ect a small mound of rock which was partially
surrounded by a wall of neatly laid stone. Within the semicircular
wall was a hole in the ground--the entrance to a cave. Farther along
he came upon the ruins of a walled square, unmistakably of human
construction. He became interested, and, tying his horse to a
scrub-cedar, began to dig among the loose stones covering the interior
of the square. He discovered a fragment of painted pottery--the
segment of an olla, smooth, dark red, and decorated with a design in
black. He rubbed the earth from the fragment and polished it on his
overalls. He unearthed a larger fragment and found that it matched the
other piece. He was happy. He forgot his surroundings, and scratched
and dug in the ruin until he accumulated quite a little pile of shards,
oddly marked and colored. Eventually he gathered up his spoils and
tied them in his handkerchief.

Leaving his horse, he meandered down the valley until he came to
another and larger cave. "Wonder what's down there?" he soliloquized.
"Mebby one of them Injuns. Been there a thousand years waitin' for
somethin' to turn up. 'Nough to make a fella tired, waitin' that
long." He wanted to explore the cave, but he was afraid. Moreover,
the interior was dark. He pondered. Finally his natural fondness for
mild adventure overcame his fear. "Got some matches!" he exclaimed,
joyfully. "Wonder if it's deep? Guess I could put me legs in first,
and if nothin' bites me legs, why, I could follow 'em down to bottom."
He put his head in the hole. "Hey!" he hallooed, "are you in there?"
He rose to his feet. "Nothin' doin'. Well, here goes. I sure want to
see what's down there."

In his excitement he overlooked the possibility of disturbing a torpid
rattler. He slid feet first into the cave, found that he could all but
stand upright, and struck a match.

The ancient Hopis buried their dead in a sitting posture on a woven
grass mat, with an olla, and frequently a bone dagger, beside them. In
the clean, dry air of the uplands of Arizona the process of decay is
slow. Sundown, unaware of this, hardly anticipated that which
confronted him as the match flamed blue and flared up, lighting the
interior of the cave with instant brilliance. About six feet from
where he crouched was the dried and shriveled figure of a Hopi chief,
propped against the wall of the cave. Beside the figure stood the
painted olla untarnished by age. The dead Indi