THE NAUTILUS. 11 
days by auto was made in five, owing to weather conditions. 
We enjoyed the journey through the Chinlee valley where with 
government assistance thousands of acres of corn were under 
cultivation, and the side-winder rattler was added to our col- 
lection. 
We also stumbled into Ganado, headquarters of the Hubbel 
string of trading posts established some forty years ago. Hon. 
Lorenzo Hubbell, its head, many years a representative of the 
territories of New Mexico and Arizona in Congress, was at 
home. Here was another museum of Indian baskets, blankets, 
paintings, desert books and the many things Indian we were 
looking for. Paintings of all the patterns in blankets used by 
the Navajos were on the walls, and one hundred at least of the 
original portraits in sepia of Indians by that best of artists, 
Elbridge Ayer Burbank. 
Lorenzo Hubbell, Jr., of Oraibi, was a delightful acquaint- 
ance. In an empty Buick he overtook us the next morning 
after the Ganado visit. ‘‘Throw in a lot of those dunnage 
bags and some of those girls and I will help you the next ten 
miles; the road is rough that far,’’ he said; and we went to it 
and built a bridge. When the flood from the cloudburst had 
passed we ran ahead into another cloudburst and built another 
bridge, the men folks, including Hubbell, pulled off their 
shoes, rolled up their pantaloons and waded through the mud 
and cactus for half a day in their bare feet, built bridges, dug 
out machines with shovels and their bare hands, pushed and 
slipped and tumbled until dark, and Hubbell stayed with us 
through it all. He was plainly that kind. When the cowboys 
and Indians saw him at a distance they grinned the width of 
their face. came up, slipped off their horses and shook hands 
heartily. 
Humiliating to relate, an Indian boy with a burro was em- 
ployed to pull out a car we could not push, and did it. On 
another occasion two men of our party, stuck upon the hillside 
of the San Juan, had their machine pulled over the top by a 
Najavo woman and her burro, with merely a rope around the 
donkey’s neck. 
The snake dance of the Hopis terminates an annual nine-day 
