the work. But one of these
prayers is something like this:

"Muingwa pash lolomai, Master of the Clouds, we eat no stolen bread; our
young men ride not the stolen ass; our food is not stolen from the
gardens of our neighbors. Muingwa pash lolomai, we beseech of thee to
dip your great sprinkler, made of the feathers of the birds of the
heavens, into the lakes of the skies and sprinkle us with sweet rains,
that the ground may be prepared in the winter for the corn that grows in
the summer."

At one time in the night three women were brought into the _kiva._ These
women had a cincture of cotton about their loins, but were otherwise
nude. One was very old, another of middle age, and the third quite
young, perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old. As they stood in a corner
of the _kiva_ their faces and bodies were painted by the bald-headed
priest. For this purpose he filled his mouth with water and pigment and
dexterously blew a fine spray over the faces, necks, shoulders, and
breasts of the women. Then with his finger as a brush he decorated them
over this groundwork, which was of yellow, with many figures in various
colors. From that time to daylight the three women remained in the
_kiva_ and took part in the ceremony as choristers and dancing
performers.

At sunrise we are filed out of the _kiva,_ and a curious sight is
presented to our view. Shupaulovi is built in terraces about a central
court, or plaza, and in the plaza about fifty men are drawn up in a line
facing us. These men are naked except that they wear masks, strange and
grotesque, and great flaring headdresses in many colors.

Our party from the _kiva_ stand before this line of men, and the
bald-headed priest harangues them in words I cannot understand. Then
across the other end of the plaza a line of women is formed, facing the
line of men, and at a signal from the old Shaman the drums and the
whistles on the terraces, with a great chorus of singers, set up a
tumultuous noise, and with slow shuffling steps the line of men and the
line of women move toward each other in a curious waving dance. When the
lines approach so as to be not more than 10 or 12 feet apart, our party
still being between them, they all change so as to dance backward to
their original positions. This is repeated until the dancers have passed
over the plaza four times. Then there is a wild confusion of dances, the
order of which I cannot understand,--if indeed there is any system,
except