THE NAUTILUS. 3 



orchards and vineyards, hundreds of acres. School diplomas, 

 photographs and three-colored illustrations decorated their 

 walls, and clocks and sewing machines seemed home-like. 

 They are neat housekeepers, hospitable and surely happy. 



These so-called Quaker Indians, the Hopis, and also the 

 more or less war-like Navajos, Utes and Piutes, with a few 

 goods bought from the traders salt, sugar, baking powder and 

 calico live as they have always lived. They are farmers with 

 fields of grain, alfalfa and vegetables in the low spots of the 

 desert; operators in live stock, manufacturers of blankets, 

 pottery and jewelry. The estimate of 1912 gave this nation 

 330,000 horses, 33,000 cattle, 1,500,000 sheep. They dress in 

 styles of their own, in dwellings cling to their ancient architec- 

 ture and keep their blood pure Indian. The Hopi has perma- 

 nent dwellings, four and five stories high, and perhaps may be 

 the original inventor of the Philadelphia sky-scraper apartment. 

 The Navajo with his solitary and temporary hogan of sticks and 

 mud, the Ute and Piute with tepees of skin or canvas, follow 

 their flock to the herding grounds, all at peace, one with an- 

 other, really not knowing tribal boundaries. There may be a 

 two-thousand-dollar auto in the front door yard of Mr. Navajo 

 if the ground is that level. The remainder of the familv sur- 



it 



plus may be invested in government bonds, a banner with a 

 star in gold hanging from a door that is something like a muskrat 

 home, but they make their own moccasins and calico breeches, 

 and some of them still think they can whip the United States. 

 Since we broke camp one of those cockey white men, prospect- 

 ing for minerals against Indian instructions, was found lying 

 by a water hole on our trail and the signs of his taking-off were 

 Navajo. 



The Hopi is a model Indian. He saves his money, never 

 had a quarrel with Uncle Sam, and without government boun- 

 ties has made his own living. A trader told us that when a 

 Navajo sold him ten dollars worth of wool he traded out the 

 full amount and asked for nine dollars more of credit, but the 

 Hopi left a quarter and took home nine seventy-five in cash. 



The Navajo refused to dig for pottery, as the flu had given 

 them a scare; but we liked them and their splendid horses were 



