dless tune all the time. Then
they gathered in front of the kiva, where the snakes could be heard
keeping up a constant dull rattling, and chanted this same tune seven
times, stamping on the boards that covered the opening to the
Underworld, in order that the gods down there might know they were on
the job. One priest had a piece of board on the end of a strong string
and every so often he would step out in front of the others and whirl
and whiz that board around until it wailed like a lost soul. _That_ was
the wind before the rain!

A priest entered the snake kiva and passed a snake out to a priest
dancer. The dancer placed this big rattler in his mouth and began the
circle. Close beside him danced a companion called the "hugger." This
protecting Indian kept one arm around the dancer's shoulders and his
other hand occupied with a bunch of feathers with which he kept the
snake's head from coming too close to the dancer's face. Entirely around
the ring they went until the starting-place had been reached, when, with
a quick, sharp jerk of his head, the dancer threw the snake into the
center of the plaza. It lay there coiled, sputtering, and rattling in
rage for a moment, then started to glide away. Quick as a flash a
"gatherer" snatched him up and twirled him around his arm.

As soon as the first dancer was rid of his snake he went for another,
and we noticed that he was always given rattlers. Some of the other
priests had thin, nervous whip snakes; some had big, sluggish bull
snakes; but at least eighty per cent of the snakes were active, angry
rattlers. The first dancer was an old man, gray-headed, and rather
stooped. He had a poor hugger, for at least three times during the dance
the hugger let a rattler strike the old priest. Once the priest flinched
with pain and let the snake loose from his mouth. It hung on to his
cheek with its fangs firmly implanted, and at last he tore him loose
with both hands. The blood spurted from the wound, and a Hopi man beside
me made a nervous clucking sound.

"Will he die from that bite?" I asked the Hopi.

"I think not. Maybe. I don't know." And I'm sure he didn't know any more
about it than I did. But the old fellow continued with his dancing as if
nothing had happened. At last about eighty snakes had been danced with
and were now writhing, animated bouquets in the hands of the gatherers.
A squaw came out and made a circle of sacred meal. Into this all the
snakes were dumped, and