newly made friend, a Havasupai will sometimes give to him that whereby, in the native belief, even the giver's life may be taken through sorcery, a hair, a bit of his skin, or a piece of his finger nail, this being an inviolable contract of peace and mutual regard. Several of these hairs lie among my notes, as less pleasant than pathetic mementoes of such regard. Indeed, a number of my own locks are doubtless still cherished in sundry medicine bags, hanging from the wattled walls of my homes in Havasupaigidri. One poor, aged fellow, observing me trim my nails one day, carefully gathered the cuttings together, and piteously begged me, by look and gesture, not to resent the liberty he had taken, or deprive him of his treasures.

"When a man dies among them, he is bathed and painted, dressed in all his richest apparel, and laid, with his face toward the rising sun, to await the funeral ceremonials. Throughout the fields and orchards, usually with corn and sunflowers growing all around them, with vines and brambles covering them, are scattered little mounds of earth and ashes. These are the funeral pyres. Over the summit, a huge collection of wood is piled, and the dead, together with his various possessions, is laid upon the pile. This is lighted by the son and heir, or nearest other relative, and, as the flames shoot up and envelop the body, he who applied the light throws all his worldly possessions, together with those he has inherited, upon the burning pyre, slaying his favorite dogs and horses, and adding them to the last sacrifice. Upon the wings of the last film of smoke, the soul of his

father rises, to wander whither it will,-to come back, and bring the summer rainclouds, to minister in many ways to the wants of his children; while the naked mourner sadly wends his way homeward, 'to begin life anew, as did his father,' he will tell you.

"The spirits of those for whom the last offering has been neglected, become unhappy and evil ghosts, which, together with the souls of the enemy whose scalp has not been taken and burned, torment the living with the weird voices of the night or the lone moanings of the wind on the pine covered mesas; or, as demons of disease and death, obey the behest of the dread sorcerer, or war against the good offices of the happier souls.

"They are fairly acquainted with the principal constellations, giving them names, and regulating the planting and hunting seasons by their movements.

"The grammatic structure of their language, though inferior to that of the Zuni, is nevertheless quite regular. Intonation, as with the Chinese, repetition, as with the natives of Australia, are employed to vary the shades of meaning in words. Most of the consonants not occurring in other Indian tongues are common in the Havasupai, which is strikingly soft and rapid. Just as the music of the Zunis has caught the spirit of the desert winds, so have both the music and the language of the Havasupai been infused with the sounds of the rushing waters by which they are surrounded. As I listened to the weird song of a doctor, one night, it seemed more like the echoes of water in a cavern, or in resounding

nooks of the deep canyon, than like the music of a human being.

"It is indeed, an interesting question how far man's environments, climatic, physical, even biologic, have influenced the sound of his music. and language. Possibly of the same family of Indians as the Zunis, there are, nevertheless, elements of sound in the music and words of the Havasupai, unpronounceable by the Zuni, never heard in his music. On the other hand, the music of the Hualapai, on the plains to the westward, the undoubted fathers of the Havasupai, is as strangely in keeping with the wild, dry, forest-clad hills and valleys of his native land.

"Possessing nothing but a rude architecture, their art is correspondingly crude, being mostly confined to the patterns on their basket work, and the paintings on their bows and arrows. The basket work, by virtue of the regular arrangement of the splints, is often beautiful. But few people live, however, whose appreciation of art seems as great compared with their limited practice of it.

"They are mimics, but their dances a few rude shuffles, half religious, half social-are neither representative nor picturesque, as are the cachinas or ka-kas of the Pueblos. 'We know of these things,' said Ko-hot, 'but we are the children of the Coyote, and he did not teach our fathers to make themselves happy or prosperous by such means; therefore, our fathers did not teach us.'

"The Havasupai have, among themselves, few of the crimes which destroy the peace of most nations. A great family in a single house, they

have learned to do to others as they would be done by; not as a golden rule,-ah, no!-but as policy. They are virtuous, and, although base liars, are honest in the use of property to an incredible extent. Not the smallest possession of another is ever appropriated by one of them, and a button or insignificant bead, lost in the sands, would invariably be brought to us, if found by either children or the staggering greyhead. The parents are excessively fond of their children, and the latter, though wild and independent, and never corrected by cross word or sharp blow, are remarkably obedient.

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They are not fair dealing toward the enemy. Ko-hot told me, with strange frankness, that a few years ago his people joined other Indians in war against the whites, and, regarding them as enemies, stole horses and cattle from them whenever they could, bringing them down into the canyon, where they either sacrificed them or killed and ate them. 'But,' he added, 'the time has come when I see this is wrong, and my people will listen to me when I tell them to smile on the Hai-ko (American), to ask him to eat, and to let his poorest or most tempting possession lie in the place it has been laid in; for has not the Hai-ko given to my children the hard metal and the rich garments you see all around you? (This with a proud wave of the hand toward the array of wornout clothing in the council, and a downward glance at his own threadbare soldier coat and well-patched breeches.) I am young (he was nearly fifty), but am I not old enough to remember how my people dug the soil with wooden hoes, or cut the poles of their

cabins with stone axes, and skinned the deer with a knife of flint? No, I take the father of the Land of Sunrise (Washington) by the hand, and my father of the Land of Sunset (General Wilcox) do I grasp by the hand, that we may look one upon another with smiling faces.'

"The worship of the Havasupai consists of prayers, made during their smokes, or at the hunting shrines, which are merely groups of rude pictographs along nooks or caves in the walls of the canyon. Here, seated on the ground, the worshipper blows smoke to the north, west, south and east, upward and downward; then says, in a low tone, some simple prayer, only one of which, addressed to the spirit of the Deer-God, I was able to record:

“Let it rain, that grass may grow for the deer, Go not away, O deer, from my arrows and weapons. Thou art ours; by thee do we live.

Go not away, but remain to minister to our wants, to accept of my sacrifices.'

"The Havasupai believes that the source of his river is sacred and pure; that polluted by the touch of man it would cease to give forth its waters, and the rocks of the canyon would close forever together.

"Ko-hot told me, one morning, the following beautiful story of the origin and history of his nation:

"When the world was new it was covered with waters, save where a single mountain peak to the north looked out above their surface. Here, alone, wandered the great Coyote. Mankind lived in the four dark cave-plains of earth, below this mountain, until, under the guidance of a great cacique, they journeyed up from one to