illages built on piles in the Swiss lakes pulled after them
at night the bridges which connected them with the land.

[Illustration: HOUSE OF A PUEBLO CHIEF.]

[Illustration: A GROUP OF PUEBLO INDIANS.]

[Illustration: A PUEBLO TOWN.]

One can well imagine that the people of Acoma do not spend many of
their waking hours in their apartments. In this warm climate, with
its superb air and almost rainless sky, every one lives as much as
possible out of doors, and a true child of the sun always prefers the
canopy of heaven to any other covering, and would rather eat on his
doorstep and sleep on his flat roof, than to dine at a sumptuous
table or recline on a comfortable bed. Nature seems to be peculiarly
kind and indulgent to the people of warm climates. They need not only
less clothing but less food, and it is only when we travel in the
tropics that we realize on how little sustenance man can exist. A few
dates, a cup of coffee, and a bit of bread appear to satisfy the
appetites of most Aridians, whether they are Indians or Arabs. In
the North, food, clothing, and fire are necessities of life; but to
the people of the South the sun suffices for a furnace, fruits give
sufficient nourishment, and clothing is a chance acquaintance. Yet
life is full of compensation. Where Nature is too indulgent, her
favorites grow shiftless; and the greatest amount of indoor luxury
and comfort is always found where Nature seems so hostile that man is
forced to fight with her for life.

[Illustration: CHARACTERISTIC PUEBLO HOUSES.]

[Illustration: IN THE PUEBLO.]

Most of the cells which we examined in the many-chambered honeycomb
of Acoma had very little furniture except a primitive table and a few
stools, made out of blocks of wood or trunks of trees. Across one
corner of each room was, usually, stretched a cord on which the
articles of the family wardrobe had been thrown promiscuously. The
ornaments visible were usually bows and arrows, rifles, Navajo
blankets, and leather pouches, hung on wooden pegs. Of beds I could
find none; for Indians sleep by preference on blankets, skins, or
coarse-wool mattresses spread every night upon the floor. When we
consider that the forty millions of Japan, even in their
comparatively high degree of civilization, still sleep in much the
same way, we realize how unnecessary bedsteads are to the majority
of the human race. In a few rooms I discovered wooden statuettes of
saints, one or two crucifixes,