It
was a dreary winter evening in the Sierra and the scene was singularly
impressive. The old man was a strong personality, powerfully built,
and a shaman of great reputation, who in his entire bearing showed
his determination to keep the dead at bay. He seemed to exercise a
reassuring influence over the whole assembly.

I shall not easily forget the solemn and convincing way in which he
upbraided the dead for his rash act. Taking the reed flower from his
hair and holding it in his right hand, he waved it down and up, as if
swayed by the force of his own thoughts, in accentuating his points,
and he talked and argued with the dead for a quarter of an hour. The
man was a great orator, and spoke so earnestly that my interpreter
Nabor was affected almost to tears. The speech was a kind of dialogue
with the dead, the speaker supplying the responses himself, and this
is the gist of it:

Why are you there?--Because I am dead.--Why are you dead?--Because I
died.--Why did you die?--Because I chose to.--That is not right. You
have no shame. Did your mother, who gave you birth, tell you to do
this? You are bad. Tell me, why did you kill yourself?--Because I
chose to do it.--Now what did you get for it, lying there, as you are,
with stones on top of you? Were you not just playing the violin in
the house with us? Why did you hang yourself in the tree?

Here I leave this tesvino and food for you, the meat and tortillas,
that you may eat and not come back. We do not want you any more. You
are a fool. Now I am going to leave you here. You are not going to
drink tesvino in the house with us any more. Remain here! Do not come
to the house, for it would do you no good; we would burn you. Good-bye,
go now; we do not want you any more!

All present then said good-bye to him, and all the women added,
"Fool!" and then they all ran quickly into a deep water-hole, splashing
into it clothes and all, that nothing from the dead might attach
itself to them. They changed their wet attire after their arrival
at the house. Later in the evening a magnificent hikuli feast was
held. The Indians sat around the big fire, which cast a magical light
over the tall old pine-trees around the patio, while the dancers moved
about in their fantastic way through the red glow. Such a scene makes
a deeper impression than any that could be produced on the stage.

The Christian Tarahumares believe that the shaman has to watch the
dead throughout the year, or t