m on a mule and brought him to the top. Then he
refused to pay Fred Harvey for the mule. I might add _he paid_!

I often wondered why people pay train fare across the continent and then
spend their time poking around in _our_ houses. They would walk in
without knocking, pick up and examine baskets, books, or anything that
caught their fancy. One woman started to pull a blanket off my couch,
saying "What do you want for this?" It was an old story to members of
the Park Service, and after being embarrassed a few times we usually
remembered to hook the door before taking a bath.

One day Chief Joe and I were chatting in front of the Hopi House. His
Indians had just completed one of their entertaining dances. As it
happened we were discussing a new book that had just been published and
I was interested in his view of the subject, _Outline of History_. All
at once an imposing dowager bore down upon us with all sails set.

"Are you a real Indian?"

"Yes, madam," Joe bowed.

"Where do you sleep?"

"In the Hopi House."

"What do you eat?" She eyed him through her lorgnette.

"Most everything, madam," Joe managed to say.

Luckily she departed before we lost control of ourselves. Joe says that
he has been asked every question in the category, and then some. I think
some of our stage idols and movie stars would be jealous if they could
see the number of mash notes Joe receives. He is flattered and sought
after and pursued by society ladies galore. The fact that he is married
to one of his own people and has a fat, brown baby does not protect him.

The Fred Harvey guides could throw interesting lights on tourist conduct
if they wished, but they seldom relate their experiences. Our card club
met in the recreation room of the guide quarters, and sometimes I would
get a chance to listen in on the conversation of the guides. Their
narrations were picturesque to say the least.

"What held you up today, Ed?"

"Well," drawled Ed, "a female dude wouldn't keep her mule movin' and
that slowed up the whole shebang. I got tired tellin' her to kick him,
so I jest throwed a loop round his neck and hitched 'im to my saddle
horn. She kept up then."

"Make her mad?"

"Uh-huh." A pause while he carefully rolled and lighted a cigarette. "I
reckon so. When we topped out an' I went to help her down, she wuz right
smart riled."

"Say she wuz goin' to report you to the President of these here United
States?"

"Don't know about that.