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The Moki Snake Dance

-?nr

<A popular account of thai unparalleled

dramatic pagan ceremony of the

Pueblo Indians of Tusayan,

cArizona, with incidental

mention of their life

and customs.

BY WALTER HOUGH, PH. D.

Sixty-four Half-tone Illustrations from
Special Photographs.

Thirty-second Thousand.

Published by the Passenger Department

SANTA FE ROUTE,

J900

US<- .".b"

7hm:s

^ TUST at the dawn of an August morning

^L I groups of eager watchers sit along the

^^D Bf I precipitous cliffs or slopes of a mesa

I ^/ bearing on its crest a Moki village. All

fl faces are turned in one direction ; the gray

^^fr light becomes many-hued before the near

am B approach of the sun. A murmur passes

m U^J^ through the crowd ; in the distance a number

W W^f of dark forms are seen running toward the

W^ tm mesa ; nearer they come, pursued by boys and

(^^ ^^w girls with wands of cornstalk, and run up the

racer. tortuous trail as though on level ground. As

the sun appears above the eastern horizon the

winner passes over the roof of the Snake kiva and the

day of the Snake dance has begun with the Snake race.

The runners deposit the melon vines, corn and other

products they have carried from the fields, and the

panting victor gets for his prize the glory of winning.

As in the Greek games, the Mokis honor the swift

runner.

As the day wears on the interest centers in the kivas,
where swarthy priests are bringing to a close the myste-
rious rites begun days before, when the astronomer Sun
priest had directed the town crier to announce the com-
mencement of the ceremony. Since that time the priests
had descended into the kiva, and a fleet runner had each
daj 7 carried plumed prayer-sticks to the distant springs
and shrines. Four days to the north, west, south and
east snakes had been hunted. Then came the Antelope
dance on the evening before the Snake dance; the sixteen
songs and drama were enacted in the kiva while the

Snake race was being run, and the time

is now ripe for the final spectacle. The

snakes have been washed and placed in jars and

the costuming begins. Long-haired, painted priests in

scanty attire emerge from the kivas and go on various

errands. Visitors and Mokis examine one another with

mutual curiosity; the children are having a jolly time,

for the Snake dance comes in their village but once in

two years, and white visitors are sure to bring candy to

put a climax to the stuffing of new corn, melons and

other good things of August.

Other dances of the Mokis are more pleasing, as the
Kachina dances, with their mirth and music, or the
Flute dance, full of color and ceremony, but the Snake
dance attracts with a potent fascination. One gets so
interested in the progress of the dance that the antici-
pated element of horror does not appear amid the
rhythmic movement and tragic gestures of the dancers
with here and there the sinuous undulation of a venom-
ous rattlesnake. Along the sky-line of the houses and
on every available foothold and standing place are spec-
tators. At Wolpi, the top of the mushroom-shaped
rock is a favorite seat. The crowd is hardly less inter-
esting than the dancers. Everyone, except the white
visitor, is in gala costume, Moki and Navajo vying in
gaudy colors. The Moki maidens have their hair done

up in great whorls of shining blackness at the sides of
their heads. The women, who have brushed away the
evidences of preparation for the feast to follow the dance,
now appear at their best, and the children dash around,
consuming unlimited slices of watermelon. Mormons,
be-pistoled cowboys, prospectors, army officers, teachers
from the schools, scientists, photographers, and tourists
in the modern costume suitable for camp life, mingle
with the Indian spectators in motley confusion. Not
less than one hundred white people witnessed the Snake
dance at Wolpi in 1897. Each year there is a larger
attendance.

If the visitor will look around he will see that at one
side of the dance plaza there is a bower of green cotton-
wood branches, the kisi, where the snakes are to be kept
in readiness during the dance. The descending sun
casts a long shadow eastward from the kisi when a priest
enters the plaza with a bag containing the reptiles and

quickly disappears
among the branches.
This is the mau who
had tl& the snakes

out to the
dancers
through a
small open-
ing in the

front of the kisi. The expectancy now
is intense. All eyes are fixed in the
direction from which the priests will
appear. The sun sinks lower and the
evening colors steal into the landscape,
hut no one notices them.

11 Here they come!" The grand
entry of the Antelope priests causes a
sensation. With bare feet, and their
scmi-uudc bodies streaked with white
paint ; a band of white on the chin
from mouth to ear, rattles of tortoise
shell tied to the knee, embroidered
kilts of white cotton fastened around
the loins, necklaces of
shell and turquoise, and
fox skins hanging behind
^P from the belt, these priests
present a startling though
not unattractive appear-
ance. At the head of the
file comes the Antelope
Chief bearing his tiponi or sacred badge across his left
arm. Next conies the bearer of the medicine bowl. All
the other priests carry a small rattle in either hand.
With stately mien, and looking to neither right nor left,
the Antelope priests pass four times around the plaza to
the left, each sprinkling sacred meal and stamping
violently upon the plank in the ground in front of the
kisi. The hole in the middle of the plank is the opening
into the under-world and the dancers stamp upon it to
inform the spirits of their ancestors that a ceremony is
in progress. Fortunate is the man who breaks the board
with his foot ! When the circuit is made, the Antelope
priests line up in front of the kisi facing outward ; there
is a hush and the Snake priests enter.

The grand entry of the Snake priests is dramatic to
the last degree. With majestic strides they hasten into
the plaza, every attitude full of energy and fierce
determined purpose. The costume of the priests of the
sister society of Antelopes is gay in comparison with
that of the Snake priests. Their bodies rubbed with
red paint, their chins blackened and outlined with a
white stripe, their dark red kilts and moccasins, their
barbaric ornaments, give the Snake priests a most
somber and diabolical appearance. Around the plaza,
by a wider circuit than the Antelopes, they go striking
the sipapu plank with the foot and fiercely leaping
upon it with wild gestures. Four times the circuit is
made ; then a line is formed facing the line of the
Antelopes, who cease shaking their rattles which simu-
late the warning note of the rattlesnake. A moment's
pause and the rattles begin again and a deep humming
chant accompanies them. The priests sway from side

FLUTE DANCE, ORAIBI. Higgin*, photo

to side, sweeping their eagle-feather snake whips toward
the ground ; the song grows louder and the lines sway
backward and forward toward each other like two long,
undulating serpents. The bearer of the medicine walks
back and forth between the lines and sprinkles the
charm liquid to the compass points.

All at once the Snake line breaks up into groups of
three, composed of the "carrier" and two attendants.
The song becomes more animated and the groups dance,
or rather hop, around in a circle in front of the ktsi, one
attendant (the "hugger") placing his arm over the
shoulder of the "carrier " and the other (the " gatherer ")
walking behind. In all this stir and excitement it has
been rather difficult to see why the " carrier " dropped on
his knees in front of the kisi ; a moment later he is seen
to rise with a squirming snake, which he places midway
in his mouth, and the trio dance around the circle, fol-
lowed by other trios bearing hideous snakes. The
" hugger " waves his feather wand before the snake to
attract its attention, but the reptile inquiringly thrusts

its head against the
"carrier's" breast and
cheeks and twists its
body into knots and
coils. On come the
demoniacal groups, to
music now deep and
resonant and now ris-
ing to a frenzied pitch ,
accompanied by the un-
ceasing sibilant rattles
of the Antelope chorus.
Four times around and
the ' * carrier ' ' opens
his mouth and drops
the snake to the ground

8PECTATOR8 WOLPI.

KACHINA DANCERS.

and the "gatherer" dextrously
picks it up, adding in the same
manner from time to time other
snakes, till he may have quite a
bundle composed of rattlesnakes,
bull snakes and arrow snakes.
The bull snakes are large and
showy, and impressive out of
proportion to their harmfulness.
When all the snakes have been
duly danced around the ring,
and the nerve tension is at its
highest pitch, there is a pause ;
the old priest advances to an
open place and sprinkles sacred
meal on the ground, outlining a
ring with the six compass points,

while : the Snake priests gather around. At a given

signal the snakes are thrown on the meal drawing and

a wild scramble for them ensues, amid

a rain of spittle from the spectators on

the walls above. Only an instant and

the priests start up, each with one or

more snakes; away they dart for the

trail to carry the rain - bringing mes-
sengers to their native hiding places.

They dash down the mesa and reappear

far out on the trails below, running

like the wind with their grewsome bur-
dens. The Antelope priests next march

gravely around the plaza four times,

thumping the sunken plank, and file

out to their kiva. The ceremony is

done.

Stay ! there is another scene in

this drama which may seem a fitting

NAVAJO SPECTATOR.

termination. Whoever wishes may go to look on, but
not everyone goes. The Snake priests return, go to
the kiva and remove all their trappings, come out
to the edge of the cliff where the medicine women
have brought great bowls of a dark liquid brewed
in secrecy and mystery. No one knows the herbs and
spells in this liquid but Salako of Wolpi, the head
Snake woman of the Moki pueblos. The priests drink
of the medicine ; in about forty-five seconds it sees
the light of day again. They repeat the opera-
tion, and so goes on a scene that beggars descrip-
tion. Even scientific equanimity cannot observe with-
out qualms that this is a purification ceremony, carried
out by the priests with the ruthlessness of devotion.
This feature of the dance, however, will never become
popular. Various explanations of the purpose of the
medicine have been current. It has been supposed,
among others, to be the antidote for the venom of the
rattlesnake. Probably it is only for ceremonial purifica-
tion ; at any rate it is a good preparation for the great

feast following the
For this feast
come bearing trays '

dance.

fair maidens and trim women
of gala bread, well cooked meat,
corn pudding and other dain-
ties and substantiate in pro-
fusion. That night there is
asting and every Moki
gets what the cow-
I boys call a " mortal
gorge. ' ' Next day
and the day follow-
ing the boys and-
girls have great sport
in the pueblos. A
young man will take
a ribbon, a piece of

DANCE ROCK AND KI8I.

MOKI GIRLS.

Hillera, photo.

ANTELOPE CIRCUIT, ORAIBI.

Used by permission.

pottery or any other object and appear on the house-
tops or street, only to be set upon and chased by the
girls bent on securing the prize.

Many questions suggest themselves to everyone who
witnesses the Snake dance. Some do not seem to be
very easy to answer, and some are those which, perhaps,
the wisest and most lore-learned priest cannot answer
now after the lapse of centuries since
the ceremony began. Still, most of us
can leave them for the scien-
tists to pore over,
What every otic want?
to know

CIRCUIT OF ANTELOPE PRIEST8, WOLPI.

Vromern, photo .

is whether the snakes are drugged or have their fangs
removed, and, if not, whether they ever bite their captors.
Men who have attended as many as ten dances in various
Moki pueblos say that they have never seen a dancer
bitten by a poisonous snake, while others have seen a
reptile strike or perhaps fasten upon the hand of a
dancer and require to be shaken off. In the present
state of the question everyone must judge for himself.
One thing is very certain, the Mokis are extremely care-
ful with a poisonous snake. At Wolpi, in 1897, two

ENTRANCE OF SNAKE PRIESTS, WOLPI.

Vroman, photo.

large rattlesnakes, which from their age had perhaps
been danced around the ring before, coiled together and
for a time refused to move, almost breaking up the per-
formance. An experienced snake driver at length suc-
ceeded in making them uncoil, when they were easily
picked up. This is thought to be the secret of handling
the rattlesnake ; never to handle him when he is coiled,
for it is said that this serpent cannot strike without

coiling. Then, too, the snakes may have been some-
what subjugated by their bewildering treatment, since
they were dragged from their haunts by naked men
armed with hoes and sticks, thrust with other snakes
into a bag and brought to the kivas, and afterward
washed and uncivilly flung about.

The Snake dance is exciting enough, but the two or
three men who have witnessed the sinister rites called
"snake washing" in the dark kiva tell a story which
makes the blood curdle. Doctor Fewkes relates this
experience as follows :

"The Snake priests, who stood by the snake jars which were
in the east corner of the room, began to take out the reptiles, and
stood holding several of them in their hands behind Su-pe-la, so
that my attention was distracted by them, Su-pe-la then
prayed, and after a short interval two rattlesnakes were
handed him, after which other venomous snakes were

passed to the others, m )

and each >■( the six
priests who sat around
the bowl held two rat-
tlesnakes by the necks
with their heads ele-
vated above the bowl.
A low noise from the
rattles of the priests,

CIRCUIT OF SNAKE PRIESTS, WOLPI.

ANTELOPES IN LINE, ORAIBI.

Used by permission.

which shortly after was accompanied by a melodious hum by
all present, then began. The priests who held the snakes beat
time up and down above the liquid with the reptiles, which,
although not vicious, wound their bodies around the arms of the
holders. The song went on and frequently changed, growing
louder and wilder, until it burst forth into a fierce, blood-cur-
dling yell, or war-cry. At this moment the heads of the snakes
were thrust several times into the liquid, so that even parts
of their bodies were submerged, and were then drawn out,
not having left the hands of the priests, and forcibly thrown
across the room upon the sand mosaic, knocking down the
crooks and other objects placed about it. As they fell on the sand
picture three Snake priests stood in readiness, and while the rep-
tiles squirmed about or coiled for defense, these men with their
snake whips brushed them back and forth in the sand of the altar.
The excitement which accompanied this ceremony cannot be
adequately described. The low song, breaking into piercing
shrieks, the red-stained singers, the snakes thrown by the chiefs,
and the fierce attitudes of the reptiles as they landed on the sand
mosaic, made it next to impossible to sit calmly down and quietly

LINE-UP BEFORE KlSI, WOLPI.

note the events which followed one after another in quick succes-
sion. The sight haunted me for weeks afterwards, and I can never
forget this wildest of all the aboriginal rites of this strange people,
which showed no element of our present civilization. It was a per-
formance which might have been expected in the heart of Africa
rather than in the American Union, and certainly one could not
realize that he was in the United States at the end of the nineteenth
century. The low weird song continued while other rattlesnakes
were taken in the hands of the priests, and as the song rose again
to the wild war-cry, these snakes were also plunged into the liquid
and thrown upon the writhing mass which now occupied the place
of the altar. Again and again this was repeated until all the snakes
had been treated in the same way, and reptiles, fetiches, crooks
and sand were mixed together in one confused mass. As the
excitement subsided and the snakes crawled to the corners of the
ktva, seeking vainly for protection, they were again pushed back
in the mass, and brushed together in the sand in order that their

bodies might be thoroughly dried. Every snake in the collection
was thus washed, the harmless varieties being oathed after the
venomous. In the destruction of the altar by the reptiles the snake
ti-po-ni stood upright until all had been washed, and then one of
the priests turned it on its side, as a sign that the observance had
ended. The low, weird song of the Snake men continued, and
gradually died away until there was no sound but the warning
rattle of the snakes, mingled with that of the rattles in the hands
of the chiefs, and finally the motion of the snake
whips ceased, and all was silent," *

CHANTING BEFORE KISI, WOLPI.

Vroman, photo.

The Mokis have an antidote for snake bite made from
the root of a plant called by botanists Gaura parviflora.
They do not know the white man's fiery antidote and
panacea, but expert opinion declares that one remedy is
as good as the other. Snakes are scarce in Tusayan,
although they seem plentiful at the Snake dances. Still,

♦ The Snake Ceremony at Wolpi, Jour. Am. E)th. & Arch., Vol.
IV, pp. 84, 85.

it requires four
days of vigilant
search to the four
points of the com-
pass to procure
enough. Some
years ago, a Wolpi
farmer, while in
his cornfield, was
bitten on the hand
by a rattlesnake,
and the combined efforts of the Indian doctors and
some white people who happened to be near by were
applied for his relief. After a great deal of suffering
he recovered. Soon after, the Snake Society informed
him that he must become a Snake priest,
because he was favored by the rattlesnake.
Perhaps Iutiwa, for that was his name, did

CHANTING BEFORE KISI, ORAIBI.

Maude, photo.

TRIO OF DANCERS.

not see where the favor came
in, but he was duly installed
as a member of the Society.
Turning now from this
strange, nerve - wrenching
scene, which many have
crossed the mysterious
Painted Desert north of the
Little Colorado river to wit-
ness, some general account
of the Mokis should be inter-
esting. Perched upon high,
warm - tinted sandstone
mesas, narrow like the decks
of great Atlantic liners, are their clustered dwellings,
scarcely to be distinguished from the living rock
upon which they rest. High up above the plain,
viewing from all sides an almost illimitable distance,
basking in the brilliant sunshine from sunrise to sunset,
bathed in the pure, life-giving air, the Mokis, or " good
people,"* as they delight to call themselves, must feel
freedom in its truest sense. Here is isolation. In the
long centuries the Mokis have dwelt here they have had
few visitors. The all-venturing Spaniards, in their six-
teenth century quest for the mythical
doorposts of gold set with jewels, were
way- weary long before their toilsome
journey brought them to the base of the
giant mesas. In this semi-desert, far out
of the trail traveled by friends and
foes, the Mokis found the desired

♦ The name by which these people are
known among themselves is Hopi, whose
signification is as stated. Moki is a derisive
name, originally applied by outsiders,
which unfortunately seems fated to te|
stick.

Used by permission.
DANCERS, ORAIBI.

seclusion and peace after the harrying of the Apache
and Ute, whose hand was against every man.

Perhaps the word mysterious as applied to the desert
may need explanation to city-dwellers and those who are
accustomed to limited horizons. In the desert a new sen-
sation comes to those who have exhausted the repertory of
sensations at the end of a rapid century. In the desert
the desert is supreme. The sense of freedom and exhil-
aration, which everyone must feel, is personal ; the des-
ert ia titanic; gradually it com-
pels awe anil wonder, A feeling

Cajttt.tffiit, MM, by F. U. Mtturf*.

THE DANCE, ORAIBI.

Used by permission.

of vastness, almost infinity, dawns in the mind with
an impression of mystery. Here thousands of square
miles stretch in iridescent beauty to the violet horizon
or to the velvety blue mountains; nearer stand the
strange forms of the volcanic buttes ; across the sand
plain the purple cloud shadows float, attended by
the tawny sand whirlwinds ; a distant thunderstorm
marches along, dwarfed in all its energy to a small part
of the scene. The morning and evening reveal new

coloring and beauty beyond the power of pen or pencil
to depict. With the night new experiences come in the
desert. In the clear air of Tusayan myriads of stars are
revealed. It is not often the good fortune of the astron-
omer to enjoy such skies for observation. Stars of low
magnitude, rarely seen elsewhere, are easily found in
the night heavens of Tusayan. It may seem like
romancing, but it is true, the powdery, misty starlight
is strong enough to admit of reading the dial of a watch
and to distinguish the outline of mesas and buttes miles
away. Then the silence of the night is overpowering.
Not a cricket chirps and no animal disturbs the almost
oppressive silence.

When the conquistador es came to Tusayan, some
three hundred and fifty years ago, they found the Mokis
high up on the mesas, but not on the rocky tops where
the towns are now built. This meeting of the Conquerors

THE DANCE, WOLPI.

Vrotnan, photo.

FOOD BRINGING.

Voth, photo.

and the Mokis has always
seemed a picturesque sub-

fw i-~-v I ject. The Spaniards re-

^^*~ | corded their experiences

and the Mokis relate the
traditions of the experi-
ences of their forefathers
passed along by word of
mouth, accurate as if
written down. Beneath
the town then perched
on the higher slope of
the Wolpi mesa, came a band of horsemen, some clad
in armor and warlike trappings badly damaged and
battered by wear and tear, but impressive to the
Indian, who for the first time saw the white man.
Perhaps the Mokis were not very friendly. The war-
rior priest strode down the trail followed by his band
and drew a line of sacred meal across the path to
the town, over which, according to immemorial custom,
no one might come with impunity. This "dead line "
brought death instead to the Mokis. At the fire of the
dreadful guns they fled up the narrow trail to refuge.
The Spaniards dared not follow up the rocky way, but
camped for the night by a spring. In the morning the
timorous Mokis came down with presents of food and
woven stuffs. This is the first picture of the Mokis of
Wolpi, who were thus introduced to the proud Castilian,
bent on reaching new lands to despoil. Later came a
new company, bringing priests to turn the peaceful peo-
ple from their native superstitions. When the town of
Wolpi burst upon their view it was a new town, built on
the highest summit of the mesa ! The timid people had
moved up from the lower point, taking with them house
beams, stones, and every other portion of their dwell-
ings. The trails were rendered inaccessible and the

people ascended and descended by a movable ladder.
Still they received the priests and submitted to the
enforced labor of building a church, carry ipg, with
infinite toil, beams of cottonwood from the Little Colo-
rado. Many of these carved beams now support the
roofs of the pagan kivas. Later, when the oppression
grew too great, the Mokis committed one of the few
overt acts which may be charged against them. They
threw the "long gowns," as they called the friars, over
the cliffs, and cut loose once for all from the foreign
religion. This ended the contact of the whites with the
Mokis for long years until, at last, the Government took
them under its protection.

But the Moki had immemorial enemies, as has been
hinted. The Apache, who centuries ago came out of the
high north, a rude and fierce being, incapable of high
things, is responsible for the acropolis towns all along
the trails by which the Moki clans came to Tusayan.
The history of the wanderings of the Moki to this land
of scant promise would be interesting if all the threads

SNAKES, IN KIVA.

Maude, photo.
TIPONI.

could be gathered together. The story
goes somewhat in this fashion : Long
ago — how long one may guess as well
as another and get as near to it as the
Mokis, who say it was "very, very
when " — groups of Indians belonging to
the great Uto-Aztecan stock and other
pueblo stocks lived over all this region.
The limits of this vast region are more
accurately found in the States of Utah,
Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona and
reach over into Mexico. This ruin-
strewn expanse tells the story of many
wanderings and movings about, through
the forgotten years, before the pueblo
peoples were settled in the places where
the white man found them. The re-
mains of ancient monarchies are, per-
haps, more interesting from their connection with the
world's history, but there is a fascination also in
the leveled cities of the Southwest, under which lie
the rude records of the ancients of the New World.
In the course of time and through various vicissitudes
of war, famine or disease, some of these groups were
broken up and the survivors forced to seek refuge
in other tribes of their kin. This has been going on for
millenniums. The organization of these tribes was
rather loose, and consisted of clans which are made up
of those related by blood ; marriages were, as they are
now, prohibited between members of the same clan.
This was another cause of mixture. So it happened
that in our deserts there was a wandering of the ancient
people like that of the chosen people, but their simple
clothing waxed old, their towns waxed old, and their
mother corn only blessed them by hard labor. It would
seem at the first glance that some great unrest filled the

WOLPI, FROM BELOW.

Hillera, photo.

breasts of the ancient pueblo dwellers and forced them
to forever move on. Ruins without number attest the
flux of population over an area in which the countries
of the ancients of the Old World would be lost. Still
these ruins are not without order ; the clans moved
along together in those dark ages, so that the ruins are
found in groups. Thus if we hark back on the trail by
which some of the clans came from the south to Tusa-
yan, the Mogollon Mountains at Chavez Pass will show

TWIN BUTTE8 AND CLOUD8.

Vroman, photo.

two large ruins to which Moki tradition gives the name
of "the place of the antelopes." Thirty-two miles to
the north is the next stopping place, and the clans must
have prospered in the valley of the Little Colorado at
Winslow, for here are the ruins of five towns, called by
those versed in the lore of the past Homolobi, or "the
place of the two views." The grand panorama of the
Moki buttes seen from "the place of the antelopes"
was still visible from Homolobi, though at a lower view-
point. Long before the conquistadores came to ravage
the New World, the people of Homolobi had abandoned
their towns and taken up their weary journey to Tusa-
yan, where now are seven towns of the " good people."
It is interesting to find that in Wolpi different clans live
in different sections of the town just as they had camped
together in the old days, and in the order in which they
came from their desert wandering. This journey of
some of the clans of Mokis began much farther away
than the two faint points on the dim Mogollones where
antelopes range to this day. To say that the Mokis
belong by language to the great Uto-Aztecan stock
means that in bygone times they were in contact with
the Aztecs or may even have been a branch of that far-
famed people. Just here, if it might be possible to correct

AN ARIZONA CAMP.

the popular hallucination in reference to the Aztecs,
it would be well to say that that mysterious and ever-
vanishing people were nothing more nor less than Amer-
ican Indians. In some lines of work the Mokis of
Homolobi, for instance, were superior to the Aztecs.
Romance and the Aztecs have been sadly mixed up by
the writers of a past generation.

The towns of Tusayan are seven. Wolpi, " the place
of the gap, ' ' named for the deep cut across the mesa on
which it is built, is best known. The people are very
friendly and are more advanced than the other tribes

There is a school and many families live below the mesa
in red- roofed houses. Perhaps in a few years the old
pueblo will be abandoned and the quaint customs for-
gotten.

Next to Wolpi on the east is Si-choni'-ovi, " the
mound of flowers," an offshoot of Wolpi — on account of
a disagreement, it is thought.

Ha'-no (also known as Te / -wa) is the third village on
the First or East Mesa, near the gap. Hano is a village
of Tewans who were induced to come from the Rio
Grande two centuries ago to assist in defending the
peaceful Mokis from the Apaches and Utes. They were
located at the head of the easiest trail up the mesa, and
on a smooth rock face is an inscription recording a
battle in which they vanquished the Utes. These
" keepers of the trail" are expert potters, and
most of the Moki ware is of their handicraft. If
seems strange to find
Tusayan these foreigners
still speaking a language
different from that o f 1 1 u ■ i r
neighbors.

Seven miles to the west,
across the valley from
Wolpi, the point of Second
or Middle Mesa stands out
in silhouette. The first
town is called Mi-shong'-
inovi, second in size in
Tusayan. The Snake
dance is held here in odd
years, as at Wolpi.
At such times |
the large interior j
plaza is extremely
picturesque. On

WOLPI FOOT TRAIL.

HilUra, photo.

PUEBLO OF SICHOMOVI.

Hitlers, photo.

^^■s^^^BE

**—

~~ 3rt ^^

1 •«

PUEBLO OF TEWA (HANO).

Hitlers, photo.

the east trail to Mishong-

inovi there is a curious

hanging rock forming an

arch under which the trail

passes.

Back of Mishonginovi is

the small town of Shi-paul'-ovi, " the

place of the peaches," the most pic^

turesquely located of the Moki pu- CQm CARR|ER

eblos, and with the most elevated

situation. Shipaulovi is a comparatively modern town,

having been formed by families from Shung o'-pavi since

the Spaniards introduced peaches. Here the Snake

dance is held in even years, alternating with that of the

Flute.

Shungopavi, " the place of the reed grass," is a few

miles west of Shipaulovi. Reed grass is prescribed for

the mats wound around the ceremonial wedding blankets

of white cotton. A small country place of Shungopavi
is located at Little Burro Spring,
some twelve miles south of the
town.

Oraibi, with its fifty mile distant
little offshoot, Mo"-en-kop'-i, marks
the extreme western, as Taos marks
the eastern, extent of the pueblo
region. Nearly one -half, or about
eight hundred, of the Mokis live in
Oraibi. The Snake Society at this
pueblo, though fewer in numbers
than at several of the other towns,
gives an interesting performance.
The large open plaza where the dance
is held offers excellent opportunities
for photographing and for viewing
the spectacle.

MAIL CARRIER.

In the even years visitors to
Tu^ayan may see three Snake dances
— those of Oraibi, Shipaulovi, and
Shungopavi, unless the dates coin-
cide, which they are unlikely to do.
The Province of Tusayan, where
I he Mokis now live and thrive, is
not a total desert waste, although
the first impression of those
accustomed to green
fields and frequent rains
is likely to be to the
contrary. Drought-
defying plants bloom at
Sp|NNER certain seasons, and fill

wide stretches with color.
Along the sandy washes, adjacent to the pueblos, which
rarely by the good will of the rain gods show a silver
glint of water, are corn fields and melon and bean
patches, well cared for and jeal-
ously guarded by their owners.
Internecine war is waged against
the freebooting crows, mice,
prairie dogs and insects, and woe
betide any four-footed marauder
that is caught foraging
there; he is soon roasted
and supplying proto-
plasm to the Moki
organism; except in case
of a burro, when his
ears are docked in pro-
portion to the magni-
tude or incorrigibility
of his misdeed, to brand
him publicly as a thief.

On the rocky side of the mesa are
thriving peach orchards, perfectly
free from blight or insect enemies,
and in the proper season loaded down
with luscious fruit of which the
Mokis are extravagantly fond. A few
cottonwoods among the fields, the
peach trees, and the cedars along the
mesa sides, are all the trees to be
seen. These cedar forests are to the
Moki towns what a vein of coal is to
a civilized town — the fuel supply
always getting farther away and
harder to reach, because the annual
growth of a desert cedar is almost
imperceptible. Though veins of coal
peep out in many places near the
pueblos, the Mokis do not use it,
although they seem to have known
what coal is long before our wise men
settled the question; the native name
for it is "rock wood," koowa^ a word
which resembles our word coal. The
score or so of fruits, grains and veg-
etables which the Mokis plant would,
in favorable seasons, cause peace and
plenty to reign in Tusayan, but Moki
history has some sad tales of famine.
When the crops fail, the "good people" of necessity
fall back on the crops of nature's own sowing in the
desert. Old people still gather a plant for greens,
which they say has before now preserved the tribe from
starvation. Dried bunches of this plant may often be
seen ornamenting the rafters of their dwellings, amidst
a medley of other curious things. The fare of the
pueblo is eked out in ordinary times with edible roots,

MOTHER AND CHILD.

SPINNER AND WEAVER.

seeds, berries, and leaves
gathered from far and
near. The Mokis are
practical botanists. No
plant has escaped their
piercing eyes ; they have
given them names and
found out their good and
bad qualities; pressed
them into service for
food, medicine, religion,
basket making and a hun-
dred other uses, from an
antidote for snake bites
to a hair brush. They
are also perforce vegeta-
rians. Onate, the Conqueror, said slightingly of Zufii
that there were as many rabbits as people around it.
Such a condition of things in Tusayan would fill the
Moki with joy, for he has the same fondness for rabbit
as the negro has for " 'possum with coon gravy."
Snakes seem to be more plentiful than rabbits, although
it takes ardent hunting to catch enough reptiles for the
Snake dance. Rats, mice, prairie dogs and an occa-
sional deceased burro or goat vary the menu of the
pueblos. The Mokis never eat their dogs, though to
do so would be at least putting them to some use.

Centuries ago, when the Mokis lived in the White
Mountains and the Mogollones, they must have been
hunters. What could have driven them from that para-
dise of coolness and greenery ? There under the giant
pines roamed elk, deer, antelope and bear; in the brush
were turkey; in the trees birds and squirrels; in the cool
streams were trout, and the wild bees furnished delicious
honey. There was abundant rain, and in the broad
valleys corn could be raised by * 4 dry farming. ' ' For

PUEBLO OF MISHONGINOVI.

Hitlers, photo.

PUEBLO OF SHIPAULOVI.

Hitters, photo.

DRESS WEAVING.

Maude, photo.

that Arizonian oasis
of flowers and plenty
the ancestors of the
Moki often must
have sighed, but
desert and a crust
were preferable to
the bloodthirsty
Apache. This is the
history of many an
enforced migration.
¥ Now, pursuing
the order in which
the traveler becomes
familiar with the
surroundings of the Moki, from the distant approach,
when the mesas swim in the mirage with the dim
outlines of the cell towns on their crests, to when he
encamps by the corn fields and springs at their base,
we will next toil up the trail to visit. Fat out in the
plain the watchful Moki from his high vantage has seen
the approach of visitors, and the news flies fast. There
will surely be some of the inhabitants to greet the
traveler when he arrives, to wonder at his outfit, ask for
piba and tnatchi (tobacco and matches), run errands and
be on the lookout for windfalls of food.
If the traveler wishes a washerman, a
boy to graze the horses or carry water
and wood, or if he wishes to rent a
house, he will soon find willing
hands and plenty of advisers. Shiba
(silver) makes things run smoothly
here as in civilization.
Starting at the altitude
of a mile and one-fourth,
the climbing of a mesa

DYER.

Voth, photo.

is somewhat of a task to the unaccustomed. When the
fierce sun is high, the climb may have frequent periods
of pause, and the natives who run up and down the mesa
as though it were a short flight of stairs are objects
of envy. But when the ascent is made and one sits in
the shade and hospitality of a Moki interior, the exer-
tion is repaid. It is a new and memorable experience.

PUEBLO OF SHUNGOPAVI.

Hitlers, photo.

The nineteenth century civilization, with its tall build-
ings and bustling crowds, fades away and we are in the
ancient past of the southwest wonderland.

The Mokis are almost invariably pleased to have
white visitors enter their houses. Most of them invite
you in, all smiles and hospitality. In most cases, though,
where there is any doubt it is better to say, " een quaqui

ORAIBI GIRLS GRINDING CORN.

Ttjtton, photo.

isi?" (am I wel-
come?) which
brings a hearty
response. The
houses have
thick walls of
flat stone, laid
up in mud, plas-
tered inside and
out, and are
pleasantly cool
in the summer.
The hard, smooth, plastered floor is the general sitting
place, with the interposition of a blanket or sheep-
skin. The low bench, or ledge, which often runs
around the room, is also used as a seat. Perhaps
the ceiling will appear strange. The large Cottonwood
beams with smaller cross-poles backed with brush; above
that, grass and a top layer of mud form a very picturesque
ceiling and effective roof. From the center of the ceiling
hangs a feather tied to a cotton string. This is the soul
of the house and the sign of its dedication; no house is
without one. Around the walls and from the beams
hang all sorts of quaint belongings — painted wooden
dolls, bows and arrows, strings of dried herbs and myste-
rious bundles, likely of trappings for the dances— enough
to stock a museum. In well-to-do families
the blanket pole, extending across the room,
is loaded with their riches in the shape of
harness, sashes, blankets and various
other valuables. In one corner is a
fireplace with hood ; sunk in the floor
are the corn mills ; near by is a
large water jar with dipper, and
sundry pieces of pottery are scat-
tered about. Usually the

MAKING BREAD (PIKl).

A COURT IN ORAIBI.

HtlUrs, photo.

general assembly room is kept clean with the brushes
made of grass stems, which serve also for hair brushes
betimes. This parlor, sitting room, sleeping room,
dining room and mealing room combined, serves
nearly every purpose of the family; but there is always
a grain room, where the corn is piled in neat rows,
and sometimes a room is set apart for baking. The
houses are rarely higher than two stories, the upper
being set back in terrace style, so that its front door
yard is the roof of the lower. The ladders are pic-
turesque; dogs and chickens, as well as people, climb
up and down. Stone steps on the partition walls
lead to the roofs, and when on top it is possible to
wander almost all over the town, as in the Orient. Ajar
with the bottom knocked out caps the chimney, or a
whole stack of jars runs clear up from the lower floor,
securely plastered around the joints, making an excel-
lent chimney. Short billets of piiion or cedar are piled
up on the walls for firewood, and not a chip or strand of
bark is wasted from the family woodpile. From the pro-
iecting beam ends and from pegs in the house front hangs

an old curiosity shop of
articles — eagle traps,
gourds, hoes, planting
sticks, sheep bones, and
many other articles that
keep one guessing. On
the top of a house in Moki-
land once was seen a curi-
ous structure, having
slanting sides formed of
bits of boards. On closer
examination it was found
to be a plow, which the
good people at Washington
had sent the Mokis, now doing service as a chicken
coop. Outside the door by the street is the pigame
oven, in which green corn pudding is baked, food dear
to the Moki heart and acceptable to any white visitor
who does not know that the women chew the yeast
to ferment the batter. This oven is a pit in the ground
two or three feet deep. Before baking, a fire is made in
it, and after the walls of the oven are heated the ashes
are raked out and the pudding, called pigame, is put
in and the top covered with a stone on which the fire
is kept burning. The pudding is put in the oven at

Voth, photo.
ORAIBI WASHERWOMAN.

PUEBLO OF ORAIB 1 .

Maude, photo.

nightfall usually, and by morning
it is well baked and ready to be
wrapped in corn husks for con-
sumption.

A stroll about a Moki town will
convince the explorer that there
are streets full of "surprises," as
we call unexpected nooks and
corners in our own houses. Just
what the building regulations are
no one has yet divulged, but the
lay of the ground has much to do
with the arrangement. Wolpi is
crowded upon the point of a nar-
row mesa, and some of the houses
are perched on the edge of the
precipice, their foundation walls
going down many feet, the build-
ing of which is a piece of adven-
turous engineering. Many of the

towns have passages under the houses leading from one
street to another. The stone surface of the street is
deeply worn by the bare or moccasined feet of many

generations. The trail over
tlit: iliyry narrows between
Wolpi and Sichomovi is
worn like a wagon track
in places from four to six
inches deep. The end of a
ladder sticking up through
a hatchway in a low mound
slightly above the
level of the street
marks the way
down into an
u n d ergroun d

SICHOMOVI FOOT TRAIL.

A ME3A CLIFF8IDE.

A MOKI INTERlOK.

/ruman, photo.

room, where strange ceremonies are held. This is a kiva,
and if we are hardy enough to brave the usual warning
to the uninitiated, we may peep down without fear of
swelling up and bursting. Perhaps, if there is no cere-
mony going on, a weaver may be making a blanket
on his simple loom ; likely it is deserted, dusky and
quiet with no suggestion of writhing serpents or naked
votaries and weird chanting. All streets lead to the
plaza, the center of interest, set apart for the many
dances ; some solemn and awe-inspiring, some grotesque
and amusing ; all dramatic in action and marvelous in
color. In the center of the plaza is a stone box. This
is a shrine, the focus at which all ceremonies center, and
beneath it is the opening into the underworld of

departed ancestors.
Around most plazas in
Tusayan the houses are
built solidly ; at Wolpi
the dances take place on
n ^ TTirDO a narrow shelf above

POT T fc.no.

the dizzy sandstone
cliffs ; at Oraibi one side of the plaza where the Snake
dance is enacted is open and the distant San Francisco
mountains stand plainly on the horizon.

Outside the town there is also something to see.
The general ash pile with its stray burro engaged in a
hopeless task of finding something to eat is passed by,
and one looks down over the brow of the mesa at the
corrals among the rocks on a narrow ledge crowded with
bleating sheep and goats. The trails wind down the
mesa, across the fields, and are lost in the country lying
spread out below like a map. Under the rocks a woman
is digging out clay for pottery, other women are toiling
up with jars of water from the
springs, while on the steep slope
among the jagged fragments of
stone is perhaps the last resting
place of the inhabitants, strewn
with bits of pottery. The springs
in Tusayan come out near the
base of the mesas, and the labor
of carrying water up some 600 feet
by means of the female beast of
burden puts water at a premium.
It is a blessing that the dry,
searching air of the elevated
region, and the fierce sun, do not
render bathing an actual neces-
sity. Most of the springs yield
little water, so that a large party

Maude, photo.
A MOKI FAMILY.

of visitors with horses
camping about a pueblo
will give rise to fears of
a water famine . Placed
on the borders of every
spring, down close to
the water, may be seen
short painted sticks
with feather plumes —
prayer offerings to the
gods for a continued
supply of the precious
fluid, the scarcity of
which from clouds or
springs has had to do
with the origin of
many ceremonies in the
Southwest. The lack of
water even fills in a
large part of the conversation of white visitors in this
dry country, taking the place of the weather, which is
unlikely to change.

Let us follow up the trail again after the toiling
water carriers, returning from the general meeting and
gossiping place, the spring. Let no one think that
there has been a lack of company in the course of these
wanderings. There are the children first, last and all
the time, all pervading, timid, but made bold by the
prospect of sweets. It is amusing to see a little tot
come hesitatingly as near as he dares to a white vis-
itor, and say, " Hel-lo ken-te " (candy). Unclad before
three or four years of age, the little ones look like
animated bronzes — " fried cupids," one amused onlooker
has termed them. The older girls have general charge
of the young ones, and carry them about pick-a-back;
sometimes it is difficult to tell whether the carrier or

AN ORAIBI GIRL.

MISHONGINOVI GIRL.

the carried is the larger. The children
are good, and seem never to need cor-
rection, and anyone can see with half an
eye that the Mokis love their little ones.
They never are so flattered as
when attention is paid to the
children. Do this with an ad-
miring look, accompanied by the
word " Lo'-lomai" (good, excel-
lent, pretty), and the parental
heart is won. When the rains
fill the rock basins on the mesa, '
these youngsters have a famous -
time bathing, squirming like
tadpoles in the pools, splashing
and chasing each other. The
Moki childlife must be a uniformly happy one, except in
the season of green things, when they are allowed to eat
without limit. The statistics of highest mortality must
coincide with the time of watermelons, which are never
too unripe to eat. Dogs, chiekens
and burros also add to the pictur-
esqueness of a Moki village. The
burros have the run of the town,
and furnish amusement for the
children. When providence or luck
has prevented a burro from stealing
corn, his ears have a normal, if not
graceful length. Few there are,
though, that have not paid penalty
by the loss of one or both of these
appendages. Chickens and dogs
are a sorry lot. The latter lie in
the corners and shady places, and
• only become animate and vocal at
night, with true coyote instinct.

A MISHONGINOVI WOMAN.

SNAK€ KIVA, ORAIBI.

A shrill whistle denotes that some
Moki is the fortunate possessor of
an eagle to supply hiin with the
prized feathers for ceremonials.
The man who is opulent enough
to keep a turkey also has feathers
for the gathering. Women
go about on various errands
or pay visits in which gossip
bears a large share. Many a
pair of dark eyes peep out
from the light -hole in the
walls of the houses, or a
maiden with hair done up in
whorls takes a modest glance at the strangers. The
weird, high-pitched songs of the corn grinders, and
the rumble of the mealing-stones, are familiar sounds
in a Moki village. If you see a woman or maiden with
face powdered with corn flour, it means that she has
been busy grinding in the hopper-like mills sunken in
the floor of every house, — and very hard labor it is.
Most of the able-bodied men are in the fields if the time
is summer, that is if no ceremony is going on — a rare
contingency. Moki men are not afraid of work. From
youth until the time when they are enrolled in the class
of the lame, halt and blind, they do their share for the
support of the clan. Not
averse to soothing the
baby as his white brother
sometimes may be, his
domestic habits will not
take him so far as to do
women's work. Since the
time when his sweetheart
combed his raven locks in
sign of betrothal, and he

Used by permission.

irton James.

ANTELOPE ALTAR IN KIVA.

had woven the wedding blanket, and the simple
marriage forms were observed, the traditional division of
labor has not been transgressed. Man's work and
woman's work are portioned off by the laws of unalter-
able custom. The division seems fair as to the amount
of labor. A popular illusion that the Indian makes his
wife do all the work is dispelled here, as another, that
Indians are always gruff and taciturn, will vanish after
a quarter of an hour's acquaintance with the jovial,
laughing Mokis. The house belongs to the woman, and
it is proper that she should
do the labor connected with
it, grind the corn, carry the
water, do the cooking, keep
the house tidy, and mind the
baby. Fortunately, Moki
babies do not long require
much attention ; they soon
take care of themselves
under the general super-
vision of the older children.
The young boys, perhaps,
with bow in hand, go to the
field with the men, for here
is where man's work comes
in under the broiling sun,
preparing the ground, plant-
ing the crops, hoeing, keep-
ing off the crows, prairie dogs, mice and insects, setting
up breaks against the wind or sudden rush of water,
gathering the crops and bringing them to the house on
the mesa. He brings wood chopped from the pinons
and cedars several miles away, and hustles generally to
supply the family. If he has horses and a wagon by the
bounty of IVasintona, he may get odd jobs of hauling,
which bring him in money for sugar, coffee and white

Voth, photo.

WOMEN'S DANCE, ORAIBI.

■f ^^^j^^ man's flour, purchasable from the
jriMj^^^^^H^^H^^K trader. Besides their customary
*^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Piv work, some the women have

^^^^B^PIIJ^^PBBp^ other occupations. At the East
thief burro. Mesa she may be a potter, at the

Middle Mesa or Oraibi a basket
maker, but never a weaver, for that, strangely enough,
is man's work. In the quiet of her house the basket
maker is busy, for are not many Pahanas coming to the
Snake dance ? Sugar and baking powder for the feast
may depend on the sales of baskets. Around her on the
floor are gay colored splints of yucca leaf, dyed with the
evanescent aniline colors introduced by the traders.
Some of the strips are being moistened in a bed of damp
sand, from which they are taken to be sewn through and
over, covering the coil of grass with geometric designs.
The needle is really an awl; now of iron, formerly of
bone. At Oraibi, where one of the three Snake dances
held in Tusayan in the even years occurs, painted baskets
of wicker are made. They are very decorative. The
potter also plies her craft for the advent of the white
man. The clay has been gathered, prepared, and made
into vessels of forms tempting to the visitor, painted
and burned at the foot of the mesa so that the villainous
smoke will not choke everyone. Her wares are quaint
and not half bad. Nampeo, at Hano, is the best potter
in all Moki-land.

Of course little figures have to be carved from cotton-
wood, painted and garnished to resemble the numerous
divinities of the Mokis who take part in the ceremonies.
Men and women make them for their children, who
thus get kindergarten instruction on the appearance of
the inhabitants of the spiritual world. These "dolls"
can often be bought ; they are among the most curious
souvenirs of the Moki. The weaver, too, spends his
odd times in weaving the far-famed blankets of wool,

dyed blue with sunflower seeds. He knows well the way
to weave pretty diaper patterns which remind one of
French worsted designs. The blankets are serviceable to
the last degree and in the loose garment of the women
will, perhaps, endure a whole generation . Belts of bright
colored yarns, embroidered kilts of cotton and embroid-
ered woolen sashes are chef-d'aeuvres of the weaver.

The light side of life is uppermost in Moki-land. The
disposition of the Moki is to make work a sport, neces-
sity a pleasure and to have a laugh or joke ready in
an instant. This is the home of song makers; the
singing of the men at work, of the mother to her babe,
of the corn grinders, of the priests in assembly chamber
or in the kiva- vault, constantly ripples forth. There is
no need for songs of the day ; love songs, lullabys,
war songs, hunting songs, songs secular and religious
give variety in plenty. The dark side exists, to be sure,
but the Mokis are so like children that a smile lurks just
behind a sorrow. The seriousness and gravity with
which the ceremonials are conducted is very impressive,
and no one who has seen the Snake dance will fail to
note that the Moki can be grave at times. Telling
stories is one of the amusements of winter around the
fireside. Until the ground is frozen it is dangerous to
relate the deeds of the ancients : then they have gone
away and will not overhear to the harm of the story-
teller. Rabbit hunting is another favorite amusement,
and parties of young men often do more hard work in
one day thus than in a month otherwise with few results
to show of " long ears " slain by the curved boomerang.
In the proper season berrying parties go out for a day's
picnic ; the Mokis enjoy traveling, and a journey of
fifteen or twenty miles to a berry patch and back is not
thought anything out of common. When the green
corn comes then the Moki lives bountifully. Tall col-
umns of white steam arising in the cornfields at early

morning invite to a feast of roast corn taken from the
newly opened pit-oven. Then there is feasting while the
ears are hot and jollity reigns. One thing will strike
the visitor as curious : the Mokis do not gamble or drink
fire-water, even when they have an opportunity. They
do like tobacco, though, and the visitor who smokes will
do well to lay in an extra supply, for after the first
greeting, " piti," the next query will be " piba" (to-
bacco), followed by " matchi" (matches), and a friendly
smoke council is held then and there.

The Mokis are the best entertained people in the
world. A round of ceremonies, each terminating in the
pageants called " dances,* ' keeps going pretty continu-
ously the whole year. The theaters and other shows in
the closely built pueblos of the white man fall far short
of entertaining all the people, as do the Moki shows.
Then the Moki spectacles are free. The scheme of hav-
ing a gatekeeper on the trails to demand an entrance fee,
while it has great possibilities, has. never entered the
Moki mind. This, too, for a good reason. These cere-
monies are religious and make up the complicated wor-
ship of the people of Tusayan. Even a visitor bent on
sightseeing alone will be impressed with the seriousness
of the Indian dancers and the evidence of deep feeling —
perhaps it should be called devotion — in the onlookers.
Not only in the somber Snake dance, but in every other
ceremony of Tusayan the actors are inspired by one pur-
pose and that is to persuade the gods to give rain and
abundant crops. So the birds that fly, the reptiles that
creep, are made messengers to the great nature gods
with petitions, and the different ancestors and people
in the underworld are notified that the ceremony is
going on that they too may give their aid. The amount
of detail connected with the observance of one of the
ceremonies is almost beyond belief, and being carried on
in the dark kivas has rarely been witnessed by others

than the initiated priests. Thus the
many observances which come around
from time to time in two years are
quite a tax on the memory of the
adepts.

The ceremonial year of the Moki
is divided equally by two great events,
the departure of the kachinas in
August and their arrival in Decem-
ber. The kachinas are the spirits of
the ancestors whose special pleasure
it is to watch over Tusayan. When
the crops are assured they depart for
Nuvatikiobi) "the place of the high snows," or San
Francisco Mountain. After their departure come the
Snake and Flute dances, among others, and all the
dances up to the return of the kachinas are called
"nine days' ceremonies," while the joyous kachina
dances are known as the "masked dances."

All who become acquainted with the Mokis learn to
respect and like them. Fortunate is the person who,
before it is too late, sees under so favorable aspect their
charming life in the old new world.

Walter Hough.

A TEWA GIRL.

THE SNAKE LEGEND.

The Snake dance is an elaborate prayer for rain, in which the
reptiles are gathered from the fields, intrusted with the prayers of
the people, and then given their liberty to bear these petitions to
the divinities who can bring the blessing of copious rains to the
parched and arid farms of the Hopis. It is also a dramatization of
an ancient half-mythic, half-historic legend dealing with the origin
and migration of the two fraternities which celebrate it, and by
transmission through unnumbered generations of priests has be-
come conventionalized to a degree, and possibly the actors them-
selves could not now explain the significance of every detail of the
ritual. The story is of an ancestral Snake-youth, Ti'yo, who, pon-
dering the fact that the water of the river flowed ever in the same

direction past his home without returning or filling up the gorge
below, adventurously set out to ascertain what became of it. He
carried with him, by paternal gift, a precious box containing some
eagle's down and a variety of prayer-sticks (pahos) for presentation
to the Spider-woman, the Ancient of the Six Cardinal Points, the
Woman of the Hard Substance (such as turquoise, coral and shell),
the Sun, and the underworld divinity who makes all the germs of
life. The Spider- woman was propitiated and cordially became his
counselor and guide. She prepared a liquid charm to be taken in
the mouth and spurted upon angry beasts and snakes for their paci-
fication, and perched herself invisibly on his ear. Then through
the sipapu they plunged to the underworld. There, following float-
ing wisps of the eagle's down, they journeyed from place to place,
safely passing the great snake Gato'ya, and savage wild beast sen-
tinels, visiting Hi'canavaiya, who determines the path of the rain-
clouds, and Hi'zriingwikti, the ancient woman who every night
becomes an enchanting maiden ; had a smoke with Ta'wa, the Sun,
and went with him to inspect the place where he rises ; meeting
Miiiyingwuh on the way and receiving friendly assurances from
that creative divinity. He rode across the sky on the Sun's shoulder
and saw the whole world, and learned from his flaming charioteer
that the possession most dearly to be prized was the rain-cloud. So
he returned to the kiva near the great snake, and from the Snake
Antelope men there learned what songs to sing, what prayer-sticks
to fashion and how to paint his body, that the rain-cloud might
come. The chief gave him much important paraphernalia, and
two maidens who knew the charm preventing death from the bite
of the rattlesnake. These maidens Tiyo took home, giving one to
his younger brother, where the youthful couples took up their abode
in separate kivas. At night low clouds trailed over the village, and
Snake people from the underworld came from them and went into
the kivas. On the following morning they were found in the val-
leys, transformed into reptiles of all kinds. This occurred for four
days. Then (ninth morning) the Snake maidens said, " We under-
stand this ; let the younger brothers (the Snake Society) go out and
bring them all in and wash their heads, and let them dance with
you." This was done, and prayer-meal sprinkled upon them, and
then they were carried back to the valleys, and they returned to
the Snake kiva of the underworld bearing the petitions of all the
people.

(Condensed from the account by J. Walter Fewkes, in Jour. Am.
Ethn. and Arch., Vol. IV.)

It is only the ninth day's ceremony, the dance with
the snakes, which is publicly performed.

MOKI CEREMONIES.

It will be noted that the Snake dances occur during
the month of August, the date being between the 15th
and 26th, and announced a few days prior to the begin-
ning of the nine days' ceremonies, of which the dance is
the public culmination. In the even years (1900, 1902,
1904, etc.) they occur at Oraibi, Shipaulovi and Sichom-
ovi ; in the odd years (1901, 1903, 1905, etc.), at Wolpi
and Mishonginovi. The Flute dances, a picturesquely
impressive but less exciting ceremony, occur at the
above-named pueblos in years alternating with the Snake
dance. For example, 1900 being the year of the Snake
dance at Oraibi, the Flute dance at that pueblo will occur
in 1901 ; and 1899 having been the year of the Snake
dance at Wolpi, a Flute dance will occur there in 1900.

ROUTES TO THE MOKI PUEBLOS.

Far from being difficult of access, the Province
of Tusayan is easily reached either by saddle horse or
wheel conveyance from several towns on the Santa Fe
Pacific Railroad, a division of the transcontinental line
of the Santa Fe route. The trip can be made most con-
veniently by travelers to or from California as a side
excursion en route, but the experience will amply repay
a special journey across the continent. Some fatigue
and lack of comforts incident to roughing it are well-
nigh inseparable from such an excursion, involving as it
does the traversing of from seventy to over one hundred
miles of the Great American Desert, depending upon the
point selected for departure from the railroad. But
these very features are accounted no small part of the
attractions of the trip, as lovers of outdoor life amid
scenes of novel and extraordinary interest need not be

told. Indeed, if the pueblos as an objective point did
not exist, a voyage into that country of extinct volcanoes
and strangely sculptured and tinted rocks and mesas
would be well worth the making. While the round trip
from the railroad may be made in four or five days, or
less if desired, it can be pleasurably prolonged indefi-
nitely. Aside from the powerful charm exerted by this
region upon all visitors, there is an invigorating tonic
quality in the pure air of Arizona that is better than
medicine for the overworked in the exhausting activities
of city business life. Many a professional man (and
woman), wearied in brain and enfeebled in body, having
been solicited to make this or a similar outdoor excursion
in Arizona, has complied with misgiving and returned
almost miraculously restored to health and vigor.
Testimony to this fact can be furnished by reference
to many well-known individuals, who, were they
entirely free to indulge their preferences, would every
summer forego the seaside and the fashionable watering-
place and return to Arizona to mount a sturdy bronco,
and forget for a time the cares and conventionalities of
civilized life in a simple, wholesome and joyous existence
in the sunlit air of the desert.

At the stations named all needful transportation
facilities are provided, whose proprietors are accustomed
to convey passengers every summer to the Snake dances.
A visit to the Moki pueblos may, however, be made at
any season, except in midwinter, and will at any time
prove richly interesting. Arrangements should be made
in advance by correspondence, which may be addressed
to either the local agent of the Santa Fe Route,
W. J. Black, General Passenger Agent, Topeka ; C. A.
Higgins, Assistant General Passenger Agent, Chicago ;
W. S. Keenan, General Passenger Agent, Galveston ;
Jno. J. Byrne, General Passenger Agent, Los Angeles;
or John L. Truslow, General Agent, San Francisco.

[Note. — The distances given are approximate, as in some
cases, particularly between the different pueblos, they depend
upon whether the wagon or the horse trail is followed, the latter
being shorter. The transportation charges also depend somewhat
upon the size of the party. One or two persons traveling light by
way of the shortest route could reach Oraibi in one day if desired.
Larger or more leisurely parties would require two days, or longer
by the less direct routes.]

Canon Diablo Route.

To McAllister's Crossing 15 miles

Volz's Store, " The Fields " 17

Little Burro Spring 22

Big Burro Spring 3

Oraibi 16

73
Middle Mesa 20

93
Wolpi 10

103 "

Note.— From " The Fields " theie is a horse trail, northeasterly
course, to Middle Mesa, 43 miles, and to Wolpi, 53 miles.

Charges. — $20 round trip, for conveyance by wagon ;
meals $ 1 each, and lodging $1 per night.

Winslow Route,
i.

To Rocky Ford Crossing 9 miles

Junction with Canon Diablo road

north of Volz's Store 30 "

Little Burro 20 "

59 miles
Oraibi 20 "

79 "
Wolpi 22 "

81 "

Wolpi to Middle Mesa 10 * *

Middle Mesa to Oraibi 20 "

in "
2.

To Rocky Ford Crossing 9 miles

Pyramid Butte 26 "

Common's Spring 10 "

Touchez-de-nez (Sigenis) 25 "

Wolpi 5 "

75 "

Middle Mesa 10 ' '

Oraibi 20 "

105
Charges. — Named on application. Team and driver
for four should cost not to exceed $5 per day, passengers
furnishing their own bedding and provisions. Winslow
is provided with hotel accommodations and outfitting
stores.

Holbrook Route.

To La Reaux Wash 1 1 miles

Well near Cottonwood Wash 6

Cottonwood Wash crossing 3

Malpais Spring 13

Bittahoochee 7

Tonnael Malpais Spring 12

Jeditoh Valley Spring 22

Keam's Canon 6

Wolpi 10

Middle Mesa 10

Oraibi 20

120

Charges. — #15 round trip, for conveyance by wagon,
passengers providing their own camp outfit and provi-
sions. Holbrook has good livery and hotel accommoda-
tions, and stores.

Flagstaff Route.

To Turkey Tanks .... 19 miles

Grand Falls Crossing 22 "

Little Burro 45 "

Oraibi 18 "

104 "

Middle Mesa 20 "

Wolpi 10 "

Charges. — For wagon conveyance, $25 round trip.
Board $3 per day, and lodging fi per night. Or pas-
sengers may provide their own outfit and provisions
and arrange with liverymen for transportation only.
Hotel accommodations, livery and stores at Flagstaff
are excellent.

It is also practicable to make the trip from Gallup.

This route is not shown on map herein, but is reported

to be as below :

To Rock Spring Store 9 miles

Hay Stack Store 12 "

(Fort Defiance, 9 miles north.)

Cienega 5

Bear Tank (water 1 %. miles north) 20

Cotton & Hubbell's Store (Ganada) 11

Eagle Crag (water \y z miles north) 23

Steamboat Canon (water 3 miles north) ... 8

Keam's Canon School 18

Keam's Canon Store 2

Wolpi 10

118

Middle Mesa 10

Oraibi 20

Charges. — Named on application. ^

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ROUTES

TO THE

Moki Pueblos

Scale of Uitit

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THEHENRY-
gSHEPARD-

CHICAGO

MIllliMH

niiiiiiiil'lill

3 2044 020 432 662

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