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The acequias, which have their fountain heads in these canals and viaducts, are wonders of intricacy and regularity; yet on uneven ground are laid out in nice recognition of the conformity to unevenness and change of level in the surface they are designed to water.
"Most wonderful of all, however, are their aerial trails. Through the western branch of the canyon, down from the Hualapai country, the trail for horses as well as foot travellers is over promontories, up shelves, along giddy narrow heights, in and out of recessions, or over stone pecked slopes, such as would dismay civilized man, with all his means of moulding the rugged face of nature. At times, so impossible does it seem for any living thing to pass farther, that nowhere can the trail be traced; when a turn to some crack in the rock, almost hidden by intervening bowlders, and hewn down with stone hammers to give precarious footing, shows where it goes up or descends. Great ingenuity is shown in continuing the trail along the bare, smooth face of a cliff which slopes at an angle of forty-five, fifty, even sometimes sixty degrees. The surface, after being roughened, is overlaid with little branches of cedar, upon which large sticks and stones of great weight are laid, the whole being filled in with dirt and a sufficient quantity of pebbles to guard against washing away. If such a surface be interrupted by a crevice, the two sides of the latter are notched, a fragment of rock fitted in, and the whole covered as before described. Considerable nerve is required, however, to pass these trails. The foothold is always uncertain, and one of these oblique zones, along the centre of which the trail passes, is bounded below by fifteen hundred feet of jagged, rapidly descending rock masses; above, by two or three hundred feet of beetling, rotten cliffs.
“Besides their horses, which are adventurers as wonderful as the Indians themselves, through their canyon training, they have a few dogs, often wolfish, always mongrel, and six or eight lonely cats, which are extravagantly prized by their possessors, and well fed, yet so worried by dogs and children that they resemble halfstarved wild beasts of the feline tribe rather than the descendants of the sleek, domesticated animal of civilization. Not unfrequently beautiful little coyotes are to be seen about the camp, and these, as the emblems of his own ancestry, his national deity, are affectionately fondled and petted by the Havasupai; being allowed a place at the family bowl even in preference to the women or children. Add to these certain sand lizards and many noisy birds of prey, kept more for their feathers than as pets, and the list of Havasupai domestication is complete.
“During intervals in the labor of the fields, the men may always be seen gathered in groups of six or ten, chatting together; and the women, always busy, exchange visits while at work about the fire, and the visitor is scarcely distinguishable from the hostess, as she shares with her all duties in which the latter may be engaged. So also, when at work in the fields, the women are prone to gather in busy little groups, where their talk and merriment, free from the restraint of the men, are louder than about the household fire.
“The children are always boisterously at play, the girls with the boys, and are touchingly affectionate toward one another. The youth gather on level spots and run races, or play games of chance by the hour. They are fond of displaying themselves on horseback; two, sometimes even three, mounting some little pony, and wildly galloping up and down the paths which thread the cornfields where the women and girls are at work. They improve their marksmanship and gain local celebrity, vying with one another in firing at the marks of nature's hand about the great cliffs of their subterranean home.
“Councils among the members of the tribe are incessant, though very rarely attended by the chiefs in a body, and never, save on occasions of the utmost gravity, by the head chief, Ko-hot.
“As illustrative of this, I may give the following example: When I entered the canyon, warned of the characteristics of the Havasupai by Pu-la-ka-kai, I made a rule, in the first council, that any trade sealed by the customary handshake and 'a-ha-ni-ga,' or 'thanks,' should be regarded as final. During one of the four days of our stay, Pu-la-ka-kai traded one of his hides for a quantity of things, among which was a famously large buckskin. The next morning, the evil-looking, one-eyed fellow who had purchased the horse returned to trade back, or have the difference split by a return of the buckskin. Pu-la-ka-kai asked my permission, and I tersely refused. The man went away, soon coming back with a noisy, low-browed crowd, which increased in size and noisiness, until, toward evening, it was like bedlam about the hut of my still neutral host. Finally, a subchief advanced, and told me I must consent to a retrade. I declined. He then begged me, and my Indians, alarmed, became importunate. Still I refused. Pu-la-kakai pointed to a scar over his eyebrow, which he wore, he said, in remembrance of a former proceeding of the kind, and once more implored me, for the sake of his and Tsai-iu-tsaih-ti-wa's wives and children, to consent. Now and then a man would leave, presently returning with a gun carelessly strapped over his shoulder, and I saw that things were growing serious; but I remained obdurate, paying no apparent attention to my own arms, yet seeing that they were within easy reach.
reach. After a little while, I suddenly drew one of the two revolvers in my belt, sheathed it again, and stepping over to the discontented, one-eyed scoundrel, grabbed him by the arms, and ejected him from the premises. Immense excitement prevailed, but I quietly went back with a smile to my writing. The head chief was summoned. He came, gravely, through the babbling crowd, eating a kind of cake of cornmeal and sunflower seeds. I rose and greeted him pleasantly, spreading a blanket for him to sit on; and as he sat down, with a smile, he broke the cake in two, handing me the larger piece. I began to explain my writing to him, and, after conversing a little while, he said: 'I am about to go. You observe that I am never to be found in crowds of those who wrangle and gossip. It makes a father sad to see the foolishness of his children. It fills me with thoughts to see my people make fools of themselves, to hear them make meaningless noise; therefore I stay away from them. When they have anything to say to me, or you wish to see me, my hut stands under the cottonwoods, down by the river, and my fields are in front of it.' Without a word in reference to our trouble, without so much as a well directed glance at the heated crowd, he went away as he had come, a picture of imperturbable dignity and gravity. The wranglers, in the most shamefaced manner, gave up alike their dispute and its object.
“The coming stranger is heralded by the first observer, the chief waiting at his own house to receive him or his embassy. Any hut at which he first alights, even though the poorest, is almost sacredly regarded as his home. The inmates flock out, however suspiciously they may regard him, remove the saddles and packs from his animals, arrange them around the sides of the dwelling, invite him to enter, seat him on the best blanket or robe, and immediately improvise a meal for him, offering him, meanwhile, a drink of fresh water. During his wanderings about the village, wherever he may enter, he will almost surely find someone eating, even though it be late at night, and he will invariably be invited to partake.
“On meeting a stranger or a long-absent friend, the Havasupai grasps him by the hand, moving it up and down in time to the words of his greeting; and, as he lets go, lifts his own hollow palm toward his mouth, then, with a sudden and graceful motion, passes it down over his heart. As an evidence of confidence in a