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 bea 
two-thousand-dollar auto in the front door yard of Mr. Navajo 
if the ground is that level. The remainder of the family sur- 
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 
