the earth; and the dark pine forests on the
mountain-slopes stare, while yellow streaks sweep up among the dusky
timber. In the distance we catch a glimpse of the eastern slope of the
Sandia range glistening in the bright yellow hue of the flowers that
cover miles of its slanting surface.

On the ridges south of Hishi human figures stand. They are scattered,
watching and spying attentively. They are videttes,--outposts, placed to
scan the plains and the slopes of the mountains, lest some enemy sneak
up and pounce upon the defenceless village. For at the time of which we
are speaking the Tanos, or Hishi, are not only defenceless, but
singularly unsuspecting and heedless of danger. They would be at the
mercy of an enemy, were it not for these guards and scouts, who watch
and pry, straining every organ of perception that their people at home
may be without care while singing, praying, and making merry. Is not
the dance now going on at the village danced, prayed, and sung for their
benefit also?

Whenever these outposts turn toward their pueblo they see clouds of dust
rising from it, hear loud rhythmic shouting, whoops and yells, beating
of drums, and the shrill sounds of flutes. A haze seems to cover the
tall and long terraced buildings quite distinct from the vertical
columns of sand-whirls that drift over the plain of Galisteo, in calm
weather rising above the horizon like thin films of smoke.

It is a great day at Hishi. A dance is performed, songs are sung, and
prayers and sacrifices are offered that shall be powerful with Those
Above. The people make merry over the fruits of the soil that have now
matured. They are grateful, and they wish to be precious to the higher
powers in years to come. The great harvest dance is performed to-day. A
long procession perambulates the long village. The Koshare trot ahead.
They are the same black and white goblins with whom we are already
acquainted, but their bodies are decorated now with ripe fruit, with
small squashes and ears of corn, all strung to cords of fibre or
buckskin, and hung over their shoulders like wreaths. Wild sunflowers
adorn their heads. They are followed by the Cuirana, whose bodies are
daubed over with bluish clay. Then the general public tramp along. The
procession is divided into four sections, the faces of all being painted
_ad libitum_. The first detachment is led by an old man whose snow-white
hair supports a wreath of yellow blossoms. He is the so-calle