aughed and quarreled and
slandered others just as we white women do over a bridge table.

I found myself going to sleep with my supper untasted, and leaving White
Mountain to tidy up I went to bed with the sand for a mattress and the
stars for a roof. Some time in the night I roused sufficiently to be
glad that all stray rattlers, bull snakes, and their ilk were securely
housed in the kivas being prayed over by the priests. At dawn we
awakened to see half a score of naked braves dash by and lose themselves
in the blue-shadowed distance. While we had breakfast I spoke of the
runners.

"Yes," said the Chief, "they are going out to collect the rattlesnakes."

"Collect the rattlesnakes! Haven't they been garnered into the fold
yet?"

"No, today they will be brought from the north, tomorrow from the west,
next day from the south, and last from the east." He glanced at me.
"Provided, of course, that they don't show up here of their own accord.
I _have_ heard that about this time of year every snake within a radius
of fifty miles starts automatically for the Snake Dance village."

"Well, _I_ shall sleep in the car tomorrow night and the next night and
the next one, too."

"Where will you sleep tonight?"

"I'll not sleep. I intend to sit on top of the machine and see if any
snakes do come in by themselves. Not that I'm afraid of snakes," I
hastened to add; "but I'd hate to delay any pious-minded reptile
conscientiously bent on reaching the scene of his religious duties."

We solved the difficulty by renting a room in one of the pueblo houses.

We followed the two-mile trail up the steep cliff to Walpi and found
ourselves in a human aerie. Nobody knows how many centuries have passed
since this tribe first made their home where we found them now. Living
as they do in the very heart of a barren, arid waste, they control very
little land worth taking from them and have therefore been unmolested
longer than they otherwise would have been. They invite little attention
from tourists except during the yearly ceremonial that we had come to
witness. What _is_ this Snake Dance? The most spectacular and weird
appeal to the gods of Nature that has ever been heard of!

To gain an understanding of what rain means to these Indians we had only
to live in their village the few days preceding the dance. They are
compelled to exist on the water from winter's melting snow and the
annual summer showers, which they catch in their rude cist