ogan built of
cottonwood branches. Outside, standing closely packed together, were the
Navajo bucks and the medicine men. When an Indian is sick he goes to the
doctor instead of sending for the doctor to visit him. And then
invitations are sent out all over the Reservation for the singers to
come and assist in the cure. The Navajos had responded loyally on this
occasion and were grouped according to location. One group would sing
the weird minor wail for half an hour and then another bunch would break
in for a few minutes, only to have still a third delegation snatch the
song away from them. So closely did they keep time and so smoothly did
one bunch take up where another left off that we, standing less than
twenty feet away, could not tell which group was singing except when the
Tuba City crowd took up the plaint. Their number was so small that they
couldn't get out much noise. The Indians had discarded their civilized
garb for the occasion and were clad mostly in atmosphere helped out with
a gee-string of calico. Some had streaks of white and black paint on
them. I fell to dreaming of what it would have meant to be captured by
such demons only a few years ago, and it wasn't long until I lost
interest in that scene. I was ready to retreat. We watched the medicine
men thump and bang the invalids with bunches of herbs and prayer sticks
a few minutes longer; then with Smolley as our guide we wandered over to
the Squaw Dance beside another bonfire, located at a decorous distance
from the improvised hospital hogan.

The leading squaw, with a big bunch of feathers fastened to a stick,
advanced to the fire and made a few impressive gestures. She was garbed
in the wide, gathered calico skirt, the velvet basque trimmed with
silver buttons, and the high brown moccasins so dear to feminine
Navajos. The orchestra was vocal, the bucks again furnishing the music.
After circling around the spectators a few times the squaw decided on
the man she wanted and with one hand took a firm grasp of his shirt just
above the belt. Then she galloped backward around him while he was
dragged helplessly about with her, looking as sheepish as the mutton
simmering in the kettle. Other squaws picked partners and soon there
were numerous couples doing the silly prance. Silly it looked to us, but
I thought of a few of our civilized dances and immediately reversed my
opinion.

The squaws occasionally prowled around among the spectators, keeping in
the