2 PROCEEDINGS OF THE NATIONAL MUSEUM vol. 77 



camp at Betatakin, March 27 ; once there, each night brought freez- 

 ing temperatures until May 1 and occasionally thereafter ; rain, hail, 

 and snow fell with annoying frequency. All this, so our irregular 

 Navajo boarder insisted, was owing to the fact that our work in 

 the ruin disturbed the spirits of the ancient people. But I am re- 

 minded that our last snowstorm occurred May 31; that ice covered 

 our water pails on the morning of June 2. I am reminded, too, of 

 our meager rations. 



Foodstuffs were at a premium ; trading-post stores were practically 

 exhausted. Wool continued in demand and the Navajo, childishly 

 prodigal in time of plenty, had bought freely. Having received 

 twice the customary price for their last clip, the Indians still had 

 credit to draw upon ; native jewelry to pawn. None cared to work ; 

 winter lingered. Lacking forage, Indian ponies were poor; roads 

 were ribbons of knee-deep mud; the wet-weather rate of $2.50 for 

 each hundredweight from Gallup to Kayenta did not tempt freight- 

 ers. In consequence, even the usual modest fare of desert travelers 

 was unprocurable. If we had flour there were no beans; if beans, 

 no flour. For days at a time, and repeatedly, rice formed our sole 

 diet. The Navajo would willingly sell neither sheep nor goats. We 

 substituted " Brigham tea " when coffee could not be had. At times^ 

 and in their own convincing way, my workmen expressed a measure 

 of discontent. 



Then, late in April, came news of United States entry into the 

 World War. My three remaining assistants, impatient to be in the 

 fray, promptly registered in their respective States. And just as 

 promptly they were ordered into service by the too-zealous local 

 draft board. Regulations governing distribution of foodstuffs had 

 been imposed; reservation traders could not replenish their empty 

 shelves. Nevertheless, there remained the chance of forcing our 

 assignment to conclusion. 



Snow and lack of forage made it impossible to keep a saddle horse 

 at camp ; hence, on three separate occasions, it was necessary to walk 

 the 20 miles to Kayenta seeking supplies. I happened to be there 

 April 29 and joined the trader in going to the relief of two Indian 

 freighters, then stuck in the mud 10 miles out, who had been on the 

 road from Flagstaff since late December. The few sacks of flour 

 received at Kayenta on May 20 immediately sold at $10 a 100; the 

 next lot arrived June 10, on 20 burros driven by Indians from near 

 Farmington, N. Mex. Navajo National Monument seemed altogether 

 isolated in the spring of 1917. 



This recital is offered not as an apology for a task left unfinished 

 but rather as evidence that factors quite beyond one's control some- 

 times arise to handicap the field worker. Those unforeseen condi- 



