ome of my
impressions is before me as I write. It still vibrates with the ecstasy
of that enthusiasm. Sentences like these are frequent. "From the dry hot
plains, across the blazing purple of the mesa's edge, I look away to
where the white clouds soar in majesty above the serrate crest of
Uncomphagre. Oh, the splendor and mystery of those cloud-hid regions!...
A coyote, brown and dry and hot as any tuft of desert grass drifts
by.... Into the coolness and sweetness and cloud-glory of this marvelous
land.... Gorgeous shadows are in motion on White House Peak.... Along
the trail as though walking a taut wire, a caravan of burros streams,
driven by a wide-hatted graceful horseman.... Twelve thousand feet! I am
brother to the eagles now! The matchless streams, the vivid
orange-colored meadows. The deep surf-like roar of the firs, the wailing
sigh of the wind in the grass--a passionate longing wind." Such are my
jottings.

In these pages I can now detect the beginnings of a dozen of my stories,
a score of my poems. No other of my trips was ever so inspirational.

Not content with the wonders of Colorado I drifted down to Santa Fe and
Isleta, with Charles Francis Browne and Hermon MacNeill, and got finally
to Holbrook, where we outfitted and rode away across the desert, bound
for the Snake Dance at Walpi. It would seem that we had decided to
share all there was of romance in the South West. They were as insatiate
as I.

For a week we lived on the mesa at Walpi in the house of Heli. Aided by
Dr. Fewkes of Washington, we saw most of the phases of the snake
ceremonies. The doctor and his own men were camped at the foot of the
mesa, making a special study of the Hopi and their history. Remote,
incredibly remote it all seemed even at that time, and some of that
charm I put into an account of it which _Harper's_ published--one of the
earliest popular accounts of the Snake Dance.

One night as I was standing on the edge of the cliff looking out over
the sand to the west, I saw a train of pack horses moving toward Walpi
like a jointed, canvas-colored worm. It was the outfit of another party
of "tourists" coming to the dance, and half an hour later a tall, lean,
brown and smiling man of middle life rode up the eastern trail at the
head of his train.

Greeting me pleasantly he asked, "Has the ceremony begun?"

"The snakes are in process of being gathered," I replied, "but you are
in time for the most interesting part of the festi