and removed to\nthe corn-rooms of the houses on the mesa above.\n\nOther fresh corn is carried up and spread out on the house-tops to dry.\n\nAll this is stored away in the corn-rooms, into which strangers\nsometimes are invited, but oftener kept away from. It is stacked up in\npiles like cord-wood, and happy is that household whose corn-stack is\nlarge at the beginning of a hard winter.\n\nWalpi--the place of the gap--though not a large town, is better\nknown to whites than any of the other Hopi towns. Here it was that\nthe earliest visitors came and saw the thrilling Snake Dance. Its\nsoutheastern trail, with the wonderful detached rock leaning over on\none side and the cliff on the other, between which the steep and rude\nstairway is constructed, has been so often pictured, as well as the\nso-called \"Sacred Rock\" of the Walpi dance plaza, that they are now as\nfamiliar as photographs of Trinity Church, New York, or St. Paul's,\nLondon. As one stands on the top of one of the houses he sees how\nclosely Walpi has been built. It covers the whole of the south end of\nthe mesa, up to the very edges of the precipice walls in three of its\nfour directions, and, as already shown, the fourth is the narrow neck\nof rock connecting Walpi with Sichumavi and Hano. The dance plaza is\nto the east, a long, narrow place, at the south end of which is the\n\"Sacred Rock.\" It is approached from south and north by the regular\n\"street\" or trail, and one may leave it to the west through an archway,\nover which is built one of the houses.\n\nSeveral ruins on the east mesa are pointed out as \"Old\" Walpi, and\nthe name of one of these--Nusaki--(also known as Kisakobi) is a clear\nindication that at one time the Spaniards had a mission church there. A\nWalpian, Pauwatiwa, shows, with pride, an old carved beam in his house\nwhich all Hopis say came from the mission when it was destroyed. On the\nterraces just below the mesa-top--perhaps a hundred or two hundred\nfeet down--are a number of tiny corrals, to and from which, morning and\nevening, the boys, young men, and sometimes the women and girls may be\nseen driving their herds of sheep and goats, and in which the burros\nare kept when not in use. These picturesque corrals from below look\nalmost like swallows' nests stuck on the face of the cliffs.\n\nAs we wander about in the narrow and quaint streets of Walpi we cannot\nfail to observe the ladder-poles which are thrust through hatchways,\ndown which we peer into the darkness below with little satisfaction.\nThese lead to the _kivas_, or sacred ceremonial chambers, where all\nthe secret rites of the different clans are held. Here we shall be\nprivileged to enter if no ceremony is going on. The kivas are generally\nhewn out of the solid rock, or partially so, and are from twelve to\neighteen feet square. When not otherwise occupied it is no uncommon\nsight to see in a kiva a Hopi weaver squatted before his rude loom,\nmaking a dress for his wife or daughter, or weaving a ceremonial sash\nor kilt for his own use in one of the many dances.\n\nIn every Hopi town one cannot fail to be struck with the nudity of\nthe children of all ages, from the merest babies up to eight and\neven ten years. With what Victor Hugo calls \"the chaste indecency of\nchildhood\" these fat, bronze Cupids and embryo Venuses romp and play,\nas unconscious of their nakedness as Adam and Eve before their fall.\n\nFrom Walpi we descend to the corn-fields, and, after a slow and\ntedious drag across the sandy plain to the west, find ourselves at\nMashonganavi, or at least at the foot of the trail which leads to the\nheights above. Here, as at the other mesas, there are two or three\ntrails, all steep, all nerve-wrenching, all picturesque. Arrived at\nthe village, we find Mashonganavi an interesting place, for it is so\ncompactly built that one often hunts in vain (for a while, at least) to\nfind the hidden dance plaza, around which the whole town seems to be\nbuilt. Some of the houses are three stories high, and there are quaint,\nnarrow alley-ways, queer dark tunnels, and underground kivas as at\nWalpi. The Antelope and Snake kivas are situated on the southeastern\nside of the village, on the very edge of the mesa, and with the tawny\nstretch of the Painted Desert leading the eye to the deep purple of the\nGiant's Chair and others of the Mogollon buttes, which Ives conceived\nas great ships in the desert, suddenly and forever arrested and\npetrified.\n\nAbout one hundred and fifty feet below the village is a terrace which\nalmost surrounds the Mashonganavi mesa, as a rocky ruff around its\nneck. This terrace is so connected with the main plateau that one can\ndrive upon it with a wagon and thus encamp close to the village. Here\nin 1901 the two wagon loads of sightseers and tourists which I had\nguided to the mysteries and delights of Tusayan, over the sandy and\nscorched horrors of a portion of the Painted Desert, encamped, during\nthe last days of the Snake Dance ceremonies.\n\nFrom here a trail--at its head an actual rock stairway--leads down to\na spring in the valley, where the government school is situated, and\nfrom whence all our cooking and drinking water had to be brought. Each\nmorning and evening droves of sheep and goats passed our camp, coming\nup from below and going down to the scant pasturage of the valley.\nScarcely an hour passed when some Indian--oftener half a dozen--came\nto our camp, and failed to pass. Especially at meal times, when the\nbiscuits were in the oven, the stew on the fire, the beans in the\npot, and the dried fruit in the stew-kettle, did they seem to enjoy\nvisiting us. And they liked to come close, too; far too close for our\ncomfort, as their persons are not always of the most cleanly character,\nand their habits of the most decorous and refined. Hence rules had to\nbe laid down which it was my province to see observed, one of which\nwas that visiting Indians must keep to a distance, especially at meal\ntimes. Another was that if our blankets were allowed to remain unrolled\n(in order to get the direct benefit of the sun's rays) they were not so\nleft for our Indian friends to lounge upon.\n\n[Illustration: AN AGED HOPI AT ORAIBI.]\n\n[Illustration: A HOPI, WEAVING A NATIVE COTTON CEREMONIAL KILT.]\n\nWe were generally a hungry lot as we sat or squatted around our canvas\ntablecloth, our table the rocky ground, and there was scant ceremony\nwhen ceremony stood in the way of appeasing our appetites. But we\nwere not wasteful. If there were any \"scraps\" or any small remains on\na plate or dish they were \"saved for the Indians.\" So that at length\nit became a catch-word with us. If there was anything, anywhere, at\nany time, that we did not like, some one of the party was sure to\nsuggest that it be \"saved for the Indians.\" And that has often since\nsuggested to me our national policy in treating the Amerind. There is\ntoo much national \"Save that for the Indians.\" Land that is no good to\na white man--save it for the Indians. Beef cattle that white men don't\nbuy--save them for the Indians. Spoiled flour--save it for the Indians.\nSeeds that won't grow--ship 'em to the Indians.\n\nAnd that reminds me of a now not undistinguished artist who once\naccompanied a small party of mine some years ago to the Snake Dance\nat Oraibi. I came down to camp one day and found him cooking several\nslices of our finest ham, dishing up our choicest and scarcest\nvegetables, crackers, and delicacies, with a large pot of our most\nexpensive coffee simmering and steaming by the camp-fire; and when\nI asked, \"For whom?\" was coolly told it was for three lazy, fat,\nlubberly, dirty Oraibis, who sat in delightful anticipation around the\npump close by.\n\nMy objection to this use of our provisions was expressed in forceful\nand vigorous Anglo-Saxon, and when I was told it was \"none of my\nbusiness,\" I emphasized my objection with a distinct refusal to allow\n_my_ provisions to be thus used. Then for half an hour immediately\nafterwards, and for days subsequently, at intervals, I was regaled with\nvocal chastisement worthy to be ranked with Demosthenes' \"Philippics.\"\n\"The Indian was a man and a brother. We were Christians, indeed, and of\na truth when we would see our poor red brother starve to death before\nour sight,\" etc., _ad libitum_.\n\nNow between my artist friend's course and the one first named the happy\nmean lies. I do not believe we should give to the Indian only the\nscraps that fall from our national table; neither, on the other hand,\ndo I believe we are called upon to give him the very best of our foods\nand provide special coffee at seventy-five cents a pound.\n\nAnd this sermon has occupied our time, by the way, as we have walked\nup the trail, by the Mashonganavi kivas to a spot from which we\ngain a good view of the village and of Shipauluvi on its higher and\ndetached pinnacle a mile farther back. Again descending the trail to\nthe terrace below, we walk half a mile and then begin the ascent of a\nsteep stone stairway, carefully constructed, that leads us directly to\nShipauluvi. This is a small town, occupying almost the whole of the\ndizzy site, with its few houses built around its rectangular plaza.\n\nHere I was once present at a witchcraft trial. It was a complicated\naffair, in which the dead and living, Navahoes and Hopis, were\nintertwined. A Hopi woman accused a Navaho of having bewitched her\nhusband, thus causing his death, and of stealing from him a blanket\nand some sheep. The evidence showed that the Navaho had met the Hopi,\nand that soon afterwards he was taken sick and died, whereupon the\nsheep and blanket were found in the possession of the Navaho. There was\nlittle doubt of its being a case of theft, and the Navaho was ordered\nto return sheep and blanket, but he was exonerated from the charge of\nwitchcraft.\n\nLiving in Shipauluvi is one of those singular anomalies so often found\nin the pueblos, an albino woman. There are a dozen or so living in the\nother villages. With Hopi face, but white hair and skin, pink eyes, and\ngeneral bleached-out appearance, they never fail to excite the greatest\nsurprise in the mind of the stranger, and to those who see them often\nthere is still a lingering wonder as to the cause of so singular a\nvariation of physical appearance. At Mashonganavi there are two men\nalbinos, one of them one of the Snake priests. It is claimed by the\nIndians that these albinos are of as pure Hopi blood as those who are\nnormal in color, and the fact is incontrovertible that they are born of\npure-blooded parents on both sides.\n\nReturning now to the terrace below, common to both Mashonganavi\nand Shipauluvi, the trail is descended to Shungopavi. A deep canyon\nseparates the mesa upon which this village is built from the one\nupon which the two former are located. Near the foot of the trail\nthe government has established a schoolhouse, and close by are the\nsprings and pools of water. It is a sandy ride or walk, and on a hot\nday--\"a-tu-u-u\"--wearisome and exhausting. For half a dollar or so one\nmay hire a burro and his owner as guide, and it is much easier to go\nburro-back over the yielding sand than to walk. There are straggling\npeach trees on the way, and a trail, rocky and steep, to ascend ere we\nsee Shungopavi.\n\nThe wagons may be driven to the village (as mine were), but it is a\nlong way around. The road to Oraibi across the mesa is taken, and when\nabout half-way across a crude road is followed which runs out upon the\n\"finger tip\" where Shungopavi stands. Here the governor in 1901 was\nLo-ma-win-i, and he and I became very good friends. Knowing my interest\nin the Snake Dance, he sent for the chief priests of the Snake and\nAntelope Clans (Kai-wan-i-wi-ya-\u016d-m\u00e1 and Lo-ma-ho-in-i-wa), and from\nthem I received a cordial invitation to be present and participate in\nthe secret ceremonials of the kiva at their next celebration. I have\nbeen privileged to be present, but was never invited before.\n\nThe governor is an expert silversmith, the necklace he wears being\na specimen of his own art. It is wonderful how, with their crude\nmaterials and tools, such excellent work can be produced. Mexican\ndollars are melted in a tiny home-made crucible, rude moulds are carved\nout of sand--or other stone into which the melted metal is poured, and\nthen hand manipulation, hammering, and brazing complete the work.\nTheir silver articles of adornment are finger rings, bracelets, and\nnecklaces.\n\nOraibi is the most western and conservative of the Hopi villages.\nIt is by far the largest, having perhaps a third of the whole\npopulation. It is divided into two factions, the so-called hostiles\nand friendlies, the former being the conservative element, determined\nnot to forsake \"the ways of the old,\" the ways of their ancestors;\nand the latter being generally willing to obey orders ostensibly\nissued by \"Wasintonia\"--as they call the mysterious Indian Department.\nThese divisions are a source of great sorrow to the former leaders of\nthe village. In the introduction to \"The Oraibi Soyal Ceremony\" by\nProfessor George A. Dorsey, of the Field Columbian Museum, and Rev.\nH. R. Voth, his assistant, and formerly a Mennonite missionary at\nOraibi, this dissension is spoken of as follows: \"During the year 1891\nrepresentatives of the Indian Department made strenuous efforts to\nsecure pupils for the government school located at Keam's Canyon, about\nforty miles from Oraibi. This effort on the part of the government\nwas bitterly resented by a certain faction of the people of Oraibi,\nwho seceded from Lol\u00falomai, the village chief, and soon after began\nto recognize Lomahungyoma as leader. The feeling on the part of this\nfaction against the party under Lol\u00falomai was further intensified by\nthe friendly attitude the Liberals took toward other undertakings of\nthe government, such as allotment of land in severalty, the building of\ndwelling-houses at the foot of the mesa, the gratuitous distribution\nof American clothing, agricultural implements, etc. The division thus\ncreated manifested itself not only in the everyday life of the people,\nbut also in their religious ceremonies. Inasmuch as the altars and\ntheir accessories are the chief elements in these ceremonies, they soon\nbecame the special object of controversy, each party contending for\ntheir possession; and so it came about that the altars remained to that\nfaction to which the chief priests and those who had them in charge\nbelonged, the members of the opposing faction, as a rule, withdrawing\nfrom further participation in the celebration of the ceremony.\"\n\nThe dance plaza is on the western side of the village, and there the\ndances and other outdoor ceremonies take place.\n\nOne of my earliest visits to Oraibi was made in the congenial company\nof Major Constant Williams, who was then the United States Indian\nAgent, at Fort Defiance, for the Navahoes and Hopis. We had driven\nacross the Navaho Reservation from Fort Defiance to Keam's Canyon,\nand then visited the mesas in succession. We drove to the summit of\nthe Oraibi mesa in his buckboard, a new conveyance which he had had\nmade to order at Durango, Colo. The road was the same one up which the\nsoldiers had helped the horses drag the Gatling gun at the time of\nthe arrest of the so-called \"hostiles,\" who were sent to Alcatraz for\ntheir refusal to forsake their Oraibi ways and follow the \"Washington\nway.\" It was a steep, ugly road, rough, rocky, and dangerous. The\nMajor's horses, however, were strong, intelligent, and willing, so\nwe made the ascent with comparative ease. The return, however, was\ndifferent. There were so many things of interest at Oraibi that I found\nit hard to tear myself away, and the \"shades of night were falling\nfast\"--far too fast for the Major's peace of mind--ere I returned to\nthe buckboard. By the time we had traversed the summit of the mesa\nto the head of the \"trail\" part of the descent, it was dark enough\nto make the cold tremors perambulate up and down one's spine. But\nI had every confidence in the Major's driving, his horses, and his\nknowledge of that fearfully precipitous and dangerous road. Slowly we\ndescended, the brake scraping and often entirely holding the wheels.\nWe could see and feel the dark abysses, first on one side and then on\nthe other, or feel the overshadowing of the mighty rock walls which\ntowered above us. I was congratulating myself that we had passed all\nthe dangerous places, and in a few moments should be on the drifted\nsand, which, though steep, was perfectly safe, when we came to the\nlast \"drop off.\" This can best be imagined by calling it what it was,\na steep, rocky stairway, of two or three steps, with a precipice on\none side, and a towering wall on the other. Hugging the wall, the\nupper step extended like a shelf for eight or ten feet, and the nigh\nhorse, disliking to make the abrupt descent of the step, clung close to\nthe wall and walked along the shelf. The off horse dropped down. The\nresult can be imagined. One horse's feet were up at about the level\nof the other's back. The wheels followed their respective horses. The\nnigh wheels stayed on the shelf, the off wheels came down the step.\nThe Major and I decided, very suddenly, to leave the buckboard. We\nwere rudely toppled out, down the precipice on the left,--I at the\nbottom of the heap. Down came camera cases, tripods, boxes of plates,\nand all the packages of odds and ends I had bought from the Indians,\nbouncing about our ears. Like a flash the two horses took fright and\nstarted off, dragging that overturned buckboard after them. They did\nnot swirl around to the left down the sandy road, but to the right upon\na terrace of the rocky mesa, and we saw the sparks fly as the ironwork\nof the wagon struck and restruck the rocks. The noise and roar and\nclatter were terrific. Great rocks were started to rolling, and the\nechoes were enough to awaken the dead. Suddenly there was a louder\ncrash than ever, and then all was silent. We felt our hearts thumping\nagainst our ribs, and the only sounds we could hear were their fierce\nbeatings and our own hard breathing. Fortunately, we had landed on a\nnarrow shelf some seven feet down, covered deep with sand, so neither\nof us was seriously hurt except in our feelings; but imagine the dismay\nthat swept aside all thoughts of thankfulness for our narrow escape\nwhen that crash and dread silence came. No doubt horses and buckboard\nwere precipitated over one of the cliffs and had all gone to \"eternal\nsmash.\" My conscience made me feel especially culpable, for had I not\ndetained the Major we should have left the mesa long before it was so\ndark. I had caused the disaster! It was nothing that I had been \"spilt\nout,\" that doubtless my cameras were smashed, and the plates I had\nexposed with so much care and in spite of the opposition of the Hopis\nwere in tiny pieces--for I had clearly heard that peculiar \"smash\" that\nspoke of broken glass as I myself landed on the top of my head. Think\nof that span of fine horses, and the Major's new buckboard! The thought\nabout completed the work of mental and physical paralysis the shock of\nfalling had begun. I was suddenly awakened, not by the Major's voice,\nfor neither of us had yet spoken a word,--and indeed, I didn't know\nbut that he was dead,--but by the scratching of a match. Then he was\nalive! That was cause for thankfulness. Setting fire to a dried cactus,\nthe Major, after thoroughly picking himself up and shaking himself\ntogether, proceeded to gather up the photographic d\u00e9bris. Silently I\naided him. Still silently we piled it all together, as much under the\nshelter of the rocks as possible, and then, still without a word, we\nclimbed back upon the road and started to walk to the house of Mr.\nVoth, the missionary, where we were stopping. For half a mile or more\nwe trudged on wearily through the deep and yielding sand. Still never\na word. We both breathed heavily, for the sand was dreadfully soft. I\nwas wondering what I could say. My conscience so overpowered me that I\ndared not speak. I was humbling myself, inwardly, into the very dust\nfor having been the unconscious and innocent, yet nevertheless actual\ncause of this disaster. I simply couldn't break the silence. To offer\nto pay for the horses and buckboard was easy (though that would be a\nserious matter to my slender purse) compared with appeasing the sturdy\nMajor for the shock to his mental and physical system. Then, too, how\nhe must feel! At the very thought the cold sweat started on my brow and\nI could feel it trickling down my chest and back.\n\n[Illustration: AN ORAIBI BASKET WEAVER.]\n\n[Illustration: AN ADMIRING HOPI MOTHER.]\n\nSuddenly the Major stopped, and in the darkness I could dimly see him\ntake out his large white handkerchief, mop his brow and head, and then,\nwith explosive force, but in a voice charged with deepest and sincerest\nfeeling he broke the painful silence: \"Thank God, the sun isn't\nshining.\"\n\nBrave-hearted, generous Major Williams! Not a word of reproach, no\nsuggestion of blame. What a relief to my burdened soul. I was almost\nhysterical in my ready response. Yes, we could be thankful that our\nlives and limbs were spared. We were both unhurt. New horses and\nbuckboard could be purchased, but life and health preserved called for\nthankfulness to the Divine Protector.\n\nThus we congratulated ourselves as we slowly plodded along through\nthe sand. Arrived at Mr. Voth's, we soon retired,--he in the bedroom\nprepared for him by kindly Mrs. Voth, I in my blankets outside. The\ncalm face of the sky soon soothed my disquieted feelings and nerves,\nand in a short time I fell asleep. Not a thought disturbed me until\njust as the faintest peepings of dawn began to show on the eastern\nridges, when, awakening, I heard a noise as of a horse shaking his\nharness close by. Like a flash I jumped up, and, in my night-robe\nthough I was, rushed to the entrance to the corral. There, unharmed\nand uninjured, with harness upon them complete, the lines dangling\ndown behind, the neck yoke holding them together, as if they were just\nbrought from the stable ready to be hitched to the wagon, were the two\nhorses which I had vividly pictured to myself as dashed to pieces upon\nthe cruel rocks at the foot of one of the mesa precipices.\n\nI could scarcely refrain from shouting my joy. Hastily I dressed, and\nwhile dressing thought: \"The horses are here; I'll go and hunt for\nthe wagon.\" So noiselessly I hitched them to Mr. Voth's buckboard and\ndrove off. When I came to the scene of the disaster, I found I could\ndrive upon the rocky terrace. There was no difficulty in following the\ncourse of the runaways. Here was part of the seat, farther on some of\nthe ironwork, and still farther the dashboard. At last I reached the\noverturned and dismantled vehicle. It was in a sorry state. Two of the\nwheels were completely dished, the seat and dashboard were \"scraped\"\noff, one whiffletree was broken, and the whole thing looked as if it\nhad been rudely treated in a tornado. I turned it over, tied the wheels\nso that they would hold, and then, fastening it behind Mr. Voth's\nbuckboard, slowly drove back to the house.\n\nWhen the Major awoke he was as much surprised and pleased as I was\nto find the horses safe and sound and the buckboard in a repairable\ncondition. With a little man\u0153uvring we got the vehicle as far as\nKeam's Canyon, where old Jack Tobin, the blacksmith, fixed it up so\nthat it could be driven back to Fort Defiance, and thither, with care\nand caution, the Major drove me. A few weeks later, under the healing\npowers of the agency blacksmith, the buckboard renewed its youth,--new\nwheels, new seat, new dashboard, and an all covering new coat of paint\nwiped out the memories of our trip down from the Oraibi mesa, except\nthose we carried in the depths of our own consciousness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nA FEW HOPI CUSTOMS\n\n\nTo know any people thoroughly requires many years of studied\nobservation. The work of such men as A. M. Stephen, Dr. Fewkes, Rev.\nH. R. Voth, and Dr. George A. Dorsey reveals the vast field the Hopis\noffer to students. To the published results of these indefatigable\nworkers the student is referred for fuller knowledge. There are certain\nthings of interest, however, that the casual observer cannot fail to\nnote.\n\nThe costume of the men is undoubtedly a modification of the dress\nof the white man. Trousers are worn, generally of white muslin, and\nfrom the knee down on the outer side they are split open at the seam.\nSoleless stockings, home-spun, dyed and knit, are worn, fastened with\ngarters, similar in style and design, though smaller, to the sashes\nworn by the women. The feet are covered with rawhide moccasins. The\nshirt is generally of colored calico, though on special occasions\nthe \"dudes\" of the people appear in black or violet velvet shirts\nor tunics, which certainly give them a handsome appearance. The\nnever-failing banda, wound around the forehead, completes the costume,\nthough accessories in the shape of silver and wampum necklaces, finger\nrings, etc., are often worn.\n\nThe costume of the women is both picturesque and adapted to their\nlife and customs. It is neat, appropriate, and modest. The effort our\ngovernment feels called upon to make to lead them to change it for\ncalico \"wrappers,\" in accordance with a principle adopted which regards\nas \"bad\" and \"a hindrance to civilization\" anything native, is to my\nmind vicious and senseless. The Indians are not to be civilized by\nmaking them wear white people's costumes, nor by any such nonsense.\nThere are those who condemn their basket weaving, because, forsooth, it\nis not a Christian art. True civilizing processes come from within, and\ndesire for change must precede the outward manifestation if permanent\nresults are desired.\n\nTo return to the costume. It consists mainly of a home-woven robe,\ndyed in indigo. When made, it looks more like an Indian blanket than\na dress, but when the woman throws it over her right shoulder, sews\nthe two sides together, leaving an opening for the right arm, and then\nwraps one of the highly colored and finely woven sashes around her\nwaist, the beholder sees a dress at once healthful and picturesque. As\na rule, it comes down a little below the knee, and the left shoulder\nis uncovered. Of late years many of the women and girls have learned\nto wear a calico slip under the picturesque native dress, so that both\narms and shoulders are covered.\n\nMost of the time the legs and feet are naked, but when a woman wishes\nto be fully attired, she wraps buckskins, cut obliquely in half,\naround her legs, adroitly fastening the wrappings just above the knee\nwith thongs cut from buckskin, and then encases her feet in shapely\nmoccasins. There is no compression of her solid feet, no distortion\nwith senseless high heels. She is too self-poised, mentally, to care\nanything about Parisian fashions. Health, neatness, comfort, are the\ndesiderata sought and obtained in her dress. The question is sometimes\nasked, however, if the heavy leg swathings of buckskin are not a mere\nfashion of Hopi dress. Undoubtedly there is a following of custom here\nas well as elsewhere, and, as I have before remarked, one of the keys\nto the Hopi character is his conservatism. But the buckskin leggings\nhave a decided reason for their existence. In a desert country where\ncacti, cholla, many varieties of prickly shrubs, sharp rocks, and\ndangerous reptiles abound, it is necessary that the women whose work\ncalls them into these dangers should so dress as to be prepared to\novercome them. Many a man wearing the ordinary trousers of civilization\nand finding himself off the beaten paths of these desert regions has\nlonged for just such protection as the Hopi women give themselves. The\ncow-boys who ride pell-mell through the brush wear leather trousers,\nand their stirrups are covered with tough and thick leather to protect\ntheir shoes from being pierced by the searching needles of the cactus,\ncholla, and buck-brush.\n\nThe adornments that a Hopi maiden of fashion affects are silver rings\nand bracelets made by native silversmiths, and necklaces of coral,\nglass, amber, or more generally of the shell wampum found all over the\ncontinent. The finer necklets of wampum are highly prized, and when\nvery old and ornamented with pieces of turquoise, can not be purchased\nfor large sums. Occasionally ear pendants are worn. These are made of\nwood, half an inch broad and an inch long, inlaid on one side with\npieces of bright shell, turquoise, etc.\n\nWhen a girl reaches the marriageable age, she is required by the\ncustoms of her people to fix up her hair in two large whorls, one on\neach side of her head. This gives her a most striking appearance.\nThe whorl represents the squash blossom, which is the Hopi emblem\nof purity and maidenhood. Girls mature very early, the young maidens\nherewith represented being not more than from twelve to fifteen years\nof age.\n\n[Illustration: SHUPELA, FATHER OF KOPELI, LATE SNAKE PRIEST AT WALPI.]\n\n[Illustration: A HOPI GIRL, ORAIBI.]\n\nWhen a woman marries she must no longer wear the nash-mi (whorls). A\nnew symbolism must be introduced. The hair is done up in two pendant\nrolls, in imitation of the ripened fruit of the long squash, which is\nthe Hopi emblem of fruitfulness.\n\nIn my book on \"Indian Basketry\" I have described in detail the basketry\nof the Hopis. There are two distinct varieties made at the four\nvillages of the middle and western mesas. Those made on the middle mesa\nare of yucca fibre (mo-hu) coiled around a core of grass or broom-corn\n(s\u00fc-\u00fc). Those of Oraibi are of willow and approximate as nearly to\nthe crude willow work of civilization as any basketry made by the\naborigines. In both cases the splints are dyed, commonly nowadays with\nthe startling aniline dyes, and with marvellous fertility of invention\nthe weavers make a thousand and one geometrical designs, in imitation\nof natural objects, katchinas, etc. These are mainly plaques, but\nthe yucca fibre weavers make a treasure or trinket basket, somewhat\nbarrel-shaped, oftentimes with a lid, that is both pretty and useful.\nThe name for all the yucca variety is p\u00fc-\u00fc-ta. The Oraibi willow\nplaques are called yung-ya-pa, while a bowl-shaped basket is sa-kah-ta,\nand the bowls made of coiled willow splints bought from the Havasupai\nare s\u00fc-k\u00fc-w\u00fc-ta.\n\nThe Hopi weavers when at work invariably keep a blanket full of moist\nsand near them in which the splints are buried. This keeps them\nflexible, and the moist sand is better than water.\n\nA reddish-brown native dye is made from Ohaishi (_Thelesperma\ngracile_), with which the splints are colored.\n\nUnfortunately, the introduction of aniline dyes has almost killed\nthe industry of making native dyes, but there are some few\nconservatives--God bless them!--who adhere to the ancient colors and\nmethods of preparing them.\n\nIt cannot be said that the Hopis are devoid of musical taste, for in\nthe early morning especially, as the youths and men take their ponies\nor flocks of goats and sheep out to pasture, they sing with sweet and\nfar-reaching voices many picturesque melodies.\n\nOf the weird singing at their religious ceremonials I have spoken in\nthe chapter devoted to that purpose.\n\nTo most civilized ears Hopi instrumental music, however, is as much a\nracket and din as is Chinese music. The lelentu, or flute, however,\nproduces weird, soft, melancholy music. Their rattles are of three\nkinds, the gourd rattle (ai-i-ya), the rattle used by the Antelope\npriests, and the leg rattle of turtle shell and sheep's trotters\n(y\u00f6ng-ush-o-na). The drum and hand tombe are crude affairs, the former\nmade by hollowing out a tree trunk and stretching over each end wet\nrawhide, the lashings also being of strips of wet rawhide (with\nthe hair on), which, when dry, tightens so as to give the required\nresonance. The hand tombe is as near like a home-made tambourine as can\nbe. It has no jingles, however. Another instrument is the strangest\nconception imaginable. It consists of a large gourd shell, from the top\nof which a square hole has been cut. Across this is placed a notched\nstick, one end of which is held in the performer's left hand. In the\nother hand is a sheep's thigh-bone, which is worked back and forth\nover the notched stick, and the resultant noise is the desired music.\nThis instrument is the zhe-gun\u00b4-pi.\n\nThey do not seem to have many games, so many of their religious\nceremonials affording them the diversion other peoples seek in athletic\nsports. Their racing is purely religious, as I have elsewhere shown,\nand they get much fun out of some of their semi-religious exercises.\n\nA game that they are very fond of, and that requires considerable\nskill to play, is w\u0113-la. The game consists in several players, each\narmed with a feathered dart, or ma-te\u00b4-va, rushing after a small hoop\nmade of corn husks or broom-corn well bound together--the w\u0113-la,\nand throwing their darts so that they stick into it The hoop is about\na foot in diameter and two inches thick, the ma-te\u00b4-va nearly a foot\nlong. Each player's dart has a different color of feathers, so that\neach can tell when he scores. To see a dozen swarthy and almost nude\nyouths darting along in the dance plaza, or streets, or down in the\nvalley on the sand, laughing, shouting, gesticulating, every now and\nthen stopping for a moment, jabbering over the score, then eagerly\nfollowing the motion of the thrower of the w\u0113-la so as to be ready\nto strike the ma-te\u00b4-va into it, and then, suddenly letting them fly,\nis a picturesque and lively sight.\n\nThe Hopi is quite a traveller. Though fond of home, I have met members\nof the tribe in varied quarters of the Painted Desert Region. They\nget a birch bark from the Verdi Valley with which they make the dye\nfor their moccasins. A yellowish brown color, called _pavissa_, is\nobtained from a point near the junction of the Little Colorado and\nMarble Canyon. Here they obtain salt, and at the bottom of the salt\nsprings, where the waters bubble up in pools, this _pavissa_ settles.\nBahos, or prayer sticks, are always deposited at the time of obtaining\nthis ochre, as it is to be used in the painting of the face of the\nbahos used in most sacred ceremonies. The so-called Moki trail is\nevidence of the long association between the Hopis and the Havasupais\nin Havasu (Cataract) Canyon, and I have often met them there trading\nblankets, horses, etc., for buckskin and the finely woven wicker\nbowl-baskets--k\u00fc-\u00fcs--of the Havasupais, which are much prized by the\nHopis.\n\nOccasionally he reaches as far northeast as Lee's Ferry and even\ncrosses into southern Utah, and at Zuni to the southeast he is ever\na welcome visitor. The Apaches in the White Mountains tell that on\noccasions the Hopis will visit them, and when visiting the Yumas in\n1902 they informed me that long ago the Snake Dancing Mokis were their\nfriends, and sometimes came to see them.\n\nDr. Walter Hough has written a most interesting paper on \"Environmental\nInterrelations in Arizona,\" in which are many items about the Hopis. He\nsays they brought from their priscan home corn, beans, melons, squash,\ncotton, and some garden plants, and that they have since acquired\npeaches, apricots, and wheat, and among other plants which they\ninfrequently cultivate may be named onions, chili, sunflowers, sorghum,\ntomatoes, potatoes, grapes, pumpkins, garlic, coxcomb, coriander,\nsaffron, tobacco, and nectarines. They are great beggars for seeds and\nwill try any kind that may be given to them.\n\nOwing to their dependence upon wild grasses for food when their corn\ncrops used to fail,--that is, in the days before a paternal government\nhelped them out at such times,--every Hopi child was a trained botanist\nfrom his earliest years; not trained from our standpoint, but from\ntheirs. We should say much of his knowledge was unscientific, and it\ngoes far beyond the use of grasses and plants as food. Dr. Hough in\nhis paper gives a number of examples of the uses to which the various\nseeds, etc., are put. The botanist as well as the ethnologist will find\nthis a most comprehensive and useful list. For food forty-seven seeds,\nberries, stems, leaves, or roots are eaten. The seeds of a species of\nsporobolus are ground with corn to make a kind of cake, which the Hopis\ngreatly enjoy. The leaves of a number are cooked and eaten as greens.\n\nA large amount of folk-lore connected with plants has been collected\nby Drs. Fewkes and Hough. From the latter's extensive list I quote.\nFor headache the leaves of the _Astragalus mollissimus_ are bruised\nand rubbed on the temples; tea is made from the root of the _Gaura\nparviflora_ for snake bite; women boil the _Townsendia arizonica_\ninto a tea and drink it to induce pregnancy; a plant called by the\nHopi _w\u00fctakpala_ is rubbed on the breast or legs for pain; _Verbesina\nenceloides_ is used on boils or for skin diseases; _Croton texlusis_ is\ntaken as an emetic; _Allionia linearis_ is boiled to make an infusion\nfor wounds; the mistletoe that grows on the juniper (_Phoradendron\njuniperinum_) makes a beverage which both Hopi and Navaho say is like\ncoffee, and a species that grows on the cottonwood, called _lo mapi_,\nis used as medicine; the leaves of _Gilia longiflora_ are boiled\nand drank for stomach ache; the leaves of the _Gilia multiflora_\n(which is collected forty miles south of Walpi at an elevation of six\nthousand feet), when bruised and rubbed on ant bites is said to be a\nspecific; _Oreocarya suffruticosa_ is pounded up and used for pains in\nthe body; _Carduus rothrockii_ is boiled and drank as tea for colds\nwhich give rise to a prickling sensation in the throat; the leaves\nof _Coleosanthus wrightii_ are bruised and rubbed on the temples for\nheadache, as also is the _Artemisia canadensis_; and so on throughout a\nlist as long again as this.\n\nIn connection with this list Dr. Hough calls attention to the workings\nof the Hopi mind in a manner which justifies an extensive quotation:--\n\n \"The word 'medicine' as applied by the Hopi and other tribes is very\n comprehensive, including charms to influence gods, men, and animals,\n or to cure a stomach ache. As stated, from experiments with the plants\n some have been discovered which are uniform in action and which\n would have place in a standard pharmacop\u0153ia. Thus there are heating\n plasters, powders for dressing wounds, emetics, diuretics, purges,\n sudorific infusions, etc. Other plants are of doubtful value, and in\n their use other animistic ideas may enter, though some of them, such\n as those infused for colds, headache, rheumatism, fever, etc., may\n have therapeutic properties. The obligation of the civilized to the\n uncivilized for healing plants is very great. Another class is clearly\n out of the domain of empirical medicine. Tea made from the thistle is\n a remedy for prickling pains in the larynx, milkweed will induce a\n flow of milk, and there are other examples of inferential medicine.\n Perhaps another class is shown by the employment of the plant named\n for the bat, in order to induce sleep in the daytime.\n\n \"It may be interesting to look into the workings of the Indian mind as\n shown by his explanation of the uses of certain of these plants.\n\n \"A beautiful scarlet gilia (_Gilia aggregata_ Spreng) grows on the\n talus of the giant mesa on which ancient Awatobi stood. This is the\n only locality where the plant has been collected in this region,\n but it grows in profusion on the White Mountains, one hundred and\n twenty-five miles southeast.\n\n \"The herdsman of our party was asked the name and use of the plant. He\n replied: 'It is the _pala katchi_, or red male flower, and it is very\n good for catching antelope. Before going out to kill antelope, hunters\n rub up the flowers and leaves of the plant and mix them with the meal\n which they offer during their prayer to the gods of the chase.'\n\n \"'Why is that?' was asked.\n\n \"'Because,' he replied, 'the antelope is very fond of this plant and\n eats it greedily when he can find it.' (Animistic idea.)\n\n \"Another creeping plant (_Solanum triflorum_ Nutt.), which bears\n numerous green fruit about the size of a cherry, filled with small\n seeds, is called _cavayo ngahu_, or watermelon medicine. The plant may\n be likened to a miniature watermelon vine. It was explained that if\n one took the fruit and planted it in the same hill with the watermelon\n seeds, would there be many watermelons,--that is, the watermelon would\n be influenced to become as prolific as the small plant.\n\n \"Every one is familiar with the clematis bearing fluffy bunches of\n seeds having long, hair-like appendages. An Indian lecturing on a\n collected specimen of the clematis said: 'This is very good to make\n the hair grow. You make a tea of it and rub it on the head, and pretty\n quick your hair will hang down to your hips,' indicating by a gesture\n the extraordinary length. For the same reason the fallugia is a good\n hair tonic.\"\n\nThe Hopi uses a weapon for catching rabbits which, for want of a\nbetter name, white men call a boomerang. It possesses none of the\nstrange properties of the Australian weapon, yet in the hands of a\nskilled Hopi it is wonderfully effective. I have seen fifty Oraibis on\nhorseback, and numbers of men and boys on foot, each armed with one\nof these weapons, on their rabbit drive. They determine on a certain\narea and then beat it thoroughly for rabbits, and woe be to the unhappy\ncottontail or even lightning-legged jack-rabbit if a Hopi throws his\nboomerang. Like the wind it speeds true to its aim and seldom fails to\nkill or seriously wound.\n\nThough most of the men have guns and many of the youths revolvers, the\nbow and arrow as a weapon is not entirely discarded. All the young\nboys, even little tots that can scarcely walk, use the bow and arrow\nwith dexterity. A small hard melon or pumpkin is thrown into the air\nand a child will sometimes put two or even three arrows into it before\nit reaches the ground. Old men who are too poor to own modern weapons\nare often seen sitting like the proverbial and oft-pictured fox,\nstealthily watching for a ground squirrel, prairie-dog, or rat to come\nout of his hole, when the speedy and certain arrow is let fly to his\nundoing.\n\nExcept for a little wild meat of this kind, secured seldom, or a sheep,\nwhich is too valuable for its wool to kill on any except very special\nand rare occasions, the Hopis are practically vegetarians. They are\nnot above taking what the gods send them, however, in the shape of a\ndead horse. A few years ago Mr. D. M. Riordan, formerly of Flagstaff,\nconducted a party of friends over a large section of the region\npresented in these pages, and when near Oraibi a beautiful mare of one\nof the teams suddenly bloated and speedily died. In less than an hour\nafter they were told they might take the flesh; the Hopis had skinned\nit, cut up the carcass, and removed every shred of it. I afterwards saw\nthe flesh cut into strips, hung outside the houses of the fortunate\npossessors to dry, and I doubt not that horse meat made many a happy\nmeal for them during the months that followed.\n\n[Illustration: HOPI CHILDREN, AT ORAIBI, WAITING FOR A SCRAMBLE OF\nCANDY.]\n\nWhen a Hopi feels rich he may buy a sheep or a goat from a Navaho, or\neven kill a burro in order to vary his dietary.\n\nCorn is his staple food. It is cooked in a variety of ways, but the\nthree principal methods are piki, pikami, and p\u016b-v\u016b-l\u016b. Piki\nis a thin, wafer-like bread, cooked as I have before described.\n\nOn one occasion, at Oraibi, an old friend, Na-wi-so-ma, was making piki\nfor the Snake Dancers. When I took my friends to see her, they all ate\nof the bread and asked her all manner of questions about it.\n\nNa-wi-so-ma was very kind and obliging. One of my party wished to\nmake moving photographs of the operation of making piki, so she\ncheerfully moved her t\u014d\u014d-ma (cooking stone) outside. She insisted\nupon placing it, however, so that her back was to the blazing sun,\nwhich rendered it impossible to make the photographs. It was in vain\nthat I explained to her why she must face the sun, and, at last, in\ndesperation, I seized the heavy t\u014d\u014d-ma and carried it where I\ndesired it to be. In my haste in putting it down--rather, dropping\nit--it snapped in two, and I had to repair the damage to her stone and\nfeelings with a piece of silver ere we could proceed.\n\nPikami is made as follows: A certain amount of corn-meal is mixed with\na small amount of sugar, and coloring matter made from squash flowers.\nThis mixture is then placed in an earthenware vessel, or olla, and a\ncover tightly sealed on the vessel with mud. It is now ready to go\ninto the oven. The pikami oven is generally out of doors. Sometimes\nit is a mere hole in the ground, without a covering, but the better\nstyle is where the hole is located in the angle of two walls and\npartially covered. A broken olla is made to serve as a chimney. To\nprepare the oven, sticks of wood are placed inside it and set on fire.\nWhen these are reduced to flaming coals and the oven is red hot, the\ncoals are withdrawn, and the olla containing the corn-meal mixture is\nlowered into the hole. This is then covered with a stone slab, sealed\nwith mud, and allowed to remain closed for several hours. When the\noven is unsealed and the olla withdrawn, the corn-meal is thoroughly\ncooked--now pikami--and the dish is both nutritious and delicious.\n\nP\u016b-v\u016b-l\u016b is a corn-meal preparation that corresponds somewhat\nto the New England doughnut. On one occasion, just before the Snake\nDance at Mashonganavi, I found Ma-sa-wi-ni-ma, Kuchyeampsi's mother,\nbusy preparing the dish. When I induced her to come into the sunshine\nto be photographed, stirring the meal, just eight other kodak and\ncamera fiends insisted upon \"shooting\" her at the same time. She was\nvery complacent about it, especially when I collected ten cents a head\nfor her, and handed her ninety cents for her five minutes' pose.\n\nHer method was as follows: Into a cha-ka-ta (bowl) she placed corn-meal\nand a little coloring matter. Then adding sugar and water, she stirred\nit with a stick, as shown in the photograph. It was made to a thick\ndough. In the meantime a pan of water, into which mutton fat had been\nplaced, was on the fire, and when it was hot enough small balls of the\ncorn-meal dough were dropped into the water and fat and allowed to\nremain until cooked. The result is a not unpleasant food, of which the\nHopis are very fond.\n\nOne of the common dishes, when a sheep has been killed, is the\nne\u00fc-euck\u00b4-que-vi, a stew composed of corn, mutton, and chili.\n\nSo far the Hopis have not been a success as traders. It is a slow\nand long journey from aboriginal life to civilization. One of the\nyoung men who had been to school, a bright youth of some twenty-three\nyears,--Kuy-an-im\u00b4-ti-wa,--was fired with a desire to trade with his\npeople on his own account. Permission was given him by the agent to\nstart a store. A small building was speedily erected at the foot of\nthe Mashonganavi mesa and a stock of goods purchased. For a while\nthings went well. Then Kuyanimtiwa had to go away on business, and an\nelderly uncle (I think it was) took charge of the store in his absence.\nWhen the embryo trader returned he found his shelves nearly empty,\nand a lot of trash accumulated under his counter, which the old man\nhad taken \"in trade.\" The credits of many Hopis had been extended and\nenlarged without proper consulting of Bradstreet's or Dun's, and blank\nruin stared poor Kuyanimtiwa in the face. I purchased about eighty\ndollars' worth of baskets and \"truck\" from him, for which, however,\nI was compelled to give him my check. For long weeks, indeed months,\nthe check did not come in, until I feared the poor fellow had lost it.\nWhen I inquired I found it was in the hands of the agent, being held as\nsecurity until some disposal was made of a suit between the old man and\nKuyanimtiwa. It ultimately reached the bank, so I assume the trouble\nwas ended, but it will be some time, if what he said has lasting force,\nbefore the young Hopi will open store again with an untrained assistant.\n\nIn an earlier chapter I have shown that the women build and own the\nhouses. In return the men knit the stockings and weave the women's\ndresses and sashes. With looms very similar to those described in the\nchapter on \"Navaho Blanketry,\" they make the dresses we have seen\nthe women wearing. In the days before the Spaniards introduced sheep\nthe Hopis grew cotton quite extensively, dyed it with the simple but\nbeautiful and permanent dyes, and wove it into garments. The blue of\nthe dresses was originally obtained--and is yet by some--from the seeds\nof the sunflower.\n\nIn several cases I have found blind men engaged in knitting stockings.\nWith needles of wood, long and slender, their fingers busily moved as\nthose of the old housewives used to do in my boyhood's days. One was\nan old man, Tu-ki-i\u00b4-ma. He was \"si-bo\u00b4-si\" (blind), and expressed his\nthankfulness for the occupation. Another poor old man, stone blind, was\nwinding yarn into a ball. He was squatted upon the ground, with the\nyarn around his feet and knees. It was a pathetic sight to see the old\nand forlorn creature anxious to make himself useful, even though blind\nand aged.\n\nThere are a score of other interesting matters I should enjoy referring\nto did space permit, but these must be left for some future time.\n\nThat they are picturesque and interesting, and in some of their\nceremonies fascinating, there is no question. They are religious (in\ntheir way), domestic, honest, faithful, industrious, and chaste. But\nthere is no denying that many of them are dirty,--really, indescribably\nfilthy. One of my old drivers, Franklin French, used to say with a\nturn up of his nose: \"I'd rather associate with a good skunk who was\nup in the skunk business than get to leeward of a Moki town.\" Their\nsanitary accommodations are _nil_, and their habits accord with their\naccommodations. Were it not for the fierce rays of the sun and the\nstrong winds that purify their elevated mesa-tops, the accumulated\nevils would soon render habitation impossible. Water being so scarce,\nthey are not habitually cleanly in person, as are some of the other\npeoples. Hence the contempt with which many of the Navahoes regard them.\n\nOf course there are exceptions, where both houses and individuals are\nas neat and clean as can be. Among Hopis as well as among whites, it is\nnot possible to generalize too widely.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE RELIGIOUS LIFE OF THE HOPI\n\n\nThe Hopi is essentially religious. As a ritualist he has no superior on\nthe face of the earth. From the ceremonial standpoint the Hopi people\nare the most religious nation known. From four to sixteen days of\nevery month are employed by one society or another in the performance\nof secret religious rites, or in public ceremonies, which, for want\nof a better name, the whites call dances. So complex, indeed, is the\nHopi's religious life that we have no complete calendar as yet of _all_\nthe ceremonies that he feels called upon to observe. Every act of his\nlife from the cradle to the grave has a religious side. Fear and the\nneed for propitiation are the motive powers of his religious life, and\nthese, combined with his stanch conservatism, render him a wonderfully\nfertile subject for study as to the workings of the child mind of the\nhuman race.\n\nWith such a complex and vast religious system this chapter can attempt\nno more than merely to outline or suggest the thoughts upon which his\nreligion is based, and then, in brief, describe two or three of the\nmost important of his religious ceremonials.\n\nI can do better than attempt a difficult matter, and one that requires\nyears of study, viz., to account for the religious concepts of the\nIndian. I can urge the reader to obtain Major J. W. Powell's \"Lessons\nof Folk-lore,\" which appeared in the _American Anthropologist_ for\nJanuary-March, 1900. In it he has written a most fascinating account of\nthe thought movements of the Amerind; and Dr. J. Walter Fewkes, in his\n\"Interpretation of Katchina Worship,\" has given a clearer idea of Hopi\nreligious belief than has ever before been penned.\n\n[Illustration: GROUP OF HOPI MAIDENS AT SHUNGOPAVI.]\n\nThe Hopis themselves are not aware of the why and wherefore of all they\ndo. For centuries they have followed \"the ways of the old,\" until they\nare ultra conservatives, especially in matters pertaining to religion.\n\nI have already referred to and described the kivas or underground\nceremonial chambers, where many of their rites are performed.\n\nSix objects closely connected with their worship should be thoroughly\nunderstood, as such knowledge will simplify a thousand and one things\nthat will otherwise appear mysterious to one who visits the Hopis for\nthe first time. These objects are the _baho_ (prayer stick or plume),\nthe _puhtabi_ (road marker), the _tiponi_, the _natchi_, the _shrine_,\nand the _katchina_.\n\nThe baho is inseparably connected with all religious ceremonies and\nprayers. Without it prayers would be inefficacious. Generally, before\nevery ceremony is performed, a certain time is given to the making of\nbahos. One form of baho is made of two sticks, painted green with black\npoints, one male and the other female, tied together with a string made\nof native cotton, and cut to a prescribed length. A small corn husk,\nshaped like a funnel and holding a little prayer meal and honey, is\nattached to the sticks at their place of union. Tied to this husk is a\nshort, four-stranded cotton string, on the end of which are two small\nfeathers. A turkey wing-feather and a sprig of two certain herbs are\ntied so as to protrude above the butt ends of the sticks, and the baho\nis complete.\n\nOther bahos are made of flat pieces of board, anywhere from a foot to\nthree feet in length, and two inches or more wide, to which feathers\nand herbs are attached. On the face of these figures of katchinas,\nanimals, reptiles, and natural objects, such as rain-clouds, descending\nrain, corn, etc., are painted, every object having a distinct and\nsymbolic meaning. In other cases the bahos are carved into the zigzag\nshape of the lightning. The Soyal bahos are many and various. Some\nare long, thin sticks, with cotton strings and feathers attached near\nthe ends; others are thicker, with many feathers tied to the centre;\nsome are bent or crook-shaped, while still others are long willow\nswitches to which eagle, hawk, turkey, flicker, and other feathers\nare tied. They are made with great care and solemnity and prayed over\nand \"consecrated\" before being used. They are \"prayer bearers,\" the\nfeathers symbolizing the birds who used to fly to and from the World of\nthe Powers with their messages to mankind and the answers thereto.\n\nThe puhtabi (or road marker) is a long piece of native cotton string,\nto which a feather or feathers are attached, and it is placed on the\ntrails to mark the beginning of the road (hence its name) to the\nshrines which are to be visited during the ceremonies.\n\nThe tiponi is to the Hopi what the cross is to the devout Catholic.\nNo altar is complete without it. Altars are often set up with a\nsubstitute for a tiponi, but all recognize its insufficiency. Tiponis\nvary, that of the Antelope Society being a bunch of long feathers\n(see the photograph in the chapter on the \"Snake Dance\"), while\nthat of the Soyal ceremony is of a quartz crystal inserted into a\ncylindrical-shaped vessel of cottonwood root.\n\nIn the Lelentu and Lalakonti ceremonies part of the rites consist in\nan unwrapping of the tiponis. In both of them either kernels of corn\nor other seeds formed essential parts. Dr. Fewkes says: \"From chiefs\nof other societies it has been learned that their tiponis likewise\ncontained corn, either in grains or on the ear. Although from this\ninformation one is not justified in concluding that all tiponis contain\ncorn, it is probably true with one or two exceptions. The tiponi is\ncalled the \"mother,\" and an ear of corn given to a novice has the same\nname. There is nothing more precious to an agricultural people than\nseed, and we may well imagine that during the early Hopi migrations the\ndanger of losing it may have led to every precaution for its safety.\nThus it may have happened that it was wrapped in the tiponi and given\nto the chief to guard with all care as a most precious heritage. In\nthis manner it became a mere symbol, and as such it persists to-day.\"\n\nWhenever ceremonies are about to take place in the kivas the chief\npriest puts in place on the ladder-poles or near the hatchway of\neach participating kiva a sign of the fact, called the natchi. This\nI have later described on the Snake and Antelope kivas. At the Soyal\nceremony on the Kwan (Agave) kiva, the natchi consisted of a bent\nstick, to which were fastened six feathers, representing the Hopi six\nworld-quarters. For the north, a yellow feather of the flycatcher or\nwarbler; for the west, a blue feather of the bluebird; for the south, a\nred feather of the parrot; for the east, a black-and-white feather of\nthe magpie; for the northeast (above), a black feather of the hepatic\ntanager; and for the southwest (below), a feather from an unknown\nsource and called _toposhkwa_, representing different colors.\n\nThe natchis of two of the kivas in the New Fire ceremony held in Walpi\nin 1898 were sticks, about a foot long, to the ends of which bundles\nof hawk feathers were attached. At another kiva it was an agave stalk,\nat one end of which were attached several crane feathers and a circlet\nof corn husks. A natchi used later by another society consisted of\na cap-shaped object of basketry, to which were attached two small\nwhitened gourds in imitation of horns.\n\nThat the natchi is more than a sign of warning to outsiders to keep\naway from the secret rites of the kiva is evidenced by the variety of\nmaterials used; and, indeed, the things themselves are now known to be\nsymbols, to some of which Mr. Voth has learned the key. For instance,\non the natchi of the Snake and Antelope Societies, the skins of the\n_piwani_--which is supposed to be the weasel--are attached. The Hopis\nsay of the animal to whom the skin belongs that when chased into a\nhole, he works his way through the ground so quickly that he escapes\nand \"gets out\" at some other place. Now see the ceremonial significance\nof the use of this weasel's skin on the Snake natchi. They are supposed\nto affect the clouds and compel them to \"come out,\" so that rain will\ncome quickly.\n\nNear all the villages, or on the terraces below, a number of shrines\nmay be found where certain of the \"Powers\" are worshipped. In the\naccount of the Snake Dance I speak of the shrine of the Spider Woman,\nand show the photograph made when I followed Tubangointiwa (the\nAntelope chief), and watched him deposit bahos and offer prayers to\nher. The number of shrines is large. I have seen many, but there is not\nspace here to describe them. It is an interesting occupation, during\nthe ceremonies, to follow the priests, after they have deposited the\npuhtabi and begun to sprinkle the sacred meal, to the shrines. If the\nobserver can then have explained to him the deity to whom the shrine is\ndedicated, and his or her place in the Hopi pantheon, his knowledge of\nHopi worship will be considerably increased.\n\nOf katchinas much might be written. They are ancient ancestral\nrepresentatives of certain Hopi clans who, as spirits of the dead, are\nendowed with powers to aid the living members of the clan in material\nways. The clans, therefore, pray to them that these material blessings\nmay be given. \"It is an almost universal idea of primitive man,\" says\nFewkes, \"that prayers should be addressed to personations of the beings\nworshipped. In the carrying out of this conception men personate the\nkatchinas, wearing masks and dressing in the costumes characteristic\nof these beings. These personations represent to the Hopi mind their\nidea of the appearance of these katchinas or clan ancients. The spirit\nbeings represented in these personations appear at certain times in\nthe pueblo, dancing before spectators, receiving prayer for needed\nblessings, as rain and good crops.\"\n\nThe katchinas are supposed to come to the earth from the underworld in\nFebruary and remain until July, when they say farewell. Hence there\nare two specific times which dramatically celebrate the arrival and\ndeparture of the katchinas. The former of these times is called by\nthe Hopi _Powam\u00fb_, and the latter _Niman_. At these festivals, or\nmerry dances, certain members of the participating clans wear masks\nrepresenting the katchinas, hence katchina masks are often to be found\nin Hopi houses when one is privileged to see the treasures stored away.\nIn order to instruct the children in the many katchinas of the Hopi\npantheon, _tih\u00fbs_, or dolls, are made in imitation of the ancestral\nsupernal beings, and these quaint and curious toys are eagerly sought\nafter by those interested in Indian life and thought. Dr. Fewkes has in\nhis private collection over two hundred and fifty different katchina\ntih\u00fbs, and in the Field Columbian Museum there is an even larger\ncollection.\n\nOf the altars, screens, fetishes, cloud-blowers, ceremonial pipes,\nbull-roarers, etc., I have not space here to write. Suffice it to\nsay they have a large place in the Hopi's ritual and all should be\ncarefully studied.\n\nWhen I first began to visit the Hopis my camps were generally at the\nfoot of the trail, as near to water as possible. Every morning at a\nvery early hour I was awakened by a loud ringing of cowbells, and at\nfirst I thought it must be that the Hopis had a herd of cows and they\nwere driving them out to pasture. They were evidently going at a good\nspeed, for the bells clanged and clattered and jangled as if being\nfiercely shaken. But when I looked for the cows they were never to\nbe seen. Then, too, as on succeeding mornings I listened I found the\nanimals must be driven very hastily, for the sound moved with great\nrapidity towards, past, away from me.\n\nOne morning I determined to get up and watch as soon as I heard the\nnoise approaching. It was just as the earliest premonitions of dawn\nwere being given that I was awakened, and, hurriedly jumping up, stood\non my blankets and watched. Soon one, two, four, and more figures\ndarted by in the dim light, each carrying a jangling cowbell, and to\nmy amazement I found they were not cows, but Hopi young men, naked\nexcept for a strap or girdle around the loins, from which hung the\nbell, resting upon the haunch. They were out for their morning run, and\nit was not merely a physical exercise, but had a distinct religious\nmeaning to them. As I have elsewhere written:--\n\n\"The Hopi has lived for many centuries among the harsh conditions of\nthe desert land. Everything is wrested from nature. Nothing is given\nfreely, as in such a land as southern California for instance. Water\nis scarce and has to be caught in the valley and carried with heavy\nlabor to the mesa summit. The soil is sandy and not very productive\nunless every particle of seed corn is watered by irrigation. Firewood\nis far away and must be cut and brought to their mesa homes with labor.\nWild grass seeds must be sought where grass abounds, perhaps scores of\nmiles away, and carried home. Pinion nuts can only be gathered in the\npinion forests afar off, and to gain mescal the pits must be dug and\nthe fibres cooked deep down in the mysterious recesses of the Grand\nCanyon. The deer and antelope are swift, and can only be caught for\nfood by those who are stout of limb, powerful of lung, and crafty of\nmind. Hence in the very necessities of their lives they have found the\nuse for physical development. And this imperative physical need soon\ngraduated into a spiritual one. And the steps or processes of reasoning\nby which the chief motive is transferred from the physical to the\nspiritual are readily traceable. Of course, they are a 'chosen people.'\n'Those Above' have given especial favors to them. They must be a credit\nto those Powers who have thus favored them. This implies a steady\ncultivation of their muscular powers. Not to be strong is to be a bad\nHopi, and to be a bad Hopi is to court the disfavor of the gods. Hence\nthe shamans or priests urge the religious necessity of being swift and\nstrong.\"\n\n[Illustration: HOPI WOMAN WEAVING BASKET, HER HUSBAND KNITTING\nSTOCKINGS.]\n\n[Illustration: HOPI WOMAN PREPARING CORN MEAL FOR MAKING DOUGHNUTS.]\n\nNor is this all. In days gone by they were surrounded by predatory\nfoes. Physical endurance was an essential condition of national\npreservation. Without it they would long ago have been starved or\nhunted out of existence. The gods called upon them to preserve\ntheir national life, to live by cultivation of endurance, hence the\nimposition of physical tasks as a religious exercise.\n\nAnd these morning runs of the young men were of ten, twenty, and even\nmore miles, taken without any other food than a few grains of parched\ncorn.\n\nIt is no uncommon thing for an Oraibi or Mashonganavi to run from his\nhome to Moenkopi, a distance of forty miles, over the hot blazing sands\nof a real American Sahara, there hoe his corn-field, and return to his\nhome, within twenty-four hours. The accompanying photograph of an old\nman who had made this eighty-mile run was made the morning after his\nreturn, and he showed not the slightest trace of fatigue.\n\nFor a dollar I have several times engaged a young man to take a message\nfrom Oraibi to Keam's Canyon, a distance of seventy-two miles, and he\nhas run on foot the whole distance, delivered his message, and brought\nme an answer within thirty-six hours.\n\nOne Oraibi, Ku-wa-wen-ti-wa, ran from Oraibi to Moenkopi, thence to\nWalpi, and back to Oraibi, a distance of over ninety miles, in one day.\n\nWhen I was a lad I got the impression somehow that Indians made fire\nby rubbing two sticks together. Once or twice I tried it. I got two\nsticks, perfectly dry, and rubbed and rubbed and rubbed. But the more I\nrubbed, the cooler the sticks seemed to get. I got hot, but that had no\neffect on the sticks.\n\nLater in life, when I began to make my journeys of exploration in the\nwilds of Nevada, California, Arizona, and New Mexico, and I sometimes\nneeded a fire, and didn't have a single match left, I tried it again;\nthis time not as an experiment, but as a serious proposition. My\nrubbing of the two sticks, however, never availed me a particle. I\nmight as well have saved my strength for sawing wood. Yet the Indians\ndo get fire by the rubbing of two sticks together, and the occasion\nof their doing it is one of the greatest and most wonderful of the\nreligious ceremonies of the Hopis. Dr. Fewkes has written for the\nscientific world a full account of it, and from that account I condense\nthe following.\n\nFew white men have ever seen the ceremony, and did they do so and tell\nthe whole of what they saw they would not be believed.\n\nFour societies of priests conduct the elaborate rite at Walpi. It is\nnot held at Sichumavi or Hano, but is conducted at Oraibi and the three\nvillages of the middle mesa. \"The public dances are conducted mainly by\ntwo of the societies, whose actions are of a phallic nature. These two\nact as chorus in the kiva when the fire is made, but the sacred flame\nis kindled by the latter two societies.... For several days before the\nceremony began, large quantities of wood were piled near the kiva\nhatches, and after the rites began, this fuel was carried down into the\nrooms and continually fed to the flames of the new fire by an old man,\nwho never left his task. The flames of the new fire were regarded with\nreverence; no one was allowed to light a cigarette from it or otherwise\nprofane it.\"\n\nOn the first day the chiefs assembled for their ceremonial smoke, and\nthe next day at early dawn one of them went to the narrow portion of\nthe mesa between Walpi and Sichumavi and laid on the trail one of the\npuhtabi, or long strings, elsewhere described, sprinkling a little\nmeal and casting a pinch toward the place of sunrise. At the same time\nhe said a prayer: \"Our Sun, send us rain.\" Just as the sun appeared\nhe \"cried\" the announcement, of which Dr. Fewkes gives the free\ntranslation:--\n\n \"All people awake, open your eyes, arise!\n Become _Talahoya_ (Child of Light), vigorous, active, sprightly.\n Hasten, Clouds, from the four world quarters.\n Come, Snow, in plenty, that water may be abundant when summer\n comes.\n Come, Ice, and cover the fields, that after planting they may yield\n abundantly.\n Let all hearts be glad.\n The W\u00fcw\u016btchimt\u00fb will assemble in four days.\n They will encircle the villages, dancing and singing their lays.\n Let the women be ready to pour water upon them,\n That moisture may come in abundance and all shall rejoice.\"\n\nFour days later, with elaborate preparation and carefully observed\nritual the new fire was made. About a hundred participants were\npresent. When all were ready the fire-board was held in position by two\nkneeling men, while two others manipulated the fire drill. The singing\nchief then gave the signal and two societies started a song, each with\ndifferent words and yet in unison, accompanied by clanging of bells and\nrattling of tortoise shells and deer hoofs. The holes of the fire-board\nand stones were sprinkled with corn pollen. The spindle or fire drill\nwas held vertically between the palms, and in rotating it the top was\npressed downward. Smoke was produced in twenty seconds and a spark of\nfire in about a minute. The spark smudged cedar-bark, which was put\nin place to catch it, and then the driller blew it into a flame. This\nflame was then carried to a pile of greasewood placed in the fireplace,\nand as the wood blazed to the ceiling the song ceased. Prayer was\nthen offered by one of the chief priests of one of the societies and\nceremonial offerings sprinkled into the fire. This priest was followed\nby one from each of the other societies and by individual worshippers.\n\nThey then, in procession, paid a ceremonial visit to the shrine of the\nGoddess of Germs, which is among the rocks at the southwestern point of\nthe mesa. It is made of flat stones set on edge, opened above and on\none side, and consists of a fetish of petrified wood.\n\nThen followed a complex series of ceremonies that merely to outline\nwould require several pages. Some of them are public dances, others\ndramatic representations in a crude fashion of what the legends of the\nHopis say are certain events which transpired in the underworld, and a\nmost important one is the disposal of the sacred embers of the new fire.\n\nThere are few ceremonies in the world that equal in solemnity and\ninterest, and that are more charming, than those performed by the\nparents and other relatives when a Hopi baby comes into the world.\nThere are religion, affection, sentiment, and poetry embraced in what\nwe--the superior people--would undoubtedly term the superstitious rites\nof these simple-hearted people. One reason for the fervor of this rite\nis the genuine welcome every Hopi mother and father accord to their\nbaby when it is born. It is \"good form\" among them to be proud of the\nbirth of their children. No married woman is happy unless she has a\n\"quiver full\" of children, and one of her constant prayers before her\nmarriage is that she may be thus blessed.\n\nSo when the child comes there is great rejoicing. It is immediately\nrubbed all over with ashes to keep the hair from growing on the body;\nor that, at least, is the reason the Hopi mother gives for allowing her\nlittle one to be scrubbed all over with the ashes.\n\nThen it is wrapped up in a cotton blanket of the mother's own weaving,\nfor Hopi women, and men also, are great experts in growing, spinning,\nand weaving cotton. Now it is ready for the cradle. This is either a\npiece of board or a flat piece of woven wicker-work about two and a\nhalf feet long and a foot wide. There is also fixed at the upper end\ntwo or three twigs arranged in a kind of bow, so that a piece of cloth\nthrown over them forms an awning to protect the face of the child from\nthe sun. When this bow is not in use it can be slipped over to the\nback of the cradle. Strapped in this queer cradle, the baby is either\nstretched out upon the ground to go to sleep, covered over with a\nblanket, or reared up against the wall. But if your eyes were keen you\nwould see by its side a beautiful white ear of corn. And if you saw it\nand knew the Hopi mother's ways and her thoughts, you would find that\nthe reason for putting the corn there was this: she believes that the\ncorn represents one of her most powerful gods on the earth, and that if\nthis god is made to feel kindly towards the new-born child he will send\nit good health and strength and skill in hunting and everything else\nthat she desires for her loved baby. So, you see, it is mother love,\ncombined with a singular superstition, that makes the Hopi mother place\nthe ear of corn by the side of her sleeping child.\n\nWhen the baby is twenty days old it is--shall I say?--baptized. You\ncan hardly call it this, but, anyhow, it answers the same thing as\nbaptism does with us. About sunset the child's godmother arrives. She\nis generally the grandmother or aunt on the father's side. Just as the\nfirst streaks of light begin to come in the early morning the ceremony\nbegins. After washing the mother's head and legs and feet, the baby's\nturn comes. The house is full of relatives and friends to watch and\nbring good fortune to the little one. A bowl of suds is made by beating\nthe soapweed until the water is covered with beautiful lather. Then\nthe godmother takes an ear of corn, dips it into the suds, and touches\nthe baby's head with it. This she does four times. Then she washes the\nbaby's head very carefully and thoroughly in the suds. But the washing\nwould be of no good unless all the baby's female relatives on the\nfather's side were to dip their ears of corn into the suds and touch\nits head with them four times, just as the godmother did. Now the baby\nis washed all over, and then--strange to say--the godmother fills her\nmouth full of warm water, and, balancing the baby on one hand, she\nsquirts the water from her mouth all over the little one. To dry it,\nshe holds it before the fire, and when it is quite dry she rubs it\nwith white corn-meal, wraps it in a blanket, and passes it over to the\nmother, who is seated near to the fire. Just before her are two baskets\nfull of corn-meal, one coarsely and one finely ground. Taking an old\nblanket, the godmother spreads it over the mother's lap, the baby is\nplaced on it, then she takes a little of the fine meal and rubs it on\nthe face, arms, and neck of the mother, and also upon the face of the\nchild. Then with the ear of corn in her hand, and slowly and regularly\nmoving it up and down, she prays first over the mother, then over the\nbaby. I have heard several of these prayers. Here is one of them:\n\"Ho-ko-na (butterfly), I ask for you that you live to be old, that you\nmay never be sick, that you may have good corn and all good things. And\nnow I name you Ho-ko-na\" (or whatever the name is to be).\n\nThen every woman and girl of the father's relatives does just the same\nand prays the same kind of prayer; but singular to us is the fact that\neach one gives the child any name she prefers. As each one finishes her\nprayer, she gives her ear of corn and some sacred meal she has brought\nwith her to the mother, who invariably responds with the Hopi \"Thank\nyou!\"--\"Es-kwa-li.\"\n\nNobody knows at the time which name the baby will have, as he or she\ngrows up. That is left to chance to determine--generally the preference\nof the mother.\n\nNow the baby is put in its cradle, with some of the ears of corn\npresented to the mother placed under the lacing on the breast of the\nlittle one, and it is ready to be dedicated to the sun. After sweeping\nthe floor, the godmother sprinkles a line of meal about two inches wide\nfrom the cradle to the door, and the mother does the same thing.\n\n[Illustration: HOPI \"BOOMERANGS.\"\n\n_In the collection of George Wharton James._]\n\n[Illustration: HOPI CEREMONIAL DRUMS.\n\n_In the collection of George Wharton James._]\n\nOut of doors the father is anxiously watching for the first direct\nlight of the sun, and the moment it appears above the horizon he gives\nthe signal. Immediately the godmother picks up the cradle, so that the\nbaby's head is towards the door, and near to the floor, carries it over\nthe line of sacred meal, the mother following. Each has a handful of\nmeal. At the door they stand side by side. The godmother removes the\nblanket from the baby's face, holds the sacred meal to her mouth, says\na short prayer, and then sprinkles the meal towards the sun, and then\nthe mother does the same; and, after ceremonially feeding the baby, all\njoining in the feast, the ceremony is at an end.\n\nAnother most beautiful ceremony of the Hopis is that which alternates\nwith the Snake Dance, viz., the Lelentu, or Flute Dance. I have had\nthe pleasure of witnessing it several times, and last year (1901) was\none of five white persons present. To me this meant walking a weary\nthirteen miles over the hot sands of the Painted Desert, carrying a\ncamera weighing about fifty pounds on my back. But the beauty and charm\nof the ceremony and the satisfaction of obtaining the photographs of it\nmore than repaid me for the hot and exhausting walk.\n\nAfter the secret kiva ceremonies (rites in the underground chambers of\nthe fraternity of the Flute) the first public rites of the day took\nplace at a spring near the home of Lol\u00falomai, the chief of the Oraibi\npueblo, and about five miles west of the town. Here is one of the\npitiful springs upon which the people depend for their meagre supply\nof water. Just before noon men, women, and girls might have been seen\nwending their way from the village on the mesa height, down the steep\ntrails, over the sandy way trodden for centuries by their forefathers,\ntowards the location of the spring.\n\nEvery face was as serious and wore as grave and earnest an expression\nas that of a novice about to be confirmed in her holiest vows. Arrived\nat the spring, an eminence just above it to the southwest was the\nchosen site for the preliminaries. Here an hour or more was spent in\nprayers, sprinkling of meal before and upon the altar, and the painting\nof the symbols of the clan upon the participants.\n\nOther priests during the whole time were on their knees or in other\npostures of reverence, praying, singing, or chanting, and sprinkling\nthe sacred meal on or before the altar. A large number of bahos, or\nprayer sticks and plumes, were used.\n\nAt this time the chief priest left the hillside and solemnly marched\ndown to the spring. It is circular in shape, and with a rude wall built\naround it. At the opening in the circle three small gourd vessels\nwere placed, two of which held sacred water from some far-away spring,\nand the other was full of honey. A singular thing occurred about the\nfilling of this honey jar. A nest of bees had located in the wall of\nthe spring, and the chief priest, taking it for granted that this was a\ngood sign, had the nest dug out and the honey extracted from the comb,\nfor his sacred purposes. After he had prayed for a while the priests\nand women from above marched down, all except the flute players. As\nthey stood around the spring they sang and prayed, while the chief\npriest stepped into the water, bowing his face down over it, and waving\nhis tiponi in and through it. Soon it was a filthy, muddy mess, instead\nof a water spring, and when it seemed mixed up enough he began to dip\nhis face deep into it, while the men and women around continued their\nsinging and worship.\n\nThen he came forth, and now began a most beautiful processional march\naround the spring, in time to the weird playing of the priests above.\nAfter three times circling around, the group stood, facing the west,\nand at certain signals sprinkled large handfuls of sacred meal in the\ndirection of the water. This was followed by a most profuse scattering\nof bahos in the same manner. Literally hundreds of them were thus\nthrown, and I gathered (after the celebrants were gone) scores of them\nfor my collection. The bahos used on this occasion were mere downy\nfeathers to which cotton strings were attached. The effect as the\nmeal and the feathers were thrown was remarkably beautiful, and the\nscene was most impressive; none the less so for its strangeness and\npeculiarity.\n\nThese concluded the ceremonies at this spring. In the meantime the\nchief priest had gone to his house over the hill, and from there had\nstarted out a group of young men who were to race to the spring near\nthe mesa--four miles away. It was a scorching hot day--as I had found\nout in my own walk--and yet these young men bounded over the sandy\ntrail like hunted deer. It was a glorious sight to witness them. Ten\nor a dozen athletic youths, clad scantily, their bronzed figures in\nperfect proportion, revealing their strength and power, their long\nblack hair waving out behind them, darting off like strings from a bow\nacross the desert.\n\nSlowly we followed them, and when we arrived at the other spring found\nthey had long ago passed it, and the victor had received his reward.\n\nSimilar ceremonies were gone through at the near-by spring as at the\none farther away, and when they were completed the whole party formed\nin procession, and as solemnly as if it were a funeral march proceeded\nup the steep trail to the village and there repeated some of the\nceremonies already described.\n\nThe purport of all this it is comparatively easy to understand. The\nSnake Dance is a prayer for rain, which, according to the Hopi's\nideas, is stored in vast reservoirs in the heavens. He also believes\nthat there are vast water supplies under the earth, and so, every\nother year, he petitions the powers that govern and control these\nsubterranean reservoirs to loosen the waters and let them flow forth\ninto the springs.\n\nIn one of the dances of the Navaho they symbolize the water from\nabove and the water from below by linking the first fingers together.\nThis gives us the Greek fret, and when this symbol is copied in their\nbasketry, we see this classic design, purely the result of imitation,\nand having as clear a meaning to the Indian mind as the cross has to\nthe Christian.\n\nReluctantly I am compelled to omit a brief account of the Basket Dance,\nwhich, however, I have partially described in my book on \"Indian\nBasketry.\"\n\nThe Hopis have very clear and distinct conceptions of a spirit life\nbeyond the grave. It is not the \"happy hunting-ground,\" though, to\nwhich the general ideas of the whites consign them. Theirs is a world\nof spirits, with some advantages over the world of human beings, but\nwhere life is very similar to what it was on earth. There is neither\npunishment awarded for wrong done on earth, nor reward for good living.\nIt is simply a continuation of previous existences. When a child is\nborn the spirit is supposed to come from the underworld through an\nopening in the earth's crust called _Shi-p\u00e1-pu_, and when the grown man\ndies his spirit returns thither. His body is buried in a cleft of the\nrocks on the mesa side, a mile or so away from the village. The body is\nwrapped up and placed in the rocky grave, and then covered with loose\nrocks. Food and drink are placed on the grave, so that when the spirit\nascends from the body and begins its long journey to _Shi-p\u00e1-pu_ and\nthence to the underworld, it may have food wherewith to gain strength.\nThe curious visitor will also notice the baho which is thrust between\nthe rocks until it touches the body. Another baho touching this upright\none is placed on the grave pointing toward the southwest. These bahos\nare especially prepared by the shaman, or \"medicine man,\" and are for\nthe purpose of guiding the spirit as it leaves the body. If no baho\nwere there, the spirit might grope in darkness, trying to force its way\ndown; but, being directed by the prayers of the shaman, the disembodied\nspirit immediately realizes the guiding power of the baho, and,\nfollowing it, reaches the companion baho pointing to the southwest,\nthe direction it must travel to reach the entrance to the underworld.\nThis entrance to the underworld was long thought to be in the San\nFrancisco Mountains near Flagstaff. But Dr. Fewkes explains this to be\nan error. The _Shi-p\u00e1-pu_ is, to the Hopi, the \"sun-house or place of\nsunset at the winter solstice. As seen from Walpi, the entrance to the\nsun-house is indicated by a notch on the horizon situated between the\nSan Francisco range and the Eldon mesa,\" hence the conception that the\nentrance to the underworld was in that exact location.\n\n[Illustration: A HOPI BELLE AT SHUNGOPAVI.]\n\n[Illustration: BLIND HOPI BOY, KNITTING STOCKINGS.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE HOPI SNAKE DANCE\n\n\nWhile perhaps no more important than others of the many ceremonies\nof the Hopis, the Snake Dance is by far the widest known and most\nexciting and thrilling to the spectator. There have been many accounts\nof it written, yet no less an authority than Dr. Jesse Walter Fewkes\nof the Smithsonian Institution asserts that the major portion of them\nare not worth the paper they are written on. Inaccurate in outline,\nfaulty in detail, they utterly fail, in the most part, to grasp the\ndeep importance of the ceremony to the religious Hopis. It is commonly\ndescribed as a wild, chaotic, yelling, shouting, pagan dance, instead\nof the solemn dignified rite it is. From various articles of my own\nwritten at different times I mainly extract the following account and\nexplanations.\n\nThis dance alternates in each village with the Lelentu, or Flute\nceremony, so that, if the visitor goes on successive years to the same\nvillage, he will see one year the Snake Dance and on the following\nyear the Lelentu. But if he alternates his visits to the different\nvillages he may see the Snake Dance every year, and, as the ceremonies\nare not all held simultaneously, he may witness the open-air portion\nof the ceremony, which is the Snake Dance proper, three times on the\neven years and twice on the odd years. For instance, in the year 1905\nit will occur at Walpi and Mashonganavi; and in 1906 at Oraibi,\nShipauluvi, and Shungopavi.\n\n[Illustration: THE BEGINNING OF THE HOPI SNAKE DANCE, ORAIBI, 1902.]\n\nThe Hopis are keen observers of all celestial and terrestrial\nphenomena, and, as soon as the month of August draws near, the Snake\nand Antelope fraternities meet in joint session to determine, by the\nmeteorological signs with which they are familiar, the date upon which\nthe ceremonies shall begin.\n\nThis decided, the public crier is called upon to make the announcement\nto the whole people. Standing on the house-top, in a peculiarly\nmonotonous and yet jerky shout he announces the time when the elders\nhave decided the rites shall commence. Sometimes, as at Walpi, this\nannouncement is made sixteen days before the active ceremonies begin,\nthe latter, in all the villages, lasting nine days and terminating in\nthe popularly known open-air dance, after which four days of feasting\nand frolic are indulged in, thus making, in all, twenty days devoted to\nthe observance.\n\nFor all practical purposes, however, nine days cover all the ceremonies\nconnected with it.\n\nAt Walpi, on the first of the nine days, the first ceremony consists\nof the \"setting up\" of the Antelope altar. This is an interesting\nspectacle to witness, as at Walpi the altar is more elaborate and\ncomplex than in any other village. It consists, for the greater part,\nof a mosaic made of different colored sands, in the use of which some\nof the Hopis are very dexterous. These sands are sprinkled on the\nfloor. First a border is made of several parallel rows or lines of\ndifferent colors. Within this border clouds are represented, below\nwhich four zigzag lines are made. These lines figure the lightning,\nwhich is the symbol of the Antelope fraternity. Two of these zigzags\nare male, and two female, for all things, even inanimate, have sex\namong this strange people. In the place of honor, on the edge of\nthe altar, is placed the \"tiponi,\" or palladium of the fraternity.\nThis consists of a bunch of feathers, fastened at the bottom with\ncotton strings to a round piece of cottonwood. Corn stalks, placed\nin earthenware jars, are also to be seen, and then the whole of the\nremaining three sides of the altar are surrounded by crooks, to\nwhich feathers are attached, and bahos, or prayer sticks. It was\nwith trepidation I dared to take my camera into the mystic depths of\nthe Antelope kiva. I had guessed at focus for the altar, and when I\nplaced the camera against the wall, pointed toward the sacred place,\nthe Antelope priests bid me remove it immediately. I begged to have\nit remain so long as I stayed, but was compelled to promise I would\nnot place my head under the black cloth and look at the altar. This I\nreadily promised, but at the first opportunity when no one was between\nthe lens and the altar, I quietly removed the cap from the lens,\nmarched away and sat down with one of the priests, while the dim light\nperformed its wonderful work on the sensitive plate. A fine photograph\nwas the result.\n\nThe ceremonies of the Antelope kiva for the succeeding days consist of\nthe making of bahos, or prayer sticks, ceremonial smoking, praying, and\nsinging. But the profound ritualistic importance attached to every act\ncan scarcely be estimated by those who have not personally seen the\nceremonies. The prayer sticks are prayed over and consecrated at every\nstep in their manufacture, and the altar is prayed over and blessed\neach day. Every object used is consecrated with elaborate ritual,\nand the great smoke is made by each one solemnly participating in the\nsmoking of _\u00f3mow\u00fbh_ (the sacred pipe). The smoke from this pipe soon\nfills the chamber with its pleasant fragrance (the tobacco used being\na weed native to the Hopi region), and it is supposed to ascend to the\nheavens and thus provoke the descent of the rain.\n\nThe songs are sung to the accompaniment of rattling by the priests, and\neach day the whole of the sixteen songs are rendered.\n\nDuring the singing of one day one of the priests strikes the floor\nwith a blunt instrument, and Wiki, the chief priest, explained this\nas the sending of a mystic message to a member of the Snake-Antelope\nfraternity at far-away Acoma, telling him that the ceremonies were now\nin progress and asking him to come. Strange to say, eight days later,\ncertain Acomas did come, thus giving color to the assertion of the Hopi\nfraternities that the Snake Dance once used to be performed on the\nglorious penyol height of Acoma, as was briefly stated by Espejo.\n\nIt is in the Snake kiva that the snake charm liquid is made. In the\ncentre of a special altar a basket made by a Havasupai Indian is\nplaced. In this are dropped some shells, charms, and a few pieces of\ncrushed nuts and sticks. Then one of the priests, with considerable\nritual, pours into the basket from north, west, south, east, up and\ndown (the six cardinal points of the Hopi), liquid from a gourd vessel.\nBy this time all the priests are squatted around the basket, chewing\nsomething that one of the older priests had given them. This chewed\nsubstance is then placed in the liquid of the basket. Water from gourds\non the roof is also put in.\n\nThen all is ready for the preparation of the charm. Each priest\nholds in his hand the snake whip (a stick to which eagle feathers\nare attached), while the ceremonial pipe-lighter, after lighting the\nsacred pipe, hands it to the chief priest, addressing him in terms of\nrelationship. Smoking it in silence, the chief puffs the smoke into the\nliquid and hands it to his neighbor, who does the like and passes it\non. All thus participate in solemn silence.\n\nThen the chief priest picks up his rattle and begins a prayer which is\nas fervent as one could desire. Shaking the rattle, all the priests\ncommence to sing a weird song in rapid time, while one of them holds\nupright in the middle of the basket a black stick, on the top of which\nis tied a feather. Moving their snake whips to and fro, they sing four\nsongs, when one of the chiefs picks up all the objects on the altar and\nplaces them in the basket.\n\nIn a moment the kiva rings with the fierce yells of the Hopi war-cry,\nwhile the priest vigorously stirs the mixture in the basket. And the\nrapid song is sung while the priest stirs and kneads the contents of\nthe basket with his hands. Sacred meal is cast into the mixture, while\nthe song sinks to low tones, and gradually dies away altogether, though\nthe quiet shaking of the rattles and gentle tremor of the snake whips\ncontinue for a short time.\n\nThen there is a most painful silence. The hush is intense, the\nstillness perfect. It is broken by the prayer of the chief priest, who\nsprinkles more sacred meal into the mixture. Others do the same. The\nliquid is again stirred, and then sprinkled to all the cardinal points,\nand the same is done in the air outside, above the kiva.\n\nThen the stirring priest takes some white earth, and mixing it with the\ncharm liquid, makes white paint which he rubs upon the breast, back,\ncheeks, forearms, and legs of the chief priest. All the other priests\nare then likewise painted.\n\n[Illustration: THE CHIEF ANTELOPE PRIEST DEPOSITING PAHOS AT THE SHRINE\nOF THE SPIDER WOMAN.]\n\n[Illustration:\n\nCOPYRIGHT 1896 F. H. MAUDE\n\nTHROWING THE SNAKES INTO THE CIRCLE OF SACRED MEAL.]\n\nNow there is nothing whatever in this liquid that can either charm a\nsnake or preserve an Indian from the deadly nature of its bite. Even\nthe Hopis know that all its virtue is communicated in the ceremonies I\nhave so imperfectly and inadequately described. I make this explanation\nlest my reader assume that there is some subtle poison used in this\nmixture, which, if given to the snakes, stupefies them and renders them\nunable to do injury.\n\nThe singing of the sixteen songs referred to is a most solemn affair.\nSnake and Antelope priests meet in the kiva of the latter. The chief\npriests take their places at the head of the altar, and the others\nline up on either side, the Snake priests to the left, the Antelope\nto the right. Kneeling on one knee, the two rows of men, with naked\nbodies, solemn faces, bowed heads, no voice speaking above a whisper,\ndemand respect for their earnestness and evident sincerity. To one\nunacquainted with their language and the meaning of the songs, the\nweird spectacle of all these nude priests, kneeling and solemnly\nchanting in a sonorous humming manner, their voices occasionally rising\nin a grand crescendo, speedily to diminish in a thrilling pianissimo,\nproduces a seriousness wonderfully akin to the spirit of worship.\n\nAccording to the legendary lore of the Snake clan the Zunis, Hopis,\nPaiutis, Havasupais, and white men all made their ascent from the lower\nworld to the earth's surface through a portion of Pis-is-bai-ya (the\nGrand Canyon of the Colorado River) near where the Little Colorado\nempties into the main river. As the various families emerged, some\nwent north and some south. Those that went north were driven back by\nfierce cold which they encountered, and built houses for themselves at\na place called To-ko-n\u00e1-bi. But, unfortunately, this was a desert place\nwhere but little rain fell, and their corn could not grow. In their\npathetic language the Hopis say, \"The clouds were small and the corn\nweak.\" The chief of the village had two sons and two daughters. The\noldest of these sons, Tiyo, resolved to commit himself to the waters of\nthe Colorado River, for they, he was convinced, would convey him to the\nunderworld, where he could learn from the gods how always to be assured\nof their favor.\n\n(This idea of the Colorado River flowing to the underworld is\ninteresting as illustrative of Hopi reasoning. They said, and still\nsay, this water flows from the upperworld in the far-away mountains, it\nflows on and on and never returns, therefore it must go to the inner\nrecesses of the underworld.)\n\nTiyo made for himself a kind of coffin boat from the hewed-out trunk\nof a cottonwood tree. Into this he sealed himself and was committed to\nthe care of the raging river. His rude boat dashed down the rapids,\nover the falls, into the secret bowels of the earth (for the Indians\nstill believe the river disappears under the mountainous rocks), and\nfinally came to a stop. Tiyo looked out of his peepholes and saw the\nSpider Woman, who invited him to leave his boat and enter her house.\nThe Spider Woman is a personage of great power in Hopi mythology.\nShe it is who weaves the clouds in the heavens, and makes the rain\npossible. Tiyo accepted the invitation, entered her house, and received\nfrom her a powder which gave him the power to become invisible at\nwill. Following the instructions of the Spider Woman, he descended\nthe hatch-like entrance to Shi-p\u00e1-pu, and soon came to the chamber\nof the Snake-Antelope people. Here the chief received him with great\ncordiality, and said:--\n\n \"I cause the rain clouds to come and go,\n And I make the ripening winds to blow;\n I direct the going and coming of all the mountain animals.\n Before you return to the earth you will desire of me many things,\n Freely ask of me and you shall abundantly receive.\"\n\nFor a while he wandered about in the underworld, learning this and\nthat, here and yonder, and at last returned to the Snake-Antelope and\nSnake kivas. Here he learned all the necessary ceremonies for making\nthe rain clouds come and go, the ripening winds to blow, and to order\nthe coming and going of the animals. With words of affection the chief\nbestowed upon him various things from both the kivas, such as material\nof which the snake kilt was to be made, with instructions as to its\nweaving and decoration, sands to make the altars, etc. Then he brought\nto Tiyo two maidens, both of whom knew the snake-bite charm liquid,\nand instructed him that one was to be his wife and the other the wife\nof his brother, to whom he must convey her in safety. Then, finally,\nhe gave to him the \"tiponi,\" the sacred standard, and told him, \"This\nis your mother. She must ever be protected and revered. In all your\nprayers and worship let her be at the head of your altar or your words\nwill not reach Those Above.\"\n\nTiyo now started on his return journey. When he reached the home of\nthe Spider Woman, she bade him and the maidens rest while she wove a\npannier-like basket, deep and narrow, with room to hold all three of\nthem. When the basket was finished she saw them comfortably seated,\ntold them not to leave the basket, and immediately disappeared through\nthe hatch into the lower world. Tiyo and the maidens waited, until\nslowly a filament gently descended from the clouds, attached itself to\nthe basket, and then carefully and safely drew Tiyo and the maidens to\nthe upperworld. Tiyo gave the younger maiden to his brother, and then\nannounced that in sixteen days he would celebrate the marriage feast.\nThen he and his betrothed retired to the Snake-Antelope kiva, while his\nbrother and the other maiden retired to the Snake kiva. On the fifth\nday after the announcement the Snake people from the underworld came to\nthe upperworld, went to the kivas, and ate corn pollen for food. Then\nthey left the kivas and disappeared. But Tiyo and the maidens knew that\nthey had only changed their appearance, for they were in the valley in\nthe form of snakes and other reptiles. So he commanded his people to\ngo into the valleys and capture them, bring them to the kivas and wash\nthem and then dance with them. Four days were spent in catching them\nfrom the four world quarters; then, with solemn ceremony, they were\nwashed, and, while the prayers were offered, the snakes listened to\nthem, so that when, at the close of the dance, where they danced with\ntheir human brothers, they were taken back to the valley and released,\nthey were able to return to the underworld and carry to the gods there\nthe petitions that their human brothers had uttered upon the earth.\n\nThis, in the main, is the snake legend. The catching of the snakes\nforeshadowed in the snake legend is faithfully carried out each year\nby the Snake men. After earnest prayer, each man is provided with a\nhoe, a snake whip, consisting of feathers tied to two sticks, a sack\nof sacred meal (corn-meal especially prayed and smoked over by the\nchief priest), and a small buckskin bag, and on the fourth day after\nthe setting up of the Antelope altar they go out to the north for the\npurpose of catching the snakes. Familiarity from childhood with the\nhaunts of the snakes, which are never molested, enables them to go\nalmost directly to places where they may be found. As soon as a reptile\nis seen, prayers are offered, sacred meal sprinkled upon him, the snake\nwhip gently stroked upon him, and then he is seized and placed in the\nbag. In the evening the priests return and deposit their snakes in a\nlarge earthenware olla provided for the occasion. I should have noted\nthat before they go out their altar is erected. This varies in the\ndifferent villages, the most complete and perfect altar being at Walpi.\nAt Oraibi the altar consists of the two wooden images--the little war\ngods--named P\u00fc-\u00fc-kon-hoy-a and Pal-un-hoy-a; and in 1898 I succeeded,\nwith considerable difficulty, in getting into the Snake kiva and making\na fairly good photograph of these gods.\n\n[Illustration: LINE-UP OF SNAKE AND ANTELOPE PRIESTS, ANTELOPE\nDANCE, ORAIBI, 1902.]\n\nThe catching of the snakes occupies four days, one day for each of the\nfour world quarters.\n\nAt near sunset of the eighth day a public dance of the Antelope priests\ntakes place in the plaza, similar in many respects to the Snake Dance,\nexcept that corn stalks are carried by the priests instead of snakes.\n\nOn the morning of the ninth day the race of the young men occurs.\nThis is an exciting scene. Long before sunrise the Hopis, and as\nmany visitors as have climbed the mesa heights, huddle together or\nsleepily sit watching a point far off in the desert. It is from that\nregion--one of the springs--the racers are to come. Soon they are\nseen in the far-away distance as tiny specks, moving over the tawny\nsand, and scarcely distinguishable. One morning I stayed below at the\nspring on the western side of the mesa to watch them. The whole line of\nthe mesa-top ruled an irregular but clearly defined line against the\nmorning sky. The air was clear and pure, sweet and cool. From the Gap\nto the end of the mesa upon which Walpi stands crowds of spectators\nwere silhouetted against the sky. The background, seen from my low\nangle of vision, was a pure blue; above, the sky was mottled with white\nclouds. On every projecting point which afforded a view the spectators\nstood, tiny figures taken from a child's Noah's Ark, chunky bodies,\nwith a crowning ball of wood for head. But even at that distance and\nagainst the coming sunlight the brilliant colors of the dresses of the\nIndians, men and women, were revealed. Every note in the gorgeous gamut\nof color was played in fantastic and unrestrained melody. At Walpi the\nspectators crowded the house-tops, which there overlook the very edge\nof the mesa. The point was crowded. The morning light was just touching\nthe cliffs of the west when the sound of the coming bells was heard.\nJingle, jingle, jingle, they came, growing in sound at every step.\nThere was movement among the spectators, each one craning his neck\nto see the strenuous efforts of the runners. Jingle, jingle, jingle,\nlouder and louder, showing that the strides of these runners are great;\nthey are making rapid bites at the distance that intervenes between\nthem and the goal. Now they can be individually discerned. Their\nreddish-brown bodies, long black hair streaming behind, sunflowers\ncrowning some, heaving chests, tremendous strides, swinging gait, make\na fascinating picture. Now they crowd each other on the sandy trail. A\nspurt is being made, and one of the rear men passes to the front and\nbecomes the leader. From the mesa heights the shouts and cheers denote\nthat his success has been observed. Others crowd along. The spectators\nbecome excited and cheer on their favorites. Now the foot of the\nsteep portion of the trail is reached. Surely this precipitous ascent\nwill abate their ardor and slacken their speed. The steps are high,\nand it is a rise of several hundred feet to the mesa-top. The very\ndifficulties seem to spur them on to greater effort. With bounds like\nthose of deer or chamois, up they fly, two steps at a time. The pace\nand ascent are killing, but they are trained to it, having spent their\nlives running over these hot sands and climbing these trails. To them a\n\"rush\" up the mesa heights is a part of their religious training. The\npriests are now ready to receive them at the head of the trail. The\nfirst to arrive is the winner, and he is sprinkled with the sacred meal\nand water, and then he hurries on to the Antelope kiva, where the chief\npriest gives him bahos, sacred meal, and an amulet of great power.\nThe other racers in the meantime have reached the summit, and I could\nsee their running figures on the narrow neck of rock which connects\nSichumavi with Walpi. They are going to deposit prayer offerings at an\nappointed shrine. On their arrival the race is done.\n\nOn the arrival of the racers at the head of the trail at Mashonganavi,\nin 1901, I secured a photograph showing one of the priests shooting out\na singular appliance which represents the lightning.\n\nBut on the lower platform of the mesa another exciting scene is\ntranspiring. A group of young maidens, with their mothers and sisters,\nawait the coming of young men and boys, each of whom carries a corn\nstalk, a melon, or a sunflower. As soon as the youths arrive the\nmaidens dart after them, and for a few minutes a good-natured but\nexciting and excitable scuffle goes on, in which the girls endeavor to\nseize from the boys the stalks, etc., they carry.\n\nOn the noon of the ninth day the ceremony of washing the snakes takes\nplace in the Snake kiva.\n\nIt must not be forgotten that only the members of the fraternity\nengaged in the ceremonies are permitted to enter the kivas when the\nrites are being performed. Indeed, no other Hopi can be prevailed upon\nto approach anywhere near these kivas whilst the symbol which denotes\nthat the ceremonies are being conducted is displayed.\n\nIndeed, he believes that his profaning foot will immediately produce\nthe most awful effects upon his body. At one kiva he will swell up and\n\"burst\"; at another, a great horn will grow out from his forehead and\nhe will die in horrible agonies. The first time I was permitted to see\nthis ceremony at Walpi was while Kopeli was alive. Kopeli was a Hopi\nof great power and ability in a variety of ways, who had a broad way\nof looking at things, and was very friendly with the white men who\ncame in the proper spirit to study the life of his people. I had been\nallowed to see all the earlier of the secret kiva ceremonies, but when\nthe day arrived on which the snakes were to be washed in the kiva,\nKopeli was especially concerned on my behalf. He said: \"So far 'Those\nAbove' have not found any fault, and you have not been harmed in the\nkiva; but to-day we wash the snakes. You will surely be in danger if\nyou gaze upon the 'elder brothers.'\" Placing my arm around his lithe\nbody, I gave Kopeli an unexpected dig in the stomach. Then I said,\nquite solemnly: \"Kopeli, your stomach is a Hopi one; you swell up and\nbust easy. But feel of me\"--and, taking his thumb, I gave myself a\n\"dig\" with it _upon a solid pocketbook_ which I carried in my vest\npocket. \"Do you feel that?\" I asked. \"Yes,\" he replied. \"And you sabe\nwhite man's steam-engine, Kopeli, down on the railroad?\" \"Yes! I sabe.\"\n\"Well,\" said I, \"that steam-engine is made of boiler-iron, and _I am\nall same boiler-iron inside_. I no bust!\"\n\n[Illustration: THE SNAKE DANCE AT ORAIBI, 1902.]\n\nWith a merry twinkle in his eye, that showed he appreciated the joke,\nhe said, \"Mabbe so! You no bust; you stay!\" And I stayed.\n\nThis washing ceremony is a purely ceremonial observance. The priests\nhave ceremonially washed themselves, but their snake brothers are\nunable to do this, hence they must have it done for them.\n\nIn the underground kiva, hewn out of the solid rock--a place some\nsixteen feet square--squat or sit the thirty-four or five priests.\nI was allowed to take my place right among them and to join in the\nsinging. When all was ready the chief priest reverently uttered prayer,\nfollowed by another priest, who, after prayer, started the singing.\nThree or four of the older priests were seated around a large bowl full\nof water brought from some sacred spring many, many miles away. This\nwater was blessed by smoking and breathing upon it and presenting it\nsuccessively to the powers of the six world points, north, west, south,\neast, up and down.\n\nAt a given signal two men thrust their hands into the snake-containing\nollas, and drew therefrom one or two writhing, wriggling reptiles.\nThese they handed to the priests of the sacred water. All this time\nthe singing, accompanied by the shaking of the rattles, continued. As\nthe snakes were dipped again and again into the water, the force of\nthe singing increased until it was a tornado of sound. Suddenly the\npriests who were washing the snakes withdrew them from the water and\nthrew them over the heads of the sitting priests upon the sand of the\nsacred altar at the other end of the room. Simultaneously with the\nthrowing half of the singing priests ceased their song and burst out\ninto a blood-curdling yell, \"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!\" which is the Hopi\nwar-cry.\n\nThen, in a moment, all was quiet, more snakes were brought and washed,\nthe singing and rattling beginning at a pianissimo and gradually\nincreasing to a quadruple forte, when again the snakes were thrown upon\nthe altar, with the shrieking voices yelling \"Ow! Ow!\" in a piercing\nfalsetto, as before. The effect was simply horrifying. The dimly\nlighted kiva, the solemn, monotonous hum of the priests, the splashing\nof the wriggling reptiles in the water, the serious and earnest\ncountenances of the participants, the throwing of the snakes, and the\nwild shrieks fairly raised one's hair, made the heart stand still,\nstopped the action of the brain, sent cold chills down one's spinal\ncolumn, and made goose-flesh of the whole of the surface of one's body.\n\nAnd this continued until fifty, one hundred, and even as many as one\nhundred and fifty snakes were thus washed and thrown upon the altar.\nIt was the duty of two men to keep the snakes upon the altar, but on a\nsmall area less than four feet square it can well be imagined the task\nwas no easy or enviable one. Indeed, many of the snakes escaped and\ncrawled over our feet and legs.\n\nAs soon as all the snakes were washed, all the priests retired except\nthose whose duty it was to guard the snakes. Then it was that I dared\nto risk taking off the cap from my lens, pointing it at the almost\nquiescent mass of snakes, and trust to good luck for the result. On\nanother page is the fruition of my faith, in the first photograph ever\nmade of the snakes of a Hopi kiva after the ceremony of washing.\n\nAnd now the sunset hour draws near. This is to witness the close of the\nnine days' ceremony. It is to be public, for the Snake Dance itself\nis looked upon by all the people. Long before the hour the house-tops\nare lined with Hopis, Navahoes, Paiutis, cow-boys, miners, Mormons,\npreachers, scientists, and military men from Fort Wingate and other\nWestern posts. Here is a distinguished German savant, and there a\nrepresentative of the leading scientific society of France. Yonder is\nDr. Jesse Walter Fewkes, the eminent specialist of the United States\nBureau of Ethnology and the foremost authority of the world on the\nSnake Dance, while elbowing him and pumping him on every occasion is\nthe inquisitive representative of one of America's leading journals.\n\nSee yonder group of interesting maidens. Some of them are \"copper\nCleopatras\" indeed, and would be accounted good-looking anywhere. Here\nis a group of laughing, frolicking youngsters of both sexes, half of\nthem stark naked, and, except for the dirt which freely allies itself\nto them, perfect little \"fried cupids,\" as they have not inaptly been\ndescribed. Now, working his way through the crowd comes a United States\nCongressman, and yonder is the president of a railroad.\n\nSuddenly a murmur of approval goes up on every hand. The chief priest\nof the Antelopes has come out of the kiva, and he is immediately\nfollowed by all the others; and, as soon as the line is formed, with\nreverent mien and stately step, they march to the dance plaza. Here\nhas been erected a cottonwood bower called the \"kisi,\" in the base of\nwhich ollas have been placed containing the snakes. In front of this\nkisi is a hole covered by a plank. This hole represents the entrance to\nthe underworld, and now the chief priest advances toward it, sprinkles\na pinch of sacred meal over it, then vigorously stamps upon it, and\nmarches on. The whole line do likewise. Four times the priests circle\nbefore the kisi, moving always from right to left, and stamping upon\nthe meal-sprinkled board as they come to it. This is to awaken the\nattention of the gods of the underworld to the fact that the dance is\nabout to begin.\n\nNow the Antelope priests line up either alongside or in front of the\nkisi--there being slight and unimportant variations in this and other\nregards at the different villages--all the while keeping up a solemn\nand monotonous humming song or prayer, while they await the coming of\nthe Snake priests.\n\nAt length, with stately stride and rapid movement, the Snake men come,\nled by their chief. They go through the same ceremonies of sprinkling,\nstamping, and circling that the Antelope priests did, and then line up,\nfacing the kisi.\n\nThe two lines now for several minutes sing, rattle, sway their bodies\nto and fro and back and forth in a most impressive and interesting\nmanner, until, at a given signal, the Snake priests break up their\nline and divide into groups of three. The first group advances to\nthe kisi. The first man of the group kneels down and receives from\nthe warrior priest, who has entered the kisi, a writhing, wriggling,\nand, perhaps, dangerous reptile. Without a moment's hesitation the\npriest breathes upon it, puts it between his teeth, rises, and upon\nhis companion's placing one arm around his shoulders, the two begin to\namble and prance along, followed by the third member of their group,\naround the prescribed circuit. With a peculiar swaying of body, a\nrapid and jerky lifting high of one leg, then quickly dropping it\nand raising the other, the \"carrier\" and his \"hugger\" proceed about\nthree-fourths of the circuit, when the carrier drops the snake from\nhis mouth, and passes on to take his place to again visit the kisi,\nobtain another snake, and repeat the performance. But now comes in\nthe duty of the \"gatherer,\" the third man of the group. As soon as\nthe snake falls to the ground, it naturally desires to escape. With a\npinch of sacred meal in his fingers and his snake whip in his hand, the\ngatherer rapidly advances, scatters the meal over the snake, stoops,\nand like a flash has him in his hands. Sometimes, however, a vicious\nrattlesnake, resenting the rough treatment, coils ready to strike. Now\nwatch the dexterous handling by a Hopi of a venomous creature aroused\nto anger. With a \"dab\" of meal, the snake whip is brought into play,\nand the tickling feathers gently touch the angry reptile. As soon as he\nfeels them, he uncoils and seeks to escape. Now is the time! Quicker\nthan the eye can follow, the expert \"gatherer\" seizes the escaping\ncreature, and that excitement is ended, only to allow the visitor to\nwitness a similar scene going on elsewhere with other participants.\nIn the meantime all the snake carriers have received their snakes and\nare perambulating around as did the first one, so that, until all\nthe snakes are brought into use, it is an endless chain, composed of\n\"carrier,\" snake, \"hugger,\" and \"gatherer.\" Now and again a snake\nglides away toward the group of spectators, and there is a frantic dash\nto get away. But the gatherers never fail to stop and capture their\nparticular reptile. As the dance continues, the gatherers have more\nthan their hands full, so, to ease themselves, they hand over their\nexcited and wriggling victims to the Antelope priests, who, during the\nwhole of this part of the ceremony, remain in line, solemnly chanting.\n\n[Illustration: THE SNAKES IN THE KIVA AT MASHONGANAVI, AFTER THE\nCEREMONY OF WASHING.]\n\nAt last all the snakes have been brought from the kisi. The chief\npriest steps forth, describes a circle of sacred meal upon the ground,\nand, at a given signal, all the priests, Snake and Antelope alike,\nrush up to it, and throw the snakes they have in hands or mouths into\nthe circle, at the same time spitting upon them. The whole of the Hopi\nspectators, also, no matter where they may be, reverently spit toward\nthis circle where now one may see through the surrounding group of\npriests the writhing, wriggling, hissing, rattling mass of revolting\nreptiles. Never before on earth, except here, was such a hideous sight\nwitnessed. But one's horror is kept in abeyance for a while as is heard\nthe prayer of the chief priest and we see him sprinkle the mass with\nsacred meal, while the asperger does the same thing from the sacred\nwater bowl.\n\nThen another signal is given! Curious spectator, carried away by your\ninterest, beware! Look out! In a moment, the Snake priests dart down,\n\"grab\" at the pile of intertwined snakes, get all they can in each\nhand, and then, regardless of your dread, thrust the snakes into the\nfaces of all who stand in their way, and like pursued deer dart down\nthe steep and precipitous trails into the appointed places of the\nvalley beneath. Here let us watch them from the edge of the mesa.\nReverently depositing them, they kneel and pray over them and then\nreturn to the mesa as hastily as they descended, divesting themselves\nof their dance paraphernalia as they return.\n\nNow occurs one of the strangest portions of the whole ceremony.\nThe Antelope priests have already returned, with due decorum, to\ntheir kiva. One by one the Snake men arrive at theirs, sweating and\nbreathless from their run up the steep trails. When all have returned,\nthey step to the top of their kiva, or, as at Walpi, to the western\nedge of the mesa, and there drink a large quantity of an emetic that\nhas been especially prepared for the purpose. Then, O ye gods! gaze\non if ye dare! The whole of them may be seen bending over, solemnly\nand in most dignified manner, puking forth the horrible decoction they\nhave just poured down. This is a ceremony of internal purification\ncorresponding to the ceremonial washing of themselves and the snakes\nbefore described. This astounding spectacle ends as the priests\ndisappear into their kiva, where they restore their stomachs to a more\nnormal condition by feasting on the piki, pikami, and other delicacies\nthe women now bring to them in great quantities. Then for two days\nfrolic and feasting are indulged in, and the Snake Dance in that\nvillage at least is now over, to be repeated two years hence.\n\nWhat is the significance, the real meaning of the Snake Dance? It is\nnot, as is generally supposed, an act of snake worship. Here I can do\nno more than give the barest suggestion as to what modern science has\nconcluded. It is mainly a prayer for rain in which acts of sun worship\nare introduced. The propitiation of the Spider Woman at her shrine\nby the offerings of prayers and bahos by the chief Antelope priest\ndemonstrates a desire for rain. She is asked to weave the clouds, for\nwithout them no rain can descend. The lightning symbol of the Antelope\npriests; the shaking of their rattles, which sounds like the falling\nrain; the use of the whizzer to produce the sounds of the coming\nstorm,--these and other similar things show the intimate association of\nthe dance with rain and its making.\n\nAllied to rain are the fructifying processes of the earth; and as\ncorn is their chief article of food, and its germination, growth, and\nmaturity depend upon the rainfall, the use of corn-meal and prayers for\nthe growth of corn have come to have an important place in the ceremony.\n\nThe use of the snakes is for a double purpose. In celebrating this\nceremony it is the desire of the Snake clan to reproduce the original\nconditions of its performance as near as possible, in order to gain\nall the efficacy they desire for their petitions. In the original\nperformance the prayers of the Snake Mother were the potent ones. Hence\nthe snakes must now be introduced to make potent prayers.\n\nThe other idea is that the snakes act as intermediaries to convey to\nthe Snake Mother in the underworld the prayers for rain and corn growth\nthat her children on the earth have uttered.\n\nIn considering the ceremony of the public dance certain questions\nnaturally arise. Are the Hopis ever bitten by the venomous snakes,\nand, if so, what are the consequences? And what is the secret of their\npower in handling these dangerous reptiles with such startling freedom?\n\n[Illustration: AFTER TAKING THE EMETIC. HOPI SNAKE DANCE AT WALPI.]\n\nThere are times when the priests are bitten, but, as was suggested\nin the snake legend, they have a snake venom charm liquid. This is\nprepared by the chief woman of the Snake clan, and she and the Snake\npriest alone are supposed to know the secret of its composition. It may\nbe that ere long this secret will be given to the world by a gentleman\nwho is largely in the confidence of the Hopis, but, as yet, it is\npractically unknown. That it is an antidote there can be no question. I\nhave seen men seriously bitten by rattlesnakes, and in each case, after\nthe use of the antidote, the wounded priests suffered but slightly.\n\nAs to the \"why\" of the handling of the snakes. The \"fact\" it is easy\nto state; but when one enters the realm of theory to explain the \"why\"\nof the fact, he places himself as a target for others to shoot at. My\ntheory, however, is that a fear within yourself arouses a corresponding\nfear within the reptile. As soon as he feels fear he prepares to use\nthe weapons of offence and defence with which nature has provided him.\n\nIf, on the other hand, you feel no fear, and, in touching the creature,\n_do not hurt him so as to arouse his fear_, he may be handled with\nimpunity.\n\nBe this as it may, the fact remains--for I have examined the snakes\nbefore, during, and after the ceremony--that dangerous and untampered\nwith rattlesnakes are used by the Hopis in this, their prayer to \"Those\nAbove\" for rain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nTHE NAVAHO AND HIS HISTORY\n\n\nMisunderstood, maligned, abused, despised, the Navaho has never stood\nhigh in the estimation of those whites who did not know him. Yet he is\nindustrious, moral, honest, trustworthy, fairly truthful, religious,\nand good to his wife and children. Not a weak list of virtues, even\nthough one has to detract from it by accusing him of ingratitude.\nThere are noble exceptions, of course, to this charge, but from what I\nknow and have seen, I am inclined to believe that many, if not most,\nNavahoes have no sense of moral responsibility for favors and benefits\nreceived.\n\nThough, perhaps, not as interesting to study as the Hopis, there is\nstill a wonderful field open for the student who is willing to go\nand live with the Navaho, learn his language, gain his confidence,\nparticipate in all his ceremonies, and enter into his social and\ndomestic life.\n\nNo one has done this as much as Dr. Washington Matthews, whose \"Navaho\nLegends\" is a revelation to those people who have hitherto held the\ngeneral ideas (propagated, too, by a scientific observer) so prevalent\nabout this long-suffering people.\n\nThat the Navaho was reserved with the white man in the early days\nof American occupancy there can be no doubt, and the difficulty\nexperienced in penetrating that reserve is well exemplified by\nreference to the letter of Dr. Joseph Letherman, who lived for three\nyears among the tribe at Fort Defiance. Aided by Major Kendrick, who\nhad long commanded at this post, he wrote a letter which appears in the\nSmithsonian Report for 1855. In this he says, among many good things:\n\"Nothing can be learned of the origin of these people from themselves.\nAt one time they say they came out of the ground; and at another, that\nthey know nothing whatever of their origin; the latter, no doubt, being\nthe truth.\" Again: \"Of their religion little or nothing is known, as,\nindeed, all inquiries tend to show that they have none; and even have\nnot, we are informed, any word to express the idea of a Supreme Being.\nWe have not been able to learn that any observances of a religious\ncharacter exist among them; and the general impression of those who\nhave the means of knowing them is, that, in this respect, they are\nsteeped in the deepest degradation.\" Once more: \"They have frequent\ngatherings for dancing.\" And a little further on: \"Their singing is but\na succession of grunts, and is anything but agreeable.\"\n\nOne has but to read what Dr. Matthews has written and gathered from\nthe Navahoes to see how misleading and erroneous the conclusions of\nDr. Letherman were. To quote: \"He [Dr. Matthews] had not been many\nweeks in New Mexico when he discovered that the dances to which the\ndoctor refers were religious ceremonials, and later he found that these\nceremonials might vie in allegory, symbolism, and intricacy of ritual\nwith the ceremonies of any people, ancient or modern. He found, ere\nlong, that these heathens, pronounced godless and legendless, possessed\nlengthy myths and traditions--so numerous that one can never hope to\ncollect them all, a pantheon as well stocked with gods and heroes as\nthat of the ancient Greeks, and prayers which, for length and vain\nrepetition, might put a Pharisee to blush.\"\n\nWonderful songs also were found, full of poetic imagery, and suitable\nfor every conceivable occasion, songs that have been handed down for\ngenerations. Of the sacred songs Dr. Matthews makes the astounding\nstatement that, \"sometimes, pertaining to a single rite, there are two\nhundred songs or more which may not be sung at other rites.\" Further:\n\"The songs must be known to the priest of the rite and his assistants\nin a most exact manner, for an error made in singing a song may be\nfatal to the efficacy of a ceremony. In no case is an important mistake\ntolerated, and in some cases the error of a single syllable works an\nirreparable injury.\"\n\nPopular conceptions of the Navaho are very crude and inaccurate. They\nare largely the result of two \"floods of information\" which deluged the\ncountry at two epochs in their history, and neither of them had much\ntruth in the flood. The first of these epochs was at the discovery of\nthe important cliff dwellings located on their reservation,--those of\nthe Tsegi Canyon (the so-called Canyon de Chelly), Monument Canyon,\nChaco Canyon, etc. Writers who visited the region wrote the most wild\nand outrageously conceived nonsense about this people and the dwellings\nthey were supposed to look upon with superstitious veneration. Then\nlater, a lot of unscrupulous whites, fired with similar zeal to that\nwhich led the old conquistadors across the deserts of northern Mexico\nand through the inhospitable wilds of Arizona and New Mexico,--the\nzeal for gold or silver,--which was doubtless fed by the fact that\nthe Navahoes did possess thousands of dollars' worth of silver\nornaments, started out to prospect the interior recesses of the Navaho\nreservation. Knowing by painful experience what this meant,--for\ntheir \"white brothers\" had stolen their springs and arable land from\nthem on the Moenkopi, on the Little Colorado, at Willow Spring, and a\nscore of other places,--the warlike and courageous Navahoes resented\nthe presence of these men. They begged them to retire, and when the\nwhite men refused, fought and whipped them. This naturally excited\nthe cupidity of the silver hunters more than ever. \"Why should the\nblanked Indians fight if not to protect their silver mines?\"--this was\nthe kind of question asked, and the natural and legitimate resentment\nof the Navahoes was described all over the country as \"another Indian\nuprising,\" and led to the second \"flood of knowledge,\" which the\nnewspapers always have forthcoming when public interest and curiosity\nare aroused.\n\n[Illustration: NAVAHO SILVER NECKLACE AND BELT.\n\n_In the collection of George Wharton James._]\n\n[Illustration: HOPI PRAYER STICKS OR PAHOS.\n\n_In the collection of George Wharton James._]\n\nHence the truth often comes as a wet blanket to the preconceived\nnotions of those who have drank deep from these earlier streams of\ninformation!\n\nScience and legend both agree in giving to the Navaho a mixed origin.\nHis is not a pure-blooded race. Their myths or legends refer to many\nassimilations of other people, strangers from the North, South, East,\nWest, and everywhere, all of whom were welcomed and made an integral\npart of the nation. Hence there is no such thing as a distinctly Navaho\ntype, or, as Hrdlicka puts it, \"they show considerable difference in\ncolor and measurement, and cannot be considered a radically homogeneous\npeople, but their mixture is not recent.\" This latter statement is\ndoubtless true, as they would probably become more clannish as their\nnation grew in numbers and power.\n\nDr. Matthews gives the stories of the origin of several of the gentes.\nOne story which he does not relate was told to me at Tohatchi, and\nserves to illustrate how a migration from the Northwest is transformed\ninto a supernatural occurrence. Though told to me of the Navahoes as a\nwhole, there can be no doubt that it applies only to a single gens. The\nstory was in regard to Winged Rock, commonly called by the whites \"Ship\nRock,\" and about which I had been seeking information.\n\nThis rock is situated in the Navaho reservation, about one hundred\nmiles northwest of Tohatchi, and some fifteen or twenty miles from\nCarrizo Mountain. It is difficult of access, and my informant assured\nme that even though an army of white men should reach its base they\ncould never scale its steep sides and reach its top. All the Navaho\ntribe reverence it sincerely and all watch and guard it jealously. He\nwould indeed be a brave white man who would dare the anger of these\nwarlike and brave natives if they forbade his approach and would\nattempt to scale this sacred Winged Rock.\n\nThis was the legend: \"Many, many years ago, when this country was young\nand the sun cast only small shadows, my people came across the narrow\nsea far away near the setting sun in the north and landed on the shores\nof this country. The people where they landed were exceedingly angry\nat them, and whenever they could they fell upon them and slew them. My\npeople did not want to go to war, but this inhospitable reception made\nthem angry, so they put themselves in war array and fell upon their\nfoes. But there were few only of my people, and their enemies were so\nmany that it was not long before they were in sad straits. Indeed, they\nwould soon have been entirely destroyed had not help come. In their\ndistress they called on Those Above, and soon a messenger from the sky\ncame to my people and said: 'See you yonder stone mountain? Flee to it.\nIt will be your salvation. Climb up its steep, strong, rugged sides\nand it will carry you toward the land of the South sea, nearer to the\nrising sun, and there your home shall be.'\n\n\"My people were only too glad to obey the message. They hastened\ntowards the mountain. Some who were weak were enabled to fly towards it\nlike birds, and they clung to its steep sides and clambered to its top.\n\n\"Then when they were all safe on its huge bulk, the monster rock was\ntaken by Those Above, and it arose and floated across the rivers and\nplains and mountains and lakes and canyons. Several days and nights it\nfloated, and my people gazed with wonder upon the strange and wonderful\ncountries through which they travelled. Sometimes they thought they\nwould like to stay in this place or in that, but the wisdom of Those\nAbove said No! and the rock floated on. Oh! it was a glorious sail.\nNever before or since has any people been so blessed and favored by the\nPeople of the Shadows Above.\n\n\"Finally the Winged Rock crossed the great deep canyon of the Colorado\nRiver, and my people were afraid of its vast depths. Then the rock\ngently settled down to the earth, where it is now found, and our home\nwas reached. It did not seem to be a very beautiful land, but it was\ngiven to us by Those Above, and my people soon became content. We were\nshown the springs and the watercourses, and we found the mountains\ncovered with trees, and the rivers and creeks. So that when any one\nspeaks of our leaving our country we are afraid and we cry: 'No, why\nshould we leave this land given to us, and which we love? Yonder is the\nrock on which we came, and never until that rock floats away with us\nshall we leave the land that we love so well!'\n\n\"As soon as we were settled here, Those Above gave us some great\nshamans, and one of them told us that we must always do right, for the\nsun, when it rises, would watch our every action all throughout the\nday, and when he went away at night it was to tell Those Above all our\nevil actions, for which we should be punished.\"\n\nWhile the Apaches and Navahoes are of the same stock, there have\nalways been marked differences between them so long as they have been\nunder the observation of the white men. When the Spaniards entered\nthe country, the Navahoes were more distinctly an agricultural people\nthan the Apaches. They had large patches of land under cultivation,\nkept their crops and lived in houses underground. Cultivated lands\nnecessitated settled residences, and after the Spaniards introduced\nsheep, it was not long before the Navahoes were extensive sheep\nraisers. It would not be any wiser or more profitable to enter into an\ninquiry as to the methods by which these flocks were acquired than it\nwould be to ascertain the history of many of the landed possessions\nof European nobilities. With the Navaho, possession was the only law\nhe cared anything for. \"To have and to hold\" was his motto; and once\n\"having,\" he held pretty securely. Hence the sheep possessions of the\nneighboring pueblo Indians were held by exceedingly precarious tenure.\n\n[Illustration: AN AGED NAVAHO, LOOKING OVER THE PAINTED DESERT.]\n\n[Illustration: AN OLD HOPI AT ORAIBI.]\n\nAnd here we have, I believe, one of the additional sources of enmity\nbetween the Navaho and the Spaniard. As their wards, the Spanish were\nin duty bound to care for and protect the Pueblos. Thus Navaho and\nSpaniard were ever at war, and when the Mexican came in the Spaniard's\nstead the battle still continued on the same lines and with the same\nferocity.\n\nIt was on the 22d of January in 1849 that Lieut. J. H. Simpson,\nafterwards General, started on that interesting trip of his through the\nNavaho country, which has forever connected his name with these nomads.\nHe was not in command of the expedition, its head being Col. John M.\nWashington, who was military and civil governor of New Mexico at the\ntime. The object of the expedition was to coerce the Navahoes into a\ncompliance with a treaty which they had made with the United States,\ntwo years previously, and to extend the provisions of the treaty.\n\nWhen they reached the Chaco Canyon trouble ripened between the soldiers\nand the Navahoes, and the latter were fired upon, with the result that\nseven were killed, including Narbona, their great warrior and chief.\n\nThis was but one of many such attacks upon the whites. Then as now,\nonly far more so, the Navahoes resented the intrusion of white people\nin their territory; and having gained fire-arms, they used them to\ndeadly purpose upon those who slighted their will.\n\nThere is no doubt that the Navahoes were a source of great terror\nto the Mexicans who first settled in and near their territory. Even\nafter the United States became their guardians at the acquisition of\nNew Mexico in 1847, they were very hostile, murders, robberies, and\ndepredations of every kind being quite common. In 1855, Dr. Letherman\nreported that \"the nation, as a nation, is fully imbued with the idea\nthat it is all powerful, which, no doubt, has arisen from the fact of\nits having been for years a terror and a dread to the inhabitants of\nNew Mexico.\" But that these depredations were not perpetrated upon the\nwhites alone is evident from the fact that one of the richest men of\nthe Navahoes himself applied to Major Kendrick, then the commanding\nofficer of Fort Defiance, N. Mex., to protect his cattle, as he could\nnot otherwise prevent his own people from stealing them.\n\nThe insolence from years of this kind of free life needed forceful\ncheck, but it was not until 1862 that the unbearable conduct of the\nNavahoes brought upon themselves this long-needed chastisement.\n\nAccording to governmental reports, the Indians of New Mexico (among\nwhom were the Navahoes and Mescalero Apaches) caused losses between\n1860 and 1863 to the people of that territory of \"not less than 500,000\nsheep, and 5,000 horses, mules, and cattle. Over 200 lives have been\nalso sacrificed of citizens, soldiers, and shepherds.\" It was also\nstated in 1863 \"that the military establishment of this territory\n[New Mexico, which then included Arizona], since its acquisition, has\ncost not less than $3,000,000 annually, independent of land-warrant\nbounties.\" And while this was for a conquered country, the whole\nexpenditure was for the chastisement of hostile Indians, every tribe of\nwhich in turn came in for its share of the fighting.\n\nIt was openly advocated about this time that the policy of\nextermination was the only one that could be followed, and this must\nbe brought about either by actual warfare, or by driving the hostiles\ninto the mountains and there starving them to death.\n\nBrig.-Gen. J. H. Carleton, who was in control of the department of New\nMexico, determined upon a thorough and complete change in our treatment\nof this haughty and proud people. They had made six treaties at\ndifferent times with officers of our Government and had violated them\nbefore they could be ratified at Washington. He strongly counselled\ndrastic measures in a letter which is historically of sufficient\ninterest to justify a large quotation from it:--\n\n \"At the Bosque Redondo there is arable land enough for all the Indians\n of this family [the Navahoes and Apaches have descended from the same\n stock and speak the same language], and I would respectfully recommend\n that now the war be vigorously prosecuted against the Navahoes; that\n the only peace that can ever be made with them must rest on the basis\n that they move on to these lands, and, like the Pueblos, become\n an agricultural people, and cease to be nomads. This should be a\n _sine qua non_; as soon as the snows of winter admonish them of the\n sufferings to which their families will be exposed, I have great hopes\n of getting most of the tribe. The knowledge of the perfidy of these\n Navahoes, gained after two centuries of experience, is such as to lead\n us to put no faith in their promises. They have no government to make\n treaties; they are a patriarchal people. One set of families may make\n promises, but the other set will not heed them. They understand the\n direct application of force as a law; if its application be removed,\n that moment they become lawless. This has been tried over and over\n again, and at great expense. The purpose now is, never to relax the\n application of force with a people that can no more be trusted than\n the wolves that run through the mountains. To collect them together,\n little by little, on to a reservation, away from the haunts and hills\n and hiding-places of their country; there be kind to them; there teach\n their children how to read and write; teach them the arts of peace,\n teach them the truths of Christianity. Soon they will acquire new\n habits, new ideas, and new modes of life; and the old Indians will\n die off, and carry with them all latent longings for murdering and\n robbing. The young ones will take their places without these longings,\n and thus, little by little, they will become a happy and contented\n people; and Navaho wars will be remembered only as something that\n belong entirely to the past. Even until they can raise enough to be\n self-sustaining, _you can feed them cheaper than fight them_....\n\n \"I know these ideas are practical and humane--are just to the\n suffering people, as well as to the aggressive, perfidious, butchering\n Navahoes. If I can have one more _full_ regiment of cavalry, and\n authority to raise one independent company in each county of the\n Territory, they can soon be carried to a final result.\"\n\nIn 1863 General Carleton's suggestions in the main were approved by the\nIndian Department and he proceeded to carry out his plan.\n\nCol. Kit Carson, the noted scout, with an adequate force was sent\nout to humble and punish the Navahoes. It was wise that such a just,\nhumane, and wise Indian fighter was sent to do this work. His knowledge\nof their characters stood him in good purpose, and in a very short\ntime over seven thousand prisoners were taken. Later this number was\nincreased, until they amounted to about ten or eleven thousand.\n\nAt the same time the Apaches were being cornered, and a number of them\nwere removed to Fort Stanton, on the Peeos River, far enough down into\nthe open country to prevent easy escape to the mountains. Part of\nthis settlement was the Bosque Redondo, and General Carleton's plan\ncontemplated the settlement of both Apaches and Navahoes here.\n\n[Illustration: HOPI CEREMONIAL HEAD-DRESSES.\n\n_In the collection of George Wharton James._]\n\n[Illustration: HOPI BAHOS AND DANCE RATTLES.\n\n_In the collection of George Wharton James._]\n\nCompelled by a superior force, the now humbled Navahoes were herded\ntogether like sheep and in 1863 were removed to the chosen place.\nIt was soon found, however, that this was an inhospitable region,\naltogether unfitted to be the home of so large a population. The water\nwas alkaline, and the soil not of a nature suitable to the raising of\ncorn. There was practically no fuel, and the Navahoes had to dig up\nmesquite roots and carry them on their backs twelve miles for this\npurpose. In two or three years more than one-fourth of their number\ndied and the remainder grew more and more dissatisfied with the\nlocation.\n\nIn 1867, however, Manuelito and Barboncita, two of the war chiefs, came\ninto the reservation, both of them having surrendered to the commandant\nat Fort Wingate. The former had refused to come into the reservation in\n1863, and the latter ran away from it, with his band of warriors, in\n1864. These two bands added 780 more of men, women, and children to the\npopulation, which, in June, 1867, was reported to be 7,300.\n\nThis whole Bosque Redondo was a disgraceful business, on a line with so\nmuch of the wretched and abominable treatment the Indians have received\nat our hands. Think of placing ten thousand Indians upon a reservation\nwhere there was no water but black, brackish stuff not fit for cattle,\nno fuel, and no soil for cultivation of the chief article of their\ndiet. Deprived of food, water, and fuel, what would white men be? No\nwonder the Navahoes rebelled and were kept in order only by brute force.\n\nAt length those in authority saw the iniquity of the proceeding and the\norder was given to return them to their reservation. This was done,\nbut with a loss by death, mainly through preventable causes, of over\nthree thousand souls.\n\nSince this time they have been industrious and progressive. The Bosque\nlesson, though severe, was needed, and it proved salutary. One can\ntravel with perfect safety unarmed across the Navaho reservation, as I\nhave done several times; and a lady friend, unarmed, and unaccompanied\nby any other escort than a Navaho, has travelled hundreds of miles in\nperfect safety among the Navahoes in all parts of their reservation.[3]\n\n[3] Since writing the above, however, a sad event has transpired which\nleads me to modify my statement. A young lady missionary, riding alone,\nwas criminally assaulted by a Navaho, and almost brought to death's\ndoor. When I heard of it Navahoes were hunting for the culprit. It is\nto be hoped he will be found and severely punished.\n\nIn September, 1870, a number of dissatisfied Utes visited the Navahoes\nat the so-called \"Navaho Church,\" which can be seen on the right on the\nline of the Santa F\u00e9 Railway, going to California. All the principal\nchiefs of the tribe were present and the causes of dissatisfaction\nagainst the whites were fully discussed. The powwow was an important\none, and lasted several days, but the chief purpose of the Utes--to\nincite the Navahoes to warfare against the whites--was not successful.\nThe crafty Utes, with stirring eloquence, said they had heard the white\nmen saying they were going to take possession of the whole country,\nand that when they did they would kill off all the chief men of the\nNavahoes. \"See how they have stolen in upon your territory and taken\nthe springs and land that you have had all the time up till now! They\nhave taken the water and land at Wingate and at Defiance, and soon\nthey will take all you have, and you and your children will perish\nbecause you have no water, no grass for your horses and sheep, and no\ncorn for food. Join in with us and drive these hated people away. Get\nall the guns and ammunition you can, and prepare many new bows and\narrows. Let us sing the war songs together, and go on the war-path\nand hunt down and kill the whites as the Pueblos hunt down and kill\nrabbits. Then we will be friends. You will have your country to\nyourselves, and Those Above will make of you a great nation. We shall\nhave our country and we shall become great. Now we are dwindling down;\nwe are melting away as the snows on the hillside. United against the\nwhites we shall both become stronger, and grow like the well-watered\ncorn.\"\n\nThe Navahoes refused to give answer until they had consulted among\nthemselves, and then one of their chiefs reported their decision as\nfollows: \"We have heard what our Ute brothers have said. If our white\nbrothers want to kill us they can do so. They have had plenty of\nchances and we are yet alive. All of our people who have been slain\nhave been those who have gone on the war-path against them in the past.\nWe do not wish to die, so we will not go on the war-path. We will stay\nat home. We have food. The whites treat us well. If our Ute brothers\nmust fight we will not interfere, but we ourselves do not wish to\nfight.\"\n\nThe result was that the Ute bands returned to their homes without any\nspecific act of warfare at that time.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE NAVAHO AT HOME\n\n\nThe Navaho reservation, embracing nearly four million acres, or eleven\nthousand square miles, was established by treaty with the Navahoes of\nJune 1, 1868, and has been modified or enlarged by subsequent executive\norders of October 29, 1878, January 6, 1880, May 17, 1884, April 24,\n1886, November 19, 1892, and January 6, 1900. The major portion is\nin Arizona, but about six hundred and fifty square miles are in New\nMexico. Its average elevation is about six thousand feet, though near\nthe Colorado River it is often but four thousand. The highest peak\nis about in the centre of the present reservation, in the Tunicha\nMountains, and is upwards of nine thousand five hundred feet high.\n\nThe Tunicha range is covered with glorious and majestic pines, and\nall along its flanks are wide plateaus through which gloomy and\nmassive canyons convey the storm waters from the heights above into\nthe plains below. Its close proximity to the Grand Canyon suggests\nwhat its general appearance might be. Drained deep down by the canyons\nand gorges tributary to this great vampire canyon, it is seamed and\nscarred by the dashing down of many waters. Its rocks are cut up into\na thousand fantastic forms and shapes, which look over sterile valleys\nfull of sand. These valleys are numberless, and one of them, the\nI-chi-ni-li,--commonly called the Chin-lee,--stretches from the south\nto beyond the San Juan River on the north, to the west of the Tunicha\nrange.\n\nThe ancient boundaries of the land, long prior to the advent of the\nSpaniard, were four majestic mountains, which now approximately\ndetermine the reserve. On the east is Pelado Peak; on the south, Mt.\nSan Mateo (commonly called Mt. Taylor); on the west, the San Francisco\nrange; and on the north, the San Juan Mountains. Each of these is over\neleven thousand feet in height. Hence it will be seen that there is a\nvast range of altitude, yet it is questionable whether anywhere else\nin the world so large a population inhabits so barren and inhospitable\na country. On the lower levels it is mainly desert, with scant pasture\nhere and there; on the higher mesas or plateaus there are many\njunipers, pinions, and red cedars.\n\nIt is a difficult matter to determine the population of the Navahoes.\nWhile they were in captivity the official count was seven thousand\nthree hundred, but desertions were frequent, and at one time about\nseven hundred of the renegades came in and surrendered, and it is well\nknown that many never were captured or surrendered.\n\nIn 1869 the government distributed thirty thousand sheep and two\nthousand goats to them, and a count was ordered. This was a most\nfavorable time to make it, as besides the sheep and goats, two years'\nannuities were given out, and rations distributed every four days. The\ntotal summed up some nine thousand.\n\nIn 1890 the official census reported 17,204, but Cosmos Mendeleff,\nwriting in 1895-96, says the tribe numbers only \"over 12,000 souls.\"\nIt scarcely seems possible, if the count in 1869 was anything near\naccurate that the population could have increased to 17,204 in 1890.\nStill it must be remembered that, though not prolific, the Navaho is\na good breeder. He is healthy, vigorous, robust, and strong, and his\nwife (or wives, for he is a polygamist) equally so. Living an out-door\nlife, inured to hardships, generally possessed of plenty to eat, of\ncoarse, rough, hearty, but nutritious food, engaged in occupations and\nindulging in sports that cultivate their athletic powers, free from the\nconsumptive and scrofulous tendencies of most reservation Indians, they\nare well fitted to be the progenitors of healthy children.\n\nThough polygamists, they are moral and chaste. In their legends they\nhave always regarded marital unfaithfulness as a prolific source of\nsorrow and punishment. In their Origin Legend this sin led to their\nbanishment from the first world, and again from the second, and also\nfrom the third, the wronged chief execrating them as follows: \"For such\ncrimes I suppose you were chased from the world below; you shall drink\nno more of our water, you shall breathe no more of our air. Begone!\"\n\nIn this legend Washington Matthews tells of G\u00f3ntso, or Big Knee, a\nchief who had twelve wives, four from each of three different gens or\nfamilies. Though he was a bountiful provider, his wives were unfaithful\nto him. He complained to the chiefs of their families and to their\nrelations and begged them to remonstrate with the wicked women, but\nremonstrances and rebukes seemed to be in vain. At last they said to\nBig Knee, \"Do with them as you will, we shall not interfere.\" The\nnext time he detected the unfaithfulness of his wives he mutilated\none, another he cut the ears from, a third cut off her breasts, and\nall these three died. A fourth he cut off her nose, and she lived. He\nthereupon determined that henceforth he would cut off the nose of any\nunfaithful wife, for that would be a visible mark of her shame and yet\nwould not kill her. She would be compelled to live, and all men and\nwomen would know of her wickedness. But even this horrible punishment\ndid not have the deterrent effect he expected. It was not long before\nanother and then another was detected and punished, until, before long,\nhis whole family of wives was noseless. Instead of rebuking themselves\nand their sins as the cause of their mutilation these women would\ngather together to rail against their husband, and their relations,\nwhom they claimed should have protected them. Big Knee was compelled to\nsleep alone in a well-protected hut, and the women grew more determined\nthan ever to work him an injury.\n\n[Illustration: KAPATA, ANTELOPE PRIEST, AT WALPI.]\n\n[Illustration: A MASHONGANAVI HOPI, GOING TO HOE HIS CORN.]\n\nAbout this time the people got up a big ceremony for the benefit of\nBig Knee. It lasted nine days, and on the night of the last day the\nmutilated women, who had kept themselves secluded in a hut, came\nforth, and with knives in their hands, proceeded to sing and dance as\nwas expected of them. Around the fire they circled, singing \"Peshla\nashila\"--\"It was the knife that did it to me\"--and peering among the\nspectators for their husband. He was safe, however, for he was hidden\nin the circle of branches that made the dance corral. As they concluded\nthe dance they ran from the corral, cursing all who were present with\nfearful maledictions: \"May the waters drown ye! May the winters freeze\nye! May the fires burn ye! May the lightnings strike ye!\" and other\nequally malicious curses. Then they departed and went into the far\nnorth, where they now dwell, and, according to the Navahoes, whenever\nthese noseless women turn their faces to the south we have cold winds\nand storms and lightning.\n\nFrom this legend it is observed that the husband's power over the\nwife was somewhat limited. G\u00f3ntso dare not punish his wives without\nthe consent of their relations. This freedom of the woman is observed\nto this day, she regarding herself in most things as the equal, and\nsometimes the superior, of her husband.\n\nFrom all I can learn, marital unchastity is uncommon, though where the\ntribe is in close contact with the towns along the railway there are\ngenerally to be found men who will sell their wives and daughters,\nand mothers who will sell their girls to debased white men. Among the\nrespectable members of the tribe, if a man discovers that his wife, or\none of them, is unfaithful, he may take it upon himself to chastise\nher, but such is the independent position of the woman that he must be\nvery wise and judicious or she will speedily leave him.\n\nDivorce is not common, but is allowable for cause, the parties chiefly\nconcerned generally settling all the details. Occasionally, however,\na transaction occurs that in civilized society would occasion quite a\nbuzz of busy tongues. One such happened but a few years ago. Mr. George\nH. Pepper of the American Museum of Natural History tells the story.\nThe facts were within his own knowledge. One of the husbands had a wife\nwho positively refused to wash and brush his hair. He would coax and\npersuade, urge and command, threaten and bluster, but all to no effect.\nThe dusky creature was neither to be led nor driven. If he wanted his\nhair washed and combed he must do it himself.\n\nWhile the disappointed husband was cogitating over his miserable\nmarital experiences, a friend from a distance, with his wife, came to\nvisit him. As the men got to talking and finally exchanging confidences\nabout their wives, the one told the other of the unwifely conduct of\nhis spouse. The visitor condoled with his host and told what a good\nwife he had, how very obedient she was, and the like, until he had\nquite exalted her, and the host determined to take a better look than\nhe had hitherto given at such a paragon of a wife. Whether this was a\nscheme of the visitor or not it was scarcely possible to tell, but,\nanyhow, it worked out as well as if it had been carefully planned;\nfor as the host studied the visitor's wife he fell head over ears\nin love with her, and, strange to say, a corresponding affinity was\ndiscovered to exist between the two others. Accordingly, a day or two\nlater the visitor suggested to the host that as he (the host) wanted\na wife to wash and comb his hair, while he (the visitor) was content\nwith a wife that would do neither, what was to hinder their \"swapping\"\ntheir life partners and thus making a satisfactory end to his domestic\ndifficulties? With joy the disappointed husband accepted the offer,--a\nlittle \"boot\" was required to make the exchange satisfactorily, and\nthen the result was communicated to the women. Neither of them was\nconsulted in the slightest, but without any hesitancy they fell in\nwith the agreement. The visitor rode off satisfied, accompanied by his\nnew wife, while the wife who came as a visitor inaugurated her new\nrelationship by shyly coming into her new husband's hogan with an olla\nof water, the necessary soap-root, and the whisk with which to wash and\ncomb her liege's hair. And now, for three years, the two couples are\nknown to have lived together in \"amity and concord.\"\n\nA few years ago it would perhaps have been safe to designate the\nNavahoes as the most wealthy Indians of the United States. Many of them\nwere worth hundreds of dollars. They understood and practised the art\nof irrigation; they grew large crops of corn, squash, melons, beans,\nchili, and onions. Some had large and thriving bands of horses, which\nthey traded with the Havasupais, Wallapais, Hopis, Paiutis, and other\nneighboring people. I have often met a band of six or eight Navaho\ntraders with horses and blankets in the canyon of the Havasu, and they\ntook away the well-dressed buckskins in exchange, for which these\ncanyon people are noted. From the Paiutis, they obtained baskets and\ntheir _tusjehs_, or wicker-work, pinion gum-covered water-bottles.\n\nAs for sheep and goats, there are few places in the United States where\nso many were to be found as on the Navaho reservation. Every family\nhad its flock, as every woman was a blanket weaver; and one of the\nprettiest sights in the whole Painted Desert Region was to come upon\na flock of these gentle, domestic creatures quietly pasturing, led or\ndriven by the owner herself, or one of her children.\n\nBut the last few years have made a great difference in their\nprosperity. Rains have been rare, water scarce, and pasture scant,\nand as a result their flocks are reduced to woeful proportions. Their\nnomadic habits render the improvement of their locations impossible,\nand their superstition in regard to the burning of a hogan in which any\none has died compels frequent migrations.\n\nThere is no doubt but that for the past three hundred years of historic\ntime the Navahoes have been thieves, robbers, and murderers. The Hopis\ncontend that all the sheep they had before the general distribution,\nearlier referred to, were stolen from them. This is probably true, but\nit is equally probable that had the Navahoes not stolen them the Utes\nwould; and while this seems poor comfort, after facts showed that it\nwas an exceedingly good thing that Navahoes rather than Utes became\ntheir possessors. For, once in their possession, the Navahoes became\ncareful breeders (for aborigines) of sheep, and when marauding bands of\nUtes came into the country the warlike Navahoes drove them away, thus\ndefending the sheep so that the Hopis could obtain the nucleus of a new\nflock later on.\n\nIn the next chapter I present, a fairly full and accurate account of\nthe art of blanket-weaving, for which the Navahoes are now so noted.\n\nAs a rule the physical development of the Navahoes is sturdy and\nrobust, as will be seen from the accompanying photographs. They average\nwell, and with slight range on either side from a fair and normal\ndevelopment. There are few excessively strong, and equally few very\nweak people among them. The same may be said of their fatness and\nleanness, both extremes being rare.\n\nThe men, as is common with all Indians, pluck out the hair on both lips\nand chin, though, occasionally, one will find a man who has allowed his\nmoustache to grow. The hair on the head is seldom cut, and with both\nsexes is allowed to grow long. The men tie it in a knot behind, and\nwrap a high-colored \"banda\" around the forehead, thus confining the\nhair and adding considerably to their own picturesqueness.\n\nBeing a prosperous people, they are generally contented looking, and\nwear that air of complacent self-satisfaction that is a sure sign of\nprosperity. It seems clearly to say: \"We are a good people, a specially\nfavored because specially deserving people, hence look upon us and\nunderstand our prosperity.\" There are no beggars among the better\nclass of the Navahoes, and men as well as women are hard workers. As\na nation they are decidedly producers. Mr. Cotton has large gangs of\nthem working at grading, etc., on the Santa F\u00e9 Railway, and they can\nbe found helping white men in as many and as various occupations as\nthe Chinese in California. The industry of the women is proverbial,\nfor seldom will one be found idle, her greatest seeming pleasure being\nto have her hands constantly occupied. What with carding the wool,\nwashing, dyeing, and spinning it, preparing the dyes (after collecting\nthem) for coloring it, and then weaving the blankets for which they\nare famous, going out into the mountains to collect the wild seeds and\nroots of which they are fond, caring for the corn, tending the sheep\nand goats, preparing the daily food, and many other duties that they\nimpose upon themselves, none can say they are not models of industry.\nMen, women, and children alike are fearless riders. The wealth of many\na man is determined by his possessions of horses and sheep, and from\nearliest years the boys are required to attend to the bands of horses.\nIn their semi-nomad life the women ride about with the men, and thus\nbecome skilled riders. They sit astride, mounting and dismounting as\neasily as the men, and riding wherever occasion demands.\n\nThe saddles are made by the men, and are a modification of the\nbig-horned Mexican variety. The tree is cut out with infinite patience\nand care, and is then covered with rawhide or bought leather, and\nadorned with rows of brass-headed nails. The girth, or cinch, is home\nwoven, of wool, cotton, or horsehair, the former being preferred.\n\n[Illustration: THE ANTELOPE PRIESTS LEAVING THEIR KIVA FOR THE SNAKE\nDANCE.]\n\n[Illustration: THE WIDOW, DAUGHTERS, AND GRANDCHILDREN OF THE NAVAHO\nCHIEF, MANUELITO.]\n\nThat the Navahoes are or were expert engineers, and could construct\ndifficult trails, is evidenced by their trails into Chaca Canyon from\nthe mesa above. Simpson thus describes what he saw in 1849: \"A mile\nfurther, observing several Navahoes high above us, on the brink of the\nnorth wall, shouting and gesticulating as if they were very glad to\nsee us, what was our astonishment when they commenced tripping down\nthe almost sheer wall before them, as nimbly and dexterously as minuet\ndancers! Indeed, the force of gravity, and their descent upon a steep\ninclined plane, made such a kind of performance absolutely necessary to\ninsure their equilibrium.\"\n\nThey are a remarkably intelligent people, and their faces are, as a\nrule, pliant and expressive. There is none of the proverbial stolidness\nto be found among any except very few of the older men of the Navahoes.\nIf you are unwelcome you will know it,--surly looks and words will ask\nyour mission and bid you begone. On the other hand, if you are welcome,\nglad smiles will light up the faces of your friends, and you will hear\nsweet words uttered by melodious and tuneful voices. It is seldom that\nyour courteous advances will be repelled, though they are very ready to\nresent unwelcome intrusions. I have often sat for hours in the hogans\nof entire strangers, and the conversation of men and women was general\nand punctuated with laughter and smiles, showing that they know how to\nmake and appreciate jokes.\n\nThe Navahoes play a game common in the Southwest, which they call\nnanzosh. It is a simple game, yet they seem to get endless fun and\namusement from it, often gambling large sums upon their favorite\nplayers, for, while it looks and is simple, it is not easy to play\nso as to win. It requires great skill and accurate throwing. The\nimplements are two long poles and a small hoop. The poles are generally\nof alder and in two pieces, a fathom long, and a long, many-tailed\nstring called the turkey-claw is fastened to the end of each. Two\nplayers only are needed. One throws the hoop. Both follow, and when\nthey think the hoop is about to fall, they throw their respective poles\nso that the hoop, in its fall, will rest upon those portions of their\npoles that give the highest counts.\n\nCatlin describes a similar game played by the Mandans, though their\npole is a single piece of wood, as is that of the Mohaves and Yumas,\nboth of whom have the same game.\n\nThe taboo is in existence in all its force among the Navahoes. The\nmost singular of these is that which forbids a man ever to look upon\nthe face of his mother-in-law. Among civilized people it is a standard\nsubject for rude jesting, this relationship of the mother-in-law,\nbut with the Navahoes, the white man's jest is a subject of great\nearnestness. Each believes that serious consequences will follow if\nthey see each other; hence, as it is the custom for a man to live with\nhis wife's people, constant dodging is required, and the cries of\nwarning, given by one or another of the family to son or mother-in-law,\nare often heard. I was once photographing the family of Manuelito, the\nlast great war-chief of the Navahoes. The widow of the chief, her two\ndaughters, their husbands and children, made up the group. But there\nwas no getting of them together. I would photograph the mother with her\ndaughters and grandchildren, but as soon as I called for the daughters'\nhusbands, the mother \"slid\" out of sight, and when I wished for her\nreturn, the men disappeared.\n\nThen, too, a Navaho will never touch fish, much less eat it. According\nto one of the shamans, the reason for this is, that some of their\nancestors were once turned into fish in the San Juan River, and, were\nthey to eat fish, they might thus become cannibals, and eat descendants\nof their own ancestors. As neither Matthews nor Stephen refers to this\ncause of the taboo, I merely give it for what it may be worth. The\nformer tells of a white woman, who, in a spirit of mischief, threw a\npan of water in which fish had been soaked over a young Navaho. He\nchanged his clothes and bathed himself carefully, in order that no\ntaint of the tabooed fish might remain upon him. I have had a great\ndeal of fun by innocently offering candy in the form of fish to\nNavahoes. As they are fond of candy, it was a strong proof of the power\nof the taboo that they invariably refused to touch it.\n\nSuperstition naturally forms a large part of the Navaho's thought. He\nbelieves in charms, amulets, fetishes, witchcraft, taboos, magic, and\nall the wondrous things he can conceive. His name for a personal fetish\nis _Bizha_, \"his treasure, something he especially values; hence his\ncharm, his amulet, his personal fetish, his magic weapon, something\nthat one carries to mysteriously protect himself.\"\n\nThe talisman or amulet for the gambler is a piece of fine turquoise,\nbecause Noholipi, a gambling god, who appears in their Origin Legend,\nwas made successful always with a large piece of this precious stone.\n\nThere are quite a number of medicine-men, or shamans, among the\nNavahoes, some good, others bad. It has been my privilege to know\nseveral who are men of dignity and character.\n\nDr. Matthews, in writing of them, thus strongly expresses himself:\n\"There are, among the Navahoes, charlatans and cheats who treat\ndisease; men who pretend to suck disease out of the patient, and then\ndraw from their own mouths pebbles, pieces of charcoal, or bodies\nof insects, claiming that these are the disease which they have\nextracted. But the priests of the great rites are not to be classed\nwith such. All of these with whom the writer is acquainted are above\nsuch trickery. They perform their ceremonies in the firm conviction\nthat they are invoking divine aid, and their calling lends dignity to\ntheir character.\" Of Hatali Natloi, the smiling chanter, he says: \"He\nwould be considered a man of high character in any community. He is\ndignified, courteous, kind, honest, truthful, and self-respecting.\"\n\nThis is the universal testimony of all who know this class of men with\nreasonable intimacy. Though the white man may believe the performances\nof a shaman ridiculous or superstitious, that need not interfere with\nhis respect and esteem.\n\nTo understand this subject aright, one must clearly apprehend the\nIndian meaning of the terms \"medicine,\" and \"medicine-men.\" Oftentimes\nthe latter are called priests, sometimes thaumaturgists, oftener\nshamans, and, of course, by all unknowing white men are unhesitatingly\ndenounced as frauds and humbugs. Now to the Indian all things that\nwork injury to him are bad medicine. If you write his name (or any\nscrawl he cannot understand) on a piece of paper and look at it\nsolemnly and then at him, at the same time shaking your head, you can\npersuade him into the belief that it is \"bad medicine.\" Owen Wister\nrecently wrote in one of the popular magazines an interesting story,\nthe whole plot of which was based upon his knowledge of this fact.\n\nWith the Navaho it is \"bad medicine\" to touch an achindee hogan (or\nhouse). When a person dies within a house, the rafters are tumbled over\nthe body, and the whole set on fire. After that it would be exceeding\n\"bad medicine\" for a Navaho to go near the spot, or touch a piece of\nwood belonging to that hogan; for the spirit (the achindee) is supposed\nto remain in the locality, and he resents any undue intrusion into his\ndomain. Before I was aware of the custom and feeling, I camped near\nan abandoned and partially burned hogan. When I sent my Navaho man to\nit for wood for a fire, he went half a mile away into the mountain\nand stayed there. I was unable to understand his feeling, but later I\nlearned that except under the pangs of direst hunger, he would never\nhave touched a morsel of food prepared over a fire in which wood from\nthe achindee hogan had been used.\n\nMedicine-men are often used as instruments for the working of private\nrevenge. Cowards are to be found among Indians as among white men.\nAmong white men these despicable wretches attack their foes through\nthe columns of newspapers or in the pages of magazines, while among\nthe former they call in the services of a medicine-man. This hired\ncharlatan then either directly or by proxy works upon the fears\nof the man he is hired to injure. Sometimes he actually poisons or\notherwise harms him under pretence of protecting him. But the Indian\nis dreadfully superstitious, and to work upon his mind is easy, and he\nsoon imagines himself to be sick.\n\nFor the cure of disease the better class of Navaho shamans have a\nsystem of chanting, praying, dancing, bathing, sweating, etc., that Dr.\nMatthews has fully described in the United States Bureau of Ethnology\nreports. The complexity of these ceremonies cannot be comprehended or\nconceived by those whose knowledge of the Indian is superficial and\ncasual.\n\nIf, however, a shaman makes himself unpopular, or fails to cure in\nseveral successive cases, or earns the enmity of a treacherous shaman\nfoe, he is liable to be accused of witchcraft, and if a sufficient\nnumber of the people can be made to believe the charge he is speedily\ndone away with. One of the shamans made famous by Dr. Matthews was\nrecently killed on account of his harsh and tyrannical manner. He was\naccused of witchcraft and shot. Hence it will be seen that the Navaho\nis not yet perfect--any more than his white brother. No, indeed!\n\nThere are other points in which he is similar to his brother of the\nwhite skin. Some years ago I journeyed in a wagon with an old Arizona\npioneer, Franklin French, from Winslow, on the line of the Santa F\u00e9,\nthrough the Hopi country, the Mormon town of Tuba City, past the Navaho\nsettlements of Willow Springs, Echo Reef, etc., to Lee's Ferry of the\nColorado River.\n\nBeyond Willow Springs we camped one night, and I went to a Navaho hogan\nto purchase corn and vegetables for ourselves, and feed for the horses.\nEverything was six prices too high, but the Navahoes knew I was in\nneed of their articles and raised the prices accordingly. It is not\nonly the white man that understands the principle of \"cornering the\nmarket.\" We compromised, however, and, after a hearty supper and a chat\naround the camp-fire, I rolled myself up in my blankets ready to sleep\nuntil called for breakfast in the morning.\n\nBut what a babel of confusing and distressing sounds it was that\nawakened me! Surely we must be beset by a band of marauding Navahoes,\nbent on murdering us! No; it was only a wordy fight between my driver\nand three Navaho women, who had come to demand compensation for\ndepredations committed in their corn-field by our horses. Hobbled,\nand turned loose, they had discovered somehow, during the night, that\non Echo Reef were corn and other good fodder to be had in the place\nof the scant feed offered below; so, following their noses, they had\nwandered into corn-fields and melon-patches to their own delectation,\nbut the manifest injury of the crops. What was to be done about it?\nFrench was advising that the Navahoes imitate the example of the Hopis\nand cut off a portion of the ear of each offending animal, but the\nwomen angrily laughed him to scorn and vociferously demanded _cinquo\npesos_ for the damage. These were not forthcoming, but I urged the\nsquaws on, telling them to insist that the hoary-headed old miser pay\nthem their just demands, and informing them, in purest English, of the\nopinions French had expressed regarding them, as a people, the night\nbefore. The aborigines didn't quite know what to make out of my fluent\nverbosity, and French at last impatiently turned to me and told me\nthere'd be a \"pretty general monkey and parrot time started here pretty\nquick, if I didn't let up, and that'll be follered by a pretty tall\nfoot-race between us two, in which you'll be 'way off in the lead.\"\nSo we compromised with our dusky visitors by inviting them to eat up\nthe remnants of our breakfast, and then carry away a little coffee and\nsugar. The only thing I am now afraid of is that, at the next visit\nI make them, they will privately and stealthily, under the cover of\nnight, lead our steeds into the forbidden fields, and encourage them in\ntheir thefts, in order that they may enjoy another \"compromise.\"\n\nPrimitive peoples at an early date felt the desire for personal\nadornment. With the Navaho this found expression in painting the body\nwith various colored ochres or clays, in fashioning garments out of the\nskins of animals, in wearing head-dresses and other fantastic ornaments\nmade from feathers, and in necklaces, bracelets, anklets, and wristlets\nmade of small flint arrowpoints, or of the dried seeds of juniper,\npinion, and other plants, or of bones. Later they secured beads of\nshell, turquoise, and coral by barter.\n\nBut nearly all this primitive decoration received a rude shock of\ndisplacement when the Mexican colonist came upon the scene, with his\niron, copper, and silver adornments glittering in the sunlight. From\ncoveting, the Navaho took to possessing by fair means or foul. He would\nbarter his skins or other native possessions for the precious metals,\nusing brass and copper for the making of ornaments, and iron for\ntipping his arrows. Silver, however, has never lost its charm for him.\nThe Mexican vaquero, trapped out in the glittering metal, has ever been\nhis ideal of personal adornment, and he retains it to this day. Silver\nis the only coin they care to accept, though the better educated now\nknow the superior value of gold.\n\nThere are some clever, skilful silversmiths among them--peshlikais, as\nthey call themselves. In crucibles of their own manufacture they melt\nthe precious metal, using a crude and primitive blast furnace, with\ncharcoal as fuel, and the molten silver is then poured into moulds\nwhich they have shaped out of sandstone or other rock. They understand\nthe art of uniting two pieces of metal together, for many of their\nornaments are hollow and globular, originally made in two parts and\nthen joined. Scarcely a man or woman of any standing in the tribe does\nnot possess a home-manufactured necklace of silver beads or articles\nof some design,--a finger ring or two, one or more bracelets, and\nsometimes a pair of ear pendants. Above all they covet the belt with\nlarge silver disks. Each of these disks is made of two or more silver\ndollars, melted and run into a flat mould. This thick sheet is then\nhammered out to the required size and shape, which is either oval or\ncircular, and chased with small tools. The border is generally filleted\nand the edges scalloped. When finished each disk has a value of twice\nits original cost in coin silver. Sometimes a belt will contain eight\nor nine disks and a buckle, which cannot be bought for less than\nthirty-six to forty dollars. This, too, is actual cost price. If the\nNavaho doesn't care to part with it, an extra five or ten dollars, or\neven more, is required to induce him to let it go.\n\nIn addition to these objects of personal adornment, many of the more\nwealthy have silver bridles. The bridle itself is made of leather or\nwoven horsehair, and then the silver strips and bars, artistically\nchased and decorated, are placed and fastened on the headstall. Silver\nbuttons of pretty and tasty design are commonly used on gaiters and\nmoccasins. These are made from beaten coins, twenty-five and fifty-cent\npieces, and the obverse side is often found in its original state as\nstamped in the United States or Mexican mint.\n\nThe bracelets are of various designs, sometimes simple round circlets;\nother times the silver is triangular, but the most common shape is a\nflat band, on the outer side of which chasings and gravings are made.\nThese bracelets are made so that they can be slipped sideways over the\nwrist. These and all the other articles mentioned are worn equally by\nwomen and men.\n\nThe finger rings are often adorned with a rude setting of turquoise\nor garnet. The former is found in various parts of New Mexico, and on\ntheir reservation they dig garnets, spinel rubies, jacinths, peridots,\nopals, smoky topaz, and crystal spar in large quantities. From the\nPetrified Forest they obtain jasper, carnelian, chalcedony, agate, and\namethyst. All these objects are rudely polished and shaped, and used on\nrings, ear pendants, or necklaces.\n\nIt has been stated that the Navaho is exceedingly superstitious about\nmaking or allowing to be made any representation of a snake, and\nthat on one occasion a silversmith who offended by beginning to make\na bracelet of rattlesnake design was cruelly beaten, his workshop\ndemolished, and the hated emblem destroyed. This may be true, but I\nhave ridden all over the Navaho reservation wearing both a rattlesnake\nring and bracelet, and have had several made for me, on different parts\nof the reservation, by different peshlikais. I am now wearing a ring of\nrattlesnake design made by a Navaho silversmith and given to me with\nthis thought as explained to me by the donor: \"The snake watches and\nguards for us our springs and water-courses. Water is the most precious\nthing we possess in the desert. I make for you this ring in the form of\na snake, that the power that guards our most precious thing may always\nguard you.\"\n\n[Illustration: WIFE OF LEVE LEVE, WALLAPAI CHIEF.]\n\n[Illustration: THE MARCH OF THE ANTELOPE PRIESTS, ORAIBI, 1902.]\n\nI wore this ring when unfortunately I was bitten by a rattlesnake at\nPh\u0153nix, in February, 1902; but as I speedily recovered, I am satisfied\nthat my Navaho friend will insist that it was the ring and its\nvirtues that kept me from sudden death, and that hastened my complete\nrecovery.[4]\n\n[4] Since writing this I visited the Hopi Snake Dance at Oraibi, in\nSeptember, 1902. One of the Navahoes I met there informed me that he\nhad come as the messenger of my peshlikai friend at Tohatchi, and he\nasked, \"When _klish_ (the rattlesnake) bit you did you wear the klish\nring?\" I answered, \"Yes.\" \"Then,\" said he, \"that was the reason you\nrecovered. Had you not worn it you would speedily have died.\" Of course\nI believed him.\n\nA most interesting settlement of Navahoes is that of To-hatch-i, or\nLittle Water, some forty miles northwest of Gallup, New Mexico. Here\nI was invited by Mrs. E. H. De Vore, the teacher of the government\nschool. The drive is over an interesting country, part of which is\ncovered by junipers and cedars, and where the road winds around\nstrangely and fantastically sculptured rocks as it reaches the great\nNavaho plateau.\n\nThe major portion of the Navahoes were kind and hospitable and greeted\nme cordially. The day after my arrival I was talking with Hosteen\nDa-\u00e4-zhy about the other Indian tribes I had visited, when suddenly\nthe thought came to me which I immediately expressed: \"When I go to my\nfriends the Hopis and Acomas and Zunis they always know I am weary\nand tired with my long journey across the sandy desert, and they have\ntheir women prepare a bowl of \"tal-a-wush\" and cool and refresh me by\nshampooing my head.\" Talawush is the Navaho for the root of the amole\n(soap-root), which, macerated and then beaten up and down in a bowl of\nwater, produces a delicious lather, which, for a shampoo, has no equal.\n\nIn a moment, as though grieved by his thoughtlessness and want of\nhospitality, Da-\u00e4-zhy called to his oldest daughter, and bade her\nprepare some talawush to give me a shampoo. The woman muttered some\nprotest,--\"it was enough to wash her own husband's head without having\nto wash mine,\"--but her father sternly rebuked her for her want of\ncourtesy to the stranger. In a short time the preparations were all\nmade. I sent to Mrs. De Vore and borrowed a couple of towels, and then\nin the shade outside knelt down with my head over a large bowl full\nof the refreshing suds. Very gently at first, and afterwards more\nvigorously, the good woman lathered my head--and oh, how cooling and\nsoothing it was!--while her sister and the interpreter stood by and\nlaughed. Then Hosteen himself came and laughed at the droll remarks of\nhis daughter. This general laughter called others, and by and by Mrs.\nDe Vore and her sister could not resist the temptation to come and see\nwhat all the fun was about. Just as they sat down, close by, my gentle\nmanipulator was saying: \"Navaho men have hair only on the top of their\nheads, but you have hair also on the bottom [my beard]. Shall I also\nput talawush on the bottom hair as well as the top?\" Laughingly I bade\nher put it everywhere she liked, and just as my mouth was at its widest\nshe brought up a handful of suds and filled it full. Of course I half\nchoked, and this only made the laugh greater than ever, for, with the\ngreatest coolness and sly nonchalance she exclaimed: \"It is a good\nthing that you got a mouthful. White men need to have their mouths\nwashed out pretty often!\"\n\nAnd what a delightful sensation the whole operation gave one! It was\nrefreshing beyond description, and, for days after, my hair was as\nsilky and soft as that of a child.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE NAVAHO AS A BLANKET WEAVER[5]\n\n\nWhen the Spaniard came into Arizona and New Mexico three hundred\nand fifty years ago, he found the art of weaving in a well-advanced\nstage among the domestic and sedentary Pueblo Indians, and the wild\nand nomad Navahoes. The cotton of these blankets was grown by these\nArizona Indians from time immemorial, and they also used the tough\nfibres of the yucca, and agave leaves, and the hairs of various wild\nanimals, either separately or with cotton. Their processes of weaving\nwere exactly the same then as they are to-day, there being but slight\ndifferences between the methods followed before the advent of the\nwhites and after. Hence, in a study of Indian blanketry, as it is made\neven to-day, we are approximating nearly to the pure aboriginal methods\nof pre-Columbian times.\n\n[5] This chapter is composed mainly from an article of mine entitled\n\"Indian Blanketry,\" which appeared in _Outing_ of March, 1902.\n\nArch\u00e6ologists and ethnologists generally presume that the art of\nweaving on the loom was learned by the Navahoes from their Pueblo\nneighbors. All the facts in the case seem to bear out this supposition.\nYet, as is well known, the Navahoes are a part of the great Athabascan\nfamily, which has scattered, by separate migrations, from Alaska into\nCalifornia, Arizona, and New Mexico. Many of the Alaskans are good\nweavers, and according to Navaho traditions, their ancestors, when\nthey came into the country, wore blankets that were made of cedar bark\nand of yucca fibre. Even in the Alaska (Thlinket) blankets, made to-day\nof the wool of the white mountain-goat, cedar bark is twisted in with\nthe wool of the warp. Why, then, should not the Navaho woman have\nbrought the art of weaving, possibly in a very primitive condition,\nfrom her original Alaskan home? That her art, however, has been\nimproved by contact with the pueblo Hopi, and other Indians, there can\nbe no question, and, if she had a crude loom, it was speedily replaced\nby the one so long used by the Pueblo. Where the Pueblo weaver gained\nher loom we do not know, whether from the tribes of the South, or by\nher own invention. But in all practical ways the primitive loom was as\ncomplete and perfect at the Spanish conquest as it is to-day.\n\nAny loom, to be complete, must possess certain qualifications. As\nProfessor Mason has well said: \"In any style of mechanical weaving,\nhowever simple or complex, even in darning, the following operations\nare performed: First, raising and lowering alternately different sets\nof warp filaments to form the 'sheds'; second, throwing the shuttle,\nor performing some operation that amounts to the same thing; third,\nafter inserting the weft thread, driving it home, and adjusting it by\nmeans of the batten,--be it the needle, the finger, the shuttle, or a\nseparate device.\"\n\nThe frame is made of four cottonwood or cedar poles cut from the trees\nthat line the nearest stream or grow in the mountain forests. Two of\nthese are forked for uprights, and the cross beams are lashed to them\nabove and below. Sometimes the lower beam is dispensed with, and\nwooden pegs driven into the earth are used instead. The frame ready,\nthe warp is arranged on beams, which are lashed to the top and bottom\nof the frame by means of a rawhide or horsehair riata (our Western\nword \"lariat\" is merely a corruption of _la riata_). Thus the warp\nis made tight and is ready for the nimble fingers of the weaver. Her\nshuttles are pieces of smooth, round stick upon the ends of which she\nhas wound her yarn, or even the small balls of yarn are made to serve\nthis purpose. By her side is a rude wooden comb with which she strikes\na few stitches into place, but when she wishes to wedge the yarn of a\ncomplete row--from side to side--of weaving, she uses for the purpose a\nflat, broad stick, one edge of which is sharpened almost to knife-like\nkeenness. This is the \"batten.\" With the design in her brain her busy\nand skilful fingers produce the pattern as she desires it, there being\nno sketch from which she may copy. In weaving a blanket of intricate\npattern and many colors the weaver finds it easier to open the few warp\nthreads needed with her fingers and then thrust between them the small\nballs of yarn, rather than bother with a shuttle, no matter how simple.\n\nBut before blankets can be made the wool must be cut from the backs\nof the sheep, cleaned, carded, spun, and dyed. It is one of the\ninteresting sights of the Southwest region to see a flock of sheep\nand goats running together, watched over, perhaps, by a lad of ten or\na dozen years, or by a woman who is ultimately to weave the fleeces\nthey carry into substantial blankets. After the fleece has been\nremoved from the sheep the Navaho woman proceeds to wash it. Then\nit is combed with hand cards--small flat implements in which wire\nteeth are placed--purchased from the traders. (These and the shears\nare the only modern implements used.) The dyeing is sometimes done\nbefore spinning, generally, however, after. The spindle used is of the\nsimplest character--merely a slender stick thrust through a circular\ndisk of wood. In spite of the fact that the Navahoes have seen the\nspinning-wheel in use by the Mexicans and the Mormons, who, at Tuba\nCity, live practically as their neighbors, they have never cared either\nto make or steal them. Their conservatism preserves the ancient, slow\nand laborious method. Holding the spindle in the right hand, the point\nof the short end below the balancing disk resting on the ground, and\nthe long end on her knee, the spinner attaches the end of her staple\nclose to the disk, and then gives the spindle a rapid twirl. As it\nrevolves she holds the yarn out so that it twists. As it tightens\nsufficiently she allows it to wrap on to the spindle, and repeats the\noperation until the spindle is full. The spinning is done loosely or\ntightly according to the fineness of weave required in the blanket.\nThere are practically four grades of blankets made from native wool,\nand it must be prepared suitably for each grade. The coarsest is, of\ncourse, the easiest spun. This is to make the common blankets. These\nseldom have any other color than the native gray, white, brown, and\nblack, though occasionally streaks of red or some other color will\nbe introduced. The yarn for these is coarse and fuzzy, and nearly a\nquarter of an inch in diameter. The next grade is the extra common. The\nyarn for this must be a little finer, say twenty-five per cent. finer,\nand is generally in a variety of colors. The third grade is the half\nfancy, and this is closer woven yarn, and the colors are a prominent\nfeature of the completed blankets. These half-fancy blankets are those\ngenerally offered for sale as the \"genuine\" Navaho material, etc., and,\nwere the dyes used of native origin, this designation would be correct.\nUnfortunately, in by far the greater number of them, aniline dyes are\nused, and this, by the wise purchaser, is regarded as a misfortune.\nThe next grade is the native wool fancy. These are comparatively rare\nblankets, as the yarn must be woven very tightly, and the weaving also\ndone with great care. The highest grade that one will ordinary come in\ncontact with is the Germantown. This style of blanket is made entirely\nof purchased Germantown yarn, which has almost superseded the native\nwool fancy, as, to the ordinary purchaser, a Germantown yarn blanket\nlooks so much better than one made from its Navaho counterpart. The\nyarn is of brighter colors--necessarily so, owing to the wonderful\nchromatic gamut offered by the aniline dyes; it is spun more evenly\n(not necessarily more strongly, and, indeed, as a matter of fact, is\nfar less strong), and (to the Indian) is much less trouble to procure.\nThen, too, when woven, owing to its good looks, it sells for more than\nthe native wool fancy, upon which so much more work has had to be put.\nHence Madam Navaho, being no fool, prefers to make what the people ask\nfor, and \"Germantowns\" are turned out _ad libitum_.\n\nBut, to the knowing, there is still a higher grade of blanket. This\nis not, as one expert (_sic_) would have it, an attempted copying of\nancient blankets, but a continuation of an art which he declares to\nbe lost. There are several old weavers who preserve in themselves all\nthe old and good of the best days of blanket weaving. They use native\ndyes, native wool,--with bayeta when they can get it,--and they spin\ntheir wool to a tension that makes it as durable as fine steel. They\nweave with care, and after the old fashions, following the ancient\nshapes and designs, and produce blankets that are as good as any that\nwere ever made in the palmiest days of the art. Such blankets take\nlong in weaving, and are both rare and expensive. I have just had one\nof these fine blankets made (January, 1903), and in every sense of the\nword it is equal to any old blanket I ever saw.\n\nThe common blankets and the extra common are sold by the pound, the\nprice, of course, varying, and of late years steadily increasing.\nHalf-fancy blankets are generally sold by the piece, and vary in price\naccording to the harmony of the colors, the fineness of the weave, and\nthe striking characteristics of the design. This is also true of native\nwool fancy, the price being determined by the Indian according to her\nnotions of the length of the purchaser's purse. On the other hand,\nGermantown yarn having a fixed purchasable price, the blankets made\nfrom it are to be bought by the pound.\n\nThese remarks, necessarily, refer to the original purchases from the\nIndian. There are no general rules of purchase price followed by\ntraders, dealers, or retail salesmen.\n\nIn the original colors, as I have already shown, there are white,\nbrown, gray, and black, the last rather a grayish-black, or, better\nstill, as Matthews describes it, rusty. He also says: \"They still\nemploy to a great extent their native dyes of yellow, reddish, and\nblack. There is good evidence that they formerly had a blue dye;\nbut indigo, originally introduced, I think, by the Mexicans, has\nsusperseded this. If they, in former days, had a native blue and a\nnative yellow, they must also, of course, have had a green, and they\nnow make green of their native yellow and indigo, the latter being the\nonly imported dye-stuff I have ever seen in use among them.... The\nbrilliant red figures in their finer blankets were, a few years ago,\nmade entirely of bayeta, and this material is still (1881) largely\nused. Bayeta is a bright scarlet cloth with a long nap, much finer in\nappearance than the scarlet strouding which forms such an important\narticle in the Indian trade of the North.\"\n\nThis bayeta or baize was unravelled, and the Indian often retwisted the\nwarp to make it firmer than originally, and then rewove it into his\nincomparable blankets.\n\nFrom information mainly gained by Mr. G. H. Pepper, of the American\nMuseum of Natural History, during his three years' sojourn with the\nNavahoes as head of the Hyde Exploring Expedition, I present the\nfollowing accounts of their native dyes. From the earliest days the\nNavahoes have been expert dyers, their colors being black, brick-red,\nrusset, blue, yellow, and a greenish-yellow akin to the shade known\nas old gold. To make the black dye three ingredients are used; viz.,\nyellow ochre, pinion gum, and the leaves and twigs of the aromatic\nsumac (_Rhus aromatica_). The ochre is pulverized and roasted until it\nbecomes a light brown, when it is removed from the fire and mixed with\nan equal amount of pinion gum. This mixture is then placed on the fire,\nand as the roasting continues it first becomes mushy, then drier and\ndarker, until nothing but a fine black powder is left. In the meantime\nthe sumac leaves and twigs are being boiled, five or six hours being\nrequired to fully extract the juices. When both are somewhat cooled\nthey are mixed, and almost immediately a rich bluish-black fluid is\nformed.\n\nFor yellow dye the tops of a flowering weed (_Bigelovia graveolens_)\nare boiled for several hours until the liquid assumes a deep yellow\ncolor. As soon as the dyer deems the extraction of the color juices\nnearly complete, she takes some native alum (_almogen_) and heats it\nover the fire, and, when it becomes pasty, gradually adds it to the\nboiling decoction, which slowly becomes of the required yellow color.\n\nThe brick-red dye is extracted from the bark and roots of the sumac,\nand ground black alder bark, with the ashes of the juniper as a\nmordant. She now immerses the wool and allows it to remain in the dye\nfrom half an hour to an hour.\n\nWhence come the designs incorporated by these simple weavers into their\nblankets, sashes, and dresses? In this, as in basketry and pottery,\nthe answer is found in nature. Indeed, many of their textile designs\nsuggest a derivation from basketry ornamentation (which originally came\nfrom nature), \"as the angular, curveless figures of interlaying plaits\npredominate, and the principal subjects are the same--conventional\ndevices representing clouds, stars, lightning, the rainbow, and\nemblems of the deities. But these simple forms are produced in endless\ncombination and often in brilliant, kaleidoscopic grouping, presenting\nbroad effects of scarlet and black, of green, yellow, and blue upon\nscarlet, and wide ranges of color skilfully blended upon a ground of\nwhite. The centre of the fabric is frequently occupied with tessellated\nor lozenge patterns of multi-colored sides, or divided into panels of\ncontrasting colors in which different designs appear; some display\nsymmetric zigzags, converging and spreading throughout their length; in\nothers, bands of high color are defined by zones of neutral tints, or\nparted by thin, bright lines into a checkered mosaic, and in many only\nthe most subdued shades appear. Fine effects are obtained by using a\nsoft, gray wool in its natural state, to form the body of the fabric in\nsolid color, upon which figures in orange and scarlet are introduced;\nalso in those woven in narrow stripes of black and deep blue, having\nthe borders relieved in bright tinted meanders along the sides and\nends, or with a central colored figure in the dark body, with the\ndesign repeated in a diagonal panel at each corner.\n\n\"The greatest charm, however, of these primitive fabrics, is the\nunrestrained freedom shown by the weaver in her treatment of primitive\nconventions. To the checkered emblem of the rainbow she adds sweeping\nrays of color, typifying sunbeams; below the many-angled cloud group,\nshe inserts random pencil lines of rain; or she softens the rigid\nmeander, signifying lightning, with graceful interlacing, and shaded\ntints. Not confining herself alone to these traditional devices, she\ninvents her own methods to introduce curious, realistic figures of\ncommon objects,--her grass brush, wooden weaving fork, a stalk of corn,\na bow, an arrow, or a plume of feathers from a dancer's mask. Thus,\nalthough the same characteristic styles of weaving and decoration\nare general, yet none of the larger designs are ever reproduced with\nmechanical exactness; each fabric carries some distinct variation, some\nsuggestion of the occasion of its making, woven into form as the fancy\narose.\"\n\nI have thus quoted from an unpublished manuscript of one of the\ngreatest Navaho authorities of the United States--Mr. A. M. Stephen--in\norder to confirm my own oft-repeated and sometimes challenged\nstatements that the Navaho weaver finds in nature her designs, and that\nin most of her better blankets there is woven \"some suggestion of the\noccasion of its making.\"\n\nThis imitative faculty is, _par excellence_, the controlling force in\naboriginal decoration so far as I know the Amerind of the Southwest.\n\nWith many of the younger women, submission to the imitative faculty in\nweaving is becoming an injury instead of a blessing. Instead of looking\nto nature for their models, or finding pleasure in the religious\nsymbolism of the older weavers, they have sunk into a lazy, apathetic\ndisregard, and they slavishly and carelessly imitate the work of their\nelders. This is growingly true, I am sorry to say, with both basket\nmakers and blanket weavers. On my recent trips I have come in contact\nwith many fair specimens, both in basketry and blanketry, and when I\nhave asked for an explanation of the design the reply has been: \"Me no\nsabe! I make 'em all same old basket, or all same old Navaho blanket.\"\nHere is perversion of the true imitative faculty which sought its pure\nand original inspiration from nature.\n\nIt will not be out of place here to correct a few general\nmisapprehensions in regard to the older and more valuable Navaho\nblankets. These erroneous ideas are partly the result of the\nmisstatements of an individual who sought thereby to enhance the value\nof his own collection.\n\nIt is true that good bayeta blankets are comparatively rare, but they\nare far more common than he would have his readers believe. The word\n\"bayeta\" is nothing but the simple Spanish for the English baize, and\nis spelled bayeta, and not \"balleta\" or \"vayeta.\" It is a bright red\nbaize with a long nap, made especially in England for Spanish trade\n(not Turkish, as this \"expert\" claims), and by the Spanish and Mexicans\nsold to the Indians. Up to as late as 1893 bayeta blankets were being\nmade plentifully. Since then comparatively few have been made. The\nbayeta was a regular article of commerce, and could be purchased at any\ngood wholesale house in New York. It was generally sold by the rod,\nand not by the pound. The duty now is so high that its importation is\npractically prohibited, it being, I believe, about sixty per cent. And\nyet I am personally acquainted with several weavers who will imitate\nperfectly, in bayeta, any blanket ever woven, and that the native dyes\nfor other colors will be used. We are told that an Indian woman will\nnot take the time to weave blankets such as were made in the olden\ntime. I have several that took nine, twelve, and thirteen months to\nmake, and if the pay is good enough any weaver will work on a blanket\na year, or even two years, if necessary. The length of time makes no\ndifference, as several traders in Indian blankets can vouch. Indeed,\nit would be quite possible to obtain the perfect reproduction of any\nblanket in existence, which would be satisfactory to any board of\ngenuine experts, the only differences between the new and the ancient\nblankets being those inseparable from newness and age.\n\nWhile bayeta blankets are not common by any means, they aggregate many\nscores in the mass, and are to be found in many collections, both East\nand West. It is a difficult matter to even suggest in a photograph or\nan engraving any idea of the beauty and charm of one of these old\nNavaho blankets.\n\n[Illustration: AN AGED NAVAHO AND HER HOGAN.]\n\n[Illustration: NAVAHO FAMILY AND HOGAN IN THE PAINTED DESERT.]\n\nIt will be observed that I have written as if the major portion of\nthe weaving of Navaho blankets was done by the women. Dr. Matthews,\nhowever, writing in or before 1881, says that \"there are ... a few men\nwho practise the textile art, and among them are to be found the best\nartisans of the tribe.\" Of these men but one or two are now alive, if\nany, and I have seen one only who still does the weaving.\n\nIn late years a few Navaho weavers have invented a method of weaving\na blanket both sides of which are different. The Salish stock of\nIndians make baskets the designs of which on the inside are different\nfrom those on the outside, but this is done by a simple process of\nimbrication, easy to understand, which affords no key to a solution of\nthe double-faced Navaho blanket. I have purchased two or three such\nblankets, but as yet have not found a weaver who would show me the\nprocess of weaving. Dr. Matthews thinks this new invention cannot date\nfarther back than 1893, as prior to that time Mr. Thomas V. Keam, the\noldest trader with the Navahoes, had never seen one. Yet one collector\ndeclares he had one as far back as fifteen years ago.\n\nIn addition to the products of the vertical loom the Navaho and also\nthe Pueblo women weave a variety of smaller articles of wear, all of\nwhich are remarkable for their strength and durability as well as for\ntheir striking designs.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nTHE WALLAPAIS\n\n\nIt is hard to conceive of a people, numbering nearly a thousand souls,\nlodged within the borders of the United States, of whom nothing has\nbeen written. The only references to the Wallapais are to be found in\nthe casual remarks of travellers or soldiers, and later, the agent's\nreports to the Commissioner of Indian Affairs. Perhaps the earliest\nreference to them is in Padre Garc\u00e9s' Diary, where, in describing the\nMohaves, he says the Wallapais (spelling the name Jaguallapais) are\ntheir enemies on the east. Then, on leaving the Mohaves and journeying\neast, he himself reaches the tribe in the neighborhood of where the\ntown of Kingman now stands. Six miles northwest of Kingman are located\nBeale's Springs, which pour forth the best supply of water in the whole\nregion; hence it was natural that the Wallapais should have established\ntheir homes near it. In the Wallapai Origin Legend the story of their\ndispersion to this region is told. The Wallapai Mountains are close by,\na few miles to the southeast, and from the pines of these mountains\nthey get their name; \"Wal-la,\" tall pine; \"pai,\" people,--the people of\nthe tall pine.[6]\n\n[6] There are several other fair springs in the vicinity, chiefly\nJohnson's to the north of Kingman, and Gentile Springs, below the pass\nthrough which the Santa F\u00e9 railway enters Sacramento Valley.\n\nGarc\u00e9s says the people received him hospitably and \"conducted\nthemselves with me as comported with the affection that I had shown\ntoward them.\" Their dress was antelope skins and \"some shirts of Moki,\"\ndoubtless the cotton woven shirts of these primitive weavers.\n\nLieutenant Ives, in his interesting report of his early explorations\nin this region, describes the Wallapais in Peach Springs and Diamond\nCanyons, another of their favored locations, and Captain Bourke in his\n\"On the Border with Crook\" makes passing mention of them.\n\nOn January 4, 1883, President Arthur decreed the following as their\nreservation:--\n\n \"It is hereby ordered that the following-described tract of country\n situated in the Territory of Arizona be, and the same is hereby, set\n aside and reserved for the use and occupancy of the Hualapai Indians,\n namely: Beginning at a point on the Colorado River five miles eastward\n of Tinnakah Spring; thence south twenty miles to crest of high mesa;\n thence south forty degrees east twenty-five miles to a point of Music\n Mountains; thence east fifteen miles; thence north fifty degrees east\n thirty-five miles; thence north thirty miles to the Colorado River;\n thence along said river to the place of beginning; the southern\n boundary being at least two miles south of Peach Spring, and the\n eastern boundary at least two miles east of Pine Spring. All bearings\n and distances being approximate.\n\n \"CHESTER A. ARTHUR.\"\n\nOwing to the abundant supply of water at Beale's Springs the settlement\nthere naturally became a stopping-place for all travel across that\nportion of Arizona. It was the favorite camping-place of the wagons\ntravelling between Fort Mohave and Fort Whipple, near Ph\u0153nix.\nJohnson's and Gentile Springs also being in line, and the pass just\nbelow Kingman leading into the Sacramento Valley being the most natural\noutlet for a railway, the building of the Atlantic and Pacific, by\nwhich name the section of the great Santa F\u00e9 transcontinental system\nwhich extends from Albuquerque, New Mexico, to Barstow, California, was\noriginally known--found the Wallapais and at once put them in contact\nwith the outside world and our civilization. Unfortunately the actual\nbuilders of a railway and their followers do not always represent the\nbest elements of our civilization, and the meeting in this case was\ndecidedly against the best interests of the Wallapais. Close proximity,\nalso, to a border mining town, such as Kingman, has not tended to the\nelevation of the morals or ideals of the Wallapais, and in a short time\nmany of those who resided near the railways became known for their\ndegradation. The men yielded to the white men's vices and soon inducted\ntheir women into the same courses, so that for a long period of years\nthe name Wallapai seemed to be almost synonymous with drunkenness,\ngambling, wild orgies, and the utmost degradation. In those days it was\nno uncommon sight to see as many as twenty men, women, and children\nlying around drunk in either Kingman or Hackberry, and I have personal\nknowledge of several cases where fathers took their daughters and sold\nthem to white men, into a bondage infinitely worse and more degrading\nthan slavery.\n\nOf late years this condition has been largely improved. When the\ngovernment schools were established and a field matron sent to work\nwith the Wallapais, new elements of our civilization were introduced to\nthese unfortunates, and nobly they have responded. With few exceptions\nthey are now industrious, sober, honest, and reliable.\n\nThe Wallapais are of Yuman stock. In appearance they more nearly\nresemble the Mohaves found at Parker, on the reservation, than any\nother of the peoples in the immediate region. They have the same stout,\nsturdy, fleshy build, heavy faces, and general habits, though in many\nrespects they are a different people. They regard the Havasupais as\ntheir cousins, and the speech of the two peoples is very similar.\nIndeed any person who can speak the one can easily be understood by one\nwho speaks the other.\n\nAccording to their traditions, it was one of the mythical heroes of the\nWallapais--Pach-i-tha-a-wi--who made the Grand Canyon. There had been a\nbig flood and the earth was covered with water. No one could stir but\nPach-i-tha-a-wi, and he went forth carrying a big knife he had prepared\nof flint, and a large, heavy wooden club. He struck the knife deep\ninto the water-covered ground and then smote it deeper and deeper with\nhis club. He moved it back and forth as he struck it further into the\nearth, until the canyon was formed through which all the water rushed\nout into the Sea of the Sunset. Then, as the sun shone, the ground\nbecame hard and solid as we find it to-day.\n\nIn physical appearance the Wallapais are a far coarser and heavier\ntype than the Navahoes. They are medium in height, small-boned, and\nfat. Their features are heavy and coarse. The nose is flat between the\neyes and broad at the base, and the nostrils large, denoting good lung\npower and capacity. The septum is very large and heavy. The cheek-bones\ngenerally are high and prominent, and the chin well rounded, rather\nthan square, like that of most of the Navahoes. Their shoulders are\nbroad, with head set close in. Seldom is a long-necked man or woman\nseen. The upper lips are full and the under ones thick, with a slight\ndroop at the corners. The eyes are large and limpid, brown or black,\nand capable of great seriousness or merry sparklings. The foreheads\nare narrow, rounding off on each side. The heads are round without any\ngreat fulness of the back regions. Most of them have good teeth, white\nand strong, though the use of white men's coffee, baking powder, and\nother demoralizing foods and drinks, have begun to work appreciable\ninjury to them.\n\nThe women generally wear their hair banged over the forehead, so that\nthe eyebrows are almost covered, and the rest of the hair is cut off\nlevel with the shoulders, so that a well-combed head of hair falls\nheavily around the whole head, covering the major part of the cheeks\nand sides of the chin. I once made an interesting discovery in regard\nto this almost complete covering up of the face with the hair. I wished\nto make a photograph of a woman I had long known and been friendly\nwith. As her eyes and face were scarcely distinguishable, I took the\nliberty of putting back the hair from her cheeks. She arose in anger,\nand for three years refused to speak or meet me. I had given to her the\nmost serious insult a man could offer to a Wallapai woman. The hair is\ncoarse, thick, and black, though after a shampoo with amole root it\nis silky and glossy. The men tie the \"banda\" around the forehead and\nseldom wear a hat except when in the towns of the white men.\n\nAs a rule both men and women have sweet and soft voices, though a few\nare harsh and forbidding.\n\nThe tattoo is common. The work is done with pins, and charcoal is\nrubbed in as the punctures are made. This gives a bluish-black\nappearance which is permanent. They also paint their faces in red,\nyellow, and black. The chief purpose of both tattooing and painting is\nto enhance their beauty, though there are times when the tattooing has\na distinct significance.\n\n[Illustration: NAVAHO WOMAN ON HORSEBACK.]\n\n[Illustration: THE WINNER OF THE \"GALLO\" RACE AT TOHATCHI.]\n\nIn school the boys and girls are slow but sure in their learning. They\nread, write, spell, and figure with accuracy and speed, and compare\nfavorably with white children in the rapidity of their progress. Most\nof the schoolgirls are heavily built and coarse,--indeed, all but two\nchildren, the daughters of Bi-cha (commonly called Beecher), who are\nslim and slight.\n\nIn another chapter I have explained the charge that Wallapai parents\nwere unkind, even cruel to their children. That charge can no\nlonger be maintained. They are kindness itself, as a rule, and from\nbabyhood up the children receive all the care of which the parents\ndeem them needful. Some of their babes are as chubby and pretty and\nsweet-tempered as any I have ever seen, and much fun have I had in\nphotographing those who were especially attractive to me. One mother\nenjoyed my appreciation of her offspring and was most good-natured in\nyielding to my desire to often photograph her. The little one would\ncoo and laugh and kick her little feet and legs in merriment, or go\nto sleep in my or her mother's arms, or even when standing up in her\nwicker cradle. When I hung her up upon the wall she soberly looked at\nme, but made no demonstration of fear. Her mother, however, looked to\nsee what I was doing. I bade her gaze upon her child, and the merry\nlaugh she gave would have been an astonishment to those who regard the\nIndian as dull, stolid, expressionless.\n\nIndeed one of the most laughing merry sprites it has ever been my good\nfortune to know is a Wallapai maiden of some eighteen years. Seldom is\nshe seen any other way than smiling or cheerily laughing. She is a\nperfect witch for mischief and practical jokes, and is never so happy\nas when she can perpetrate one upon a white man whom she can trust.\nIn that word \"trust\" lies the whole key to the demeanor of an Indian,\neither man, woman, or child, towards a white person. If you are trusted\nthe whole inner life is left open as a clear page; if not, the book is\nclosed, locked, sealed, and the key thrown away.\n\nI had long wished to photograph the Wallapais, but they had always\nobjected. When I arrived at Kingman I sent Pu-chil-ow-a, the\ninterpreter and policeman, to call a powwow. I sent an express\ninvitation to the chiefs, Serum, Leve-leve, Sus-quat-i-mi, and\nQua-su-la. Serum was away at Mineral Park with a band of Wallapais\nwhose services he farms out to the mine owners, Leve-leve was sick and\nnot expected to live, but Sus-quat-i-mi and Quasula would come.\n\nWe were permitted to use the schoolhouse, and just about sunset I was\nbusily engaged when there came a loud rap at the door. I hastened to\nopen it, and there stood a dignified, well-built, slightly bearded,\nneatly dressed man, who smiled and bowed with dignity and courtesy. He\nwore a cap, and at first sight looked more like a retired sea-captain\nthan anything, so I responded to his bow with the question as to what\ndid I owe the honor of his visit.\n\n\"Why, you sent for me!\" he replied.\n\n\"I sent for you? When?\"\n\nThen he heartily laughed and exclaimed: \"You no sapogi me? I'm\nSus-quat-i-mi, Wallapai Charley.\"\n\nTo say I was surprised was to put it mildly.\n\nLater on Quasula, Big Water (Ha-jiv-a-ha), Eagle Feather\n(Sa-ka-lo-ka), Acorn Flour (\u0100-t\u012b-na), Coyote Eating Fish-gut\n(Ka-ha-cha-va), and other leading men came, and we had quite an\ninteresting meeting. I stated to them my object in coming: \"There are\nmany of your white brothers who live between the Great Waters of the\nSunrise and Sunset who wish to know more of their red-faced brothers\nof the Painted Desert. I have come for years among you to find out\nand to tell them. When I speak of Quasula they ask me to tell what he\nlooks like, and I tell them as well as I can, but if I could show them\na sun-picture they would know so much better than my words make clear.\nSo I wish you no longer to be as children and babes. I have made the\nsun-pictures of Navahoes, Hopis, Havasupais, Apaches, Pimas, Acomas,\nPaiutis, and others; why should I not make yours?\"\n\nWhen they presented their superstitions, I reasoned against them, and\nfinally Quasula settled the whole matter in my favor by rising and\nsaying with great dignity: \"We have heard our brother with the white\nface and black beard. He speaks in one way,--not in two ways at once.\nHis words breathe truth. We need not fear the sun-picture. I will go\nto him to-morrow and he shall make as many sun-pictures of me and\nmy family as he desires. I want him to be able to tell to our white\nbrothers who live by the Sunrise Sea all he has learned of us. We are a\npoor, ignorant people, we are few and do not know much. The white men\nare many and they know as much as they are many. Let them send more\npeople to teach us and our children and we will gladly welcome them.\nSome of our people have been bad. Bad white men have made them worse.\nWe want the bad men to be kept away, but we will welcome good white\nmen, and our children shall learn from them and be wise.\"\n\nThen Sus-quat-i-mi arose, and in heavy and somewhat pompous speech\nsaid: \"Many years ago our white brother made my sun-picture at Peach\nSprings. He has eaten tunas, mescal, pinion nuts, and corn at my hawa.\nWe have slept side by side under the same stars, and the same wind has\nplayed with his beard and my hair. I know him. He knows me. His words\nare straight. When he made my sun-picture he said it would do me no\nharm, and here I am, after several snows, and I am as well as ever. He\nshall make more sun-pictures of me to-morrow, and I will sing for him\nand dance the war-dance of my people.\"\n\nBig Water and the others followed and my aim was accomplished. Next\nmorning we set forth,--Puchilowa, my friend and photographer, Mr. C.\nC. Pierce, of Los Angeles, and myself,--laden down with four cameras\nand an abundance of plates and films. We succeeded in getting many\nphotographs, some of which are here reproduced. But at one camp, an old\nwoman, the grandmother, doubtless, of two children left in her care,\nrefused to be pictured. She covered herself up and bade the children\nhide their faces, but their curiosity overcame their fears and they\nwere \"caught.\"\n\nPoor old Leve-leve and his wife were found, both of them nearly blind,\nin their miserable hawa, a mile or so from Kingman. I had some useful\nmedicament for their eyes, and although it hurt dreadfully, they both\npatiently bore the pain while I gave their eyes treatment. By the side\nof the old man was his gourd rattle, which the shaman had left to\nhelp him drive away sickness, and for hours the old man sat quietly\nsinging and rattling, endeavoring to get rid of the evil powers that\nwere cursing him. While I made a picture of him in the dark hut, his\nwife went into an inner room and soon returned clad in an elaborately\nfringed apron of buckskin. This was her ceremonial costume, made by\nLeve-leve for her as the mother of the tribe, when she led the annual\ndance of thanksgiving for the corn and melon harvest.\n\nSus-quat-i-mi was as good as his word, and I not only secured some\nexcellent photographs of him, but he sang for me into the graphophone\nsome of his ceremonial songs.\n\nThe Wallapais' war-song is a stirring and exciting one, and it conveys\nus back to the days when their primitive weapons were in use. After\nan incitation to anger against the foe it bids the warriors \"get\nrocks and tie them up in buckskins; make of them fierce and deadly\nbattle-hammers, with which smite and kill your foes. Take the horns\nof the buck and sharpen them, and with them seek the hearts of your\nenemies with blows skilful and strong.\"\n\nPuchilowa sang for me the Wallapai song on the death of their chiefs.\nIt is a weird, mournful melody, which, however, I have not yet had\ntime and opportunity to transcribe from the graphophone. It says: \"Our\nchief, our father, our friend, is dead. His voice is silent, his tread\nis silent. Come together, ye his friends, and cry about with sorrow.\nBurn up his body that his spirit may go to the world of spirits. Burn\nup his house that his spirit may not long to stay around. Burn up all\nhis possessions that they may be with him in the spirit world. Then\nlet no one to whom he belonged stay near the place where he died. Move\naway, that his spirit may feel nothing to keep him to the earth.\"\n\nHence it will be seen that the Wallapai is naturally a believer in\ncremation. Indeed he still practises the burning of his dead, except\nwhere white influences are brought to bear. These influences are not\naltogether a perfect good. There is no harm in burning the dead, but,\nunfortunately, the general Indian belief is that the goods of the\ndeceased, his horses, his guns, his clothes,--indeed, all his personal\npossessions, and the gifts of his friends,--should also be burned to\naccompany him to the spirit world. If this destruction of valuable\nproperty could be arrested without interfering with the corporeal\ncremation, it would be a good thing.\n\nThe thanksgiving song for harvest, though purely Indian, is a much more\ncheerful melody. Puchilowa gave me the words, as well as sang the song\nin the graphophone, but he was unable to tell what the words meant.\n\"The old Indians gave me this song long time ago. I sing it all 'a time\nat harvest. I no sapogi (understand) what it means.\"\n\n \"Ho si a ya ma,\n In ya a sonk a k\u012bt a,\n In ya va va vam\n Ho si a ya ma\n In ya ha sak a k\u012bt a,\"\n\netc., _ad infinitum_.\n\nThere are three native policemen, engaged by the Indian department,\namong the Wallapais,--Puchilowa, (Jim Fielding), at Truxton;\nSu-jin\u00b4-i-mi (Indian Jack), at Kingman; and Wa-wa-ti\u00b4-chi-mi, at\nChloride. Each receives ten dollars per month for his services. It was\nthe former who acted as interpreter during my last visit.\n\nI had just finished making the photographs of Quasula and one or two\nothers, when an old woman and her husband came in from the desert. As\nhe sat waiting for me to photograph him, he took some prickly pears\nfrom his bundle and began to eat them. I had often seen tourists from\nthe East fill their fingers with the almost invisible and countless\nspines of the prickly pear, so I asked At-e-e how he gathered them.\nPicking up a stick, he sharpened one end, thrust it into his fruit,\nand, as if it were still on the tree, chopped it off with his knife.\nNow, still holding it on the stick, he peeled it and then handed it\nto me to eat. It is a slightly sweet and acid fruit, dainty enough in\nflavor, but so crowded with annoying small seeds as not to pay for the\ntrouble of separating them.\n\nElsewhere I have described the method of making fire with the drill.\nWhile talking with Atee, to whom I had given some tobacco which he\ntwisted into a cigarette, he suddenly asked me for a match. I said I\nwould give him a boxful if he would make a fire without a match. In\na minute he set to work. He borrowed the walking cane of Puchilowa,\nwhich had just the right kind of end to it, and then, getting a piece\nof softer, half-rotten but very dry wood, he bored a small hole in it.\nNow, taking the stick, he placed the end of it into the hole, and then,\nrubbing the stick between his hands, he made it revolve so rapidly that\nin a minute or less a slight smoke could be seen in the hole where the\nend of the stick was revolving. Stopping for just a moment, he got some\ndry punk and put it into the hole and around the end of the stick and\nbegan to twirl it again, at the same time gently blowing on the punk.\nIn less time than it takes me to write it he had got a spark. This he\nblew gently until it became two, or three and more, and then with a\nfew pieces of shredded cedar bark he picked up the sparks, blew them\nmore and more until the bark was ignited, and in five minutes he had a\ngood camp-fire.\n\nMescal is one of the chief native foods of both Wallapais and\nHavasupais. They call it vi-yal. It is made in winter, when the plant\nis fullest of moisture. It is a species of cactus that is treated as\nfollows: A sharp stick is thrust into the plant to see if it is soft\nand moist enough. Then the outer leaves are cut off until the white,\npulpy, and fibrous masses inside are exposed. This is the part used. It\nis cooked in large pits, ten or more feet in diameter. A hole is dug in\nthe ground, or better still, in a mass of rocky d\u00e9bris. Plenty of wood\nis laid in the hole, and this covered over with small pieces of rock\nupon which the material to be cooked is placed four or five feet high.\nThis, in turn, is also covered with small stones, grass, and dirt to\nkeep in the heat. The wood is then fired and allowed to burn for two or\nmore days. Then the dirt and grass are taken off, and if the mass has\ncooked brown it is removed, piled upon flat rocks, and then pounded by\nthe women into big flat sheets, three or four feet wide and twice as\nlong. Exposure in the sun rapidly dries it, when it is folded up into\ntwo or three feet lengths, taken home, and stored for winter use.\n\nSometimes the mescal is pounded and eaten raw, and again it is pounded,\nsoaked in plenty of water, partially fermented, and the liquor used as\na drink.\n\nThe fruit of the tuna (a-te-e) is sometimes pounded and rolled into a\nlarge mass, dried, and put away for future use. Thus prepared it will\nkeep for a long time, very often being brought out a year after, when\nthe new crop is nearly ripe.\n\nOther natural vegetable foods of the Wallapais are a black grass seed\n(a-gua-va), white grass seed (i-eh-la), the acorn and the pinion nut\n(o-co-o).\n\nThe shamans and others sometimes take the jimson-weed\n(smal-a-ga-to\u00b4-a), pound it up, soak it, and drink the decoction. It\nis a frightful drink, producing results worse than whiskey. For a time\nthe debauchee sees visions and dreams dreams, then he becomes crazy\nand frantic, and then, exhausted, tosses in a quieter delirium until\nrestored to his senses, to be nervously racked for days afterwards.\nThe Havasupais are so bitter against its use that their children are\nbrought up to regard it as one of the most dangerous and evil of plants.\n\nUntil Miss Calfee, of the Indian Association, was sent to work among\nthe Wallapais, they had so entirely neglected the art of basket weaving\nas to let it almost entirely die out amongst them. By her endeavors,\nhowever, it has been resuscitated, and now there are quite a number\nof fairly good Wallapai baskets made. The inordinate love of bright\ncolors manifested by the average white tourist--note I say tourist,\nand not Indian--is so completely perverting the taste of the Wallapais\nas to render it almost impossible to buy a basket which contains only\nthe primitive colors. These are mainly the white of the willow and the\nblack of the martynia. A straw-color, a yellow, and a red are also\nnative with them, the dyes being vegetable and mineral secured from\nplants, roots, and rocks close at hand. Some of the younger girls\nhave set themselves to learn the art, and one of them is already most\nsuccessful. She is a bright and cheerful maiden, and the basket she\nholds in her lap is of her own manufacture. The design is worked out\nin martynia. It represents the plateaus and valleys of her home, and\nthe inverted pyramid is the tornado or cyclone. It is her prayer to\nThose Above to keep the cyclone in the centre of the plateaus so that\nno injury may be done to her parents' corn-fields, melon-patches, and\npeach-trees which are in the canyon depths.\n\nThe Wallapais have had the same trouble about the white man seizing the\nbest land on their reservation that most other tribes have been subject\nto. When the reserve was set apart by executive order a man named\nSpencer was living on land included therein, and he claimed two of the\nfinest of the springs, one, that of Mattaweditita, being their most\nsacred of places. He was soon murdered, whether by Indians or whites I\nam unable to say, and no one occupied these springs until a man named\nW. F. Grounds, regardless of the executive order, took possession of,\nand claimed, Mattaweditita to the exclusion of the Wallapais. This he\nsold to a man named J. W. Munn. Later he and Munn had quarrels about\nit and both claimed it. Then the Indian Agent interfered, and, finding\nthat the Indians had always claimed it as their own, that it was on\ntheir reserve, and that they actually wished to continue to cultivate\nit, he ordered both men to leave. Grounds had about seventy-five\nhead of cattle and Munn had a garden. The latter vacated quietly,\nbut Grounds brought back his cattle after they were removed. In the\nmeantime the Indians had planted their gardens, and when the cattle\ncame in their crops were speedily demolished. Again the cattle were\nremoved and again brought back. About this time some one generously\ngave to the Indians, or left where they could be picked up, some\nmelons or cucumbers or both, of which fourteen of the Wallapais living\nin Mattaweditita Canyon partook. Of the fourteen, thirteen sickened\nand died. Of course there was no way of fastening this dastardly and\ncowardly crime upon any one, but whites as well as Indians are pretty\ngenerally agreed as to who was its perpetrator.\n\nThe few remaining Indians were now given wire to fence in the canyon,\nbut the old animals of Grounds' herds pushed the wires down in their\neagerness to get to and eat the Indians' wheat. The trails were now\nfenced, and this proved an effectual bar. Later this exemplary white\nman turned a band of saddle horses into an Indian's garden on the\nreservation for pasturage. This brought upon him an order of exclusion\nfrom the reservation and a command to entirely remove his stock within\na year. Whether this has been done or not I am unable to say, although\nthe Department at Washington confirmed the order and required that it\nbe done.\n\nDuring all this squabbling it can well be imagined how the crops of the\nIndian suffers; but what must be his conception of white men, their\ngovernment, and their justice?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nTHE ADVENT OF THE WALLAPAIS\n\n\nIn the days of the long ago, when the world was young, there emerged\nfrom Shi-p\u00e1-pu two gods, who had come from the underworld, named\nTo-cho-pa and Ho-ko-ma-ta. When these brothers first stood upon the\nsurface of the earth, they found it impossible to move around, as the\nsky was pressed down close to the ground. They decided that, as they\nwished to remain upon the earth, they must push the sky up into place.\nAccordingly, they pushed it up as high as they could with their hands,\nand then got long sticks and raised it still higher, after which they\ncut down trees and pushed it up higher still, and then, climbing the\nmountains, they forced it up to its present position, where it is out\nof reach of all human kind, and incapable of doing them any injury.\n\nWhile they were busy with their labors, another mythical hero appeared\non the scene, on the north side of the Grand Canyon, not far from the\ncanyon that is now known as Eldorado Canyon. Those were the \"days of\nthe old,\" when the animals had speech even as men, and in many things\nwere wiser than men. The Coyote travelled much and knew many things,\nand he became the companion of this early-day man, and taught him of\nhis wisdom. This gave the early man his name, Ka-that-a-ka-na-ve, which\nmeans \"Told or Taught by the Coyote.\"\n\n[Illustration: A WALLAPAI, MAKING A MEAL ON THE FRUIT OF THE TUNA, OR\nPRICKLY PEAR.]\n\n[Illustration: WALLAPAI MAIDEN AND PRAYER BASKET.]\n\nFor long they lived together, until the man began to grow lonesome.\nHe no longer listened to the speech of the Coyote, and that made the\nanimal sad. He wondered what could be done to bring comfort to his\nhuman friend, and at length suggested that he consult Those Above.\nKathat-a-kanave was lonesome because there were none others of his kind\nto talk to. He longed for human beings, so, accepting the advice of the\nCoyote, he retired to where he could speak freely to Those Above of\nhis longings and desires. He was listened to with attention, and there\ntold that nothing was easier than that other men, with women, should\nbe sent upon the earth. \"Build a stone hawa--stone house--not far from\nEldorado Canyon, and then go down to where the waters flow and cut from\nthe banks a number of canes or sticks. Cut many, and of six kinds.\nLong thick sticks and long thin sticks; medium-sized thick sticks and\nmedium-sized thin sticks; short thick sticks and short thin sticks. Lay\nthese out carefully and evenly in the stone hawa, and when the darkest\nhour of the night comes, the Powers of the Above will change them into\nhuman beings. But, beware, lest any sound is made. No voice must speak,\nor the power will cease to work.\"\n\nGladly Kathat-a-kanave returned to the stone house, and with a hearty\ngood-will he cut many canes or sticks. He carried them to the house,\nand laid them out as he had been directed, all the time accompanied\nby the Coyote, who rejoiced to see his friend so cheerful and happy.\nKathat-a-kanave told Coyote what was to occur, and Coyote rejoiced\nin the wonderful event that was about to take place. When all was\nready Kathat-a-kanave was so wearied with his arduous labors that he\nretired to lie down and sleep, and bade Coyote watch and be especially\nmindful that no sound of any kind whatever issued from his lips.\nCoyote solemnly pledged himself to observe the commands,--he would\nnot cease from watching, and not a sound should be uttered. Feeling\nsecure in these promises, Kathat-a-kanave stretched out and was soon\nsound asleep. Carefully Coyote watched. Darker grew the night. No\nsound except the far-away twho! twho! of the owl disturbed the perfect\nstillness. Suddenly the sticks began to move. In the pitch blackness\nof the house interior, Coyote could not see the actual change, the\nsudden appearing of feet and legs and hands and arms and head, and the\nuprising of the sticks into perfect men and women, but in a few moments\nhe had to stand aside, as a torrent of men, women, and children poured\nout of the doorway. Without a word, but thrilled even to the tip of\nhis tail with delight, he examined men, women, youths, maidens, boys,\ngirls, and found them all beautifully formed and physically perfect.\nStill they came through the door. Several times he found himself about\nto shout for joy, but managed to restrain his feelings. More came, and\nas they looked around them on the wonderful world to which they had\ncome from nothingness, and expressed their astonishment (for they were\nable to speak from the first moment), Coyote became wild with joy and\ncould resist the inward pressure no longer. He began to talk to the\nnew people, and to laugh and dance and shout and bark and yelp, in the\nsheer exuberance of his delight. How happy he was!\n\nThen there came an ominous stillness. The movements from inside the\nhouse ceased; no more humans appeared at the doorway. Almost frozen\nwith terror, Coyote realized what he had done. The charm had ceased.\nThose Above were angry at his disobedience to their commands.\n\nWhen Kathat-a-kanave awoke he was delighted to see the noble human\nbeings Those Above had sent to him, but when he entered the hawa his\ndelight was changed to anger. There were hundreds more sticks to\nwhich no life had been given. Infuriated, he turned upon Coyote and\nreproached him with bitter words for failing to observe his injunction,\nand then, with fierce anger, he kicked him and bade him begone! His\ntail between his legs, his head bowed, and with slinking demeanor,\nCoyote disappeared, and that is the reason all coyotes are now so\ncowardly, and never appear in the presence of mankind without skulking\nand fear.\n\nAs soon as they had become a little used to being on the earth,\nKathat-a-kanave called his people together and informed them that\nhe must lead them to their future home. They came down Eldorado\nCanyon, and then crossed Hackataia (the Grand Canyon) and reached\na small but picturesque canyon on the Wallapai reservation, called\nMat-ta-wed-it-i-ta. This is their \"Garden of Eden.\" Here a spring of\nwater supplies nearly a hundred miners' inches of water, and there are\nabout a hundred acres of good farming land, lying in such a position\nthat it can well be irrigated from this spring. On the other side\nof the canyon is a cave about a hundred feet wide at its mouth, and\nperched fully half a thousand feet above the valley.\n\nNow Kathat-a-kanave disappears in some variants of the story, and\nHokomata and Tochopa take his place at Mattaweditita. The latter is\never the hero. He gave the people seeds of corn, pumpkins, melons,\nbeans, etc., and showed them how to plant and irrigate them. In the\nmeantime they had been taught how to live on grass seeds, the fruit\nof the tuna (prickly pear), and mescal, and how to slay the deer,\nantelope, turkey, jack-rabbit, cottontail, and squirrel.\n\nWhen the crops came Tochopa counselled them not to eat any of\nthe product except such as could be eaten without destroying the\nseeds,--the melons and pumpkins,--so that when planting time came they\nhad an abundance. When the next harvest was ripe the crops were large,\nand after picking out the best for seeds, some were stored away in the\ncave as a reserve and the remainder eaten. As the years went on they\nincreased in numbers and strength. Tochopa was ever their good friend\nand guide. He taught them how to dance and smoke and rattle when they\nbecame sick; he gave them _toholwa_--the sweat-house--to cure them\nof all evil; he taught the women how to make pottery, baskets, and\nblankets woven from the dressed skins of rabbits. The men he taught\nhow to dress buckskin, and hunt and trap all kinds of animals good for\nfood. Thus they came almost to worship him and be ever singing his\npraises. This made Hokomata angry. He went away and sulked for days at\na time. In his solitude he evidently thought out a plan for wreaking\nhis jealous fury upon Tochopa and those who were so fond of him. There\nwas one family, the head of which was inclined to be quarrelsome, and\nHokomata went and made special friends with him. He taught the children\nhow to make pellets of clay, and put them on the end of sticks and then\nshoot them. Soon he showed them how to make a dart, then a bow and\narrow, and later how to take the horn of a deer, put it in the fire\nuntil it was softened so that it could be moulded to a sharp point.\nThis made a dangerous dagger. Finally he wrapped buckskin around a\nheavy stone, and put a handle to it, thus making a war-club; took a\nrock and made a battle-hammer of it; and still another, the edge of\nwhich he sharpened so that a battle-axe was provided. In the meantime\nhe had been stealthily instilling into the hearts of his friends the\nfeelings of hatred and jealousy that possessed him. He taught the\nchildren to shoot the mud pellets at the children of other families.\nHe supplied the youths with slings, and bows and arrows, and soon\nstones and arrows were shot at unoffending workers. Protestations and\nquarrels ensued, the fathers and mothers of the hurt children being\nangry. Hokomata urged his friends to defend their children, and they\ntook their clubs, battle-hammers and axes, and fell upon those who\ncomplained. Thus discord and hatred reigned, and soon the two sides\nwere involved in petty war. Tochopa saw Hokomata's movements with\nhorror and dread. He could not understand why he should do these\nterrible things. Yet when the people came to him with their complaints\nhe felt he must sympathize with them. The trouble grew the greater\nthe population became, until at last it was unbearable. Then Tochopa\ndetermined on stern measures. Stealthily he laid his plan before the\nheads of the families. Each was to leave the canyon, under the pretext\nof going hunting, gathering pinion nuts, grass seeds, or mescal, and go\nin different directions. Then at a certain time they were all to gather\nat a given spot, and there provide themselves with weapons. Everything\nwas done as he had planned, the quarrellers--the Wha-jes--remaining\nbehind with Hokomata. Then, one night, the whole band, well armed,\nreturned stealthily to the canyon and fell upon the quarrellers. Many\nwere slain outright, and all the remainder driven from the home they\nhad cursed. Not one was allowed to remain. Thus the Wha-jes became\na separate people. White men to-day call them Apaches, but they are\nreally the Wha-jes, the descendants of the quarrelsome people the\nWallapais drove out of Mattaweditita Canyon.\n\nHokomata was furious. He was conquered, but led his people to settle\nnot far away, and many times they returned to the canyon and endeavored\nto kill all they could. Thus warfare became common. The spear was\ninvented,--a long stick with a sharpened point of flint. Sometimes\nthe Wha-jes would come in large numbers, when many of the men were\naway hunting. Then all the attacked would flee to the cave before\nmentioned--which they still call Kathat-a-kanave's Nyu-wa (Cave\nHouse)--where they built an outer wall of fortification, and farther\nback still another. Several times the outer wall was stormed and taken,\nbut never could the Wha-jes penetrate to the inner part of the cave, so\nto this day it is termed Wa-ha-vo,--the place that is impregnable.\n\nAfter many generations had passed, Hokomata saw it was no use keeping\nhis people near the canyon; they could never capture it, and they had\nlost all desire to become again part of the original people, so he led\nthem away to the southeast, beyond the San Francisco Mountains, down\ninto what is now southern Arizona and New Mexico. Here they settled\ndown somewhat and became the Apache race, though they are still\nWha-jes--quarrellers.\n\nLeft to themselves, the families in Mattaweditita increased rapidly,\nuntil soon there were too many to live in comfort. So Tochopa took\nmost of them to Milkweed Canyon, and then he divided the separate\nfamilies and allotted to each his own territory. To the Mohaves he\ngave the western region by the great river; the Paiutis he sent to the\nwater springs and pockets of southern Nevada and Utah; the Navahoes\nwent east and found the great desert region, where game was plentiful;\nand the Hopis, who were always afraid and timid, built houses like\nKathat-a-kanave's fortress on the summit of high mountains or mesas.\nThe Havasupais started to go with the Hopis, and they camped together\none night in the depths of the canyon where the blue water flows to\nHackataia--the Colorado. The following morning when they started to\nresume their journey a child began to cry. This was an omen that\nbade them remain, so that family stayed and became known as the\nHaha-vasu-pai, the people of the Blue Water. Most of the remaining\nfamilies went into the Mountains of the Tall Pine, south of Kingman,\nand thus became known as the pai (people) of the walla (tall pines).\nHere they found plenty of food of all kinds and abundance of game. As\nthey increased in numbers they spread out, some going to Milkweed,\nothers to Diamond and Peach Springs Canyons, and wherever they could\nfind food and water.\n\nThus was the human race begun and the Wallapais established in their\nhome.\n\nWhen I asked where the white race came from, old Leve-leve scratched\nhis head for a moment and then declared that they were made from the\nleft-over sticks in Kathat-a-kanave's house.\n\nBut the Apaches, under Hokomata, would not leave the various peoples at\npeace. They warred upon them all the time. And that is why the Wallapai\nparents of a later day became accused of cruelty to their children.\nScattered about, a few here and a few there, they were fit subjects\nfor Apache attacks. A code of smoke signals, for warning, was adopted,\nbut it was not always possible to prevent surprises. Sometimes the\nfather of a family would go hunting and it would not be possible for\nthe mother and children to go along. If she were attacked under such\nconditions, what could she do? If she tried to escape, hampered with\nher little ones, they would all be caught and she would have to submit\nto her captors and stand by and see them ruthlessly murdered. So she\npreferred to kill them herself, which she often did by strangling or\nsuffocation. Then she might hope to reach the mountains and hide until\nthe cover of night gave her an opportunity to escape. This explanation\nhas actually been given to me as a statement of fact by some of the\nolder women of the tribe.\n\nSometimes when the Apaches would attempt a raid they would be\ncheckmated, the tables turned, and they themselves captured. Then there\nwere great rejoicings. A feast was invariably held, at which the scalps\nwere exposed on a pole around which the dances were conducted in the\nlight of immense fires.\n\nOf late years both Apaches and Wallapais have been taught to bury their\nenmity. Acting upon the suggestion of former agent Ewing, the Wallapai\nchiefs sent a messenger of peace and invitation to the Apache chiefs,\nasking them to come and visit the Wallapais during watermelon and green\ncorn time, and be friends as the Great Father at Washington desires.\nYet the Apaches, though the invitation has been several times repeated,\nhave never come. They remember \"the days of the years gone by,\"--the\ndays of murder, rapine, scalpings, and stealings of women. And they\nare afraid that poison, treachery, sudden death, torture perhaps, lurk\nbehind the seeming friendliness. Revenge is sweet to an Indian, and the\nApache cannot conceive that so great a conversion has taken place in\nthe Wallapai heart as to lead him to forego his just revenge.\n\n[Illustration: SUSQUATAMI, WALLAPAI WAR CHIEF.]\n\n[Illustration: TUASULA, WALLAPAI CHIEF.]\n\nWhen first known to the white man they were found inhabiting the region\nthey now occupy, including the Wallapai (sometimes spelled Hualapai),\nYavapai, and Sacramento Valleys. Their chief mountain ranges were the\nCerbab, Wallapai, Aquarius, and northern portion of Chemehuevi ranges.\nThey roamed as far south as Bill Williams' Fork of the Colorado, and\nits branch, the Santa Maria. They then numbered about the same as they\ndo now, between six and seven hundred.\n\nIn Coues' translation of Garc\u00e9s' Diary Prof. F. W. Hodge gives other\nforms of spelling the name of the Wallapais, as follows: \"Hah-w\u00e1l-coes,\nHaulapais, Ha-wol-la Pai, Ho-allo-pi, Hualpais, Hualapais, Hualipais,\nHualopais, Hualp\u00e1itch, Hualpas, Hualpias, Huallapais, Hulapais,\nHwalapai, Jagullapai (after Garc\u00e9s), Jaguyapay, Jaqualapai,\nJaguallapai, Tiquillapai, Wallapais, Wil-ha-py-ah.\"\n\nThese and the various names given to the Wallapais show the\ndifficulties explorers encounter in endeavoring correctly to spell the\nnames they hear. It should never be forgotten that the Amerinds of the\nSouthwest speak with quite as great a latitude in pronunciation as is\nfound in the wonderfully varied dialects of the English language. To\nmake all these different pronunciations conform to a standard American\nmethod is one part of the grand work of the Geographical Board, a much\nabused but highly necessary public body.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nTHE PEOPLE OF THE BLUE WATER AND THEIR HOME\n\n\nOf no people of the Southwest, perhaps, has so much utter nonsense been\nwritten as of this interesting People of the Blue Water, the _pai_\n(people) of the _vasu_ (blue) _haha_ (water)--the Havasupais. As far as\nwe know, Padre Garc\u00e9s was the first white man to visit them in their\nCataract Canyon home, and he speaks of his visit in his interesting\nDiary translated and annotated by the lamented Elliott Coues shortly\nbefore his death.\n\nCaptain Sitgreaves, Lieutenant Ives, Captain Palfrey, Major J. W.\nPowell, Lieut. F. H. Cushing, and others in turn visited them, but very\nlittle was either known or written about them when, over a dozen years\nago, I was conducted to their marvellously picturesque home by Mr. W.\nW. Bass, the well-known guide of the Grand Canyon.\n\nThe journey on that occasion was a remarkable one for me, as, though\nI was fairly well versed in the trails of the Grand Canyon (having\nthen descended four of them), I had never seen such a trail as was the\nTopocobya Trail down which we descended late in the evening. Leaving\nour wagon, after sixteen miles' drive through the Kohonino Forest\nfrom Bass Camp, we packed food, blankets, and cameras on horses and\nburros, and, after two miles of travel in what in Western parlance is\ncalled a \"draw,\" the real head of the trail was reached. We walked in\nthe closing dusk of day to the edge of the precipice and looked off\nto where our guide told us we must shortly be travelling. Far below,\nalmost a thousand feet, without the sign of a trail, it seemed as if\nhe must be hoaxing us. Soon, however, as we followed him, we found\nourselves on a rocky shelf, and then began the most stupendous series\nof zigzags I had ever been on. Back and forth we wended, our trail a\nmere scratch on the rocky slope, here descending rugged steps, where a\nmisstep meant sure and awful death. Higher and higher the walls rose\naround us; darker and darker grew the night; more weird and awesome the\nwind and weather carved figures sculptured on the sides and summits\nof the walls, and still down we went. At last we reached a vast\ncavernous-like place where Topocobya Spring is located. A small flow of\nwater comes from the solid rock, and there we watered our horses and\nfilled up our canteens prior to advancing on our seemingly never-ending\ndescent. At last we reached the level, and there, lighting a fire, made\ncamp and rested before penetrating farther into the deep and mystic\nrecesses of the Havasupais. Early in the morning we began the farther\ndescent. Mile after mile we traversed, first riding on the dry bed\nof the winter stream, then entering the narrower walls formed by the\nerosion of centuries through first one stratum of rock, then another.\nNow we were riding on a narrow shelf, on one side of which was a high\nwall, and on the other a deep, narrow ravine, in the bottom of which\nthe erosive forces have cut a number of holes,--small troughs or bath\ntubs in the sandstone, where during the rainy season pools of delicious\nwater may be found. In a short time we were riding up or down literal\nstairways cut in the rock, or rounding \"Cape Horns,\" where we held our\nbreath at the dreadful consequences that would ensue were horse or man\nto slip. Entering Rattlesnake Canyon our whole course was on a shelving\nslope of rock, over which even experienced horses tread gingerly. At\nlast we came to the bed of the main canyon, and then for five or six\nmiles we journeyed on, in the sand or the gravelly wash, for the stream\nthat flows through this narrow canyon in storm times has no other law\nthan its own wilful force. To-day we ride in one place, to-morrow's\nstorm changes everything. After numberless twinings and twistings,\nall of which, however, gave a persistent northwesterly direction to\nour travelling, we came in sight of a score or so of large and fine\ncottonwood trees, whose height far surpassed the smaller mesquite,\ncottonwood, and other trees that line much of the canyon's bed. These\nlarge trees told us our journey was practically at an end, for here\nbegins the outpouring of the numberless springs that make the stream\nwe can already hear rushing in its pebbly bed lower down. Without any\npremonition they spring out in large and small volume at the foot of\nsome of these trees, and the Havasu--the Blue Water--is made. Every few\nyards adds to the water's volume, for more springs empty their flow\ninto it. The first and only real buildings are the schoolhouse and the\nhomes of the farmer and teachers, and then, at once, begin the small\nfarms of the Havasupais.\n\nStand on the slope here, where a mass of talus rises from the trail\nside, so that we can survey the whole of the picturesque scene. Note\nits setting! Towering walls of regularly laminated red sandstone,\nthough the layers are of differing thicknesses, wind in and out, as\nif following the meandering course of the stream, and over this the\nperfect blue of the Arizona sky. These make the most marvellously\npicturesque dwelling-place of America. Even Acoma's mesa heights and\nWalpi's precipice-surrounded walls are not more picturesque, and when\nyou add the charm of the verdure nourished by the sweet waters of the\nHavasu, the picture is complete in its unique attractiveness.\n\nNot even in the Green Emerald Isle, or the county of Devonshire, or\nthe vineyards of France, is richer verdure to be found than fills up\nthe open space between these great walls. Willows reveal the winding\npath of the Havasu, and everywhere else are the fields of the Indians.\nPatches of corn, watermelons, squash, canteloupes, beans, sunflowers,\nchili, onions, and alfalfa, with here and there peach, mesquite, and\ncottonwood trees, abound. As a rule these patches are protected and\nset off one from another by hedges of wattled willows or fences of\nrudely placed cottonwood poles. Through the fields trails meander in\nevery direction, and they are also \"cut up\" by irrigating ditches. Some\nof the better irrigated fields are divided into small sections--like\nthe squares of a checker-board--in order that the water may be more\nsystematically distributed.\n\nThe peaceful _hawas_ of the Havasupais nestle here and there among\nthese verdant growths. Themselves covered with willows, it is often\nhard to distinguish them from the trees, were it not that at our\napproach small groups of men, women, and children, some clad in\nflaming red, others in all the colors of the rainbow, and some in even\nless than Mark Twain's descriptive smile, stand forth and reveal the\ndwelling-places. Now and again the curling line of bluish smoke of the\ncamp-fire reveals the hawa, and we gladly avail ourselves of one or the\nother of these marks of identification to make ourselves more familiar\nwith the real home of the Havasupais. After investigation we find there\nare several distinct types of houses, all simple and primitive, and yet\neach different from the other.\n\nChickapanagie's summer home is a type of the simplest character. Two\nupright poles with forks at the top, standing about six feet high, are\nplaced in line with each other fifteen feet apart. A cross-beam is\nplaced on these uprights. Then a row of poles, about eight to nine feet\nin length, is sloped against the cross-beam. These are covered with\nwillows, and there is the completed hawa.\n\nWhat queer dwelling-places men have, and ever have had, and possibly\never will have. At the Paris Exposition of 1889 one whole street was\ndevoted to a history of inhabited dwellings. At one end were the\nearliest \"homes\" of the paleolithic age, caves and huts, followed\nby the Lake Dwellings and the wickiups, tepees, or tents of the\npresent-day Indian, the latter being the same primitive structures the\naborigines have ever used. The other end of the street was devoted to\nthe domestic architecture of our own day, and there, in a few hours,\none could study almost every known form of home structure. But who\ncould ever reproduce some of the homes these Havasupais live in? Wicker\nhuts in the open, and caves in the faces of solid sandstone walls two\nthousand feet and more in height, these in turn surmounted by domes and\nobelisks and towers and cupolas that no modern architect dare attempt\nto rival.\n\nThese massive walls absorb the heat of the sun in summer time and thus\nkeep the canyon intensely hot both night and day. The large flow of\nwater and the dense growth of willows and other verdure keep the soil\nconstantly moist, so there is a humidity in the atmosphere which, in\nhot weather, makes it very oppressive.\n\nThis moisture renders the canyon cold in winter, although the\nthermometer never ranges very low. Snow falls but seldom, and then\ndisappears almost as soon as it lights. In 1898 there was snow that\nstayed on the ground for several hours, but this was one of the\nseverest winters they have had for many years.\n\nA hundred yards or so below where the springs commence to flow Wallapai\nCanyon enters from the left. It is similar in appearance to, though\nnarrower than, Havasu (Cataract) Canyon, the walls being of red\nsandstone, the strata of which are as regular as if laid by masons. A\nfew hundred yards beyond the junction of the two canyons a remarkable\npiece of Indian engineering is in evidence, showing how the Indians\nascend from a lower to an upper platform. There is a drop here in\nthe stratum of some twenty-five or thirty feet, and to overcome this\nobstacle the Havasupais built a cage with logs which they filled with\nstones, and then from this stretched rude logs up and across, to which\nother logs were fastened, thus making a fairly substantial bridge from\nthe lower to the upper stratum over which their horses as well as\nthemselves could safely pass. The trail from this point ascends through\ntortuous canyons a distance of seven miles to the territory occupied by\nthe Wallapais.\n\nJust below the entrance to Wallapai Canyon a vast mass of talus has\nfallen, and two hundred yards farther down, the Cataract Canyon trail\ngoes over a portion of this talus to avoid the creek, which has here\ncrossed from the other side of the canyon and has become a rapidly\nflowing stream some two feet or more in depth. Attached to this talus\nis a large mass of solid concrete made of pebbles, rocks, and sand that\nhave been washed down in the creek and made cohesive by the lime from\nthe water. Here the canyon narrows again and the stupendous walls seem\nvery near to the willow-fringed stream and the small fields. A few\nhundred feet farther it opens out again, and as one rides on the trail\nhe gets exquisite views of the gray stone walls superposed on the red\nsandstones to the northwest. These gray and creamy sandstones, with\ntheir numerous and delicate tints and shades, afford most delightful\ncontrasts to the glaring and monotonous red of the walls beneath.\nFrom this point we gain our first view of the so-called Havasupai\nstone gods, named by them \"Hue-gli-i-wa,\" the story of which is told\nelsewhere.\n\nThese rocky pillars with their supporting walls seem as if they were\nonce a part of a great wall that entirely spanned the canyon, the\ntowers being sentinel outlooks to guard from attack both above and\nbelow. The portion of the wall to the right, as one descends the\ncanyon, has been washed away, but the tower-crowned mass to the left\nstill preserves a broad sweep into the very heart of the canyon as if\nit would bar all further progress. Following the sweep of this curve\nand passing the wall immediately underneath the outermost of the two\ntowers, we view from the trail which ascends a mass of talus at this\npoint another widened-out part of the canyon, which seems entirely\ncovered with willows, here and there overshadowed by a few straggling\ncottonwoods. This is where the ceremonial dances of the Havasupais\ntake place.\n\nOn the summit of the wall on the other side of the canyon from the\nHue-gli-i-wa are two stone objects, one named Hue-a-pa-a, and the one\nfarther down the canyon, Hue-pu-keh-i. These are great objects of\nreverence, for they represent the ancestors of the Havasupai race.\nHue-a-pa-a--the man--has a child upon his back and two more by his\nside, and he is calling to his wife--Hue-pu-keh-i--to hurry along, as\nthe baby is hungry and needs his dinner. The full breasts of the stone\nwoman show that she is a nursing mother.\n\nSlightly below these stone figures, and on the right-hand side of the\ncanyon, is the old fort, where in the days of fighting the Havasupais\nwere wont to retire when attacked. The fort is impregnable on three\nsides, being precipitous, and on the fourth is accessible only up a\nnarrow trail, which is guarded by piles of rocks which are ready to be\ntumbled, even by a woman, upon the heads of foes who attempt to ascend.\nThe fortifications and stones for defence still remain, but it is many\nyears since they were used for their original purposes.\n\nOne's mind becomes very active as he looks upon this tribe of Indians\nand thinks of their traditions, history, and life. So far, their almost\nentirely isolated condition has been their preservation, although, sad\nto say, much of their earlier contact with our civilization was not of\nthe best character.\n\nEven in this land of our boasted Christianity it is true that the\nstrong prey upon the weak. The domination of physical force is giving\nway to the domination of mental force, but which is the greater evil?\nWhy should the man born with a mental advantage over his fellows\nexercise that advantage any more than the man born with a physical\nadvantage? We have not quite ceased to worship the Sullivans,\nthe Corbetts, and the Fitzsimmonses, and, where we have, we have\ntransferred our worship to the intellectually strong, many of whom are\nno more worthy our homage than the prize fighters. So now it is the\nintellectually strong who prey upon the intellectually weak, and, as in\nthe physical conflict, it is inevitable that the weak \"go to the wall.\"\nIn simple cunning the Havasupai Indian may be our superior, but in deep\ncraft he is \"out of the field.\" His bow and arrow tipped with obsidian\nor flint pitted against our repeating rifle; his rolling of heavy rocks\nopposed to our Gatling guns; his mule and burro against our iron horse;\nand his pine torch against our electric light,--all demonstrate him to\nbe in his intellectual minority, or at an intellectual disadvantage. He\nmakes a fine figure in our romances, but I sadly fear that the knell of\nhis doom has sounded, and that a few generations hence he will be no\nmore.\n\n[Illustration: HAVASUPAI FORTRESS AND HUE-GLI-I-WA, OR ROCK FIGURES.]\n\nWallapai and Havasu Canyons, far more than the Grand Canyon, meet\nthe popular idea as to what a canyon is. Their walls are narrow and\nprecipitous, and one staying in their depths must be content with a\nlate sunrise and an early sunset. Just above the rude bridge before\ndescribed are several natural reservoirs of water. Here the canyon is\nnot more than from one hundred and fifty to two hundred and fifty feet\nwide. This close proximity of the walls, which fairly overshadow one,\ncompels one to feel his insignificance far more than when he stands in\nthe wider and more comprehensive vastness of the Grand Canyon.\n\nFrom leading Havasupais I learn that many years ago the various tribes\nof this region were at war one with another, until finally a treaty\nof peace was entered into and boundaries defined. The Paiutis were\nto remain in Nevada and Utah and not cross the Colorado River, the\nWallapais had their region to the west of Havasu Canyon, the Mohaves,\nHopis, Pimas, Apaches, Navahoes, Chimehuevis, and the rest their\nprescribed limits, over which they were not to go without permission\nfrom the chiefs into whose territory they wished to pass. And,\ngenerally speaking, this treaty has been observed.\n\nOf the exquisitely beautiful waterfalls that give the commonly accepted\nname to Havasu Canyon, viz., Cataract Canyon, I have not space here to\ntreat. I have already somewhat fully described them in my book on the\nGrand Canyon.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nTHE HAVASUPAIS AND THEIR LEGENDS\n\n\nIn almost every case one finds a variety of differing legends related\nby the Indians of any tribe upon the same subject. As the Wallapais\nand Havasupais are cousins, one would naturally expect their legends\nto have some things in common. How much this is so will be seen by a\ncomparison of the following story with that of the Wallapai Origin\nLegend.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\"The two gods of the universe,\" said O-dig-i-ni-ni\u00b4-a, the relator of\nthe mythic law of the Havasupais, \"are Tochopa and Hokomata. Tochopa\nhe heap good. Hokomata heap han-a-to-op\u00b4-o-gi--heap bad all same white\nman's devil. Him Hokomata make big row with Tochopa, and he say he\ndrown the world.\n\n\"Tochopa was full of sadness at the news. He had one daughter whom he\ndevotedly loved, and from her he had hoped would descend the whole\nhuman race for whom the world had been made. If Hokomata persisted in\nhis wicked determination she must be saved at all hazard. So, working\nday and night, he speedily prepared the trunk of a pinion tree by\nhollowing it out from one end. In this hollow tree he placed food and\nother necessaries, and also made a lookout window. Then he brought\nhis daughter, and telling her she must go into this tree and there be\nsealed up, he took a sad farewell of her, closed up the end of the\ntree, and then sat down to await the destruction of the world. It was\nnot long before the floods began to descend. Not rain, but cataracts,\nrivers, deluges came, making more noise than a thousand Hack-a-tai-as\n(Colorado River) and covering all the earth with water. The pinion\nlog floated, and in safety lay Pu-keh-eh, while the waters surged\nhigher and higher and covered the tops of Hue-han-a-patch-a (the San\nFranciscos), Hue-ga-w\u014d\u014dl-a (Williams Mountain), and all the other\nmountains of the world.\n\n\"But the waters of heaven could not always be pouring down, and soon\nafter they ceased, the flood upon the earth found a way to rush\ninto the sea. And as it dashed down it cut through the rocks of the\nplateaus and made the deep Chic-a-mi-mi (canyon) of the Colorado River\n(Hack-a-tai-a). Soon all the water was gone.\n\n\"Then Pu-keh-eh found her log no longer floating, and she peeped out\nof the window Tochopa had placed in her boat, and, though it was misty\nand almost dark, she could see in the dim distance the great mountains\nof the San Francisco range. And near by was the canyon of the Little\nColorado, and to the north was Hack-a-tai-a, and to the west was the\ncanyon of the Havasu.\n\n\"The flood had lasted so long that she had grown to be a woman, and,\nseeing the water gone, she came out and began to make pottery and\nbaskets as her father long ago had taught her. But she was a woman. And\nwhat is a woman without a child in her arms or nursing at her breasts?\nHow she longed to be a mother! But where was a father for her child?\nAlas! there was no man in the whole universe!\n\n[Illustration: CHICKAPANAGIE'S WIFE, A HAVASUPAI, PARCHING CORN IN\nBASKET.]\n\n[Illustration: A WALLAPAI WOMAN POUNDING ACORNS.]\n\n\"Day after day longings for maternity filled her heart, until,\none morning,--glorious happy morning for Pu-keh-eh and the Havasu\nrace,--the darkness began to disappear, and in the far-away east\nsoft and new brightness appeared. It was the triumphant Sun coming\nto conquer the long night and bring light into the world. Nearer and\nnearer he came, and at last, as he peeped over the far-away mesa\nsummits, Pu-keh-eh arose and thanked Tochopa, for here, at last, was a\nfather for her child. She conceived, and in the fulness of time bore a\nson, whom she delighted in and called In-ya\u00b4-a--the son of the Sun.\n\n\"But as the days rolled on she again felt the longings for maternity.\nBy this time she had wandered far to the west and had entered the\nbeautiful canyon of the Havasu, where deep down between the rocks\nwere several grand and glorious waterfalls, and one of these,\nWa-ha-hath-peek-ha-ha, she determined should be the father of her\nsecond child.\n\n\"When it was born it was a girl, and to this day all the girls of the\nHavasupai are 'daughters of the water.'\n\n\"As these two children grew up they married, and thus became the\nprogenitors of the human race. First the Havasupais were born, then the\nApaches, then the Wallapais, then the Hopis, then the Paiutis, then the\nNavahoes.\n\n\"And Tochopa told them all where they should live. The Havasupais and\nthe Apaches were to dwell in Havasu Canyon, the former on one side of\nthe Havasu (blue water), and the latter on the other side, and occupy\nthe territory as far east as the Little Colorado and south to the San\nFrancisco Mountains. The Wallapais were to roam in the country west of\nHavasu Canyon, and the Hopis and Navahoes east of the Little Colorado,\nand the Paiutis north of the big Colorado.\n\n\"And there in Havasu Canyon, above their dancing-place, he carved on\nthe summit of the walls figures of Pu-keh-eh and A-pa-a to remind them\nfrom whom they were descended. Here for a long time Havasupais and\nApaches lived together in peace, but one day an Apache man saw a most\nbeautiful Havasu woman, and he fell in love with her, and he went to\nhis home and prayed and longed and ate his heart out for this woman who\nwas the wife of another. He called upon Hokomata, the bad god, to help\nhim, and Hokomata, always glad to foment trouble, told him to pay no\nattention to the restrictions placed upon him by Tochopa, but to cross\nthe Havasu, kill the woman's husband, and steal her for his own wife.\n\n\"The Apache heeded this evil counsel and did so.\n\n\"When the Havasupais discovered the wrong that had been done them,\nand the great disgrace this Apache had brought upon the tribe, they\ncounselled together, and determined to drive out the Apaches from their\ncanyon home. No longer should they be brothers. They bade the Apaches\nbe gone, and when they refused, fell upon them and drove them out. Up\nthe rocks near Hue-gli-i-wa the Apaches climbed, and to this day the\nmarks of their footsteps may be seen. They were driven far away to the\nsouth and commanded never to come north of the San Francisco Mountains.\nHence, though originally they were brothers, there has ever since been\nwar between the people of the Havasu and the Apaches.\n\n\"Then, to remind them of the sure punishment that comes to evil-doers,\nTochopa carved the great stone figures of the Apache man and the\nHavasupai squaw so that they could be seen from above and below,\nand there to this day the Hue-gli-i-wa remain, as a warning against\nunlawful love and its dire consequences.\"\n\nHere is another story told by a shaman of the Havasupais of the origin\nof the race. It is interesting and instructive to note the points of\nsimilarity and difference.\n\n\"In the days of long ago a man and a woman (Hokomata and Pukeheh\nPanowa) lived here on the earth. By and by a son was born to them, whom\nthey named Tochopa. As he grew up to manhood Pukeheh Panowa fell in\nlove with him and wished to marry him, but he instinctively shrank from\nsuch incestuous intercourse. The woman grew angry as he repelled her,\nand she made a number of frogs which brought large volumes of water.\nSoon all the country began to be flooded with water, and Hokomata found\nout what was the matter. He then took Tochopa and a girl and placed\nthem in the trunk of a pinion tree, sealed it up, and sent them afloat\non the waters. He stored the tree with corn, peaches, pumpkins, and\nother food, so they would not be hungry, and for many long days the\ntree floated hither and thither on the face of the waters. Soon the\nwaters began to subside, and the tree grounded near to where the Little\nColorado now is. When Tochopa found the tree was no longer floating he\nknocked on the side, and Hokomata heard him and came and let him out.\nAs he stepped on the ground he saw Huehanapatcha (the San Francisco\nMountains), Huegadawiza (Red Butte), Huegaw\u014d\u014dla (Williams Mountain),\nand he said: 'I know these mountains. This is not far from my country.'\nAnd the water ran down the Hack-a-tha-eh-la (the salty stream, or\nthe Little Colorado) and made Hack-a-tai-a (the Grand Canyon of the\nColorado). Here he and his wife lived until she gave birth to the son\nand daughter as before related.\"\n\nThe way the Wallapai became a separate people is thus related by the\nHavasupais:\n\n\"A long time ago the animals were all the same as Indians, and the\nIndians as the animals. The Coyote he lived here in Havasu Canyon. One\ntime he go away for a long time and he catch 'em a good squaw, and by\nand bye he have a little boy.\n\n\"The little boy grew up to be a man, and he went up on top (out of\nthe canyon, upon the higher plateaus), and there he found two squaw.\nIt heap cold on top, and he get two squaw to keep him warm when he go\nto sleep. Then he came back to Havasu, and when his papa (the Coyote)\nsaw his two squaws he said: 'I take this one. One squaw enough for\nyou.' But the boy was angry and said one squaw was not enough. 'When I\nlie down to sleep I heap cold. Squaw she heap warm. Two squaw keep me\nwarm.' The Coyote told his son not to talk; he must be content with one\nsquaw and go to sleep. And the squaw was proud that the Coyote had made\nher his wife, and she began to taunt the boy, and when he replied she\nasked the Coyote to tell his boy not to talk. And the Coyote was mad\nand spoke angrily to his boy.\n\n\"When he awoke in the morning his son was gone. And ten sleeps passed\nby and still he did not come back, so the Coyote tracked him up\nWallapai Canyon, and went a long, long way. He reached the hilltop and\nstill he did not find his son. At last, a long, long way off he saw\nhim, and he changed him into a mountain sheep. Then a lot more mountain\nsheep came and ran with the Coyote's son, and the Coyote could not tell\nwhich of the band was his boy. He looked and looked, but it was all in\nvain. He tried to change his boy back again, so that he would no longer\nbe a mountain sheep, but, as he could not tell which was his boy, his\nefforts were in vain, and he had to go back to Havasu alone.\n\n\"For a long time the boy remained as a mountain sheep, until the horns\nhad grown large upon his head. Then he changed himself back to a man,\nand he found his squaw there, waiting for him, and that is why, to this\nday, the Wallapai is to the Havasupai the A-mu-u or mountain sheep.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe origin of the Hopis is thus related by the Havasupais:\n\n\"Long time ago two men were born near Mooney Falls. They were twins,\nyet one was big man, and the other a little big. They came up into this\npart of the canyon (where the Havasupais now live). It was no good in\nthose days. There was no water and it was 'heap hot.' The little big\nman he say: 'I no like 'em stay here. Let us go hunt 'em good place\nto live where we catch plenty water, plenty corn.' So they left the\ncanyon and climbed out where the Hopi trail now is. Here they stayed\nin the forest some time, hunting and making buckskin. After they had\ngot a large bundle of buckskins dressed, they put them on their backs\nand began to walk on to seek the country of lots of water, where plenty\nof corn would grow. But it was hot weather and the load was heavy, and\nthey soon grew so very tired that the smaller brother began to cry.\nAs they walked on he cried more and more, until when they came to the\nhilltop looking down to the Little Colorado River, he said: 'I cannot\ngo any farther. I am going to lie down here and go to sleep.' So they\nboth went to sleep, and when they woke up the big brother said: 'Where\nyou go? You no walk long way. You heap tired.'\n\n\"And the little brother answered: 'I no like go farther. I go back\nHavasu. I catch 'em water there.'\n\n\"'All right!' replied the big brother, 'I no like Havasu. I go hunt\nwater and plant corn and watermelons and sunflowers. You go back to\nHavasu.'\n\n\"And he gave him a little bit of corn, and that explains why the\nHavasupais can grow only a small amount of corn in their canyon, though\nit is exceedingly sweet and delicious.\n\n\"But the big brother went on and found the places now occupied by the\nHopi, and he settled there. And as he had taken lots of corn with him\nand he planted it, that explains\" (to the Havasupai mind) \"why the Hopi\nhas so much corn.\n\n\"And the smaller brother found water when he got back to Havasu, and\nhe planted his corn, and cared for it, and went and hunted and caught\nthe deer and made buckskin. Then he found a squaw who made baskets, and\nhelped him make mescal, and they stopped there all the time.\n\n\"The Hopi brother learned to make blankets, but no buckskin, so when he\nwants buckskin he has to come to his smaller brother in Havasu Canyon.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn the early days the Havasupais were undoubtedly cliff-dwellers,\nfor in a score or more places in their canyons are houses in the\ncliffs--some of them inaccessible--which their traditions say were once\noccupied by certain families, the names of which are still remembered.\nAll throughout the Grand Canyon region, too, from the Little Colorado\nRiver to Havasu Canyon, their cliff-dwellings, and smaller cliff\n\"corn-houses\" and mescal pits, are to be found. Indeed, the Havasupais\nbuilt all the trails that are now being claimed as the work of white\nmen into the heart of the Grand Canyon. The Tanner-French trail, the\nRed Canyon trail, the old Hance trail, the Grand View, Bright Angel,\nand Mystic Spring trails, are all old Indian trails. Not only are the\ncliff-dwellings and mescal pits proof of this, but the Havasupais can\ntell the families to whom they originally belonged and to whom the\nrights in them have descended. These rights they rigidly adhere to. It\nis the white man who knows no law as far as the Indian is concerned,\nand little by little the aborigine has lost springs, water-pockets, and\ntrails, and is regarded and treated as an unwelcome visitor.\n\n[Illustration: HAVASUPAI MOTHER AND CHILD.]\n\n[Illustration: A FAMILY GROUP OF HAVASUPAIS.]\n\nBy this it must not be inferred that the Indians built the trails as\nwhite men build. In the main their trails were rude paths such as the\nmountain sheep might make, but in every case they had one of these rude\npathways down into the canyon somewhere near to where the modern trails\nare now located. At the Bright Angel this path was changed when white\nengineers took hold of it, and at Mystic Spring Mr. Bass had built an\nentirely new trail, down a different slope, long before he discovered\nthe Indian trail. Both unite near two great natural rock-cisterns, and\nthen deviate below, the Indian trail zigzagging to the left, while Mr.\nBass engineered a new trail of easy grade on the talus to the right.\n\nSome of the Havasupais are returning to the cliff-dwelling style of\nhomes. My friend Wa-lu-tha-ma is forsaking his wood and brush \"hawas,\"\nand constructing a house under the cliffs, where, as he quaintly puts\nit, he can \"keep dry when much rain comes.\"\n\nIt seems to me a reasonable supposition that it was from the frequency\nof the occurrence of these corn-houses in the walls of Havasu\n(Cataract) Canyon, with the occasional appearance of a few of the\nlarger houses used as dwellings by the Havasupais, that the absurd and\nromantic yarns had their origin that fifteen, or less, years ago, were\ncurrent in Arizona and elsewhere about this interesting people. The\ncowboys, miners, prospectors, and others, who accidentally stumbled\nupon the upper entrance to the Havasu Canyon, and wandered down its\nmeandering course for ten or forty miles, even to the village of\nthe simple Havasupais, returned to civilization and propagated and\ncirculated stories that out-Munchausened Munchausen. They said these\npeople were cliff-dwellers, living at the present day in the walls of\nthe canyon; they were of powerful physical presence, and possessed\ngreat endurance. Their fields and gardens were wonderful, and their\npeach orchards surpassed those of most civilized cultivation, and they\nheld in slavery a lesser people, dwarfs or pigmies, doubtless, who\nwere cliff-dwellers like themselves, and whom they compelled by great\ncruelty to perform the most arduous labors.\n\nOthers, having heard these stories, but whose spirit of adventure\ntook them no farther than the \"rim\" of the canyon, claimed to have\nlooked into the village and side canyons, and there seen the truth of\nthese stories demonstrated. They had seen the pigmies and the gigantic\nHavasupais, had heard the harsh yells of the latter at the former, and\nhad seen the frantic endeavors of the little people to obey the stern\nbehests of their masters.\n\nAll these yarns are explained by the fact that the distance of view\ndimmed the vision; the pigmies were boys driving the burros or horses,\nyelling and shouting as Havasupai boys delight to do, the voices\nmagnified fifty-fold by the echoing walls of the canyon, while the\nparents moved around attending to their own business, or looked on and\noccasionally helped by a shout of encouragement or suggestion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nTHE SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC LIFE OF THE HAVASUPAIS\n\n\nFrom the cradle to the grave the life of a Havasupai is practically an\nout-of-door life. Their hawas--even the best of them--are partially\nexposed and open, and in the summer hawas there is no pretence at what\namong civilized peoples is essential privacy.\n\nThe games of the Havasupai children seem very few. I have seen only\nthree. Of the first importance is shinny, or, as they call it,\n_tha-se-vi'-ga_. The goals are _go-ji-ga'_, the ball, _ta-ma-na'-da_,\nand the playing stick _ta-so-vig'-a_. The boys enter into this with the\nzest one would expect of such a time-honored game, yet, such is their\ngeneral indifference to prolonged effort, they do not play it very\noften.\n\nAn easier game, but generally left to the girls, is,\n_hui-ta-qui'-chi-ka to-ho'-bi-ga_, which I have fully described in my\nbook on the Grand Canyon.\n\nThe third game is stolen bodily from the Navahoes, except the name,\nwhich with the Havasupais is _T\u014dd-wi-ga_. It is the Nan-zosh, and is\nelsewhere fully described in these pages.\n\nSuch a paucity of games is indicative of low mental power, lack of\nimagination and invention, and results in, or perhaps _from_ a slow,\nheavy mental temperament. There is no comparison between the children\nof the same ages of the Havasupais and the Navahoes or Hopis. And yet,\nwhen they enter school, some of the Havasupais learn with a rapidity\nequal to that of these other children.\n\nIt seems strange to find a people whose children have no equivalent for\ndolls; nothing specifically to care for. They are capricious in their\ntreatment of their domestic animals, cats and dogs, sometimes petting\nthem to excess, and then lifting the yelping or squalling creatures\nby the legs, twisting these members over their backs, or otherwise\ntorturing them.\n\nThe boys and the girls, as well as the men and women, are expert horse\nriders. Every family has its horses, and the children ride from their\nearliest years. Even as I write I catch glimpses now and then of a\nred-shawled girl on horseback and hear the hard strike of the horse's\nhoofs as he dashes along at break-neck speed along the trail near the\nhawa of my host. All ride astride, and are as fearless in ascending and\ndescending the steep trails that give access and egress to their canyon\nhome as the wildest and most expert of the Rough Riders.\n\nOne of their great sports and gala times is when visiting\nIndians--Navahoes, Hopis, or Wallapais--come with fleet horses and\nraces are arranged for. While they have no \"Derby Day,\" they have\ndays on which half the personal property of the village is pledged\non the success of certain horses. They are inveterate gamblers; and\nblankets, buckskins, saddles, bridles, Navaho jewelry, horses, burros,\nand everything \"gambleable\" are risked on the outcome. And what an\nexciting scene an Indian horserace is, and how picturesque! There is\nnot so much difference after all in human nature, when one penetrates\nbelow the surface. The reserved Englishman, the excitable Italian,\nthe vivacious Frenchman, and the so-called stupid and stolid native\naboriginal American exhibit exactly the same traits of character under\nthe excitement of a horserace. But in Havasu Canyon the conditions are\nquite different from Ascot, Doncaster, or Newmarket. Here are bucks\ndressed in the breech-clout and excitement, and women gesticulating\nand waving their si-dram\u00b4-as (our large flaming red or other \"loud\"\ncolored bandannas, fastened over the shoulders and across the breast).\nSome suppress their excitement, others jabber like monkeys, and as the\nhorses come to the starting-point there is just as much talking and din\nas after the start is made. One distinct feature is that many horses\nare raced without riders. They seem to understand, and when the signal\nto \"let go\" is given they dart off at full speed, just as if riders\nwere on their backs urging them forward. Compared with our finely bred,\nbeautifully chiselled horses, such as one sees, or used to see, in\nLucky Baldwin's or the late Senator Stanford's stables, what ragged,\nscrawny, wretched creatures these are; and yet when they run how they\nsurprise you, how those ugly limbs seem to limber up, and those sleepy\neyes gain fire!\n\nGambling at these races is carried to an extraordinary extent. Men,\nwomen, and children alike gamble all they possess, or even hope to\npossess. This gambling spirit has grown wonderfully in the past few\nyears, for, during the Kohot Navaho's lifetime he constantly used his\npowerful influence to discourage it.\n\nGambling, unfortunately, is not confined merely to horse-racing. All\nthe afternoon, as I have sat at my work, a group of eight women, some\nyoung, some middle-aged, and one old, have gambled without cessation\nfor five solid hours. Two young mothers had their babies--surely not\nmore than two to three months old--and the youngest of the women was\none of these mothers, and she could not have been more than eighteen\nyears of age. Girls gamble at _Hui-ta-qui-chi-ka_ for safety-pins,\nand boys for knives and the like, so that now it is a vice which has\naffected every individual of the tribe.\n\nThe Havasupai children are expert ball tossers. With three or four\nsmall melons they rival the conjurers and jugglers of our vaudeville\nshows in feats of dexterity, keeping three or more balls in the air at\nthe same time.\n\nBoys and girls alike run around in the fiercest rain, their feet and\nlegs wet and the few clothes they have on absolutely soaked. The idea\nof changing them has never seemed to enter their primitive minds, and\nwithout care, without a fire, unless he chooses to build one, the\nyoungster gets along as best he may. It is a case of the weaker going\nto the wall, for here only the strong can survive.\n\nThere is very little attempt on the part of their parents to control\nthem. They are generally allowed to do as they choose. I have often\nseen a little girl take a cigarette from between her father's lips,\ngive it a few puffs, and return it, he all the while either indifferent\nto or unconscious of the act.\n\nThe close proximity of Havasu Creek and its large ponds or reservoirs,\nmade by the irrigation dams, naturally suggests that they are swimmers.\nObservation confirms this. From earliest childhood they are expert\nswimmers, boys and girls alike learning the art often before they can\nwalk. I have seen mere babies placed in the creek and ditches by their\nparents and older brothers, and one can scarcely say they are taught\nto paddle, for it seems to come instinctively. There is not a child in\nthe village who cannot swim and dive expertly, and there is no greater\nfun than to expend a dozen nickels by throwing them into one of the\nreservoirs and having the children dive for them. Sometimes they can\nbe induced to bring the coins up in their teeth, even picking them in\nthat manner from the sandy bed of the reservoir. They are as expert\nswimmers as the children of the South Seas. No Kanaka going out to meet\nan incoming steamer could ride the billows more daringly than the boys\nand girls of the Havasu swim in the rapid currents of their little\nstream. I have been with them to-day for a couple of hours. The boys\ndived into deep water and rose and fell like loons. I amused myself\nby throwing a stone into ten or more feet of water, and four or five\nof the boys would dive for it and get it almost as quickly as I could\nthrow it. It was no sooner in than it was out again. One of the little\ngirls, a sister of one of the boys, stood watching the sport. She\nbecame so interested that, suddenly, without removing her calico dress,\nshe jumped into the deep place and enjoyed the fun with the rest.\n\nThen, a Havasupai man, riding a burro, brought the animal down into\nthe stream where it was shallow and had a gravelly bed. For an hour he\nand the boys amused themselves by swimming back and forth through the\ndeep pool, and every now and again one or another would jump on the\ncreature's back and, hanging on, overbalance him, or make him turn a\nsomersault. The burro bore it all good-naturedly and seemed to object\nvery little to the fun: the only time he showed decided inappreciation\nwas when the Indians got him down into deep water and forced his head\nunder for too long a time.\n\nA little later on a horse was brought, who entered into the sport as\nif he were used to it. He swam back and forth and took to the water as\nwillingly as a child takes candy. The boys hung on to his mane, got on\nhis back, his neck, or hung on to his tail, and, to all seeming, it was\nall the same to him.\n\nThough they are so fond of the water, the Havasupais cannot be called\nin some respects a cleanly people. Far from it. Though they take the\nsweat bath almost as a religious rite[7] and their skin is thus kept\nclean, there is another kind of cleanliness in which they are very\nremiss. It would be unreasonable to expect that people living in the\nexposed wicker huts of the Havasupais could approach anywhere near the\nordinary white man's standard of cleanliness. But certainly they might\nhave a higher standard than they do. Lice swarm in the heads of the\nchildren and most of the women. On the other hand, all the younger men\nare particular to be cleanly in this regard, and dress their hair with\nskill and neatness. Bed-bugs abound in Havasu Canyon as in no other\nplace on earth. They swarm everywhere, and are absolutely found in\nclusters in the sand, under the old bark of decayed trees, and in every\nconceivable and inconceivable lodging-place. The warm sand and the\nseductive moisture that obtains during the major part of the year must\nbe especially conducive to their breeding, for they are ubiquitous.\nYet, strange to say, I have never known of an instance where a bed-bug\nhas been brought out of the canyon by a visitor. Though I have been\nwith the Havasupais scores of times I never detected one of these\nvermin either in my clothing or bedding. The breed seems to be peculiar\nto the warm, moist air of the canyon and to be unable to live away from\nit, for which we give hearty thanks.\n\n[7] See \"In and Around the Grand Canyon.\"\n\nNow and again scorpions may be found, and, after a rain, I have seen\na score of hundred-legged worms (perfectly harmless) rolled up on the\ntrail between the village and Bridal Veil Falls.\n\nRattlesnakes are not common anywhere in those portions of the canyon\nmuch visited by the Havasupais, but now and then one may be found on\nthe trails or basking in the sun on the rocks near by. Elsewhere in\nthis canyon and its many greater or lesser tributaries they are common,\nand the Indians can find any quantity if they are sent for them. In all\nmy years of wandering to and fro, though, I have not seen a half-dozen\nrattlesnakes in Havasu Canyon.\n\nOther pests are mosquitoes, gnats, and a small black fly which, in\ncertain seasons, persistently lodges in the eye, causing considerable\nannoyance, and sometimes distress and pain. There are not many\nmosquitoes, though at times they are troublesome enough to satisfy one\nfor their scarcity.\n\nMany of the women are expert basket makers, and in my book on Indian\nBasketry I have fully explained their methods of work and the charming\nnature of their designs. The Havasu Canyon is a basket maker's\nparadise, for the stream is lined for miles with willows suitable for\nthis work.\n\nThe process of making strands or splints of the willows is a very\nsimple and primitive one. Here as I sit writing (Sept. 14, 1901),\nChickapanagie's squaw has a lot of willow shoots before her. Taking\nhold of one end of the splint in her teeth, she pulls away the cuticle\nwith her fingers. These alone are her tools, and it is astonishing the\nrapidity and regularity with which the process is accomplished.\n\nAs soon as a girl can frame her fingers to the work of basket making\nshe is required to begin. It is very interesting to watch the small\nchildren in their endeavors to make the rougher baskets, and then, as\nthey grow in skill, try the finer work. Pul-a-gas\u00b4-a-a is not more than\neight years of age, and yet a basket--k\u00fc-\u00fc--she brought to me was one\nof her own make, and it now occupies a place in my collection. The work\nis irregular and crude, but shows skill, and if the child has patience\nto stick to it, in time she will become one of the most accomplished\nbasket makers of the tribe.\n\nAs soon as possible after attaining puberty the Havasupai girls marry,\ngenerally between the ages of thirteen and fourteen. The parents\nthemselves urge these early marriages. Whether they fear the loss of\nvirtue in their daughters from evil white men, or the degenerate young\nmen of their own tribe, I do not know, but several parents have told\nme that the sooner their girls marry, after they are marriageable, the\nbetter pleased they are.\n\nMarriage is generally arranged by purchase. When a young man sets\nhis affections upon any particular girl, he contrives to show his\npreference for her, and, as soon as he finds that his attentions are\nagreeable, he visits his fair one's father or nearest male relative,\nand without parley begins to bargain for her as he would for a horse\nor any other commodity. The standard price for a wife is ten to twenty\ndollars, and where a trade cannot be made with a pony or blanket, the\nmoney itself is offered. The bargaining completed, there are no further\npreliminaries or ceremony, except that, three weeks or so before the\nwedding, the bridegroom takes up his residence in the hawa of the\nbride's parents. He is treated as one of the family, and at night\nrolls himself up in his blanket and sleeps alongside his prospective\nkinsfolk on the floor of the domicile. At the end of three weeks, if\nthe contracting young folks are satisfied that their dispositions are\nharmonious, and if the marriage settlement is satisfactory, the wedding\ntakes place. The groom takes his bride, the old folk take the medium\nof purchase, and the company laughs and banters the young husband and\nwife. The man takes the woman to his hawa, and the announcement of\ntheir marriage is made by the fact that they are living together and\nhave assumed marital relationship.\n\nSometimes an obdurate father or mother will refuse to sell a daughter,\nand thus expresses disapprobation of the suggested match. Occasionally,\nas among more civilized people, the young couple mournfully, but\ndutifully, acquiesce in the decision of the older people, but, more\noften--even, also, as white young people do--they rebel, and take the\ndecision into their own hands by eloping and living together. This ends\nthe matter. The ethics of the tribe are such that cohabitation once\nentered upon, the parents have no authority to declare the marriage\nvoid. And, as a further penalty for his obdurate obstinacy, the father\nloses the ten dollars or its equivalent he might have had by being\nkind and complaisant to the desires of the young couple.\n\nThe Havasupais are polygamists, and believe in having as many wives as\nthey can buy and support. At the time of his death Kohot Navaho had\nthree wives living with him, and I personally know of two others that\nhe had discarded on account of old age. When Hotouta, his oldest son,\nwas living, his mother was a thrust-out member of Navaho's household.\nShe was almost blind and decrepit, and Navaho with a wave of his hand\nand ten words had dismissed her from his bed and board. Hotouta had a\ntender heart and used to speak very bitterly about the injustice of\nthis custom which allowed an old and helpless wife thus mercilessly to\nbe discarded.\n\nShortly before Navaho's death his oldest wife evidently \"ruled the\nroost,\" and it certainly must have been by other means than her\nphysical beauty. And yet she was vain of her good looks, for, when I\nmade her husband's photograph, she became my strong ally in persuading\nhim to sit before the camera, on condition that I would make a\n\"sun-picture\" of her own beautiful physiognomy and enchanting _tout\nensemble_. When I made the photograph, she secured her petticoats\nbetween her legs in such a manner as to make them appear like rude\ntrousers, and when I commented upon the unfeminine appearance and asked\nher to spread out her skirts in orthodox style, she boxed my ears with\na manner at once decisive, haughty, and jocular, and bade me proceed as\nshe was or not at all. The second wife was a meek kind of a creature,\nwho seemed to be entirely under the dominion of wife number one; but\nthe youngest wife, a buxom woman of twenty-three or four summers,\nevidently knew how to hold her own, for she once or twice refused to\nobey wife number one, though she readily obeyed the same request when\ngiven by Navaho personally. This woman is now married to my old host,\nWaluthama.\n\nMarriage with a white man is unknown among the Havasupais, and unlawful\ncohabitation with one is punishable by death.\n\nThe question of marrying is becoming a more serious one with the\nHavasupais each year. While occasionally a man will marry a Wallapai\nsquaw, there is a strong sentiment against marriage outside of the\ntribe. Yet the number of the tribe is so small, and intermarriage has\nso long been carried on between them, that it is no uncommon thing for\na young man or woman to be debarred from choice in marriage. At the\npresent time G\u014d\u014d-fwho's son can marry but one girl in the whole\ntribe without violating their own laws of consanguinity, about which no\npeople are more particular.\n\nThe present Head Chief--Kohot--of the tribe is Man-a-ka-cha, a heavily\nbuilt man, who is popular with the younger element. But he suffers much\nin comparison with the former Kohot, Navaho, who died in 1898.\n\nKohot Navaho's was a strong face, marked and furrowed with bearing the\ncares of his little nation. A firm chin, powerful nose, gentle mouth,\ncourageous forehead, eyes which were once fiery as well as piercing,\nbut of late years had little of their primitive fire,--these gave a\nkey to his character, in which firmness, courage, bravery, and gentle\ntenderness were commingled. His whole demeanor was of dignity and\npride. No European sovereign in the days of despotic power could have\nworn the \"air\" of a monarch more regally than Navaho. But it was real\nwith him. His kingship was within himself as well as in the affection\nof his people.\n\n[Illustration: WALUTHANCA'S DAUGHTER, WITH ESUWA, GOING FOR WATER.]\n\n[Illustration: LANOMAN'S WIFE. A HAVASUPAI.]\n\nAs might be expected with their powerful physical development, the men\nare great wrestlers, and often may be seen indulging in friendly, but\nnone the less hard and exhausting bouts, where Havasupai methods of\ncross-buttocking and other \"throws\" are tested to the utmost. One of\nthe former teachers was an expert wrestler,--learned doubtless among\nthe Sioux, with whom he used to live as a United States teacher,--and\none secret of the influence he had over the Havasupais was his ability\nto \"down\" them in a wrestling match. Time and again he had given their\nbest men great \"falls,\" and the more he threw, the more they respected\nand obeyed him.\n\nAs runners and trailers they almost equal the Mohaves, Apaches, and\nHopis, though, on the desert, their endurance is not so great as that\nof these two desert tribes. As canyon climbers, however, they surpass\neither of them. The climbing muscles, by life-long and constant\npractice, are remarkably developed, and they run up and down the long,\nwearisome, steep trails of canyons in a manner to excite the envy of\na college athlete, and the astonishment of one who has, but a short\ntime before, laboriously and tediously essayed a brief trip in which\nascending or descending a steep trail was an essential feature.\n\nAs riders they are skilful and full of endurance, but they are neither\nas graceful nor as daring as the Navahoes.\n\nMen and women both dress the buckskins for which the Havasupai is so\nfamous. Amole root is macerated and beaten up and down in a bowl of\nwater until a good lather and suds are produced. Then the operator\ntakes a mouthful of the liquid and squirts it over the skin, which he\nmanipulates and softens, rubs, scrubs, and pulls with his fingers and\nfeet, moistening it again and again as occasion requires. Wild catskins\nare treated in the same way.\n\nFrom this excellent buckskin the men make moccasins for themselves and\ntheir women. The first time I saw Kohot Navaho he was sitting naked,\nupon a blanket outside his hawa, his three wives near by, they cutting\nand preparing peaches for drying, he busily engaged making a pair of\nmoccasins. The sole is of two or three thicknesses of heavy rawhide, to\nwhich the uppers of buckskin are deftly sewn, with strings of catgut or\ndeer intestines, the holes being made by a bone awl.\n\nEvery summer trading-parties of both Hopis and Navahoes come down to\nthe village, bringing blankets, ponies, pottery, and the like, for\nexchange. In 1898 there were three separate bands of Navahoes and two\nof Hopis. Trading is a serious process. Laws of barter or sale are\nfirst made, before the traders open their packs, and all the people are\nexpected to abide by these loosely promulgated laws without question.\nThen the hawa of the Havasupai host is turned into a store. Poles are\nsuspended in every possible direction on which to show off the blankets\nto best advantage. A crowd of chattering men and women stand outside,\nor, now and again, come inside, during the whole day, and at night-time\nthe men who have done business come in, squat on the ground, and spend\nthe hours in smoking, tale-telling, and gossip.\n\nThere is difficulty in the Havasupai mind at trading for more than one\nthing at a time. If you wish to buy six articles from the same Indian,\nyou cannot pay a lump sum for the six. Each one must be traded and paid\nfor separately.\n\nIn most things there is no fixed standard of price. Fictitious values\nare placed upon articles of no value whatever, but to which the Indian\nmind has attached singular virtue and importance. On the other hand\nbaskets, which require days to manufacture, taking no account of the\ntime and arduous labor expended in gathering the materials, dyes, etc.,\nfor that purpose, are sold at varying prices, but nearly always far too\nlow to begin to compensate them for the efforts expended.\n\nYet they are keen traders in their way. \"What can I get out of him?\"\nis the normal attitude of mind, and the price is made to correspond to\nwhat the seller imagines is the ability of your pocket.\n\nIn dealing with them, I adopted the plan years ago, as a fixed rule,\nfrom which I seldom deviate, to state a figure I will give for things\noffered to me, and that sum, no more, no less, is what I will pay. They\nsoon learn this, and, though at times it seems to be a disadvantage, it\ngains the confidence of the Indian and he will the more readily trade\nwith me.\n\nI once excited the hearty laughter and some scorn of the Havasupais\nby buying a lot of old baskets, blankets, etc., that they had long\ndeemed of no value. I was seeking their older styles of work and\nurged them to bring me \"any old trash\" they had discarded. The usual\ncrowd assembled around my camp, and, as each specimen of dilapidation\nwas half-shamefacedly revealed a shout of laughter arose, directed\npartially at the would-be seller for her temerity in supposing that\nsuch rubbish could ever find a purchaser, and partially at myself for\nbeing so foolish as to want to carry it away. But I obtained some fine\nspecimens, though much worn, of the workmanship I desired, so could\nafford to be very complaisant at the derision I aroused.\n\nThe Havasupai is one of the most jolly, frolicsome, and light-hearted\nof mortals. With his stomach full he has no cares, and he goes into fun\nwith a zest and energy that are pleasing. He is fond beyond measure of\npractical jokes,--when he is not the victim,--and cares very little who\nsuffers so long as he can obtain fun. Consequently if one meets with a\nmisfortune, especially a laughable one, he need expect little, if any,\nsympathy in Havasu Canyon.\n\nThey are a singular mixture of frankness and cunning, of honor\nand deception, of truth and frankness, of reliability and\nuntrustworthiness. They will as deliberately and coolly lie to a white\nman about anything and everything--if it suits their purpose--as they\nwill tell the truth. Ask a man his name--an insult, by the way--and he\nwill lie to you, even though you are a good friend; as, for instance,\nwhen, after being the guest of \"Supai Charley\" for several days, I\nquietly and without seeming intent asked him his name, which I knew\nto be Wa-lu-tha-ma, that I might send him some gifts I had promised.\nFor a few moments he hesitated, and then said \"Qu-ar-ri\"--a Wallapai\nname that has no relation to the Havasus whatever. Sinyela was full of\ndeception, and yet, when a friend told him he might catch one of his\nhorses and ride it so far, and we reached that point and I suggested to\nhim that he take the pony forward and leave it at the designated spot\non his return, he would not listen to it for a moment.\n\nThey are petty thieves, but years of experience have taught me that\nthey could not be persuaded to engage in larceny on a grander scale.\nOne of my first experiences in this line was to have some little\nthing taken from my camp many years ago (I forget now what it was).\nImmediately I sent for Hotouta, and told him the article must be\nreturned. In a few hours the boy thief (now a hang-dog looking buck)\ncame and brought back the article.\n\nOn my last visit, coffee and candy were taken from my sacks at\nWa-lu-tha-ma\u00b4s hawa, and three necklaces which I had taken as presents\nfor some of the children. I spoke angrily to my host of his negligence\nto protect my goods when they were in his care, and, as for the\nnecklaces, said if they were not returned by morning I should complain\nto the agent, and have the thief discovered and punished. Long before\nsunrise in the morning the necklaces were returned.\n\nThere is a good deal of craft about some of them. For a long time\nCaptain Jim and a few others had wished to have a road or trail made\naround Hue-gli-i-wa that would make it less dangerous, and add much\nto the comfort of the people, who lived both above and below this\nspot, when they wished to visit each other. For years nothing was\ndone. But when, this year, he took the matter up again, he did it in a\nround-about way that won success. He urged that an invitation be sent\nto the leading horsemen of the Wallapais to bring their best horses and\ncome and run races with them. The Wallapais accepted the invitation.\nNow was Captain Jim's opportunity for the display of his finesse. He\ncasually suggested to some of the most ardent racers that the way to\nbeat the Wallapais was to make a race-track just the same as the white\nmen did, and, when it was completed, train their horses to run on it\nuntil they were so familiar with it that, when the Wallapais came, they\nwould be able to take all the advantages this additional knowledge\nwould give. The suggestion worked like a charm. It was Tom Sawyer's\nwoodpile over again. The young men waited on the Kohot, Manakacha, and\nasked permission to cut a road a mile long through the middle portion\nof the canyon. The only place where this could be done was just where\nCaptain Jim desired the road. He was appointed to see that the work\nwas properly done, and the first few days of my visit were enlivened\nby the echoing roars of the powder explosions that were set off. When\nI went down to the lower part of the village it was over the new and\ncompleted road, a full mile in length, and well cut out and graded.\nSuch a consummation was devoutly to be wished, and while races are not\nan unmixed good, one could tolerate them the easier for the Havasupais\nif they would always be the means of accomplishing such desirable ends.\n\nThe Havasupais are far from being dull and stupid, as casual observers\nsuppose. They can see the point of things as quickly as some of their\nwhite neighbors. For instance; I have elsewhere, in my Grand Canyon\nbook, told how Silver, Hotouta's fine horse, was given to Mr. Bass.\nThis horse has always been an object of envy to some of the young men\nof the tribe. Mr. Bass also bought from Sinyela a red mule of some of\nmy exciting experiences. Having once had possession of this mule was in\nitself an overpowering temptation to those Indians, who, in the days\nof Sinyela's ownership, had been permitted to ride it. Consequently\nMr. Bass was often annoyed by finding, on his return from an absence\nof a few days, that Silver and the mule, one or both, had been taken\nfrom the pasture and ridden by the Indians. When he completed his\ntrail across the river and finally established the ferry that bears\nhis name--the only ferry, by the way, across the Grand Canyon, and the\nonly one on the Colorado River between Lee's Ferry and the one below\nthe mouth of the canyons--he decided to swim Silver and the mule across\nthe river and keep them for use on the north side. When this was done\nChickapanagie was present. With a twinkle in his eye he said: \"Bass\nheap sopogie (understand). Havasupai no ride 'em Silvern, and Red Mule\nno more.\"\n\nThere is wide diversity in the attitude different members of the tribe\nhold towards the whites. Some are friendly, others openly hostile\nand ugly, while others merely receive strangers on sufferance as a\nnecessary evil, useful for the purchase of baskets and such other\nthings as they may have to dispose of.\n\nManakacha was elected to his kohot-ship because the majority of the men\nwere in favor of keeping out the whites from Havasu Canyon, and he was\never averse to the white man.\n\nThose, however, who are friendly, are good and true friends, as those\nwho knew Hotouta, Spotty, and others who are gone can testify.\n\nSpotty was a genial, kindly soul, with whom I had various dealings.\nHe was intelligent and reliable in his intercourse with me, though a\nmedicine-man and ready to dispense charms, incantations, and native\nmedicines on the slightest pecuniary provocation. On one of my early\ntrips to Havasu I negligently overlooked taking a sufficient supply\nof extra films. What an idea! To start on such a trip and forget one's\ncamera rolls. There were about thirty exposures left on my film and I\nwas sure I should need two hundred and fifty. Indeed, long before I had\nreached the Havasupai village all the roll was exhausted, and no more\npictures could be taken.\n\nI was disgusted with my own want of forethought, and generally\ndisgruntled, when lo! on sight of Spotty the idea occurred as if by\ninspiration: \"Why not send Spotty for it?\" No sooner suggested mentally\nthan I broached the subject. The round trip was a good fifty-five to\nsixty miles, and much of the road up Havasu Canyon, and I must have the\nroll within twenty-four hours. Spotty's eye was on the main chance, and\nhe at once expressed his willingness to go provided there was \"enough\nin it.\" \"How much you give me?\" he inquired. I considered for a while,\nand then with a Pecksniffian air of benignant charity offered him \"two\ndollar!\" \"Al lite, I go! Maybe so I go quick you catch 'em two dollars\nand a half?\" he asked. I studied over it awhile before committing\nmyself, and then queried \"When you start, Spotty?\" Looking up towards\nhue-a-pa-a (the man image) on the upper rim of the near canyon wall,\nhe pointed. \"I go when you see 'em _ha-ma-si-gu-va\u00b4-te_ (the evening\nstar).\"\n\n\"When you come back?\"\n\n\"I come back next day all same time you see 'em _ha-la'-ha_ (the moon).\nMaybe so I come back sooner you see 'em, you give me two dollar half?\"\n\nA twenty-four hours' ride on horseback--nearly sixty miles--through\na solitary country where his only company would be coyotes, mountain\nlions, and other wild animals, and a large portion of it ridden\nin the dark night, for two dollars, with a bonus of fifty cents if\nthe trip was made within twenty-four hours--it was not extravagant\npay, so I cheerfully acceded to his request for the bonus. But now\ncame the difficulty of fully explaining to Spotty what I wanted, and\nwhere he could find it. The tent at Bass Camp was divided into five\ncompartments,--two small rooms with canvas walls on either side of a\nlong room which ran through the centre of the tent, its entire width.\nMaking a plan of the tent on the ground, so, and giving him the compass\npoints, I showed that my \"all same white man's basket made of leather,\"\nviz., my valise, was in the northeast corner of the southwest room. The\nfilm was in the valise, but I also needed my ruby lamp, so I deemed it\nbest for him to bring valise and lamp, which latter was separate. Off\nhe went cheerfully and merrily, and two hours before the moon rose he\nwas back at the camp with valise and lamp safe and secure. He received\nhis bonus and we were both happy.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nLike all other Indians, they used to have an abnormal dread of the\ncamera.\n\nOne of my Havasupai friends, U-math-ka, thus stated his reasons for\nrefusing to be photographed. With graphic gesture of horror and dread\nhe said: \"If you make my picture I die pretty soon. I look at the Sun.\nHe get heap hot. I no breathe. I lie down. I die!\" When I assured him\nno possible injury could result, he yielded to my urgent entreaties\nso far as to consent to allow me to make his sun-picture, on the sole\ncondition, however, that I did not ask him to look at the camera, or\nto cease talking (he was relating some Havasupai myths at the time).\nHis condition was what I desired, for it enabled me to secure the\naccompanying natural and life-like photograph.\n\nIn speech the Havasupai tongue is not very musical or agreeable. The\nvoices of men and women are soft and sweet, as a rule, and either when\nsinging their rude aboriginal songs or those that they have been taught\nat school, they show a natural appreciation of tone that is not usual\nor common. In a sentence the last syllable of the last word is often\na third higher than the rest of the word. This gives a singularly\nemphatic effect.\n\nThe voices of the men are not unpleasant, though generally they are\nthrown too high--head tones--to be agreeable; and as conversation\nincreases they often allow their voices to rise to an almost querulous\nnote. There is a good deal of the chant about it of a half-musical\nnature.\n\nThe women's voices are usually sweet and musical, but the language\nitself does not lend itself to the display of vocal sweetness. It is\nnot a \"liquid\" language. It is full of crooks and twists, gutturals\nand harsh labials, and seems to be ground out in angles with a\nmachine-like regularity. In some cases, the women, having imitated\nthe querulous tone of some of the men, have developed a harshness\nthat is disagreeable. The rapidity with which they learn new words\nis remarkable. Lanoman, one of the present policemen, asked me the\nEnglish of a number of words, and all during the day I heard him\nrepeating them over to himself, and seldom would he need correction.\n\nThe dress commonly worn by the women consists of a short skirt and\nwaist, made of colored calico, and a _si-dram'-a_, which may be\ndescribed as a rude shawl, two corners of which are tied obliquely\nacross the chest. When at work this is often slung over one side of\nthe body so that one arm is free. Among the Havasupais the si-dram-a\nthat is most desired and sought after is one made of four large bandana\nhandkerchiefs, with red as the choice of colors.\n\nThe men, when I first visited them, seldom wore anything more than the\nbreech-clout except in cold weather, but as school influences began to\npermeate the village, blue overalls and the cast-off trousers and other\nclothing of the white man were donned, until now it is a rare sight\nto see a man clothed in any other than the ordinary fashion, though\nthe influence of the outside Indians is seen in the Spanish \"cut\" of\nall home-made garments. Moccasins are the common foot-gear, though\noccasionally a man or woman may be found wearing \"civilized\" shoes.\n\nFish, pork, chicken, all kinds of birds and eggs, are tabooed as food\nby the Havasupais, but they eat rats, deer, antelope, rabbit, prairie\ndog, and mountain sheep. They are especially fond of beef, and horse\nand mule meat, no matter how the animals come to their death, are\nesteemed luxuries. They will even eat lizards and lice.\n\nThe prickly pear and the fruit of the amole, or hosh-kon, are much\nfavored when ripe. The latter is roasted in the coals until the\noutside is completely blackened. A hole is made in this carbonized\nsurface to let out the steam, and, when cold, the fruit is eaten as\na great delicacy. I have often eaten and enjoyed it, though it has a\nsickish-sweet vegetable taste that at first is somewhat unpleasant. The\npinion nut, sunflower and squash seeds are also regarded as delicacies.\nPractice has made the Havasupais dexterous in eating these husk-covered\nseeds. The novice finds it a wearisome task to hull them, but the\nexpert throws a handful of seeds into his mouth, cracks the shells,\nand by skilful manipulation eats the nuts on one side of his mouth and\nexpels the shells on the other. When I can do this I shall make a meal\non pinion nuts, as they are of exquisitely sweet and delicious flavor.\n\nSunflower seeds, squash seeds, and a variety of wild grass seeds\nand corn are parched by the women by placing them in saucer-shaped\nbaskets--or k\u00fc-\u00fcs\u00b4--with hot ashes, and then tossing them up and down\nand to and fro until sufficiently cooked. The seeds are then scooped\nout with the fingers, and ground on a slab of basaltic rock, by rubbing\none stone over the other. On the occasion of one of my visits, when I\nwas the guest of Chickapanagie, I made the accompanying photograph of\nhis wife as she thus parched corn in a basket. It was the placing of\na covering of clay inside the k\u00fc-\u00fc, to prevent its burning, that led\nFrank Cushing to the belief that here was the explanation of the origin\nof pottery.[8]\n\n[8] See chapter \"Basketry the Mother of Pottery,\" in \"Indian Basketry,\"\nby George Wharton James.\n\nGreen squash is cooked after being hacked into pieces in an apparently\nreckless but most effective manner. With the squash in one hand,\nthe woman takes a large butcher knife in the other and strikes\nindifferently at the squash, turning it around and at different angles\nthe while. In a few moments chips, as it were, begin to fall into\nthe cooking pot, and after the exterior is cut and hacked in every\ndirection the cook begins to slice it into the pot. When well cooked,\nit is eaten without any other improvement than a little salt.\n\nCorn and beans are plentiful with them, and both are as delicious and\ntender as any I have ever tasted elsewhere.\n\nMescal is one of their chief foods. It is made by them exactly as the\nWallapais make it. That fibrous portion of the plant that cannot be\ntreated in this manner is boiled, and the drink therefrom, when fresh,\nis a sickish-sweet liquid, that, however, might soon become agreeable.\nThis liquid is of a dark brown color, and when boiled for a long time\nbecomes a species of thin molasses.\n\nThe Havasupais know no process of fermentation so far as I have been\nable to learn, and the elders of the people long objected to the coming\nof the white man because one of the bad things he brought to the Indian\nwas whiskey and other intoxicants.\n\nQuail and ducks abound in various parts of the Havasu Canyon region.\nEven to this day many of the latter are shot, for sale to the white\nman, with the arrow instead of the gun. The Havasupais claim that the\narrow is far less liable to scare away the flock than is the loud\nreport of a gun, so they keep up their practice with the antiquated bow\nand arrow, and some of them show wonderful skill in their use. I have\noften placed a ten-cent piece in a notched stick and enjoyed watching\nthe young men as they fired their arrows at it at a distance of fifty\npaces. Their skill was such that on one occasion I lost a dollar thus\nwithin half an hour.\n\nAt one time in February I found the canyon alive with quail, the\nwhirring of whose wings met us on every hand as we rode along from hawa\nto hawa.\n\nI am told there is no fish in Havasu Creek above Mooney Falls, but\nfrom the base of this fall on to the river both large and small fish\nare abundant. I rather doubt this, as on the occasion of my attempt to\nreach Beaver Falls down the course of the creek from Mooney Falls I saw\nno fish, nor signs of any.\n\nOne of the Havasupais tells me that mountain sheep may be seen on the\nnorthern rim of the Grand Canyon in small bands. When the snow is deep\nupon the Buckskin Mountains and the Kaibab Plateau they descend to\nthe more temperate regions of the canyon where grass may be found in\nplenty, and then the Paiuti and Paieed Indians kill them, drying the\nflesh for later use. This they do regardless of a territorial law,\nwhich forbids even an Indian killing mountain sheep at any time. The\nIndian regards his as a prior right, existing long before there was any\nterritorial legislature, and he acts accordingly.\n\nMountain lions, wildcats, lynxes, coyotes, badgers, deer, and antelope,\nwith an occasional mountain sheep and bear, are the larger quarry of\nthe Havasupai hunters. The deer and antelope they find in the open\ngrassy glades of the forests on the canyon rim and reaching towards\nthe desert. The other game is generally found in the recesses of the\ncanyons or on the slopes of the far-away mountains of Hue-han-a-patch-a\n(the San Franciscos), Hue-ga-wool-a (Williams Mountain), or\nHue-ga-da-wi-za (Red Butte).\n\nSome of the skins are dressed with the hair on and are used for\nclothing, as sleeping mats, or are sold to the travellers at the trains\nor traded at the stores on the railway. But many of the better skins\nare carefully tanned and dressed and converted into buckskins, as\nbefore stated.\n\nThis, indeed, is one of their staple articles of trade, good buckskins\nfetching as high as five dollars and even ten dollars cash. I have\nseveral times seen a blanket for which I had offered eight dollars or\nten dollars readily exchanged for a simple buckskin, and it is not an\nunusual occurrence to note a trade where a fair Navaho pony is given\nfor a large and well-dressed skin.\n\nThe outside Indians that the Havasupais are familiar with are the\nfriendly Wallapais, whom they call their cousins, the Hopis and the\nNavahoes. They have often had wars with the hated Mohaves, Apaches, and\nPaiutis. The Chemhuevis, Pimas, and Maricopas are their distant, little\nknown, but accepted friends. Far-away Zuni is Si-u, and still farther\nAcoma is Ac-o-ca-va, and though intercourse with the people of these\nvillages is rare, it has always been friendly.\n\nFor the grazing and watering of their horses and other stock each head\nof a family has a certain region allotted to him, over the boundaries\nof which he may not allow his stock to wander, except when removing\nthem or by special permission. Manakacha, the head Kohot, takes the\nrange formerly owned or controlled by Captain Navaho, the late Kohot,\nviz., the region of Black Tanks. Rock Jones (the chief medicine-man)\nhas Topocobya Canyon and the plateau above as far as the other side\nof the Grand Canyon towards the Mystic Spring Trail, where begins the\nterritory of Vesna, Captain Burro, and Chickapanagie. This includes\nthe south banks of the Grand Canyon towards the Little Colorado River\nand including the Mystic Spring, the Bright Angel, the Grand View,\nHance's old and the Red Canyon Trails, in the neighborhood of which,\nfor centuries, the Havasupais have been descending. Indeed, it was\nthe Havasupais who made the \"Indian Gardens\" that are so charming a\nfeature of the Bright Angel Trail. Sinyela has the upper part of Havasu\nCanyon reaching to Bass's camp at the Caves, named by the Havasupais\nWai-a-mel. Uta and Waluthama have the lower portion of Havasu Canyon,\naround to the head of Beaver Canyon and all the territory on the south\nside as far as Hack-a-tai-a--the Colorado River.\n\nThus there are no disputes arising over the wrongful pasturage of\nstock, as each Indian regards himself as bound by the strictest ties\nof honor not to deviate from these established and long-observed\nboundaries.\n\nAs I have before stated, the Havasupais at one time owned the whole\nof the Kohonino Forest region and also the trails into Hack-a-tai-a\n(the Grand Canyon). From time immemorial they have hunted from Havasu\n(Cataract) Canyon to the Little Colorado, and, of course, have had\naccess to the water pockets, or rock tanks, in which rain water\naccumulates all along this dry and springless region. In talking\nwith one of the Indians recently he asked me if the Great Father\nat Washington could do nothing for him and his people so that they\nmight still continue to use the water pockets of their ancestral\nhunting-ground. He said, \"You sabe Ha-ha-poo-ha (Rain Tank) and\nHa-wai-i-tha-qual-ga (Rowe's Well) and Ha-ga-tha-wa-di-a (the water\nhole near Hance's Camp) and Ha-ha-i-ga-sa-jul-ga (Red Horse Tank),\nHavasupai use these water holes when him go hunt deer and antelope.\nNow white man him come and say, 'D-- you, you get away. I've got no\nwater for any blanked Indian.' We no catch 'em water, we no go hunt,\nand we no go hunt we no catch 'em deer and antelope and jack rabbit,\nand by-em-by our squaws and boys and gels go heap hungry. Maybe so you\nsee 'em Great Father at Washington and you tell him, and ask him what\nHavasupai do.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nTHE HAVASUPAIS' RELIGIOUS DANCES AND BELIEFS\n\n\nThe Havasupais do not occupy a high place in the scale of religious\nlife. They are very different from the Hopis and Navahoes. They have\nfew ceremonies, few prayers, and few ideas connected with the world of\nspirits. If evil comes upon them they seek to propitiate the power that\ncaused it. They dance and pray. But there is no system, no recurrence\nof elaborate ceremonials year after year. Indeed, the only regular\ndance that I have personally seen is that of the annual harvest, and\nthat is occasionally omitted. The Sick Dance, as its name implies, is\nfor the purpose of healing the sick.\n\nOn the second night of my first visit to the Havasupais my companions\nand I were invited by Hotouta to accompany him to one of these harvest\nthanksgiving dances. It was a wild and fantastic scene. Gathered\ntogether in a circular enclosure, the fence made of willow poles bound\ntogether with withes of the same tree, were between one hundred and\ntwo hundred Indians of both sexes in any and all manner of dress and\nundress. Three or four bonfires added to the weirdness by throwing\npeculiar lights and shadows upon the countenances of those present. At\ntimes there was a silence which became almost solemn in its intensity,\nand then talking and chattering broke out again, as if the sound of\ntheir own voices helped, in some measure, to relieve the painfulness\nof the solemnity of this not-very-welcome religious ceremonial. I was\nactually gazing upon the preparations in progress for the sacred peach\ndance. One by one the notables of the tribe were pointed out to me.\nThere stood Kohot Navaho in proud solitariness, eyeing the preparations\nwith a moodiness which became his serious and taciturn nature. Not a\nthing of importance passed his eye. His keen powers of observation\ntook in the frivolity of certain young Havasupai belles as well as the\nactions of the Chemehuevi Indian who was to be director of the music\nof this religious festival. By his side stood his second son, who, in\ngentle and mellifluous speech was talking to those with whom he came in\ncontact. Hotouta, the second chief, was by my side, acting as guide,\nchaperon, and instructor in the mysteries. Here was his daughter, a\nfine buxom lass of sixteen summers, with merry, laughing eyes, saucy\nlips, thick black hair, cut with the usual deep fringe on her forehead,\nand a voice that would have been the fortune of an American girl who\ndesired a place on the operatic stage. Yonder stood Ha-a-pat-cha, a\nfine athletic fellow with muscles of steel and a chest like that of an\nox, whose only costume was the gee-string. He marched to and fro as if\nconsciously proud of his fine figure, came up at a call from Hotouta\nand seemed to be highly pleased with his introduction to us, although\nthere was an air of condescension in his handshake which suggested that\nI was the honored person. Perhaps I was! _Quien sabe?_\n\nNear by stood Mr. Bass and a special commissioner sent by the United\nStates Indian Department to report on the condition of the Havasupais,\nand seek to gain their consent to send their children to the Indian\nschool at Fort Mohave.\n\nI was too tired that night to stay long. So after an hour's\nwatching I returned to Hotouta's hawa, stretched myself out on the\nsand--_outside_--in my blankets, and was soothed to sleep by the\nmonotonous chant of the dancers.\n\nNext day, in a burst of frolicsomeness I exclaimed to my friend, who\nwas commonly called Tom by the whites:\n\n\"Hotouta, why you no let me dance, all same Havasupai?\"\n\nIt never entered my comprehension that Tom would regard the remark with\nserious attention, hence my astonishment can better be imagined than\ndescribed when thoughtfully he turned to me and said:\n\n\"Maybe so! Me no know! Maybe so Havasupai no like 'em you dance. Maybe\nso they all same like 'em! I see pretty soon.\"\n\n\"Pretty soon\" he came back with a cheery \"All right! Navaho say you\ndance. Havasupai like 'em you!\"\n\nHere was a fine predicament! I had never danced a step in my life.\nIn the few ball-rooms I had visited I had been a \"wall flower.\" But\nin this case I had provoked the invitation myself, so, after a brief\nmental struggle, as gracefully as possible I accepted the consequences\nof my own rash speech.\n\nWhen the hour arrived I placed myself under the hands of Hotouta,\nYunosi his squaw, and their daughter, in order that I might be properly\nand appropriately apparelled for the occasion. The first salutation\nsomewhat daunted me. Tom said, \"You catch 'em white shirt!\" The only\nwhite shirt I had was a night robe which had done service to such an\nextent that I had placed it in my saddlebags when we left civilized\nregions for the purpose of wrapping up specimens of rock to take home.\nIts \"whiteness\" may have been somewhat of a memory. But I brought it\nforth, and waited anxiously for Hotouta's approval. He was delighted,\nand I felt reassured.\n\nWhen it was donned, and a pair of blue overalls, I was ready to receive\nthe painted lines of sub-chieftainship on my face, and the eagle plume\nin my hair.\n\nThen, in solemn dignity, we started down, Indian file, for the dance\nground. At least Hotouta and I were dignified, while behind us Mr.\nBass and the special Indian Commissioner were making frantic endeavors\nto hold in their laughter at the rude and brutal (!) jokes they were\nmaking at my expense. We had not proceeded far before Hotouta stopped\nme and with solemn face said: \"You dance, you no laugh. Havasupai no\nlike 'em you laugh!\" I promised to be \"as sober as a judge,\" and not\nlaugh, and again we proceeded, to be stopped once more by Hotouta, who\nexplained with perfect seriousness: \"Maybe so you dance heap harnegi.\nHavasu squaw, she like 'em you. You catch 'em one squaw. Then you dance\nmore and maybe so you catch 'em two squaw. She come, all same\" (and\nhere Hotouta illustrated how the squaw might come and separate me from\nmy male companion to right or left, and take my hand in the fashion\nafterwards described). \"She take your hand, all same. You no nip. She\nno like 'em you nip.\" I promised not to \"nip,\" and with satisfaction\nHotouta now led the way to the dance ground.\n\nAfter a formal introduction to all the chiefs and their approval given\nto my being accepted as Hotouta's brother and a fellow chief with him\nin the tribe of the Havasupais, the dance began. This is how it was\nconducted.\n\nThe \"evangelist\" sang over a strain of a new song. A dozen or so of the\nleaders took it up, and as soon as they were fairly familiar with it,\nthe others joined in. Then the women took a hand, literally as well as\nfiguratively, for they came in and separated the men, interlocking the\nfingers, midway between the first and second knuckle joints, standing\nshoulder to shoulder, and enlarging the group until a complete circle\nwas formed. Then, with a side shuffling motion, moving one foot to the\nleft and following it rapidly but rhythmically with the other, the\nwhile lustily and seriously singing the song they had just learned, the\ndance continued,--a dull, monotonous, sleep-producing ceremony, until\nthe onlooker was awakened by manifestations he little expected to see\nat an Indian thanksgiving dance. Very often it occurs that women of the\ntribe are affected with a somewhat similar excitement to that which\nseizes the negro when he has \"the power.\" With a shriek, the woman\nhysterically leaps within the circle made by the dancers, and howls\nand shouts and dances and jumps, and then, perhaps, throws herself in\na heavy stupor upon the ground. Some will run to the centre post, and,\nhanging on with one or both hands, will swing rapidly around until they\nfall exhausted to the ground. When the male members tire of seeing\nthese excitable females upon the ground, they unostentatiously step up\nto the prostrate figures, seize their long thick hair, swing it over\nthe shoulder, and thus proceed to drag the now exhausted women to the\nfires, where friends of their own sex attend them until they \"come to.\"\n\nAnd what did all this ceremony mean?--for to the Havasupais it was a\nceremony, performed with as much dignity as we perform our religious\nservices in church or cathedral. While I was dancing Hotouta was giving\nan explanation to Mr. Bass. Each year this dance is performed as an act\nof highest devotion to gain the approbation of \"Those Above.\" The Peach\nDance is the \"harvest thanksgiving\" dance--when thanks are made for the\ngifts of the past and prayers are offered for the needs of the future.\n\nThe leader of the singing was a Chemehuevi Indian,--a tribe located\nwest of the Wallapais and living mainly on the California side of the\nColorado River.\n\nHe was a regular \"evangelist\" amongst the Indians,--a native Moody, and\ngifted enough, musically, to perform the part of Sankey or Excell. His\nharangue on this occasion was an unusually fervent oration, especially\ncutting to Hotouta, for he was one of the chief objects of the\n\"evangelist's\" vituperation and abuse. In fact had Hotouta been a white\nman he would have gone away saying the preacher was \"horribly personal\nand disgracefully abusive\" to the leading members of his congregation.\nHe explained that the reason the tribe had lost so many of its members\nlast year by the dread \"grippe\" was because of their levity. They had\nlaughed too much, gone hunting and visiting white men's camps when\nthey ought to have been dancing. They were allowing the white man\nto laugh them out of the traditions of their forefathers. Then he\nespecially denounced all friendliness to the whites, and singled out\nHotouta, Chickapanagie, Spotted Tail, and one or two others who had\nbeen the leaders in thus countenancing the whites, and administered\nto them severe rebukes. After this, referring to the offer of the\nwhites to give them farming implements, food, etc., if they would send\ntheir children to the Indians' school at Mohave, he urged his hearers\nto listen to no such proposals. He said in effect: \"Don't send your\nchildren to the school of the white man. If you do they will grow up\nwith the heart of the white man, and the place of the Havasupai will\nknow them no more. Your tribe will be broken up, and then the white\nman will come and take possession of your canyon home where the stream\never flows and sings to the waving of willows by their side. He will\nrob you of your corn-fields and of your peach orchards. No longer will\nthe place where the bodies of your ancestors were burned be sacred to\nyou; your hunting-grounds are now all occupied by him, the deer and the\nantelope have nearly disappeared before his rifle, and he is hungry\nto possess the few things you still have left. This offer is a secret\nplot against you. He thinks if he cannot drive you out he will seduce\nyou out, and this school is the offer he makes to you, so that he can\nget your children into his hands. There he will teach them to make fun\nof you; to despise your method of living; your houses, your food, your\ndress, your customs, your dances will all be ridiculed by him, and\nso you will lose the favor of 'Those Above,' and you yourselves will\nsoon die and your name and tribe be forgotten.\" In other words, he\nendeavored to make it perfectly clear to the assembled Havasupais that\nthe school proposition was a white man's scheme--a dodge--to get their\nchildren away so that eventually they--the whites--might claim the\nHavasu Canyon for themselves.\n\nThus he exhorted time after time, and, after each sermon, sang out,\nline for line, a new song that he desired them to learn. At first\nhe alone sang, then Navaho and a few of the older ones took up the\nstrain, and soon all joined in. Then the dance began, and continued\nwith unabated zeal and fervor until the \"missioner\" gave the signal for\nrest. Then, after another harangue, another song was learned, another\ndance performed, and so on, _ad libitum_.\n\nThe state of mental exaltation or frenzy, not unlike those peculiar\nmanifestations of the negroes at revival meetings, the Shakers, \"having\nthe power\" etc., is not uncommon among the Havasupais. At the Thapala\nDance I have seen three women almost simultaneously suddenly dart\nfrom different parts of the dance circle, and hysterically shrieking,\nyelling, and singing, foaming at the mouth, tearing their hair, falling\ndown with violence, and with appalling disregard to the injury to their\nown bodies dash against each other, or on the great central tree trunk,\nwhich stands like a flagpole in the centre of their dance corral,\nyield to this uncontrollable frenzy, and remain under its influence\nfor an hour or more. During the whole time of their ecstasy, the dance\ncontinued uninterruptedly, except when one of the frenzied women dashed\ntowards the dancers as if to escape the circle. Then the man nearest\nby rudely took her by the arms, body, or shoulders and thrust her,\nshrieking, back into the centre of the circle.\n\nYunosi gained her present name because of her occult powers and\nfrenzied visions. After Hotouta's death she would occasionally wake\nup and cry out that she saw the spirit of her husband, \"Tom, heap\nbig Supai chief.\" And, strange to say, in these exalted moments she\ninvariably spoke in the crude English her husband had taught her and\nof which she was very proud. Pointing into vacant space, with glaring\neyes and excited voice, she would declare that she saw \"Big chief Tom.\nHe come back to see me. O Tom! Tom! I see you.\" Then turning to her\nfriends and others around, she would shriekingly ask, \"You no see? You\nno see?\" And thus she gained her name, Yunosi.\n\nThinking that perhaps the Havasupais used some herb, drug, or\nintoxicant, similar to opium, hasheesh, or the stramonium (jimson-weed)\nwhich the Navahoes use to produce similar frenzies and visions, I\ntook some of this, which they call smal-a-ga-to-a, and asked several\nif they ever used it. In every case the answer was a sharp \"No!\nHan-a-to-op-o-gi,\" and one Havasu informed me it was \"very bad. All\nsame white man's whiskey.\" Indeed, such has been the excellent teaching\nthey have received from their ancients, and the tenacity with which\nthey, as a people, have adhered to it, it may be safely affirmed that\nthe Havasupais use no noxious drug, or fermented or intoxicating\nliquor, and that they do not know any processes by which they can be\nmade.\n\nThe ways of the Havasupai medicine-men are similar to those of fakirs\nin all lands and ages. I have seen Rock Jones, after examining a\npatient, jump up and excitedly exclaim: \"I can see into your head\nand all through your brains; down your throat and into your stomach,\nthrough your kidneys, bladder, and intestines, and you are sick, very\nsick, very heap sick. But I am a good medicine-man. I can cure you\nsure, I can cure you quick. But you must promise to give me five\ndollars. Don't forget I must have five dollars.\"\n\n[Illustration: ROCK JONES, LEADING MEDICINE MAN OF HAVASUPAIS.]\n\n[Illustration: SINYELA, WITH ESUWA, GOING FOR WATER.]\n\nIn one case with which I was familiar, the medicine-man declared that\nthe heart of one sick man had gone away to the topmost peak of one of\nthe canyon walls. It would cost several dollars to charm it back, but\nhe could do it. Yielding to the pleadings of the man without the heart,\nhe began to exercise his charms and incantations, and the next day he\ncame in and declared he had seen it return during the early morning\nhours, and his patient would recover. His prognostication was correct;\nthe man was soon well and strong, and paid his six-dollar fee for\nhaving his heart returned to him, with due gratitude and thankfulness.\n\nAnother man who had been on the trail of some runaway horses had become\noverheated and was attacked severely with cholera morbus. He was\nbrought into the village nearly dead, his pains increased by a terrible\nsoreness in his back, caused by severe vomitings. The medicine-man\ngave him a large dose of red pepper, and, after sucking the flesh of\nhis stomach, bowels, and back, rubbed the body of the sick man with\nred pepper, and then began his incantations. Soon he declared that a\nWallapai doctor who hated the Havasupais had left a long white rope\non the trail over which the sick man passed, and that it was this\ncharmed rope which had entered his body and caused the sickness. On\nthe promise of a fee of several dollars, he expressed confidence that\nthe rope could be successfully taken from the invalid, and that its\nremoval would be followed by immediate recovery. After a little time\nhad elapsed, the crafty charlatan produced a long white rope, which he\nsaid his skill had extracted. Needless to add, the patient recovered,\nand to this day extols the wonderful skill and power of his physician.\n\nOf late years a large number of Havasupais have been carried off with\na bilious fever, with marked malarial symptoms. The usual indifference\nin the earlier stages of the disease gives way later on to frantic\nsweatings and appeals to the medicine-man, who comes and sings and\nseeks by his incantations to remove the evil something within the\npatient that causes the disease. If the sick person is daring enough to\napply to the agency teacher for medicine, he knows that he no longer\nneed expect any help from the medicine-man, whose curses will follow\nhim to the world of doom. As in the world of civilization there is\njealousy, sharp and keen, between the schools of medicine, so do the\nHavasupai medicine-men resent any innovations upon their time-honored\ncustoms.\n\nHere, as elsewhere, one man's skill and reputation is oftentimes\nmaintained by pulling down that of another. Dr. Tommy used to be a\nfairly successful medicine-man, but once, during a fearful epidemic\nof grippe, several children died under his ministrations. It was soon\nnoticed that those parents whose children had been treated by another\nmedicine-man were active in spreading the report that \"they believed\nDr. Tommy had killed the children by giving them coyote medicine.\" And\nthis \"tommy-rot\" killed him as a medicine-man, for, though he was never\nbrought to any trial on account of this charge, he was shunned and\nostracized, and in very rare cases is ever called upon to exercise his\nmedical powers.\n\nThere are now three medicine-men in the tribe, the chief of whom\nis Rock Jones, whose Havasupai names are suggestive. They are:\nPa-a-hu-ya\u00b4 and In-ya-ja-al\u00b4-o, the former signifying \"black,\" the\nother \"the rising sun.\" At-nahl, whose name means a \"sack,\" is the\nsecond in importance, and the youngest is Ma-t\u014d-m\u0101\u00b4, commonly\nknown as Bob. I have just asked Lanoman which is the best medicine-man\nof the three, and his reply when I asked \"Who makes the sick people\nwell the quickest?\" was: \"All same. All no good. All make people dead\npretty quick!\"\n\nDeath is supposed to be, in every case, the departure of the spirit\nfrom the body, and when the sick person is approaching death the\nfriends and relatives, led by the medicine-man, will often sit around\nthe invalid and sing their petitions to the departing spirit in the\nhope that it may be led to repent and return to the body. If the\npatient recovers, the medicine-man takes the credit (and what pay he\ncan get) for the return of the spirit, and goes about in high feather,\nrecounting to all he meets the new instance of his wonderful and occult\npower.\n\nOne of the greatest insults that can be offered to the friends of a\ndead Havasupai is to refer to him. The reason given to me for this is\nthat whenever a thought is sent after a dead person it either prevents\nhis spirit continuing the journey to Shi-pa-pu, or leads him to desire\nto return to earth, neither of which are good for a Havasupai.\n\nOne of the school teachers informed me that she once, in reconvening\nthe school after a holiday, read out the name of a child that had\nrecently died. The moment the name was pronounced several of both\nboys and girls burst out, some into a wild wailing and others into\nfierce and angry denunciations of the wicked white woman who had thus\narrested the spirit of the deceased on its journey to the underworld.\n\nThe last night of our first visit the Havasupais had a Sick Dance. When\none of their number is very sick or about to die, the medicine-man\nsummons the principal men and women of the camp to dance around him, in\nthe hope of driving away the disease. It so happened that during our\nvisit one of the young bucks was very sick, and a dance was ordered\nfor Saturday evening. It was quite a distance away from our camp, and\nVesna, whose guest we were that night, informed us that we would not be\nwelcomed. The welcome would have been overlooked but for our need of\nrest, and as it was a mile or two away, it was decided not to attend,\nalthough we could hear the incantations at intervals during the night.\nThe dance, however, was similar to such dances elsewhere. The sick man\nwas placed in the open air and a circle formed around him, while a\nslow and solemn dance was engaged in by those in the circle, and all\nparticipated in the chanting of an incantation. This was kept up during\nthe entire night, the voices of the singers at times pitched to a very\nhigh key. As soon as one in the circle grew tired, he dropped out and\nanother took his place, but the dance and chant never ceased. If a sick\nman survives the noise and din and wakefulness of this until morning,\nit is probable that his vitality will carry him through, and he will\nrecover.\n\nIf death is thought to be certainly near, the best clothes of the\nwardrobe are brought out and placed upon the dying person. A woman's\nbest dress is not too good for her to die in, and a man's finest\ngarments, even to the broadcloth cast-off \"Prince Albert\" received\nthrough the kindness of some white friend in the East, is deemed the\nonly appropriate gear in which to meet the dread summons to Shi-pa-pu.\nWhen life is extinct the dressed-up body is wrapped in the best\nblanket the hawa affords, and is then ready for the period of wailing\nand mourning. Relatives and friends of the deceased come and sit in\nthe hawa, and as the spirit moves them they raise their voices in\nlamentation, or, singing the bravery, the daring, the good deeds of\nthe deceased, ask for him a safe journey to the dread secret places\nof the underworld. Nothing can be more doleful than to hear these\nsad lamentations in the dead of the night. All is still, except the\nnever-silent stream which steadily keeps up its murmur as it flows over\nthe stones. Otherwise the very Angel of Silence seems to be brooding\nover the scene, for the babble of the creek merely accentuates the\nnearly perfect stillness. Suddenly a loud, long, minor wail rises from\nthe hawa in the midst of the willows, and one feels that he can see the\nsound ascend to the heights of these enclosing walls, striking here and\nthere, and then rebounding to opposing walls, until the canyon is full\nof voices, wailing one against the other and making a spirit chorus of\ninfinite sadness and distress. The imagination unconsciously suggests\nthat these echoing wails are the sympathizing spirit voices of men and\nwomen--former inhabitants of this canyon of the willows--who have come\nto weep with those who weep for their dead loved ones.\n\nThere is no fixed period for this wailing, but as soon as it is\nsatisfactorily concluded the body is tenderly thrown across the\nbest horse owned by the deceased, if a man,--or ridden by her, if\na woman,--and, accompanied by other animals conveying some of his\nor her most desirable treasures, is taken to the burial or burning\nground. Prior to the advent of the white man the Havasupais practised\ncremation, and between Bridal Veil and Mooney Falls, and also on the\nrim of the Grand Canyon, at a place since named Crematory Point, the\nremains of scores of burned bodies of men and women and also of horses\nwere recently to be seen. For it was deemed of the greatest importance\nto give the spirit of the deceased the spirit of his dead horse, upon\nwhich he might ride to the dark abode of the underworld. Before it was\nburned, the horse must be strangled, and this was done by tightly tying\na strip of wet buckskin around his neck, and, as it dried, it rapidly\ncontracted and thus strangled the doomed animal. Then both human being\nand animal were burned.\n\nBut even this was not considered a sufficient offering to the powers of\nthe dead. Returning to the village, a peach tree in the orchard of the\ndead man was cut down that it might also be \"dead\" and thus accompany\nits owner to the spirit world and give him its refreshing fruit\nthere. On the death of a chieftain or great warrior, several peach\ntrees--thapala--are cut down.\n\nOf late years, however, these customs of cremation, strangling of\nhorses, burning of treasures, and cutting down of peach trees have\nnot been as universal as formerly. Hotouta, the oldest son of Kohot\nNavaho, the last of the old chiefs, had great influence with his\npeople, and Mr. Bass succeeded in convincing him of the extravagant\nfolly of thus wasting on the dead, to whom the sacrifices were of no\nbenefit, that which could be of so much use to the living. Consequently\nhis influence materially helped to change the custom from cremation to\nground interment. Later, after Hotouta's death, when several families\nhad gone back to the old habit of cremation, others exercised their\ninfluence with the Havasupais to lead them to abandon the old custom.\nThese endeavors were all effective to a large extent, and, when Captain\nNavaho, the last great Kohot the Havasupais will ever have, died in\n1898, he was buried instead of being cremated. Late in 1897, however,\nthe son of Sinyela died, and though in many things Sinyela is one of\nthe most progressive of the Havasupais, he and his brother took the\nboy's body across a horse, tied an axe to the corpse, and started up\nthe canyon towards Topocobya. When they returned the axe had been used,\nthe horse was strangled, and burned bones of human and equine bodies in\na side gorge attest the hold the old superstitions and customs still\nhave upon the Havasupai mind.\n\nAnd again in the summer of 1899--May or June--when the daughter of\nthe present Kohot and wife of Lanoman (another son of Sinyela) died,\nLanoman felt that nothing short of the old and time-honored method of\ncremation would be suitable for the daughter of the new chief and the\nwife of so smart and bright an Indian as himself. For Lanoman knew more\nEnglish, perhaps, than any other Havasupai, and was afflicted with the\nnot uncommon complaint of great self-esteem and conceit. Accordingly,\nthe body was clothed in the finest blankets of the wardrobe, and many\nprecious things were taken with it to the Havasu Canyon below Mooney\nFalls. Tenderly the body was lowered down the already nearly useless\nladder, and after suitable wailing, the funeral pyre was built, the\nbody placed thereupon, more wood heaped around and over the body,\nand then the whole fired. When the body was destroyed, the mourners\nreturned, kicking down the upper portion of the ladder as they did so,\nthat no other Havasupai should be burned there, and also that no white\nfoot should again desecrate the sacred precincts of the lower Havasu\nCanyon. Then, that the favorite horse of the woman thus honored after\nher death should follow her to the underworld, it was taken to the\nedge of the plateau above, from which the descent to Bridal Veil and\nthe upper portion of Mooney Falls is made, the wet strip of buckskin\ntied around its neck, and, as the cord dried and tightened, and the\npoor animal began to reel and totter in its death struggles, it was\ngiven a push, tumbled over the edge, and--instead of descending to the\nlower canyon at the foot of the Falls where the burned body was--fell\non the shelves of limestone accretions which terrace the canyon at the\nside of the Falls, bounded from one terrace to another, and then, to\nthe infinite disgust of the mourners, lodged there. And there it still\nremains--or what is left of it, for, as I passed by in July, 1899,\nthough I could not see the animal, the frightful odor of the carrion\nascended to the very heavens.\n\n\n\n\nBIBLIOGRAPHY\n\n\nOn the Navahoes consult the full list prepared by Professor Frederick\nWebb Hodge in Washington Matthews' \"Navaho Legends,\" published by\nHoughton, Mifflin & Co., for the American Folk-Lore Society.\n\nCOUES, ELLIOTT.\n\nOn the Trail of a Spanish Pioneer. The Diary and Itinerary of Francisco\nGarc\u00e9s in his Travels through Sonora, Arizona, and California. 2 vols.\nFrancis P. Harper, New York, 1900.\n\nDORSEY, GEORGE A., AND VOTH, H. R.\n\nThe Oraibi Soyal Ceremony. (Field Columbian Museum, publication 55,\nAnthropological Series, Vol. III, No. 1. 59 pages and many plates.)\n\nFEWKES, JESSE WALTER.\n\nPreliminary Account of an Expedition to the Pueblo Ruins near Winslow,\nArizona, in 1896. (In Smithsonian Report for 1896. Pages 517 to 539.)\n\nPreliminary Account of Arch\u00e6ological Field Work in Arizona in 1897. (In\nSmithsonian Report for 1897. Pages 601 to 603.)\n\nTwo Ruins Recently Discovered in the Red Rock Country, Arizona. (In\nAmerican Anthropologist, August, 1896. Pages 263 to 283.)\n\nPueblo Ruins near Flagstaff, Arizona. (In American Anthropologist, N.\nS., Vol. II, 1900. Pages 422 to 450.)\n\nA Suggestion as to the Meaning of the Moki Snake Dance. (In Journal of\nAmerican Folk-Lore, date unknown. Pages 129 to 138.)\n\nThe Owakulti Altar at Sichomovi Pueblo. (In American Anthropologist, N.\nS., Vol. III, 1901. Pages 211 to 226.)\n\nAn Interpretation of Katchina Worship. (In the Journal of American\nFolk-Lore, April-June, 1901. Pages 81 to 94.)\n\nThe Pueblo Settlements near El Paso, Texas. (In American\nAnthropologist, N. S., Vol. IV, No. 1, 1902. Pages 57 to 95.)\n\nThe New Fire Ceremony at Walpi. (In American Anthropologist, N. S.,\nVol. II, No. 1, 1900. Pages 80 to 138.)\n\nProperty Rights in Eagles among the Hopi. (In American Anthropologist,\nN. S., Vol. II, 1900. Pages 690 to 707.)\n\nTusayan Flute and Snake Ceremonies. (In Nineteenth Annual Report Bureau\nof American Ethnology, 1901. Pages 957 to 1011.)\n\nArch\u00e6ological Expedition to Arizona in 1895. (In Seventeenth Annual\nReport Bureau of American Ethnology, 1898. Pages 520 to 744.)\n\nSnake Ceremonials at Walpi. (Vol. XIV. of Journal of American Ethnology\nand Arch\u00e6ology. Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston, 1894. In this volume\nis a carefully prepared bibliography on the Snake Dance (see pages 124\nto 126) which is too lengthy to be reproduced here and to which the\nstudent is referred.)\n\nGARC\u00c9S, FRANCISCO.\n\nDiary and Itinerary, translated by Elliott Coues. (See Coues.)\n\nHOUGH, WALTER.\n\nEnvironmental Interrelations in Arizona. (In American Anthropologist\nfor May, 1898. Pages 133 to 155.)\n\nJAMES, GEORGE WHARTON.\n\nIn and Around the Grand Canyon. Little, Brown, & Co., Boston, Mass.,\n1900.\n\nIndian Basketry. Henry Malkan, New York, 1901.\n\nThe Havasupai Indians and their Cataract Canyon Home. (In Good Health,\nBattle Creek, Mich., August, 1899. Pages 446 to 456.)\n\nThe Industries of the Navahoes and Mokis. (In Good Health, June, 1899.\nPages 315 to 322.)\n\nThe Pueblo Indians and their Prayer Spring. (In Good Health, July,\n1899. Pages 379 to 384.)\n\nThe Snake Dance of the Mokis. (Two articles in Scientific American, New\nYork, June 24, 1899, and September 9, 1899.)\n\nScenes of Spanish Occupancy in our Southwest. (In American Monthly\nReview of Reviews, July, 1899. Pages 51 to 59.)\n\nDiscovery of Cliff Dwellings in the Southwest. (In Scientific American,\nNew York, January 20, 1900.)\n\nWhat I Saw at the Snake Dance. (In Wide World Magazine, London,\nJanuary, 1900. Pages 264 to 274.)\n\nHarvest Festivals of Some of our Southwestern Aborigines. (In Good\nHealth, October, 1899. Pages 583 to 589.)\n\nMoki Fashions and Customs. (In Good Health, November, 1899. Pages 641\nto 647).\n\nTypes of Female Beauty among the Indians of the Southwest. (In Overland\nMonthly, San Francisco, Cal., March, 1900. Pages 195 to 209).\n\nSome Indian Women. (In New York Tribune Supplement, April 8, 1900.)\n\nThe Fire Dance of the Navahoes. (In Wide World Magazine, London,\nSeptember, 1900. Pages 516 to 523.)\n\nThe Hopi Basket Dance. (In New York Tribune Supplement.)\n\nIndian Madonnas. (In New York Tribune Supplement, December 23, 1900.)\n\nIndian Pottery. (In House Beautiful, Chicago, April, 1901. Pages 235 to\n243.)\n\nDown the Topocobya Trail. (In Wide World Magazine, London, April, 1901.\nPages 75 to 80.)\n\nIndian Basketry. (In Outing, New York, May, 1901. Pages 177 to 186.)\n\nThe Storming of Awatobi. (In the Chautauquan, Cleveland, O., August,\n1901. Pages 497 to 501.)\n\nThe Art of Indian Basketry. (In the Southern Workman, Hampton, Va.,\nAugust, 1901. Pages 439 to 448.)\n\nIndian Basketry in House Decoration. (In the Chautauquan, Cleveland,\nO., September, 1901. Pages 619 to 624.)\n\nMoki and Navaho Indian Sports. (In Outing, New York, October, 1901.\nPages 10 to 15.)\n\nIndian Pottery. (In Outing, New York, November, 1901. Pages 154 to 161.)\n\nThe Hopi Indians of Arizona. (In Southern Workman, Hampton, Va.,\nDecember, 1901. Pages 677 to 683.)\n\nThe Collecting of Indian Baskets. (In the Literary Collector, New York,\nJanuary, 1902. Pages 103 to 109.)\n\nSome Indian Dishes. (In American Kitchen Magazine, Boston, Mass.,\nJanuary, 1902. Pages 129 to 133 and frontispiece.)\n\nThe Indians and their Baskets. (In Four Track News, New York, February,\n1902. Pages 77 to 79.)\n\nIndian Blanketry. (In Outing, New York, March, 1902. Pages 684 to 693.)\n\nLUMMIS, CHARLES F.\n\nAcross the Continent. (Scribner's.)\n\nA New Mexico David, and Other Stories. (Scribner's.)\n\nThe Land of Poco Tiempo.\n\nThe Man that Married the Moon.\n\nAll the volumes of \"Land of Sunshine,\" now \"Out West,\" of which he is\nEditor, published in Los Angeles, Cal.\n\nMATTHEWS, WASHINGTON.\n\nNavaho Legends. (The American Folk-Lore Society. In this volume\nProfessor F. W. Hodge has a full bibliography on the Navahoes.)\n\nMINDELEFF, COSMOS.\n\nNavaho Houses. (In Seventeenth Annual Report Bureau of American\nEthnology, 1898. Pages 475 to 517.)\n\nPEPPER, GEORGE H.\n\nThe Navaho Indians. An Ethnological Study. (In Southern Workman,\nHampton, Va., November, 1900. 7 pages.)\n\nThe Making of a Navaho Blanket. (In Everybody's Magazine, New York,\nJanuary, 1902. Pages 33 to 43.)\n\nPOWELL, J. W.\n\nThe Lessons of Folk-Lore. (In American Anthropologist, N. S., Vol. II,\nNo. 1, 1900. Pages 1 to 36.)\n\nVOTH, H. R., AND DORSEY, GEORGE A.\n\nThe Oraibi Soyal Ceremony. (See Dorsey.)\n\n\n\n\n_AN IMPORTANT NEW BOOK DESCRIBING THE MOST STUPENDOUS SCENE ON THE\nAMERICAN CONTINENT_\n\n_In and Around the Grand Canyon of the Colorado River in Arizona_\n\nBy GEORGE WHARTON JAMES\n\nIllustrated with twenty-three full-page plates and seventy-seven\npictures in the text \u00b7 8vo \u00b7 Cloth \u00b7 Price, $2.50\n\n[Illustration: CROSSING THE COLORADO TO THE SHINUMO.]\n\nThe volume, crowded with pictures of the marvels and beauties of the\nCanyon, is of absorbing interest. Dramatic narratives of hairbreadth\nescapes and thrilling adventures, stories of Indians, their legends and\ncustoms, and Mr. James's own perilous experiences, give a wonderful\npersonal interest in these pages of graphic description of the most\nstupendous natural wonder on the American Continent.--_Philadelphia\nPublic Ledger._\n\nA veritable storehouse of wonders.--_Boston Advertiser._\n\nThere is a ring of actuality about this book.--_Outing_, New York.\n\nThe Grand Canyon has never before received such an exposition either\nwith pen or camera.--_Literary World._\n\nHe has told his story in so fascinating a manner that one feels almost\nwithin sight and sound of the great canyon.--_San Francisco Bulletin._\n\nThe most thorough description of the Grand Canyon of the Colorado and\nits surroundings to be found anywhere.--_Chicago Tribune._\n\nHe has not been content to describe the wonders in his own words, but\nfrom historical records, from the notes of explorers and discoverers,\nand from the accounts of Indian natives, white hunters, miners, and\nguides, he has quoted freely wherever he could find matter of interest\nand value.--_Argonaut_, San Francisco.\n\nAn illustrated work of which too much can scarcely be said in praise.\nThe Grand Canyon is one of the world's wonders, and this volume is\nthe most thorough and satisfying presentation of its many rugged\nattractions thus far offered.--_San Francisco Chronicle._\n\nThere is probably no man in the country who is better qualified for\nthe writing of such a book than Professor James.... Too much cannot be\nsaid in praise of his work.--_Arizona Daily Journal-Miner_, Prescott,\nArizona.\n\nWill be the standard with reference to the main features--historic,\nscenic, and scientific--of the Great Canyon of the Colorado.... Legend\nand tradition are drawn upon for the dramatic effect and local color,\nso that in many respects the book possesses a charm peculiarly its\nown.... One of the typical books of the great West.--_Brooklyn Standard\nUnion._\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS\n\n\n CHAPTER\n\n I. THE COLORADO RIVER AND ITS CANYONS.\n\n II. EXPLORATIONS FROM THE TIME OF THE SPANIARDS (1540)\n TO MAJOR J. W. POWELL (1869).\n\n III. EXPLORATIONS BY MAJOR J. W. POWELL (1869-72).\n\n IV. LATER EXPLORATIONS.\n\n V. FLAGSTAFF, THE SAN FRANCISCO MOUNTAINS, THE CLIFF AND\n CAVE DWELLINGS, AND THE DEAD VOLCANOES.\n\n VI. FROM THE SANTA F\u00c9 RAILWAY TO THE CANYON BY STAGE.\n\n VII. TO THE CANYON BY RAILWAY, AND A FEW PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS\n TO THE TOURIST.\n\n VIII. FIRST IMPRESSIONS.\n\n IX. WHAT DOES ONE SEE?\n\n X. ON THE RIM.\n\n XI. THE GRAND VIEW TRAIL.\n\n XII. THE BRIGHT ANGEL TRAIL.\n\n XIII. TWO DAYS' HUNT FOR A BOAT IN A SIDE GORGE NEAR\n THE BRIGHT ANGEL TRAIL.\n\n XIV. THE MYSTIC SPRING TRAIL.\n\n XV. THREE DAYS OF EXPLORING IN TRAIL CANYON WITH THE\n WRONG COMPANION.\n\n XVI. MR. W. W. BASS AND HIS CANYON EXPERIENCES.\n\n XVII. THE SHINUMO AND ITS ANCIENT INHABITANTS.\n\n XVIII. PEACE SPRINGS TRAIL.\n\n XIX. LEE'S FERRY AND THE JOURNEY THITHER.\n\n XX. JOHN D. LEE AND THE MOUNTAIN MEADOW MASSACRE.\n\n XXI. UP AND DOWN GLEN AND MARBLE CANYONS.\n\n XXII. THE OLD HOPI TRAIL.\n\n XXIII. THE TANNER-FRENCH TRAIL.\n\n XXIV. THE RED CANYON AND OLD TRAILS.\n\n XXV. GRAND CANYON FOREST RESERVE.\n\n XXVI. THE TOPOCOBYA TRAIL AND HAVASU (CATARACT) CANYON.\n\n XXVII. THE HAVASUPAI INDIANS AND THEIR CANYON HOME.\n\n XXVIII. HAVASU (CATARACT) CANYON AND ITS WATERFALLS AND\n LIMESTONE CAVES.\n\n XXIX. AN ADVENTURE IN BEAVER CANYON.\n\n XXX. THE GEOLOGY OF THE GRAND CANYON.\n\n XXXI. BOTANY OF THE GRAND CANYON.\n\n XXXII. RELIGIOUS AND OTHER IMPRESSIONS IN THE GRAND CANYON.\n\n XXXIII. PHOTOGRAPHING THE GRAND CANYON.\n\n BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE GRAND CANYON REGION.\n\n\n\nLITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers\n\n254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON\n\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:\n\nObvious printer errors have been corrected. Otherwise, the author's\noriginal spelling, punctuation, hyphenation and use of accents have\nbeen left intact.\n\nInconsistencies in the author's use of periods (full stops) with\nillustrations have been resolved. The list of illustrations has been\nmodified so that illustrations appear in the correct sequence.","title":"The Indians of the Painted Desert Region: Hopis, Navahoes, Wallapais, Havasupais","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":81901}