222 THE FORESTS AND DESERTS OF ARIZONA 



uary 3, hardb' 15 inches. Irish potatoes were small, but per- 

 haps would have made good-sized tubers but that they were 

 drowned ; yet we caught ducks in return, which we shot from 

 our boat. The cottonwoods planted have done well ; expect to 

 plant 10,000 this spring. There are a million acres around me 

 which can do the same." 



How is it possible, you ask, without water? It is due to the 

 moisture held in storage from occasional rains and drainage by 

 the sand, whose structure prevents its evaporation as well as its 

 sinking aw^ay. Who will foretell the possibilities of the future? 



After this experience we are not surprised to find further on the 

 cornfields of the Navajo Indians on the sandiest sites, much more 

 primitive, to be sure, and w^hen we reach the village of Oraibi the 

 thrifty fields, small garden patches, and peach orchards show that 

 these sands and dry deserts can yet support a goodly population. 



Here we are at last, after a weary ride over the sand and. 

 through the cornfields and bean patches of the Hopi Indians — 

 called Moki by alien tribes in opprobrium and by some whites 

 through objectionable imitation — at the base of a precipitous 

 mesa, perched on which, 300 feet above, stands Oraibi, one of the 

 '' Seven Cities of Cibola," where for hundreds, perhaps thousands, 

 of years the original race of Indians have lived peacefully, closely 

 packed in their stone houses. There can be no more picturesque 

 sight than this town, with its inhabitants, clad in blankets of 

 bright colors, grouped on the tops of the gray limestone houses, 

 watching the snake dance, nor is there anything more fascinating 

 than to watch these ceremonies. There is hardly a more promis- 

 ing field for ethnological study than these primitive house-build- 

 ers and agriculturists, but they are foreign to our chief subject, 

 and we can only glance at a few features in rapid succession. 



This has been a festive time, and hence the usual filth has been 

 in part removed and a general house-cleaning and cleaning of 

 hair and body has taken place, so that inspection of the dwellings, 

 which the good-natured children of Nature rather court, is com- 

 paratively satisfactory. The wealthier householders have even 

 whitewashed their houses outside and inside, and their stores of 

 corn are in ship-shape order. The ceremonies of the snake dance 

 last nine days in all, partly in public, partly in their secret tem- 

 ples, where, as a rule, only the priests of the two orders — the 

 Antelope and Snake — are admitted. Today is the last day, and 

 the snake dance is the end of the ceremonies, the purport of 

 which is to bring rain for the suffering crops. The Antelope 



