By Miss Edith M. Cox and Herbert Cox.

At sunset on the first of August, 1913, we were at last ready to leave Holbrook, Arizona for Hopiland—almost a hundred miles northward from this point on the Santa Fe. The Indians—never in a hurry—had taken the greater part of the day in loading the three white covered wagons.

Our party included four Hopis, one Navajo, a white man employed by the government and three white women. My friend Miss Nelson a missionary among these Hopis, was returning to her work and I was going to visit her. The third woman was a new worker. Steve, a splendid Christian Hopi and his twelve year old David, had come for Miss Nelson and her friends.

Across the desert we traveled until we were at an elevation of some seven thousand feet. The vastness of the desert, the scant and varying vegetation, the Painted Desert, the great buttes which deceived us by their apparent nearness, the scattered dwellings of the Navajo Indians, the exhilaration which came from sleeping in the open, the call of the distant coyote or the prairie dogs, the camp fire built of anything available—all these made wonderful impressions on one accustomed to limited horizons.

No more primitive nor interesting Indians are to be found in North America today than these Hopis removed from the traveled highways of men. They were discovered by Coronado in 1540. Priests came, but were driven out by the Hopis. A few years later these Indians moved on top of three mesas. These appear as huge prows of ships projecting into the great desert. To protect themselves the Indians built their houses in terrace fashion of such material that one on the desert can with difficulty see them.

The Hopi is industrious. Walled in gardens, fields of corn on the plain and flocks of sheep show his agricultural interests. Weaving is done by the men in winter. They make all the clothing. The women build and own the houses. All water is carried in jars on the backs of women up the narrow mesa trail. Beautiful red and light colored pottery is made on First Mesa while baskets are made by the women of Second Mesa. The foundation of these baskets is grass covered with yucca fibers bleached in the sun or colored with juices from plants. If the public realized the value of these baskets so that it would demand them these Indians would not be so poor.

The Hopi has no written language. Some two thousand words constitute his vocabulary. The older people use the sign language very much.

The Hopi marriage is little more than a washing of the heads of each party in seperate bowls, then in one bowl. One may marry another if he is absent. Divorce is easily obtained by putting a man's saddle outside the door. If he puts wood outside her door and it is taken in he may enter again.

Children not old enough to belong to the Tribe are buried in crevices of the rocks. The place of burial indicated by a stick. It is not uncommon to see eight or nine sticks in one place. The older ones are buried in a sitting posture in the ground. The third or fourth morning after burial they believe the spirit partakes of meal and water; then by means of a feather pointing west it goes to its spirit home in the Grand Canyon.

They have many ceremonies and rites. Some two hundred spirits are worshipped. These are represented by masked men, dolls and placs.

The desire for rain has an important part in many ceremonies. This is true of the famous Hopi Snake Dance. This attracted much attention last year because attended by Mr. Roosevelt. Some fifty machines, mostly Fords, made the desert trip. The Hopis believe a great smoke in the earth controls the rain. A great many rattle and bull snakes are gathered and cared for in the underground "kivas" or caves. At sunset on the ninth day of the ceremony the snake men come from the kivas. They dance with the snake in the mouth until all have been thus treated. A priest frees them in the rocks and prays that the parent snake may give the Hopis rain.

Our government maintains a school for children of each mesa and one more advanced at government headquarters. Those desiring to go further are sent to Indian schools. Some of these Hopis are known as unfriendlies—hostile to the government. Until last year soldiers had to be sent to get their children whom the parents refused to send.

Besides the missionaries who are doing much the government has its agent, farmer, windmill man, doctors, teachers and matrons.

On my return to the railroad we were delayed because of heavy rains. What was a small stream in August was in September a river three-fourths of a mile wide when we first saw it. In the bed of this stream our wagon was stuck. The chief of the Navajo Tribe helped us take it to pieces and so get it out of the mud in the wash.

Imagine if you can what it would mean to hear a train whistle after six weeks' absence from civilization. As we topped the rise on the afternoon of the fourth day the sight of that brought me to my feet. How I gazed at it! My Indian driver said "Miss——pashalayi" ("Miss——you are very happy.")

Early the next morning three of us said good bye. My Indian companion with his hat in hand and my father and I said more in those parting handshakes than words could ever tell. A few minutes later we were borne westward by train and he to the north in his wagon.