2
THE
CHEM AW A
AM ERICAN
a dozen by them selves scattered along the wall. T h ere was also a pot
containing several striped ribbon-snakes, too lively to be left at large.
E ig h t or ten priests, some old, some young, sat on th e floor in th e lower
and larger tw o-thirds of the room , and greeted me with grave courtesy;
they spread a blanket on the edge of the dais, and I sat dow n w ith my
back to th e snakes and about eight feet from them ; a little behind and
to one side of me sat a priest w ith a kind of fan or brush m ade of two
or three w ing plum es of an eagle who kept quiet g u a rd over his ser
pent w ards. A t the farth er end of the room was the altar; the rude p ic
tu re of a coyote was painted on the floor, and on the four sides paintings
of snakes; on three sides it was hem m ed in by lig h tn in g -sitck s sta n d
ing u p rig h t in little clay cups, and on the fourth side by eagle plum es
held sim ilarly erect. Some of the priests were sm oking— for pleasure,
not cerem onially— and they were w orking at parts of th e cerem onial
dress. One had a cast rattlesn ak e skin w hich he was chew ing, to lim ber
it up, ju st as Sioux squaw s used to chew buckskin. A nother was fixing
a leather apron w ith p en d an t thongs; he stood up and tried it on. All
were scantily clad, in breech-clouts or short kilts or lion flaps; th eir
naked red bodies, lith e and sinuey, shone, and each had been splashed
in two or three places w ith a blotch or streak of w hite paint. One
spoke E n g lish and tran slated freely; I was careful not to portray m uch
curiosity or touch on any m atter w hich they m ight be relu ctan t to
discuss. T h e snakes behind me never rattled or show ed any signs of
anger; th e tran slato r volunteered the rem ark th a t they were peaceable
becouse they had been given m ed icin e—w hatever th a t m ight m ean,
supposing the statem ent be tru e according to the sense in w hich the
words are accepted to plainsm en. But several of them were active in
the sluggish rattle snake fashion. O ne glided sinuously tow ard me;
w hen he was a yard aw ay, I pointed him out to the w atcher w ith the
eagle feathers; the w atcher qu ietly extended th e feathers and stroked
and pushed th e sn a k e ’s head back, until it finally tu rn ed and craw led
back to th e wall. H alf a dozen tim es different snakes th u s craw led
out tow ards us and were tu rn ed back, w ith o u t th eir ever d isplay
ing a sym ptom of irritatio n . O ne snake got past the w atcher, w h ereup
on the priest in front of it checked its advance by th ro w in g pinches of
d u st in its face until the w atcher tu rn ed round w ith his feather scepter.
E very move was made w ith o u t h u rry and w ith quiet unconcern;
neither snake nor m an, at any tim e, showed a trace of w orry or anger;
all, hum an beings and reptiles, were in an atm osphere of quiet peaceful
ness. W hen I rose to say good-bv, I th an k ed my hosts for their c o u r
tesy; they were pleased, and two or three shook hands w ith me.
On th e afternoon of th e following day, A u g u st 20, the antelope
priests—th e men of the A ntelope c la n —held th e ir dance. T h e snake