more meal was sprinkled on them. Then each
carrier, of which there were four, gathered all the snakes he could
grasp by thrusting his arms into the squirming mass, and one carrier
departed in each direction. We watched one running swiftly down the
cliff until he reached the level desert, where he dumped his cargo, and
came back to the plaza. There he and his other returned companions lined
up on the edge of the mesa and drank a big draught of the secret
preparation prepared by the Snake Priest and his wife. Then they let
nature take its course. Such a heaving, vomiting set of redskins you
never saw!

This little chore attended to, they removed their paint and prepared to
join in the feast and dancing that would last through the night.

Before I left I hunted up the old Snake Priest and pressed him for an
explanation of why the snake bites did not harm them. This is what he
told me.

"We do not extract the fangs. We do not cause the snakes to bite at
things and exhaust their poison. We do not stupefy them with drugs as
you could well see. But we do cleanse the priests so thoroughly that the
poison cannot take hold. For nine days they fast, partaking of no food,
and only of herb drinks prepared by our wise ones. They have many sweat
baths and get the harmful fluids out of their blood. They have
absolutely no fear of the snakes, and convey to them no nervousness or
anger. Just before the dance they have a big drink of the herb brew, and
they are painted thickly with an ointment that contains herbs that kill
snake poison. Then after the dance, the emetic. That is all."

"How many of your tribe know of this secret preparation?"

"Only two. Myself and my squaw. Should I die my squaw tell the secret to
my son. When my squaw die he teach _his_ squaw."

Probably because this dance is staged at the time of year the rains are
due in Arizona, it is seldom that twenty-four hours elapse after the
dance before a downpour arrives. Hopi Snake Priests are good weather
prophets!

[Illustration]

_Chapter XI: THE TERRIBLE BADGER FIGHT_

When winter ends, spring comes with a rush at the Canyon, and flowers
pop up over night. They follow the melting snow until the hills are
covered with flaming paintbrushes and tender blue lupine. Greasewood and
manzanita put out fragrant, waxy blossoms, and wild pinks and Mariposa
lilies hedge the trails.

Encouraged by the glorious display of wild flowers, I planned, with more
enthusia