While perhaps no more important than others of the many ceremonies of the Hopis, the Snake Dance is by far the widest known and most exciting and thrilling to the spectator. There have been many accounts of it written, yet no less an authority than Dr. Jesse Walter Fewkes of the Smithsonian Institution asserts that the major portion of them are not worth the paper they are written on. Inaccurate in outline, faulty in detail, they utterly fail, in the most part, to grasp the deep importance of the ceremony to the religious Hopis. It is commonly described as a wild, chaotic, yelling, shouting, pagan dance, instead of the solemn dignified rite it is. From various articles of my own written at different times I mainly extract the following account and explanations.

This dance alternates in each village with the Lelentu, or Flute ceremony, so that, if the visitor goes on successive years to the same village, he will see one year the Snake Dance and on the following year the Lelentu. But if he alternates his visits to the different villages he may see the Snake Dance every year, and, as the ceremonies are not all held simultaneously, he may witness the open-air portion of the ceremony, which is the Snake Dance proper, three times on the even years and twice on the odd years. For instance, in the year 1905 it will occur at Walpi and Mashonganavi; and in 1906 at Oraibi, Shipauluvi, and Shungopavi.

The Beginning of the Hopi Snake Dance, Oraibi, 1902.

The Hopis are keen observers of all celestial and terrestrial phenomena, and, as soon as the month of August draws near, the Snake and Antelope fraternities meet in joint session to determine, by the meteorological signs with which they are familiar, the date upon which the ceremonies shall begin.

This decided, the public crier is called upon to make the announcement to the whole people. Standing on the house-top, in a peculiarly monotonous and yet jerky shout he announces the time when the elders have decided the rites shall commence. Sometimes, as at Walpi, this announcement is made sixteen days before the active ceremonies begin, the latter, in all the villages, lasting nine days and terminating in the popularly known open-air dance, after which four days of feasting and frolic are indulged in, thus making, in all, twenty days devoted to the observance.

For all practical purposes, however, nine days cover all the ceremonies connected with it.

At Walpi, on the first of the nine days, the first ceremony consists of the "setting up" of the Antelope altar. This is an interesting spectacle to witness, as at Walpi the altar is more elaborate and complex than in any other village. It consists, for the greater part, of a mosaic made of different colored sands, in the use of which some of the Hopis are very dexterous. These sands are sprinkled on the floor. First a border is made of several parallel rows or lines of different colors. Within this border clouds are represented, below which four zigzag lines are made. These lines figure the lightning, which is the symbol of the Antelope fraternity. Two of these zigzags are male, and two female, for all things, even inanimate, have sex among this strange people. In the place of honor, on the edge of the altar, is placed the "tiponi," or palladium of the fraternity. This consists of a bunch of feathers, fastened at the bottom with cotton strings to a round piece of cottonwood. Corn stalks, placed in earthenware jars, are also to be seen, and then the whole of the remaining three sides of the altar are surrounded by crooks, to which feathers are attached, and bahos, or prayer sticks. It was with trepidation I dared to take my camera into the mystic depths of the Antelope kiva. I had guessed at focus for the altar, and when I placed the camera against the wall, pointed toward the sacred place, the Antelope priests bid me remove it immediately. I begged to have it remain so long as I stayed, but was compelled to promise I would not place my head under the black cloth and look at the altar. This I readily promised, but at the first opportunity when no one was between the lens and the altar, I quietly removed the cap from the lens, marched away and sat down with one of the priests, while the dim light performed its wonderful work on the sensitive plate. A fine photograph was the result.

The ceremonies of the Antelope kiva for the succeeding days consist of the making of bahos, or prayer sticks, ceremonial smoking, praying, and singing. But the profound ritualistic importance attached to every act can scarcely be estimated by those who have not personally seen the ceremonies. The prayer sticks are prayed over and consecrated at every step in their manufacture, and the altar is prayed over and blessed each day. Every object used is consecrated with elaborate ritual, and the great smoke is made by each one solemnly participating in the smoking of ÓmowÛh (the sacred pipe). The smoke from this pipe soon fills the chamber with its pleasant fragrance (the tobacco used being a weed native to the Hopi region), and it is supposed to ascend to the heavens and thus provoke the descent of the rain.

The songs are sung to the accompaniment of rattling by the priests, and each day the whole of the sixteen songs are rendered.

During the singing of one day one of the priests strikes the floor with a blunt instrument, and Wiki, the chief priest, explained this as the sending of a mystic message to a member of the Snake-Antelope fraternity at far-away Acoma, telling him that the ceremonies were now in progress and asking him to come. Strange to say, eight days later, certain Acomas did come, thus giving color to the assertion of the Hopi fraternities that the Snake Dance once used to be performed on the glorious penyol height of Acoma, as was briefly stated by Espejo.

It is in the Snake kiva that the snake charm liquid is made. In the centre of a special altar a basket made by a Havasupai Indian is placed. In this are dropped some shells, charms, and a few pieces of crushed nuts and sticks. Then one of the priests, with considerable ritual, pours into the basket from north, west, south, east, up and down (the six cardinal points of the Hopi), liquid from a gourd vessel. By this time all the priests are squatted around the basket, chewing something that one of the older priests had given them. This chewed substance is then placed in the liquid of the basket. Water from gourds on the roof is also put in.

Then all is ready for the preparation of the charm. Each priest holds in his hand the snake whip (a stick to which eagle feathers are attached), while the ceremonial pipe-lighter, after lighting the sacred pipe, hands it to the chief priest, addressing him in terms of relationship. Smoking it in silence, the chief puffs the smoke into the liquid and hands it to his neighbor, who does the like and passes it on. All thus participate in solemn silence.

Then the chief priest picks up his rattle and begins a prayer which is as fervent as one could desire. Shaking the rattle, all the priests commence to sing a weird song in rapid time, while one of them holds upright in the middle of the basket a black stick, on the top of which is tied a feather. Moving their snake whips to and fro, they sing four songs, when one of the chiefs picks up all the objects on the altar and places them in the basket.

In a moment the kiva rings with the fierce yells of the Hopi war-cry, while the priest vigorously stirs the mixture in the basket. And the rapid song is sung while the priest stirs and kneads the contents of the basket with his hands. Sacred meal is cast into the mixture, while the song sinks to low tones, and gradually dies away altogether, though the quiet shaking of the rattles and gentle tremor of the snake whips continue for a short time.

Then there is a most painful silence. The hush is intense, the stillness perfect. It is broken by the prayer of the chief priest, who sprinkles more sacred meal into the mixture. Others do the same. The liquid is again stirred, and then sprinkled to all the cardinal points, and the same is done in the air outside, above the kiva.

Then the stirring priest takes some white earth, and mixing it with the charm liquid, makes white paint which he rubs upon the breast, back, cheeks, forearms, and legs of the chief priest. All the other priests are then likewise painted.

The Chief Antelope Priest depositing Pahos at the Shrine of
the Spider Woman.

Throwing the Snakes into the Circle of Sacred Meal.

Now there is nothing whatever in this liquid that can either charm a snake or preserve an Indian from the deadly nature of its bite. Even the Hopis know that all its virtue is communicated in the ceremonies I have so imperfectly and inadequately described. I make this explanation lest my reader assume that there is some subtle poison used in this mixture, which, if given to the snakes, stupefies them and renders them unable to do injury.

The singing of the sixteen songs referred to is a most solemn affair. Snake and Antelope priests meet in the kiva of the latter. The chief priests take their places at the head of the altar, and the others line up on either side, the Snake priests to the left, the Antelope to the right. Kneeling on one knee, the two rows of men, with naked bodies, solemn faces, bowed heads, no voice speaking above a whisper, demand respect for their earnestness and evident sincerity. To one unacquainted with their language and the meaning of the songs, the weird spectacle of all these nude priests, kneeling and solemnly chanting in a sonorous humming manner, their voices occasionally rising in a grand crescendo, speedily to diminish in a thrilling pianissimo, produces a seriousness wonderfully akin to the spirit of worship.

According to the legendary lore of the Snake clan the Zunis, Hopis, Paiutis, Havasupais, and white men all made their ascent from the lower world to the earth's surface through a portion of Pis-is-bai-ya (the Grand Canyon of the Colorado River) near where the Little Colorado empties into the main river. As the various families emerged, some went north and some south. Those that went north were driven back by fierce cold which they encountered, and built houses for themselves at a place called To-ko-nÁ-bi. But, unfortunately, this was a desert place where but little rain fell, and their corn could not grow. In their pathetic language the Hopis say, "The clouds were small and the corn weak." The chief of the village had two sons and two daughters. The oldest of these sons, Tiyo, resolved to commit himself to the waters of the Colorado River, for they, he was convinced, would convey him to the underworld, where he could learn from the gods how always to be assured of their favor.

(This idea of the Colorado River flowing to the underworld is interesting as illustrative of Hopi reasoning. They said, and still say, this water flows from the upperworld in the far-away mountains, it flows on and on and never returns, therefore it must go to the inner recesses of the underworld.)

Tiyo made for himself a kind of coffin boat from the hewed-out trunk of a cottonwood tree. Into this he sealed himself and was committed to the care of the raging river. His rude boat dashed down the rapids, over the falls, into the secret bowels of the earth (for the Indians still believe the river disappears under the mountainous rocks), and finally came to a stop. Tiyo looked out of his peepholes and saw the Spider Woman, who invited him to leave his boat and enter her house. The Spider Woman is a personage of great power in Hopi mythology. She it is who weaves the clouds in the heavens, and makes the rain possible. Tiyo accepted the invitation, entered her house, and received from her a powder which gave him the power to become invisible at will. Following the instructions of the Spider Woman, he descended the hatch-like entrance to Shi-pÁ-pu, and soon came to the chamber of the Snake-Antelope people. Here the chief received him with great cordiality, and said:—

For a while he wandered about in the underworld, learning this and that, here and yonder, and at last returned to the Snake-Antelope and Snake kivas. Here he learned all the necessary ceremonies for making the rain clouds come and go, the ripening winds to blow, and to order the coming and going of the animals. With words of affection the chief bestowed upon him various things from both the kivas, such as material of which the snake kilt was to be made, with instructions as to its weaving and decoration, sands to make the altars, etc. Then he brought to Tiyo two maidens, both of whom knew the snake-bite charm liquid, and instructed him that one was to be his wife and the other the wife of his brother, to whom he must convey her in safety. Then, finally, he gave to him the "tiponi," the sacred standard, and told him, "This is your mother. She must ever be protected and revered. In all your prayers and worship let her be at the head of your altar or your words will not reach Those Above."

Tiyo now started on his return journey. When he reached the home of the Spider Woman, she bade him and the maidens rest while she wove a pannier-like basket, deep and narrow, with room to hold all three of them. When the basket was finished she saw them comfortably seated, told them not to leave the basket, and immediately disappeared through the hatch into the lower world. Tiyo and the maidens waited, until slowly a filament gently descended from the clouds, attached itself to the basket, and then carefully and safely drew Tiyo and the maidens to the upperworld. Tiyo gave the younger maiden to his brother, and then announced that in sixteen days he would celebrate the marriage feast. Then he and his betrothed retired to the Snake-Antelope kiva, while his brother and the other maiden retired to the Snake kiva. On the fifth day after the announcement the Snake people from the underworld came to the upperworld, went to the kivas, and ate corn pollen for food. Then they left the kivas and disappeared. But Tiyo and the maidens knew that they had only changed their appearance, for they were in the valley in the form of snakes and other reptiles. So he commanded his people to go into the valleys and capture them, bring them to the kivas and wash them and then dance with them. Four days were spent in catching them from the four world quarters; then, with solemn ceremony, they were washed, and, while the prayers were offered, the snakes listened to them, so that when, at the close of the dance, where they danced with their human brothers, they were taken back to the valley and released, they were able to return to the underworld and carry to the gods there the petitions that their human brothers had uttered upon the earth.

This, in the main, is the snake legend. The catching of the snakes foreshadowed in the snake legend is faithfully carried out each year by the Snake men. After earnest prayer, each man is provided with a hoe, a snake whip, consisting of feathers tied to two sticks, a sack of sacred meal (corn-meal especially prayed and smoked over by the chief priest), and a small buckskin bag, and on the fourth day after the setting up of the Antelope altar they go out to the north for the purpose of catching the snakes. Familiarity from childhood with the haunts of the snakes, which are never molested, enables them to go almost directly to places where they may be found. As soon as a reptile is seen, prayers are offered, sacred meal sprinkled upon him, the snake whip gently stroked upon him, and then he is seized and placed in the bag. In the evening the priests return and deposit their snakes in a large earthenware olla provided for the occasion. I should have noted that before they go out their altar is erected. This varies in the different villages, the most complete and perfect altar being at Walpi. At Oraibi the altar consists of the two wooden images—the little war gods—named Pu-u-kon-hoy-a and Pal-un-hoy-a; and in 1898 I succeeded, with considerable difficulty, in getting into the Snake kiva and making a fairly good photograph of these gods.

Line-up of Snake and Antelope Priests, Antelope Dance, Oraibi, 1902.

The catching of the snakes occupies four days, one day for each of the four world quarters.

At near sunset of the eighth day a public dance of the Antelope priests takes place in the plaza, similar in many respects to the Snake Dance, except that corn stalks are carried by the priests instead of snakes.

On the morning of the ninth day the race of the young men occurs. This is an exciting scene. Long before sunrise the Hopis, and as many visitors as have climbed the mesa heights, huddle together or sleepily sit watching a point far off in the desert. It is from that region—one of the springs—the racers are to come. Soon they are seen in the far-away distance as tiny specks, moving over the tawny sand, and scarcely distinguishable. One morning I stayed below at the spring on the western side of the mesa to watch them. The whole line of the mesa-top ruled an irregular but clearly defined line against the morning sky. The air was clear and pure, sweet and cool. From the Gap to the end of the mesa upon which Walpi stands crowds of spectators were silhouetted against the sky. The background, seen from my low angle of vision, was a pure blue; above, the sky was mottled with white clouds. On every projecting point which afforded a view the spectators stood, tiny figures taken from a child's Noah's Ark, chunky bodies, with a crowning ball of wood for head. But even at that distance and against the coming sunlight the brilliant colors of the dresses of the Indians, men and women, were revealed. Every note in the gorgeous gamut of color was played in fantastic and unrestrained melody. At Walpi the spectators crowded the house-tops, which there overlook the very edge of the mesa. The point was crowded. The morning light was just touching the cliffs of the west when the sound of the coming bells was heard. Jingle, jingle, jingle, they came, growing in sound at every step. There was movement among the spectators, each one craning his neck to see the strenuous efforts of the runners. Jingle, jingle, jingle, louder and louder, showing that the strides of these runners are great; they are making rapid bites at the distance that intervenes between them and the goal. Now they can be individually discerned. Their reddish-brown bodies, long black hair streaming behind, sunflowers crowning some, heaving chests, tremendous strides, swinging gait, make a fascinating picture. Now they crowd each other on the sandy trail. A spurt is being made, and one of the rear men passes to the front and becomes the leader. From the mesa heights the shouts and cheers denote that his success has been observed. Others crowd along. The spectators become excited and cheer on their favorites. Now the foot of the steep portion of the trail is reached. Surely this precipitous ascent will abate their ardor and slacken their speed. The steps are high, and it is a rise of several hundred feet to the mesa-top. The very difficulties seem to spur them on to greater effort. With bounds like those of deer or chamois, up they fly, two steps at a time. The pace and ascent are killing, but they are trained to it, having spent their lives running over these hot sands and climbing these trails. To them a "rush" up the mesa heights is a part of their religious training. The priests are now ready to receive them at the head of the trail. The first to arrive is the winner, and he is sprinkled with the sacred meal and water, and then he hurries on to the Antelope kiva, where the chief priest gives him bahos, sacred meal, and an amulet of great power. The other racers in the meantime have reached the summit, and I could see their running figures on the narrow neck of rock which connects Sichumavi with Walpi. They are going to deposit prayer offerings at an appointed shrine. On their arrival the race is done.

On the arrival of the racers at the head of the trail at Mashonganavi, in 1901, I secured a photograph showing one of the priests shooting out a singular appliance which represents the lightning.

But on the lower platform of the mesa another exciting scene is transpiring. A group of young maidens, with their mothers and sisters, await the coming of young men and boys, each of whom carries a corn stalk, a melon, or a sunflower. As soon as the youths arrive the maidens dart after them, and for a few minutes a good-natured but exciting and excitable scuffle goes on, in which the girls endeavor to seize from the boys the stalks, etc., they carry.

On the noon of the ninth day the ceremony of washing the snakes takes place in the Snake kiva.

It must not be forgotten that only the members of the fraternity engaged in the ceremonies are permitted to enter the kivas when the rites are being performed. Indeed, no other Hopi can be prevailed upon to approach anywhere near these kivas whilst the symbol which denotes that the ceremonies are being conducted is displayed.

Indeed, he believes that his profaning foot will immediately produce the most awful effects upon his body. At one kiva he will swell up and "burst"; at another, a great horn will grow out from his forehead and he will die in horrible agonies. The first time I was permitted to see this ceremony at Walpi was while Kopeli was alive. Kopeli was a Hopi of great power and ability in a variety of ways, who had a broad way of looking at things, and was very friendly with the white men who came in the proper spirit to study the life of his people. I had been allowed to see all the earlier of the secret kiva ceremonies, but when the day arrived on which the snakes were to be washed in the kiva, Kopeli was especially concerned on my behalf. He said: "So far 'Those Above' have not found any fault, and you have not been harmed in the kiva; but to-day we wash the snakes. You will surely be in danger if you gaze upon the 'elder brothers.'" Placing my arm around his lithe body, I gave Kopeli an unexpected dig in the stomach. Then I said, quite solemnly: "Kopeli, your stomach is a Hopi one; you swell up and bust easy. But feel of me"—and, taking his thumb, I gave myself a "dig" with it upon a solid pocketbook which I carried in my vest pocket. "Do you feel that?" I asked. "Yes," he replied. "And you sabe white man's steam-engine, Kopeli, down on the railroad?" "Yes! I sabe." "Well," said I, "that steam-engine is made of boiler-iron, and I am all same boiler-iron inside. I no bust!"

The Snake Dance at Oraibi, 1902.

With a merry twinkle in his eye, that showed he appreciated the joke, he said, "Mabbe so! You no bust; you stay!" And I stayed.

This washing ceremony is a purely ceremonial observance. The priests have ceremonially washed themselves, but their snake brothers are unable to do this, hence they must have it done for them.

In the underground kiva, hewn out of the solid rock—a place some sixteen feet square—squat or sit the thirty-four or five priests. I was allowed to take my place right among them and to join in the singing. When all was ready the chief priest reverently uttered prayer, followed by another priest, who, after prayer, started the singing. Three or four of the older priests were seated around a large bowl full of water brought from some sacred spring many, many miles away. This water was blessed by smoking and breathing upon it and presenting it successively to the powers of the six world points, north, west, south, east, up and down.

At a given signal two men thrust their hands into the snake-containing ollas, and drew therefrom one or two writhing, wriggling reptiles. These they handed to the priests of the sacred water. All this time the singing, accompanied by the shaking of the rattles, continued. As the snakes were dipped again and again into the water, the force of the singing increased until it was a tornado of sound. Suddenly the priests who were washing the snakes withdrew them from the water and threw them over the heads of the sitting priests upon the sand of the sacred altar at the other end of the room. Simultaneously with the throwing half of the singing priests ceased their song and burst out into a blood-curdling yell, "Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!" which is the Hopi war-cry.

Then, in a moment, all was quiet, more snakes were brought and washed, the singing and rattling beginning at a pianissimo and gradually increasing to a quadruple forte, when again the snakes were thrown upon the altar, with the shrieking voices yelling "Ow! Ow!" in a piercing falsetto, as before. The effect was simply horrifying. The dimly lighted kiva, the solemn, monotonous hum of the priests, the splashing of the wriggling reptiles in the water, the serious and earnest countenances of the participants, the throwing of the snakes, and the wild shrieks fairly raised one's hair, made the heart stand still, stopped the action of the brain, sent cold chills down one's spinal column, and made goose-flesh of the whole of the surface of one's body.

And this continued until fifty, one hundred, and even as many as one hundred and fifty snakes were thus washed and thrown upon the altar. It was the duty of two men to keep the snakes upon the altar, but on a small area less than four feet square it can well be imagined the task was no easy or enviable one. Indeed, many of the snakes escaped and crawled over our feet and legs.

As soon as all the snakes were washed, all the priests retired except those whose duty it was to guard the snakes. Then it was that I dared to risk taking off the cap from my lens, pointing it at the almost quiescent mass of snakes, and trust to good luck for the result. On another page is the fruition of my faith, in the first photograph ever made of the snakes of a Hopi kiva after the ceremony of washing.

And now the sunset hour draws near. This is to witness the close of the nine days' ceremony. It is to be public, for the Snake Dance itself is looked upon by all the people. Long before the hour the house-tops are lined with Hopis, Navahoes, Paiutis, cow-boys, miners, Mormons, preachers, scientists, and military men from Fort Wingate and other Western posts. Here is a distinguished German savant, and there a representative of the leading scientific society of France. Yonder is Dr. Jesse Walter Fewkes, the eminent specialist of the United States Bureau of Ethnology and the foremost authority of the world on the Snake Dance, while elbowing him and pumping him on every occasion is the inquisitive representative of one of America's leading journals.

See yonder group of interesting maidens. Some of them are "copper Cleopatras" indeed, and would be accounted good-looking anywhere. Here is a group of laughing, frolicking youngsters of both sexes, half of them stark naked, and, except for the dirt which freely allies itself to them, perfect little "fried cupids," as they have not inaptly been described. Now, working his way through the crowd comes a United States Congressman, and yonder is the president of a railroad.

Suddenly a murmur of approval goes up on every hand. The chief priest of the Antelopes has come out of the kiva, and he is immediately followed by all the others; and, as soon as the line is formed, with reverent mien and stately step, they march to the dance plaza. Here has been erected a cottonwood bower called the "kisi," in the base of which ollas have been placed containing the snakes. In front of this kisi is a hole covered by a plank. This hole represents the entrance to the underworld, and now the chief priest advances toward it, sprinkles a pinch of sacred meal over it, then vigorously stamps upon it, and marches on. The whole line do likewise. Four times the priests circle before the kisi, moving always from right to left, and stamping upon the meal-sprinkled board as they come to it. This is to awaken the attention of the gods of the underworld to the fact that the dance is about to begin.

Now the Antelope priests line up either alongside or in front of the kisi—there being slight and unimportant variations in this and other regards at the different villages—all the while keeping up a solemn and monotonous humming song or prayer, while they await the coming of the Snake priests.

At length, with stately stride and rapid movement, the Snake men come, led by their chief. They go through the same ceremonies of sprinkling, stamping, and circling that the Antelope priests did, and then line up, facing the kisi.

The two lines now for several minutes sing, rattle, sway their bodies to and fro and back and forth in a most impressive and interesting manner, until, at a given signal, the Snake priests break up their line and divide into groups of three. The first group advances to the kisi. The first man of the group kneels down and receives from the warrior priest, who has entered the kisi, a writhing, wriggling, and, perhaps, dangerous reptile. Without a moment's hesitation the priest breathes upon it, puts it between his teeth, rises, and upon his companion's placing one arm around his shoulders, the two begin to amble and prance along, followed by the third member of their group, around the prescribed circuit. With a peculiar swaying of body, a rapid and jerky lifting high of one leg, then quickly dropping it and raising the other, the "carrier" and his "hugger" proceed about three-fourths of the circuit, when the carrier drops the snake from his mouth, and passes on to take his place to again visit the kisi, obtain another snake, and repeat the performance. But now comes in the duty of the "gatherer," the third man of the group. As soon as the snake falls to the ground, it naturally desires to escape. With a pinch of sacred meal in his fingers and his snake whip in his hand, the gatherer rapidly advances, scatters the meal over the snake, stoops, and like a flash has him in his hands. Sometimes, however, a vicious rattlesnake, resenting the rough treatment, coils ready to strike. Now watch the dexterous handling by a Hopi of a venomous creature aroused to anger. With a "dab" of meal, the snake whip is brought into play, and the tickling feathers gently touch the angry reptile. As soon as he feels them, he uncoils and seeks to escape. Now is the time! Quicker than the eye can follow, the expert "gatherer" seizes the escaping creature, and that excitement is ended, only to allow the visitor to witness a similar scene going on elsewhere with other participants. In the meantime all the snake carriers have received their snakes and are perambulating around as did the first one, so that, until all the snakes are brought into use, it is an endless chain, composed of "carrier," snake, "hugger," and "gatherer." Now and again a snake glides away toward the group of spectators, and there is a frantic dash to get away. But the gatherers never fail to stop and capture their particular reptile. As the dance continues, the gatherers have more than their hands full, so, to ease themselves, they hand over their excited and wriggling victims to the Antelope priests, who, during the whole of this part of the ceremony, remain in line, solemnly chanting.

The Snakes in the Kiva at Mashonganavi, after the Ceremony of Washing.

At last all the snakes have been brought from the kisi. The chief priest steps forth, describes a circle of sacred meal upon the ground, and, at a given signal, all the priests, Snake and Antelope alike, rush up to it, and throw the snakes they have in hands or mouths into the circle, at the same time spitting upon them. The whole of the Hopi spectators, also, no matter where they may be, reverently spit toward this circle where now one may see through the surrounding group of priests the writhing, wriggling, hissing, rattling mass of revolting reptiles. Never before on earth, except here, was such a hideous sight witnessed. But one's horror is kept in abeyance for a while as is heard the prayer of the chief priest and we see him sprinkle the mass with sacred meal, while the asperger does the same thing from the sacred water bowl.

Then another signal is given! Curious spectator, carried away by your interest, beware! Look out! In a moment, the Snake priests dart down, "grab" at the pile of intertwined snakes, get all they can in each hand, and then, regardless of your dread, thrust the snakes into the faces of all who stand in their way, and like pursued deer dart down the steep and precipitous trails into the appointed places of the valley beneath. Here let us watch them from the edge of the mesa. Reverently depositing them, they kneel and pray over them and then return to the mesa as hastily as they descended, divesting themselves of their dance paraphernalia as they return.

Now occurs one of the strangest portions of the whole ceremony. The Antelope priests have already returned, with due decorum, to their kiva. One by one the Snake men arrive at theirs, sweating and breathless from their run up the steep trails. When all have returned, they step to the top of their kiva, or, as at Walpi, to the western edge of the mesa, and there drink a large quantity of an emetic that has been especially prepared for the purpose. Then, O ye gods! gaze on if ye dare! The whole of them may be seen bending over, solemnly and in most dignified manner, puking forth the horrible decoction they have just poured down. This is a ceremony of internal purification corresponding to the ceremonial washing of themselves and the snakes before described. This astounding spectacle ends as the priests disappear into their kiva, where they restore their stomachs to a more normal condition by feasting on the piki, pikami, and other delicacies the women now bring to them in great quantities. Then for two days frolic and feasting are indulged in, and the Snake Dance in that village at least is now over, to be repeated two years hence.

What is the significance, the real meaning of the Snake Dance? It is not, as is generally supposed, an act of snake worship. Here I can do no more than give the barest suggestion as to what modern science has concluded. It is mainly a prayer for rain in which acts of sun worship are introduced. The propitiation of the Spider Woman at her shrine by the offerings of prayers and bahos by the chief Antelope priest demonstrates a desire for rain. She is asked to weave the clouds, for without them no rain can descend. The lightning symbol of the Antelope priests; the shaking of their rattles, which sounds like the falling rain; the use of the whizzer to produce the sounds of the coming storm,—these and other similar things show the intimate association of the dance with rain and its making.

Allied to rain are the fructifying processes of the earth; and as corn is their chief article of food, and its germination, growth, and maturity depend upon the rainfall, the use of corn-meal and prayers for the growth of corn have come to have an important place in the ceremony.

The use of the snakes is for a double purpose. In celebrating this ceremony it is the desire of the Snake clan to reproduce the original conditions of its performance as near as possible, in order to gain all the efficacy they desire for their petitions. In the original performance the prayers of the Snake Mother were the potent ones. Hence the snakes must now be introduced to make potent prayers.

The other idea is that the snakes act as intermediaries to convey to the Snake Mother in the underworld the prayers for rain and corn growth that her children on the earth have uttered.

In considering the ceremony of the public dance certain questions naturally arise. Are the Hopis ever bitten by the venomous snakes, and, if so, what are the consequences? And what is the secret of their power in handling these dangerous reptiles with such startling freedom?

After taking the Emetic. Hopi Snake Dance at Walpi.

There are times when the priests are bitten, but, as was suggested in the snake legend, they have a snake venom charm liquid. This is prepared by the chief woman of the Snake clan, and she and the Snake priest alone are supposed to know the secret of its composition. It may be that ere long this secret will be given to the world by a gentleman who is largely in the confidence of the Hopis, but, as yet, it is practically unknown. That it is an antidote there can be no question. I have seen men seriously bitten by rattlesnakes, and in each case, after the use of the antidote, the wounded priests suffered but slightly.

As to the "why" of the handling of the snakes. The "fact" it is easy to state; but when one enters the realm of theory to explain the "why" of the fact, he places himself as a target for others to shoot at. My theory, however, is that a fear within yourself arouses a corresponding fear within the reptile. As soon as he feels fear he prepares to use the weapons of offence and defence with which nature has provided him.

If, on the other hand, you feel no fear, and, in touching the creature, do not hurt him so as to arouse his fear, he may be handled with impunity.

Be this as it may, the fact remains—for I have examined the snakes before, during, and after the ceremony—that dangerous and untampered with rattlesnakes are used by the Hopis in this, their prayer to "Those Above" for rain.