t, held in their hands sticks with
which they woke up people who fell asleep during the night while the
dance was going on.

The shaman prayed to the Morning Star, presented to him the ears of
corn that were to be used as seed, and asked him to make them useful
for planting. The gods know best how to fructify the grains, since all
the corn belongs to them. "And as for this man," he added, speaking
of me, "you all knew him before he started from his own country. To
us he seems to be good, but you alone know his heart. You give him
the god's eye he asked for."

A little after dark the singer for the occasion began to play a
prelude on the musical bow, which the Coras always glue to the gourd,
uniting the two parts to form one instrument. The gourd was placed
over a small excavation in the ground to increase its resonance. The
singer invoked the Morning Star to come with his brothers, the other
stars, to bring with them their pipes and plumes, and arrive dancing
with the rain-clouds that emanate from their pipes as they smoke. The
Morning Star was also asked to invite the seven principal Taquats to
come with their plumes and pipes.

The Coras-dance like the Tepehuanes and the Aztecs, but with quicker
steps, and every time they pass the altar the dancers turn twice
sharply toward it. At regular intervals the old woman and the little
girl danced, the former smoking a pipe. The little girl had parrot
feathers tied to her forehead and a bunch of plumes from the bluejay
stood up from the back of her head. In the middle of the night she
danced five circuits, carrying a good-sized drinking-gourd containing
water from a near-by brook, which originates in the sacred lagoon.

The shaman sang well, but the dancing lacked animation, and but
few took part in it. When the little girl began to dance with her
grandmother, I seated myself on a small ledge not far from the
musician. Immediately the shaman stopped playing and the dancing
ceased. In an almost harsh voice, and greatly excited, he called to
me, "Come and sit here, sir!" He was evidently very anxious to get
me away from the ledge, and offered me a much better seat on one of
the stones placed for the principal men. I had inadvertently sat
on a Taquat! This sacred rock of the dancing-place had a natural
hollow, which the Indians think is his votive bowl, and into which
they put pinole and other food. "Never," my friend told me next day,
"had anyone sat there before."

Later