THE FORESTS AND DESERTS OF ARIZONA 223 



priests— painted, masked, and decorated— coming from their kiva 

 in single file, perform a rhythmic round marcli and place them- 

 selves on guard l)efore the snake hut made of cottonwood houghs, 

 in which the reptile partners to the dance are placed. The snake 

 priests i)erform the same round march, and then, placed in rows 

 opposite each other, the two lines begin a low incantation, ac- 

 companied by rhythmic motions in unison, sidewise, t(» and fro. 



Weird is their song, weird are tiieir looks, and weird their 

 motions, but weirder still all these when their wrigghng, writhini.' 

 partners enter the circle and the round march with the snakes 

 begins. For this the snake priests divide into sets of three, the 

 carrier holding the reptile, venomous or not, and in full pos.ses- 

 sion of its fangs, between his teeth, and rhythmically swinging 

 its curling body, the charmer following him, with eagle feathers 

 stroking the hair and shoulder of the carrier or else his burden, 

 while the catcher trij)s on the outside, ready to ])ick up with un- 

 failing accuracy the reptile. When it has done its service it is 

 laid on the ground and darts away for liberty. The dexteritv 

 with which this act is performed, the man taking time to first 

 strew the sacred meal and apply the charm of eagle-brush to the 

 escaping rattler, makes the catcher the hero of the hour. When 

 all these 20 or 30 reptiles have thus passed through the rite, it 

 only remains to carry them toward the north, south, east, and 

 west, whence they came, and set them free, unhurt, for they are 

 the personified spirits of ancestors, who have in the ceremony 

 been induced to intercede with the deities. 



The result of the prayer for rain, which is the purport of the 

 whole ceremony, seemed to follow immediately in a most tremen- 

 dous downpour, which turned the dry wash at which we are en- 

 camped into a raging torrent 60 feet wide and 5 feet deep. This 

 result, however, was promptly disclaimed by the snake i)riests, 

 for their prayer is for gentle rain — a drizzle, as it were — which 

 they rarely get. 



But we must hurry away for our last trij), the one l>y which 

 we shall always remember Arizona if all else be forgotten — the 

 Grand Canon of the Colorado. 



A flying stage from Flagstaff brings us in a long day's ride, yet 

 not a dreary one, through the pine woods past San Francisco 

 mountain, again through the cedars, over open mesas and through 

 pine woods once more to a neat tentcity — a hotel estal>li.-;hment 

 well fitted to its surroundings and well kept— nestled in a depres- 

 sion among the stately pines close to the canon. We are within 



