ing of the giant woodpecker, and
in harvest time, when the people begin to make merry, they sing of
the blackbird.

The yumari was learned from the deer. According to tradition it is
the oldest dance. At the hour appointed, the shaman, facing the cross
and the east, here, too, opens the proceedings by shaking his rattle
to both sides to notify the gods. Then he begins to walk around the
cross, humming a song and marching in time to the rattle, which he
now swings down and up. He makes the ceremonial circuit, stopping at
each cardinal point for a few seconds. After this he begins his dance,
and the rest of the assemblage gradually join in. The dance consists
in short walks, forward and backward, with lock-step, the men being
arrayed in line on both sides of the shaman, their eyes fixed on
the ground, their elbows touching. In this way they swing to and
fro, generally describing a curve around the cross, or, sometimes,
forming a circle against the apparent movement of the sun. The women
dance in a similar way, in a course of their own behind the men;
but they frequently break ranks, jumping forward and backward with
movements wholly devoid of grace. When the dance goes in a circle,
the women move with the sun.

The tones marked with the accent > in each of the following yumari
songs are grunts.

The yumari songs tell that the Cricket wants to dance; the Frog wants
to dance and jump; and the Blue Heron wants to fish; the Goatsucker
is dancing, so is the Turtle, and the Grey Fox is whistling. But it
is characteristic of the yumari songs that they generally consist
only of an unintelligible jargon, or, rather, of a mere succession
of vocables, which the dancers murmur.

Unlike the rutuburi, the yumari soon becomes tiresome, in spite of
its greater animation. Yet the spectacle has something weird in it,
especially when seen by the fitful flicker of the fire, which throws
a fantastic light upon the grotesque figures, like goblins moving
about on the same space. Many mothers carry their sleeping infants on
their backs. Sometimes, the blanket which supports the baby loosens,
and the little thing hangs half out of it, following every movement
of the parent.

At most feasts both these dances are performed, and the Indians
themselves consider them to have the same general purpose. It is,
therefore, not easy to see the relation of the two dances to each
other. Rutuburi is the more serious dance, and is more efficacious
tha