To
Morris K. Jesup, M.A., LL.D.
President of the American Museum of Natural History of New York
The Patron and Friend of Science
This Work Is Respectfully Dedicated As a Token of Gratitude and Regard [vii]

In the course of my travels in Australia, and especially after my arrival at Upper Herbert River in Northern Queensland, I soon perceived that it would be impracticable for me to hunt for zoological specimens without first securing the assistance of the natives of the country. Thus it came about that for over a year I spent most of my time in the company of the cannibalistic blacks of that region, camping and hunting with them; and during this adventurous period I became so interested in these primitive people that the study of savage and barbaric races has since become my life’s work.

I first conceived the idea of an expedition to Mexico while on a visit to London in 1887. I had, of course, as we all have, heard of the wonderful cliff-dwellings in the Southwest of the United States, of entire villages built in caverns on steep mountain-sides, accessible in many cases only with the aid of ladders. Within the territory of the United States there were, to be sure, no survivors of the race that had once inhabited those dwellings. But the Spaniards, when first discovering and conquering that district, are said to have come upon dwellings then still occupied. Might there not, possibly, be descendants of the people yet in existence in the northwestern part of Mexico hitherto so little explored? [viii]

I made up my mind, then and there, that I would answer this question and that I would undertake an expedition into that part of the American continent. But my ideas were not realised until in 1890 I visited the United States on a lecturing tour. On broaching the subject of such an expedition to some representative men and women, I met with a surprisingly ready response; and interest in an undertaking of that kind being once aroused, the difficulties and obstacles in its way were soon overcome.

Most of the money required was raised by private subscription. The principal part of the fund was, however, furnished by a now deceased friend of mine, an American gentleman whose name, in deference to his wishes, I am bound to withhold. The American Museum of Natural History of New York and the American Geographical Society of New York contributed, each, $1,000, and it was arranged that I should travel under the auspices of these two learned institutions. Many scientific societies received me most cordially.

The Government in Washington readily furnished me with the official papers I required. The late Mr. James G. Blaine, then Secretary of State, did everything in his power to pave my way in Mexico, even evincing a very strong personal interest in my plans.

In the summer of 1890, preparatory to my work, I visited the Zuñi, Navajo, and Moqui Indians, and then proceeded to the City of Mexico in order to get the necessary credentials from that Government. I was received with the utmost courtesy by the President, General Porfirio Diaz, who gave me an hour’s audience at the Palacio Nacional, and also by several members of his cabinet, whose appreciation of the importance and [ix] the scientific value of my proposition was truly gratifying. With everything granted that I wanted for the success of my expedition—free passage for my baggage through the Custom House, the privilege of a military escort whenever I deemed one desirable, and numerous letters of introduction to prominent persons in Northern Mexico who were in a position to further my plans—I hurried back to the United States to organise the undertaking. My plan was to enter, at some convenient point in the State of Sonora, Mexico, that great and mysterious mountain range called the Sierra Madre, cross it to the famous ruins of Casas Grandes in the State of Chihuahua, and then to explore the range southward as extensively as my means would permit.

The western Sierra Madre may be considered a continuation of the Rocky Mountains and stretches through the greater part of Mexico into Central and South America as a link of the Cordilleras, which form a practically uninterrupted chain from Bering Strait to Cape Horn. The section occupying Northwestern Mexico is called Sierra Madre del Norte, and offers a wide field for scientific exploration. To this day it has never been surveyed.

The northernmost portion of the Sierra Madre del Norte has from time immemorial been under the dominion of the wild Apache tribes whose hand was against every man, and every man against them. Not until General Crook, in 1883, reduced these dangerous nomads to submission did it become possible to make scientific investigations there; indeed, small bands of the “Men of the Woods” were still left, and my party had to be strong enough to cope with any difficulty from them. [x]

Inasmuch as my expedition was the first to take advantage of the comparative security prevailing in that district, I thought that I could best further the aims of Science by associating with me a staff of scientists and students. Professor W. Libbey, of Princeton, N. J., took part as the physical geographer, bringing with him his laboratory man; Mr. A. M. Stephen was the archæologist, assisted by Mr. R. Abbott; Messrs. C. V. Hartman and C. E. Lloyd were the botanists, Mr. F. Robinette the zoölogical collector, and Mr. H. White the mineralogist of the expedition.

All the scientific men were provided with riding animals, while the Mexican muleteers generally rode their own mounts. Our outfit was as complete as it well could be, comprising all the instruments and tools that might be required, besides tents and an adequate allotment of provisions, etc. All this baggage had to be transported on mule-back. We were, all in all, thirty men, counting the scientific corps, the guides, the cooks, and the muleteers, and we had with us nearly a hundred animals—mules, donkeys, and horses—as we crossed the sierra.

It was a winter campaign, and from Nacori, in Sonora, to Casas Grandes, in Chihuahua, we were to make our own trail, which we did successfully. Ancient remains were almost as rare as in the rest of the Sierra Madre del Norte; yet traces of ancient habitations were found in the shape of stone terraces, which had evidently served agricultural purposes, and at some places rude fortifications were seen. In the eastern part we came upon a considerable number of caves containing house Croups, the builders of which, generally, rested in separate burial-caves. In the same locality, [xi] as well as in the adjacent plains of San Diego, Chihuahua, we found numerous mounds covering house groups, similar in construction to those in the caves. From underneath their floors we unearthed about five hundred beautifully decorated pieces of pottery.

Among the further results of the expedition may be mentioned the gathering of large collections of plants, among them twenty-seven species new to science; fifty-five mammals, among which the siurus Apache was new to science, and about a thousand birds. A complete record was made of meteorological observations.

Thus far, although the question regarding surviving cliff-dwellers was answered negatively, the field southward in the sierra was so promising that I was eager to extend my explorations in that direction. The funds of the expedition, however, began to run low, and in April, 1891, I had to return to the United States to obtain more money with which to carry on a work that had opened so auspiciously. I left my camp in San Diego in charge of one of my assistants, instructing him to go on with the excavations during my absence. This work was never interrupted, though the force of men was now considerably reduced. The law prohibiting excavations without the special permit of the Government of Mexico had not yet been promulgated.

I was so absolutely confident of the ultimate success of my efforts, in spite of discouragements, that I twice crossed the entire continent of North America, went down to the City of Mexico and came north again—a journey of over 20,000 miles—seeing prominent people and lecturing to arouse a public interest. Finally, the American Museum of Natural History of New York decided to continue the explorations, the funds being [xii] this time supplied mainly through the munificence of the late Mr. Henry Villard, and toward the end of that year I was able to return to my camp, and in January, 1892, lead the expedition further south. My scientific assistants were now: Mr. C. V. Hartman, botanist; Mr. C. H. Taylor, civil engineer and photographer, and Mr. A. E. Meade, mineralogist and zoological collector.

This time we came upon Cave-Dwellers. The Tarahumare Indians of the Sierra Madre, one of the least known among the Mexican tribes, live in caves to such an extent that they may properly be termed the American Cave-Dwellers of to-day. I determined to study these interesting people, especially the so-called gentiles1 (pagans), and as this was not practical, even with the present reduced size of the expedition, I gradually disbanded the entire company and at last remained alone.

By selling most of my animals, and a large part of my outfit, and through the untiring efforts of two American ladies, whose friendship I highly esteem, I was enabled to continue my researches alone until August, 1893, when I took my Tarahumare and Tepehuane collections to Chicago and exhibited them at the World’s Fair. Extensive vocabularies of the Tarahumare and Tepehuane languages, as well as a vocabulary of the now almost extinct Tubares, were among the results of this expedition, besides anthropological measurements, samples of hair and osseous remains.

The great possibilities Mexico offers to ethnology proved an irresistible incentive to new researches, and seeing the results of my previous expeditions, the American [xiii] Museum of Natural History of New York again sent me out on what was to be my third and most extensive Mexican expedition, which lasted from March, 1894, to March, 1897. During these three years I again travelled alone, that is, without any scientific assistants, at first with two or three Mexicans. Soon, however, I found that my best companions were the so-called civilised Indians, or even Indians in their aboriginal state, who not only helped me by their mere presence to win the confidence of their tribesmen but also served me as subjects of observation. As before, I stopped for months with a tribe, discharging all alien attendants, and roughing it with the Indians. In this way I spent in all a year and a half among the Tarahumares, and ten months among the Coras and Huichols. At first the natives persistently opposed me; they are very distrustful of the white man, and no wonder, since he has left them little yet to lose. But I managed to make my entry and gradually to gain their confidence and friendship, mainly through my ability to sing their native songs, and by always treating them justly.

Thus I gained a knowledge of these peoples which could have been procured in no other way. When after five or six months of such sojourns and travel my stock of “civilised” provisions would give out, I subsisted on what I could procure from the Indians. Game is hard to get in Mexico, and one’s larder cannot depend on one’s gun. As in Australia, my favourite drink was hot water with honey, which, besides being refreshing, gave a relish to a monotonous diet.

All along my route I gathered highly valuable material from the Tarahumares, the Northern and the Southern Tepehuanes, the Coras, the Huichols, and the [xiv] Tepecanos, all of which tribes except the last named dwell within the Sierra Madre del Norte; also from the Nahuas on the western slopes of the sierra, as well as from those in the States of Jalisco and Mexico; and, finally, from the Tarascos in the State of Michoacan. Of most of these tribes little more than their names were known, and I brought back large collections illustrating their ethnical and anthropological status, besides extensive information in regard to their customs, religion, traditions, and myths. I also completed my collection of vocabularies and aboriginal melodies. On my journey through the Tierra Caliente of the Territory of Tepic, and the States of Jalisco and Michoacan, I also obtained a number of archaeological objects of great historical value and importance.

In 1898 I made my last expedition to Mexico under the same auspices, staying there for four months. On this trip I was accompanied by Dr. Ales Hrdlicka. I revisited the Tarahumares and Huichols in order to supplement the material in hand and to settle doubtful points that had come up in working out my notes. Sixty melodies from these tribes were recorded on the graphophone.

Thus from 1890 to 1898 I spent fully five years in field researches among the natives of northwestern Mexico. The material was collected with a view to shedding light upon the relations between the ancient culture of the valley of Mexico and the Pueblo Indians in the southwest of the United States; to give an insight into the ethnical status of the Mexican Indians now and at the time of the conquest, and to illuminate certain phases in the development of the human race. [xv]

So far the results of my expeditions to Mexico have been made public in the following literature:

CARL LUMHOLTZ: “Explorations in Mexico,” Bulletin of the American Geographical Society, 1891.

CARL LUMHOLTZ: Letters to the American Geographical Society of New York, “Mr. Carl Lumholtz in Mexico,” Bulletin of the American Geographical Society, Vol. III., 1893.

J. A. ALLEN: “List of Mammals and Birds Collected in Northeastern Sonora and Northwestern Chihuahua, Mexico, on the Lumholtz Archæological Expedition, 1890–1892,” Bulletin of the American Museum of Natural History, Vol. V., Art. III., 1893.

B. L. ROBINSON and M. L. FERNALD: “New Plants Collected by Mr. C. V. Hartman and Mr. C. E. Lloyd upon the Archæological Expedition to Northwestern Mexico under the Direction of Dr. Carl Lumholtz,” Proceedings of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, Vol. XXX., 1894.

CARL LUMHOLTZ: “American Cave-Dwellers; the Tarahumares of the Sierra Madre,” Bulletin of the American Geographical Society, Vol. III., 1894.

CARL LUMHOLTZ: “The Cave-Dwellers of the Sierra Madre,” Proceedings of the International Congress of Anthropology, Chicago, 1894.

CARL LUMHOLTZ: Four articles in SCRIBNER’S MAGAZINE: “Explorations in the Sierra Madre,” November, 1891; “Among the Tarahumares, the American Cave-Dwellers,” July, 1894; “Tarahumare Life and Customs,” September, 1894; “Tarahumare Dances and Plant Worship,” October, 1894.

C. V. HARTMAN: “The Indians of Northwestern Mexico,” Congrès International des Americanistes, Dixième Session, Stockholm, 1894.

CARL LUMHOLTZ: “Blandt Sierra Madres huleboere,” Norge, Norsk Kalender, Kristiania, 1895.

CARL LUMHOLTZ and ALEŠ HRDLIČKA: “Trephining in Mexico,” American Anthropologist, December, 1897.

CARL LUMHOLTZ: “The Huichol Indians in Mexico,” Bulletin of the American Museum of Natural History, Vol. X., 1898.

TARLETON H. BEAN: “Notes on Mexican Fishes Obtained by Carl Lumholtz.” Bulletin of the American Museum of Natural History, Vol. X., 1898. [xvi]

CARL LUMHOLTZ and ALES HRDLICKA: “Marked Human Bones from a Prehistoric Tarasco Indian Burial-place in the State of Michoacan, Mexico,” Bulletin of the American Museum of Natural History, Vol. X., 1898.

ALEŠ HRDLIČKA: “Description of an Ancient Anomalous Skeleton from the Valley of Mexico, with Special Reference to Supernumerary Bicipital Ribs in Man,” Bulletin of the American Museum of Natural History, Vol. XII., 1899.

CARL LUMHOLTZ: “Symbolism of the Huichol Indians,” Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History, Vol. III., May, 1900; 228 royal quarto pages and 3 coloured plates.

IN PREPARATION:

CARL LUMHOLTZ: “Conventionalism in Designs of the Huichol Indians,” Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History.

The present volumes give a succinct account of my travels and work among the remote peoples of the Sierra Madre del Norte and the countries adjacent to the south and east as far as the City of Mexico. Most of what I tell here refers to a part of the Republic that is never visited by tourists and is foreign even to most Mexicans. Primitive people are becoming scarce on the globe. On the American continents there are still some left in their original state. If they are studied before they, too, have lost their individuality or been crushed under the heels of civilisation, much light may be thrown not only upon the early people of this country but upon the first chapters of the history of mankind.

In the present rapid development of Mexico it cannot be prevented that these primitive people will soon disappear by fusion with the great nation to whom they belong. The vast and magnificent virgin forests and the mineral wealth of the mountains will not much longer remain the exclusive property of my dusky [xvii] friends; but I hope that I shall have rendered them a service by setting them this modest monument, and that civilised man will be the better for knowing of them.

That I have been able to accomplish what I did I owe, in the first place, to the generosity of the people of the United States, to their impartiality and freedom from prejudice, which enables foreigners to work shoulder to shoulder with their own advance guard. I wish to extend my thanks in particular to the American Geographical Society of New York, and still more especially to the American Museum of Natural History of New York, with whom I have had the honour of being connected more or less closely for ten years. To its public-spirited and whole-souled President, Mr. Morris K. Jesup, I am under profound obligations. I also take pleasure in acknowledging my indebtedness to Mr. Andrew Carnegie, who initiated my Mexican ventures with a subscription of $1,000; furthermore to the Hon. Cecil Baring, Mr. Frederick A. Constable, Mr. William E. Dodge, Mr. James Douglass, Mrs. Joseph W. Drexel, Mr. George J. Gould, Miss Helen Miller Gould, Mr. Archer M. Huntington, Mr. Frederick E. Hyde, Mr. D. Willis James, Col. James K. Jones, the Duke of Loubat, Mr. Peter Marié, Mr. Henry G. Marquand, Mr. F. O. Matthiessen, Mr. Victor Morawetz, Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan, Mrs. Edwin Parsons, Mr. Archibald Rogers, Mr. F. Augustus Schermerhorn, Mr. William C. Schermerhorn, Mr. Charles Stewart Smith, Mr. James Speyer, Mr. George W. Vanderbilt, Mr. William C. Whitney, of New York; to Mr. Frederick L. Ames, Mrs. John L. Gardner, Mrs. E. Mason, Mr. Nathaniel Thayer, Mr. Samuel [xviii] D. Warren, Dr. Charles G. Weld, of Boston; to Mr. Allison D. Armour and Mr. Franklin MacVeagh, of Chicago; to Mrs. Phoebe Hearst, Mr. Frank G. New. lands, Mrs. Abby M. Parrot, Mr. F. W. Sharon, of San Francisco; to Mr. Adolphus Busch, of St. Louis; to Mr. Theo. W. Davis, of Newport; and to the late Mr. E. L. Godkin.

Much valuable support or assistance I have also received from Mrs. Morris K. Jesup; Mrs. Elizabeth Hobson, of Washington, D. C.; Miss Joanna Rotch, of Milton, Mass.; Mrs. Henry Draper, of New York; Mrs. Robert W. Chapin, of Lenox; the late Mr. E. L. Godkin; Professor Alexander Agassiz; Professor F. W. Putnam, Curator of the American Museum of Natural History in New York; Dr. S. Weir Mitchell, of Philadelphia; Professor Franz Boas, Curator of the American Museum of Natural History in New York; Dr. B. L. Robinson and Dr. M. L. Fernald, of Harvard University; Professor J. A. Allen and Mr. L. P. Gratacap, Curators of the American Museum of Natural History.

I am under obligation to Mr. Marshall H. Saville, Curator of the American Museum of Natural History, especially for the placing of the names of the ruins of Southern Mexico on one of the maps; to Miss Alice Fletcher, of Washington, D. C., and Mr. Edwin S. Tracy for transcribing from the graphophone three of the songs rendered in this book, and to Mrs. George S. Bixby for aid in transcribing the native music. Finally I desire to express my appreciation of the untiring services of my private secretary, Mrs. H. E. Hepner.

The upper illustration on page 65 is a reproduction of a photograph kindly furnished me by Mr. Frank H. Chapman, and the illustration in Vol. I., pages 145–146, [xix] is made from a photograph acquired through the late Dr. P. Lamborn. The illustration in Vol. II., pages 464–465, I owe to the courtesy of Mr. D. Gabriel Castaños, of Guadalajara.

The coloured illustrations are represented as the objects appear when the colours have been brought out by the application of water.

The maps do not lay claim to an accuracy which, under the circumstances, it was impossible to obtain, but they will, I hope, be found to be an improvement on the existing ones.

Dr. Aleš Hrdlička, who has just returned from the Hyde expedition, informs me that in visiting the western part of Sonora he found pure Opata spoken west of Rio de Sonora and north of Ures, e.g., in Tuape.

Wherever dollars and cents are given Mexican currency is meant.

In the Indian Songs II., 10 and 18, I have made an attempt at rendering the native words in English in such a form that the translations could be sung, without, however, deviating from the original.

In the native words “x” should be given the sound of the Greek χ. [xxi]

CHAPTER I

Preparations for the Start—Our Dry Goods Relished by the Cattle—I Become a “Compadre”—Beautiful Northern Sonora—Mexican Muleteers Preferable in Their Own Country—Apache Stories—Signs of Ancient Inhabitants—Arrival at Upper Yaqui River—Opata Indians now Mexicanised—A Flourishing Medical Practice—Mexican Manners—Rock-carvings—How Certain Cacti Propagate, Pages 1–16

CHAPTER II

A Remarkable Antique Piece—A New Species of Century Plant—Arrival at Nacori, at the Foot of the Sierra Madre—Trincheras—A Mammoth Tusk Secured—Climbing the Sierra Madre—A New Squirrel Discovered—Solitude—Apache Monuments—Arrival at Upper Bavispe River, Pages 17–40

CHAPTER III

Camping at Upper Bavispe River—Low Stone Cabins, Fortresses, and Other Remains Indicating Former Habitation—The Animals Starve on the Winter Grass of the Sierra and Begin to Give Out—A Deserted Apache Camp—comfort at Last—The Giant Woodpecker—We Arrive at the Mormon Settlements of Pacheco and Cave Valley, Pages 41–59

CHAPTER IV

A Splendid Field Prepared for Us by the Ancient Agriculturists of Cave Valley—House Groups in Caves Along a Pretty Stream—Well-preserved Mummies Found in Caves—More Trincheras—Our Excavations in Caves and Mounds Confirm to the Mormons their Sacred Stories—We Move to the Plains of San Diego—Visit to Casas Grandes and the Watch-tower—Successful Excavations of the Mounds near San Diego, Pages 60–98

CHAPTER V

Second Expedition—Return to the Sierra—Parrots in the Snow—Cave-dwellings at Garabato, the most Beautiful in Northern Mexico—A Superb View of the Sierra Madre—The Devil’s Spine Ridge—Guaynopa, the Famous Old Silver Mine—Aros River—On Old Trails—Adventures of “El Chino”—Cure for Poison Ivy, Pages 99–117 [xxii]

CHAPTER VI

Fossils, and One Way of Utilising Them—Temosachic—The First Tarahumares—Ploughs with Wooden Shares—Visit to the Southern Pimas—Aboriginal Hat Factories—Pinos Altos—The Waterfall near Jesus Maria—An Adventure with Ladrones, Pages 118–135

CHAPTER VII

The Uncontaminated Tarahumares—A Tarahumare Court in Session—The Power of the Staff—Justice has its Course—Barrancas—Excursion to the Gentiles—Tarahumare Costumes Simple and Inexpensive—Trincheras in Use Among the Tarahumares, Pages 136–155

CHAPTER VIII

The Houses of the Tarahumares—American Cave-dwellings of To-day—Frequent Changes of Abode by the Tarahumare—The Patio or Dancing Place—The Original Cross of America—Tarahumare Storehouses, Pages 156–178

CHAPTER IX

Arrival at Batopilas—Ascent from Batopilas to the Highlands of the Sierra—A Tarahumare who had been in Chicago—An Old-timer—Flight of Our Native Guide and its Disastrous Consequences—Indians Burn the Grass All Over the Country—Travelling Becomes too Difficult for the Animals—Mr. Taylor and I Go to Zapuri—Its Surroundings—The Pithaya in Season, Pages 179–189

CHAPTER X

Nice-looking Natives—Albinos—Ancient Remains in Ohuivo—Local Traditions, the Cocoyomes, etc.—Guachochic—Don Miguel and “The Postmaster”—A Variety of Curious Cures—Gauchochic Becomes My Head-quarters—The Difficulty of Getting an Honest Interpreter—False Truffles—The Country Suffering from a Prolonged Drought—A Start in a Northwesterly Direction—Arrival at the Pueblo of Norogachic, Pages 190–202

CHAPTER XI

A Priest and His Family Make the Wilderness Comfortable for Us—Ancient Remains Similar to those Seen in Sonora—The Climate of the Sierra—Flora and Fauna—Tarahumare Agriculture—Ceremonies Connected with the Planting of Corn—Deterioration of Domestic Animals—Native Dogs of Mexico, Pages 203–217

CHAPTER XII

The Tarahumares Still Afraid of Me—Don Andres Madrid to the Rescue—Mexican Robbers Among the Tarahumares—Mode of Burial in Ancient Caves—Visit to Nonoava—The Indians Change their Minds about Me, and Regard Me as a Rain-god—What the Tarahumares Eat—A Pretty Church in the Wilderness—I Find at Last a Reliable Interpreter and Proceed to Live à l’Indienne, Pages 218–234 [xxiii]

CHAPTER XIII

The Tarahumare Physique—Bodily Movements—Not as Sensitive to Pain as White Men—Their Phenomenal Endurance—Health—Honesty—Dexterity and Ingenuity—Good Observers of the Celestial Bodies and Weather-forecasters—Hunting and Shooting—Home Industries—Tesvino, the Great National Drink of the Tribe—Other Alcoholic Drinks, Pages 235–257

CHAPTER XIV

Politeness, and the Demands of Etiquette—The Daily Life of the Tarahumare—The Woman’s Position is High—Standard of Beauty—Women Do the Courting—Love’s Young Dream—Marriage Ceremonies, Primitive and Civilised—Childbirth—Childhood, Pages 258–275

CHAPTER XV

Many Kinds of Games Among the Tarahumares—Betting and Gambling—Foot-races the National Sport—The Tarahumares are the Greatest Runners in the World—Divinations for the Race—Mountains of Betting Stakes—Women’s Races, Pages 276–294

CHAPTER XVI

Religion—Mother Moon Becomes the Virgin Mary—Myths—The Creation—The Deluge—Folk-lore—The Crow’s Story to the Parrot—Brother Coyote—Beliefs about Animals, Pages 295–310

CHAPTER XVII

The Shamans or Wise Men of the Tribe—Healers and Priests in One—Disease Caused by Looks and Thoughts—Everybody and Everything has to be Cured—Nobody Feels Well without His “Doctor”—Sorcery—The Powers of Evil are as Great as those of Good—Remarkable Cure for Snake-bite—Trepanning Among the Ancient Tarahumares, Pages 311–329

CHAPTER XVIII

Relation of Man to Nature—Dancing as a Form of Worship Learned from the Animals—Tarahumare Sacrifices—The Rutuburi Dance Taught by the Turkey—The Yumari Learned from the Deer—Tarahumare Rain Songs—Greeting the Sun—Tarahumare Oratory—The Flowing Bowl—The National Importance of Tesvino—Homeward Bound, Pages 330–355

CHAPTER XIX

Plant-worship—Hikuli—Internal and External Effects—Hikuli both Man and God—How the Tarahumares Obtain the Plant, and where They Keep It—The Tarahumare Hikuli Feast—Musical Instruments—Hikuli Likes Noise—The Dance—Hikuli’s Departure in the Morning—Other Kinds of Cacti Worshipped—”Doctor” Rubio, the Great Hikuli Expert—The Age of Hikuli Worship, Pages 356–379 [xxiv]

CHAPTER XX

The Tarahumare’s Firm Belief in a Future Life—Causes of Death—The Dead are Mischievous and Want Their Families to Join Them—Therefore the Dead Have to be Kept Away by Fair Means or Foul—Three Feasts and a Chase—Burial Customs—A Funeral Sermon, Pages 380–390

CHAPTER XXI

Three Weeks on Foot Through the Barranca—Rio Fuerte—I Get My Camera Wet—Ancient Cave-dwellings Ascribed to the Tubar Indians—The Effect of a Compliment—Various Devices for Catching Fish—Poisoning the Water—A Blanket Seine, Pages 391–407

CHAPTER XXII

Resumption of the Journey Southward—Pinus Lumholtzii—Cooking with Snow—Terror-stricken Indians—A Gentlemanly Highwayman and His “Shooting-box”—The Pernicious Effect of Civilisation Upon the Tarahumares—A Fine Specimen of the Tribe—The Last of the Tarahumares, Pages 408–421

CHAPTER XXIII

Cerro de Muinora, the Highest Mountain in Chihuahua—The Northern Tepehuanes—Troubles Cropping Out of the Camera—Sinister Designs on Mexico Attributed to the Author—Maizillo—Foot-races Among the Tepehuanes—Influence of the Mexicans Upon the Tepehunaes, and Vice Versa—Profitable Liquor Traffic—Medicine Lodges—Cucuduri, the Master of the Woods—Myth of the Pleiades, Pages 422–436

CHAPTER XXIV

On to Morelos—Wild and Broken Country—The Enormous Flower-spike of the Amole—Subtropical Vegetation of Northwestern Mexico—Destructive Ants—The Last of the Tubars—A Spectral Ride—Back to the United States—An Awful Thunder-storm—Close Quarters—Zape—Antiquities—When an “Angel” Dies—Mementos of a Reign of Terror—The Great Tepehuane Revolution of 1616—The Fertile Plains of Durango, Pages 437–450

CHAPTER XXV

Winter in the High Sierra—Mines—Pueblo Nuevo and Its Amiable Padre—A Ball in My Honour—Sancta Simplicitas—A Fatiguing Journey to the Pueblo of Lajas and the Southern Tepehuanes—Don’t Travel After Nightfall!—Five Days Spent in Persuading People to Pose Before the Camera—The Regime of Old Missionary Times—Strangers Carefully Excluded—Everybody Contemplating Marriage is Arrested—Shocking Punishments for Making Love—Bad Effects of the Severity of the Laws, Pages 451–470 [xxv]

CHAPTER XXVI

Pueblo Viejo—Three Languages Spoken Here—The Aztecs—The Musical Bow—Theories of Its Origin—Dancing Mitote—Fasting and Abstinence—Helping President Diaz—The Importance of Tribal Restrictions—Principles of Monogamy—Disposition of the Dead, Pages 471–483

CHAPTER XXVII

Inexperienced Help—How to Acquire Riches from the Mountains—Sierra del Nayarit—The Coras—Their Aversion to “Papers”—Their Part in Mexican Politics—A Déjeuner à la Fourchette—La Danza, Pages 484–495

CHAPTER XXVIII

A Glimpse of the Pacific from the High Sierra—A Visionary Idyl—The Coras Do Not Know Fear—An Un-Indian Indian—Pueblo of Jesus Maria—A Nice Old Cora Shaman—A Padre Denounces Me as a Protestant Missionary—Trouble Ensuing from His Mistake—Scorpions, Pages 496–507

CHAPTER XXIX

A Cordial Reception at San Francisco—Mexicans in the Employ of Indians —The Morning Star, the Great God of the Coras—The Beginning of the World—How the Rain-clouds were First Secured—The Rabbit and the Deer—Aphorisms of a Cora Shaman—An Eventful Night—Hunting for Skulls—My Progress Impeded by Padre’s Ban—Final Start for the Huichol Country—A Threatened Desertion, Pages 508–530 [xxvii]

Heavy floods in the southern part of Arizona and New Mexico, with consequent wash-outs along the railroads, interfered with my plans and somewhat delayed my arrival at Bisbee, Arizona, a small but important mining place from which I had decided to start my expedition. It is only some twenty odd miles from the Mexican border, and the Copper Queen Company maintains there well-supplied stores, where the necessary outfit, provisions, etc., could be procured. The preparations for the start consumed more than two weeks. Animals had to be bought, men selected and hired, provisions purchased and packed. In the meantime [2] I was joined by the various scientific assistants appointed to take part in the expedition.

The horses and mules were bought in the neighbourhood. In purchasing animals much caution is required in that part of the country, as even men who pose as gentlemen will try to take advantage of the situation. One such individual not only raised his prices, but delivered unbroken animals. Much loss of time and endless annoyance were caused, first in the camp and later on the road, by unruly mules, that persistently threw off their packs and had to be subdued and reloaded.

Gradually, I had succeeded in finding the necessary men; This was another hard task to accomplish. There are always plenty of fellows, ready for adventures, greedy to earn money, and eager to join such an expedition. But to select the right ones among the cow-boys and miners of the border lands is most difficult.

By what appears, furthermore, to be the compensating justice of Nature, the treasures of the earth are always hidden in the most unattractive, dismal, and dreary spots. At least all the mining places I ever visited are so located, and Bisbee is no exception. To get away from the cramped little village and its unsavoury restaurant, I established my first camp four miles south of it on a commodious and pleasant opening, where we could do our own cooking. But here a new annoyance, and rather a curious one, was met with. The cattle of the region evinced a peculiar predilection for our wearing apparel. Especially at night, the cows would come wandering in among our tents, like the party who goes about seeking what he may devour, and on getting hold of some such choice morsel as a sock, shirt, or blanket, Mrs. Bossie would chew and chew, “gradually,” to quote Mark Twain, “taking it in, all the while opening and [3] closing her eyes in a kind of religious ecstasy, as if she had never tasted anything quite as good as an overcoat before in her life.” It is no use arguing about tastes, not even with a cow. In spite of this drawback, it was pleasant to be out in the country, which was growing delightfully green after the rains, and gave us a foretaste of what we might expect.

The last thing to do, after all other preparations had been completed, was to get into the camp three small bags containing seven hundred and fifty Mexican dollars, since among the Mexican country population paper money is hardly of any use. There was some talk about a raid on the camp by some toughs in the neighbourhood, but we made our start unmolested, on September 9, 1890.

Thanks to my letters from the Mexican Government, I had no trouble at the custom-house in San Pedro. I stopped a few days there, nevertheless, to buy some Mexican pack-saddles, called aparejos, which, roughly speaking, are leather bags stuffed with straw, to be fastened over the mules’ backs. Through the courtesy of the Mexican custom officials I also secured two excellent and reliable Mexican packers, to take the place of some Americans who had been fighting in the camp and proved themselves unfit for my purpose.

As a mark of regard, one of the custom officers invited me to act as godfather to his child. I had to support the baby’s head during the ceremony, while an elderly woman held the little body. According to custom, I gave twenty-five cents to every member of the party, and to the child a more adequate present. From now on I was called compadre by most of the people in the village, and that sacred relationship was established between myself and the baby’s family, which is deemed of so much importance in the life of the Mexicans. [4] During ten years of travel and ethnological activity I have never met the child again, but I hope that he is getting on well.

How beautifully fresh the country looked as we travelled southward in Northern Sonora! The dreary plains of Arizona gave way to a more varied landscape, with picturesque hills studded with oaks and mountain cedars. Along the rivers cottonwood was especially noticeable. There was also an abundance of wild-grape vines. Everywhere near the shady creeks I saw the evening primrose, brilliantly yellow, while the intense, carmine-red flowers of the lobelia peeped out from under the shrubs. But of all the flowers on the banks of the streams, the most remarkable was the exquisitely beautiful Datura meteloides, with its gorgeous white crown, six inches long and four inches wide. We saw one cluster of this creeper fully fifty feet in circumference. It is well known among the Navajo Indians that the root of this plant, when eaten, acts as a powerful stimulant; but the better class among the tribe look upon it with disfavour, as its use often leads to madness and death. The effect of the poison is cumulative, and the Indians under its influence, like the Malays, run amuck and try to kill everybody they meet.

There is also found a species of cactus, with a root which looks like an enormous carrot. One small plant had a root four feet long. It is used as soap.

Among the birds, doves and flycatchers were most [5] commonly seen, one species of the latter frequently dazzling our eyes with its brilliant vermilion plumage.

The men I had hired before crossing the border did not work at all well with the Mexicans. They generally considered themselves vastly superior to the latter, whom they did not recognise as “white men.” Personally, I preferred the Mexicans, who were obedient, obliging, and less lawless than the rough, mixed-white citizens of the American Southwest. As an illustration of the moral status of the frontier population, I may relate that when about sixty miles south of the border, a custom-house official stationed in the neighbourhood insisted upon examining all my baggage, which, of course, would have involved a lot of trouble. He was neither worse nor better than other custom officers, who seem to exist only to annoy people, and by the exertion of a little patience I succeeded in settling the matter satisfactorily. But one of my foremen, who had noticed my annoyance, came up to me and asked if I desired “to get rid” of him; if I did, said he, he knew how he could serve me so that nothing more would be heard from the Mexican!

I gradually weeded out this unscrupulous element among the men, and replaced most of the American with Mexican muleteers, who are far superior in that particular line of business. In hiring them, only one precaution had always to be observed: never to accept one unless he had a good recommendation from his [6] village authorities or some prominent man in the neighbourhood.

The first village of any importance we passed was Fronteras. It is built on the summit and slopes of an elevated plateau and looks extremely picturesque at a distance. Seen close, however, it turns out to be a wretched little cluster of adobe, or sun-dried brick, houses. Not only the town itself, but also all the ranches in the neighbourhood are erected on elevations, a precaution from former days against the bloodthirsty Apaches.

Not so very long ago Fronteras was quite an important place, numbering, it is said, some 2,000 inhabitants. But the Apaches, by their incessant attacks, made the life of the villagers so miserable that the place became depopulated. Once it was even entirely abandoned. Many stories of the constant fights with these savages are related by the survivors of those struggles. Never was it safe in those days to venture outside of the town limits. Yet the conflicts did not always end in one way, and the Mexicans sometimes got the better of the raiders, although it may be doubted whether the methods by which these results were brought about would come under the rules of modern warfare.

One bright moonlight night an old man, who had himself taken part in many an Apache fight, led me to a deep gorge where seven Apaches once met their doom. The story he told was as follows:

A large band of warriors came threateningly into the town. They had killed two hawks and, decorated with their feathers, were on the warpath. As they were in such numbers the Mexicans realised that it would be useless to attempt resistance, and therefore sued for peace, which was granted. A peace-banquet followed, during which mescal, the Mexican brandy, flowed freely, [7] distributed without stint to the warriors by their wily hosts, who were abiding their time. When the Apaches were intoxicated the villagers fell upon them and captured seven men; most of the band, however, managed to escape. Next day the prisoners were taken to the ravine and speared, charges of powder being deemed too good for them. Only el capitan, pointing to his head, requested, as a special favour, to be shot, which was done. Their bodies were buried in the ravine where they fell, but too long a time had already elapsed since the event to enable me to secure for my collections the specimens for which I had been on the lookout. Yet I was told by the inhabitants that the ground about the town was so full of Apache remains that I should have [8] no difficulty in gaining my object in places close by. A number of Apaches, men and women, I was informed, had once been dumped into a well. I set to work at the place indicated, and our efforts were rewarded by the exhumation of eight skulls in perfect condition, besides many typical bones. The last raid of the Apaches on Fronteras was in 1875.

Passing Cochuta about a hundred miles south of Bisbee, we came upon a deposit of fossils. It was scarcely more than a mile in extent, but many bones were said to have been taken away from it as curiosities. I had already observed isolated fossil bones along the creeks on several occasions during our travels, but we could find nothing here of value.

Signs that the country was in former times occupied by another race than its present inhabitants are seen everywhere throughout the region we traversed following the road to the south. Here they appear frequently as remarkable groupings of stones firmly embedded in the ground. Only the tops of the stones (the total length of which is about one foot) are seen above the surface, much as stones are used in parks and gardens for ornamental purposes. They are arranged in circles or in rectangles. I saw two circles close to each other, each six feet in [9] diameter. One rectangle measured fifty feet in length by half that in width. Low walls divided it into three indistinct partitions. There was never any wall built underneath these surface stones, nor were there any traces of charring. Among the ruins found on top of the hills we collected a lot of broken pottery and some flint arrowheads. In several places in this district we found gold and coal, but not in paying quantities.

Some forty miles south of Cochuta we turned in a southerly direction, ascending a hilly plateau 3,200 feet above sea-level. Here we observed the first orchids, yellow in colour and deliciously fragrant, and in the cañon below we met the first palms. The rocks continued to show volcanic and metamorphic formation.

About 130 miles south of Bisbee we caught the first glimpse of the Sierra Madre rising above the foot-hills, some forty miles off to the east. Its lofty mountain peaks basking in the clear blue ether, beckoned to us inspiringly and raised our expectations of success. This, then, was the region we were to explore! Little did I think then that it would shelter me for several years. It looked so near and was yet so far, and as we travelled on southward the sight of it was soon lost again.

We gradually descended to the Bavispe River, a name here given to the Yaqui River, in accordance with the custom which the Mexicans have in common with people in other parts of the world of giving different names to one river in its course through different districts. It was a treat to catch the first sight of the magnificent sheet of water the river forms near the town of Opoto, as it slowly wends its way through green shrubs. It is the largest river of the west coast of Mexico and is here about 1,400 feet above the level of the sea.

Following the river to the south, we soon passed the towns of Guasavas and Granados. The vegetation [10] along the river banks is in strong contrast to the land in general. Here are fields of sugar-cane, and in the orchards, orange, fig, and lime trees grow in abundance. The country, though fertile, is dry, and the heat is great. Even at the end of October the thermometer sometimes registered 100° F. in the shade. The grass had become dry and scarce, and it was difficult to keep the animals in satisfactory condition.

This territory was once in the possession of the large tribe of Opata Indians, who are now civilised. They have lost their language, religion, and traditions, dress like the Mexicans, and in appearance are in no way distinguishable from the labouring class of Mexico with which they are thoroughly merged through frequent intermarriages. [11]

As we passed the hamlets, our large party and outfit created quite a sensation and aroused the people from the uneventful routine of their daily existence. They used to surround my tent, especially mornings and evenings, as if an auction had been going on inside. Some of them wanted to sell things that would come in handy, such as fowls or panoche (brown sugar). One woman offered me three chickens for one dollar. I told her she charged too high a price, as chickens were not worth more than twenty-five cents apiece; but she insisted that she wanted a dollar, because she had promised that amount to the padre for reading a mass for a man who had died in the time of Hidalgo at the beginning of the century.

But most of the crowd flocked to my tent to consult me about their ailments. It was useless to tell them that I was not a medical man, or that I had not much medicine to spare, carrying only what I expected to use for my own party. If I had given them all they wanted, our little stock would have been exhausted on [12] the first day; but in order to soften my heart they would send me molasses, sugar-cane, and similar delicacies. One poor old woman who was suffering from cancer even offered me her donkey if I would cure her—an offer in a way equivalent to a Wall Street magnate’s millions, for the donkey was her sole possession on earth.

They all were anxious to have me feel their pulse, whether there was anything the matter with them or not. They firmly believed that this mysterious touch enabled me to tell whether they were afflicted with any kind of disease and how long they were going to live. A woman in delicate condition wanted me to feel her pulse and to tell her from that when her child was going to be born. I only hope that my practical advice and the little medicine I could give them relieved some of their backaches and sideaches, their felons, croups, and fevers and agues, and above all, their indigestion, which is the prevailing trouble in that section of the country. But I confess that I was nearly tired out with these consultations. In consequence of [13] frequent intermarriages there are many deaf and dumb persons among them, and epilepsy and insanity are by no means rare.

On the other hand, I was assured that such a character as a thief was here unknown. However this might be, it was certain that the Mexicans of Eastern Sonora were a nice class of people. They were pleasant to deal with, very active and obedient, and I never wish for better men than those I then had in my camp, nearly all of whom were from these parts. The people were poor, but genuinely hospitable. Of course they were ignorant, and might not, for instance, recognise a check unless it was green. In each town, however, I found one or two men comparatively rich, who knew more of the world than the others, and who helped me out in my difficulties by going from house to house, collecting all the available cash in town, or what coffee and sugar could be spared to make up the deficiency. One thing is certain, I should never have gotten on so well had it not been for the friendly and obliging attitude of the Mexicans everywhere. As an instance, when the great scarcity of grass began to tell seriously on the animals, I was efficiently helped out by the courtesy of some influential men. Without any personal letters of introduction I received many services whenever I showed my letters of recommendation from the Governor of the State, and had a hearty welcome.

I was so much impressed with the readiness of the people to accommodate and serve me that my notebook contains the remark: “I find the Mexicans more obliging than any nation I have ever come in contact with.” It has been my lot to travel for years in Mexico, and my experience with her people only tended to deepen the pleasant impression I received at the outset. Anyone who travels through Mexico well recommended [14] and conducts himself in accordance with the standard of a gentleman is sure to be agreeably surprised by the hospitality and helpfulness of the people, high and low, and it is not a meaningless phrase of politeness only by which a Mexican “places his house at your disposal.”

It is of the utmost importance to have as your chief packer a man who thoroughly understands how to take care of the animals. It is not the custom in Mexico, as it is everywhere in Australia, to wash the backs of the animals as soon as the packs or saddles are taken off—a precaution which is very beneficial, as it strengthens the skin and prevents inflammation and sores. In the Southwest they do not wash their beasts of burden until the mischief is done and they have to allay the swelling and heal up the cuts. If not properly cared for from the beginning, the animals will soon be ailing; some grow unfit for service, and much time is lost mornings and evenings curing their sores. Through the carelessness of some packers I lost several valuable mules from such wounds. In summer the blue-bottle fly aggravates the annoyance, as it lays its eggs in the open spaces of the skin, and maggots develop in a very short time. Of course there are many ways of ridding an animal of this pest, but here, as everywhere, the proverbial ounce of prevention is better than the pound of cure.

A curious case of a man whose life was threatened by a blue-bottle fly and its maggots came to nay notice. He was a soldier, and once in a fight he had his nose cut off so that the nostrils became entirely exposed. One night when he was asleep, drunk, a fly laid its eggs in his nose, and when these were hatched it seemed as if the man was to be eaten up alive. I gave him some relief by syringing the parts with a solution of corrosive sublimate. Then an intelligent Mexican, who [15] had an extensive knowledge of the numberless native medicinal plants (many of which, no doubt, are very valuable), treated the patient, and in two days the poor wretch seemed to be in a fair way to be saved.

Near Granados I heard of some petroglyphs, or rock-carvings, and sent Mr. Stephen to examine them. The Mexicans called them “Painted Face.” They were to be found only two miles and a half to the northwest [16] of the town, and were interesting. The designs were rudely pecked on the moderately smooth felsite cliffs on a nearly perpendicular wall in the foot-hills, about forty feet above the bed of the arroyo, or gulch. All the human figures were drawn in the characteristic style that we find farther north, the hands and feet being defined with three radiating lines, like a bird’s track. The size of the figure, carved in something like a frame, is about twenty by twenty-four inches, and each of the three figures in the group close below is about eighteen inches high. Some of the drawings evidently represent the deified dragon-fly found almost everywhere among the ruins of Arizona and Northern Mexico. There are also the concentric circles, the conventionalised spiral, and the meander design, so common among the North American Indians, and still in use among the Moquis.

Our botanist, Mr. Hartman, drew my attention to an interesting cactus, which is beautifully shaped like a candelabra, and attains a height of three to five feet. As it grows old, the top joints of the branches become thick and heavy and are easily broken off by the wind. The joints, like all other parts of the plant, are beset with numerous inch-long spines, and many of them fasten in the loose, moist soil and strike root. In this way many new plants are formed, standing in a circle around the mother plant. On sloping ground the young plants form rows, some forty feet long. There was a fruit to be observed, but very scarce in comparison with that of other species of Cereus growing in the vicinity. [17]

From Granados we took an easterly course, being at last able to cross the Bavispe River, which, owing to heavy rains in the sierra, had for some time been overflowing. Starting from this point, the ground gradually rising, we arrived at Bacadehuachi, a small village remarkable for its church, a massive adobe structure, the grand style of which looked somewhat out of proportion in these mountains. It had been built by [18] the Franciscans more than 100 years ago, on the site of an older Jesuit church, remains of which are still in existence, and which in turn had been erected on the ruins of an ancient temple.

While inspecting the church Professor Libbey discovered that one of the holy water fonts or stoups was a piece of great antiquity, and we were informed that it had been dug up from the débris of the ancient temple when the foundations for the present building were laid. Its aesthetic value appealed even to the unscientific builders of the church, who deemed the vessel worthy of a place in the new cathedral, where it served as a bénitier. Unfortunately, it had been found necessary to engrave on the ancient carving some Roman letters dedicating the vessel to its new purpose. Though this somewhat mars its general character, the vase is a most valuable relic of prehistoric Mexico, not only as a masterpiece of ancient art, but still more as a way-mark or sign-post showing the trend of Aztec migrations.

It was not possible to obtain it right away, but a few days later I sent a messenger to a gentleman in Granados, whose wife had been relieved from illness by some remedy of mine, requesting him to use his influence [19] with the priest, and in due course I had the satisfaction of possessing this valuable relic of history. The vase is made of a soft, unctuous stone resembling steatite (soapstone); it is true agalmatolite, a mineral popularly called pagoda stone. Through the mouth of the human head carved out in front passes a copper tube, which once no doubt pierced the thick wall of the vessel and penetrated into its interior. This tube had been stopped up to make the piece available for its new purpose.

Marching for several days through oaks and mesquites, over hills and rising country, we reached Nacori, a poor village in the foot-hills of the Sierra Madre. It is scarcely forty miles from Granados, and lies at an elevation of 3,700 feet. Our camp, about two miles outside of the village, was permeated with a delicious odour of acacia blossoms, and water in the neighbouring mountains, though strongly impregnated with iron, was quite palatable.

In this region Mr. Hartman found a new form of [20] agave with delicate stripes of white on the lanceolate leaves that constitute the basal rosette of the plant. The flower stalk is only twelve or thirteen inches high, and I should not wonder if this diminutive and beautiful century plant some day became fashionable in greenhouses. It grows in large numbers in the crevices of the rocks, the perpendicular walls of cañons often being studded with the bright little rosettes when the drought has withered all herbaceous vegetation.

From here I made an excursion to an ancient pueblo site. As usual, there were traces of small dwellings, huts of undressed stone, and fragments of pottery. We found three mortars and one pestle, a remarkable number of metates (the stone on which corn is ground), and the corresponding grinding stones, showing that a large population must have once lived here, huddled together in a small space.

But the most striking feature of antiquity met thus far on our journey were curious stone terraces built across the small gullies. They are called trincheras (trenches). Some of them do not appear to be very old, and many present the appearance of tumble-down walls, but the stones of which they are constructed were plainly used in their natural state. Although many of the boulders are huge and irregular in shape, they were used just as they were found. The building material always conformed to the surroundings: in places where conglomerate containing water-worn boulders abounded, this was used; where porphyry was prevalent, blocks of that material were employed. There is no trace of [21] dressing or cutting, but in the mason work considerable skill is evident. The walls are not vertical, but incline somewhat toward the slope on which they are erected. The terrace thus formed is often filled with soil to the height of the wall-top for a space of from fifteen to twenty feet. Earth taken from them does not show any colours. Some of these trincheras measure thirty feet in length by four feet in height, while the smallest ones I saw were only five feet long and three feet high. Naturally enough, the largest ones are in the lower part of the gullies; then, some twenty-five feet back and above, others almost as large may be found. As the arroyo rises and narrows, the walls, each placed a little higher up the slope than the preceding one, are necessarily smaller.

In the mountains near Nacori, especially on their eastern and southeastern sides, trincheras were encountered in every gulch as high up as six thousand feet, though steep crests and the mountain tops bear no traces of them. In one arroyo, which was about a thousand feet in length and of comparatively gentle slope, twenty-nine trincheras were counted from the bed of the main drainage to the summit of the mountain. Some of them were quite close together, three being within eighteen feet of one another.

These trincheras somewhat resemble the small terrace gardens of the Moqui Indians, and have undoubtedly been used for agricultural purposes, just as they are used by the Tarahumares to this day (page 152). It is true that they are built in great numbers, sometimes in localities that would appear unsuitable for farming; but, on the other hand, they are seldom, if ever, found far from the remains of habitations, a fact from which it may also reasonably be inferred that the ruined houses, as well as the trincheras, were originally built by [22] the same race. Some of the terraces were, no doubt, erected as a protection of the crop against enemies and wild animals; but it is impossible to think that they were intended for irrigation dams, though we did see water running through some, coming out of a marsh. Still less likely is it that they had been used as mining dams.

As soon as the plains of Northern Sonora were left behind, and the country became hilly and broken, these peculiar structures were conspicuous. At first they appeared more like walls built simply along the slopes of the hills, and not crossing gulches. They seem to be more numerous in the western and central part of the sierra, its spurs and foot-hills, than in the eastern part of the great range. As regards their southern extent, they are not found further south than the middle part of the state of Chihuahua. Captain Bourke, in his book, “An Apache Campaign,” mentions that “in every sheltered spot could be discerned ruins, buildings, walls, and dams, erected by an extinct race once possessing these regions.” Mr. A. F. Bandelier, on his journey to the Upper Yaqui River, in 1885, which took him as far as Nacori, also refers to them, and Professor W. J. McGee, on his expedition in 1895, found in Northeastern Sonora ruins locally known as Las Trincheras, which he considered the most elaborate prehistoric work known to exist in Northwestern Mexico. They comprise, he says, terraces, stone-walls, and inclosed fortifications, built of loose stones and nearly surrounding two buttes.

I must not omit to mention that in a week’s exploration in the mountains near Nacori, Mr. Stephen and his party did not find any pottery fragments, nor flint flakes, nor grinding stones. They reported that there was in that region no other trace of an early people [23] than the hundreds of trincheras in the lower portions of the arroyos.

Noteworthy, however, was the frequent occurrence of old trails across the hills, some quite plainly traceable for three and four hundred yards. Old oaks stretched their limbs across many of them quite close to the ground.

While at Nacori I learned from the inhabitants that at no great distance from their town there were several deposits containing huesos giganteos (giants’ bones), a name given to fossils in this part of the world, where the people imagine that the large bones were originally those of giants. I had then neither time nor men to make excavations of any importance; but Mr. White, the mineralogist of the expedition, whom I sent to look into the matter, and who devoted a week to the examination of the deposits, reported that one of them, in a valley sixteen miles south of Nacori, was a bed of clay thirty feet thick and about a mile and a half long. On the edge of this field he discovered a tusk six feet eight inches long and twenty-six inches at its widest circumference, and having almost the curve of a circle. It was not petrified and had no bone core, but the hole filled in with clay, and its colour was a rich mahogany. It was undoubtedly the tusk of a mammoth.

From the beginning it had surprised me how very ignorant the people of Sonora were regarding the Sierra Madre. The most prominent man in Opoto, a town hardly forty miles from the sierra, told me that he did not know how far it was to the sierra, nor was he able to say exactly where it was. Not even at Nacori, so close to this tremendous mountain range, was there much information to be gotten about it. What the Mexicans know about that region may be briefly summed up thus: That it is a vast wilderness of mountains most difficult [24] of approach; that it would take eight days to climb some of the high ridges; that it contains immense pine forests alive with deer, bear, and wonderfully large woodpeckers, able to cut down whole trees; and that in its midst there are still existing numerous remains of a people who vanished long ago, but who once tilled the soil, lived in towns and built monuments, and even bridges over some of its cañons.

This general ignorance is mainly due to the fact that until very recently this entire part of the sierra, from the border of the United States south about 250 miles, was under the undisputed control of the [25] wild Apache Indians. From their mountain strongholds these marauders made raiding expeditions into the adjacent states, west and east, sweeping down upon the farms, plundering the villages, driving off horses and herds of cattle, killing men and carrying off women and children into slavery. Mines became unworkable; farms had to be deserted; the churches, built by the Spaniards, mouldered into decay. The raiders had made themselves absolute masters, and so bold were they that at one time a certain month in the year was set apart for their plundering excursions and called “the moon of the Mexicans,” a fact which did not prevent them from robbing at other seasons. Often troops would follow them far into the mountains, but the “braves” fought so skilfully, and hid so well in the natural fortresses of their native domain, that the pursuit never came to anything, and the Mexicans were completely paralysed with fear. The dread of the terrible pillagers was so great that even at the time when I first went into the district, the Mexicans did not consider it a crime to shoot an Apache at sight.

Such a scourge did this tribe become that the Governor of Chihuahua had a law passed through the Legislature, which put a certain price upon the head of every Apache. But this law had soon to be repealed, as the Mexicans, eager to get the reward, took to killing the peaceful Tarahumares, whose scalps, of course, could not be distinguished from those of the Apaches.

It was not even now safe for a small party to cross the Sierra Madre, as dissatisfied Apaches were constantly breaking away from the San Carlos Reservation in Arizona, and no Mexican could have been induced to venture singly into that vast unknown domain of rock and forest, about which lingered such painful memories [26] of bloodshed and terror.1 In the early part of our journey a Mexican officer had called on me to offer, in the name of the Governor of the State of Sonora, his services as escort and protection against the Apaches; but I declined the courtesy, preferring to depend rather upon my own men. I am happy to say that I had no personal encounter with the dreaded “Shis Inday,” or Men of the Woods, as they call themselves, though on one occasion we came upon fresh tracks near one of our camps, and also upon small bunches of yucca leaves tied together in a peculiar way known to the Mexicans as signs intelligible only to the Apaches.

The only precaution I had taken against possible attacks was to augment my force of trustworthy Mexican muleteers. Among the new recruits was an honest-looking Opata Indian, who joined the camp one evening, clad in the national costume of white cotton cloth, and carrying in his hand a small bundle containing his wife’s petticoat (probably intended to do duty as a blanket) and a pair of scissors. This was his whole outfit for a winter campaign in the Sierra Madre. They are hardy people, these Indians! This man told me that he was thirty years old; his “señora,” he said, was twenty-five; when he married her she was fifteen, and now they had eleven children.

Finally I succeeded in securing two guides. One of them was a very intelligent man, who had been several times in the sierra; the other one had been only as far as Chuhuichupa, and, although he did not remember the way very well, still he thought that with the help of the other man he would be able to make out the route. As we could do no better, we had to take him as the best guide available. [27]

After having received some supplementary provisions from Granados, I at last, on December 2, 1890, began the ascent. It was a beautiful day; the air was clear and warm and the sun shone bright, as it always does at this time of the year in this favoured region. The genius of spring seemed to hover about, and snow, frost and scarcity of grass seemed far removed contingencies. Everything looked promising.

As I left the town, following the pack-train after having made the last settlements with the natives, I passed a little hut, the last homestead on this side of the sierra. In front of it stood a young girl, her hand raised to shade her eyes against the rays of the sinking sun. She had watched the expedition go by, and was much excited by the strange sight of so many men, the wonderful array of animals and great quantity of baggage never before seen in those parts of the world. With her fine dark eyes, her loose wavy hair and graceful figure, she made a strikingly beautiful picture, and as she called out in a sweet, melodious voice, “Adios, Señor!” I took this kindly greeting from a pretty girl [28] as a good omen for my journey. On the spur of the moment I dismounted and perpetuated the auspicious scene by means of a kodak which I carried fastened to the pommel of my saddle. I wish it had been possible for me to send her that picture as a token of my gratitude for her cheery greeting. She surely would have appreciated it, as all Mexicans delight in seeing their photographs. Then I turned my face to the east and soon overtook my men.

To reach the Sierra Madre from the Bavispe River by way of Nacori, two—or, as the Mexicans consider it, three—sierras have to be crossed, all running, generally speaking, in a northwesterly to southeasterly direction. The first two ranges are quite easy to climb. The third is the Sierra Madre proper, which the Mexicans here call Sierra de Nacori, as the upper Bavispe River from its source makes a great detour toward the north around it, thereby partly separating it from the main chain. Even this range does not really present any unsurmountable difficulties if the weather is fine; in bad weather, I admit, some parts of the trail we made would be all but impracticable.

Having reached the second range called the Sierra de Huehuerachi, near its northern terminus, and looking backward, we see the Sierra de Bacadehuachi lying farthest to the west. On its eastern flank tower steep-tilted broken masses of conglomerate, and the frowning row of hog-backs just north and east of Nacori are only a continuation of that range. But looking east from where we were we obtained the first close view of the main range of the Sierra Madre (Sierra de Nacori). It rises bold and majestic on the opposite side of the valley, at the bottom of which runs the little river of Huehuerachi.

In this valley we camped for two days, being delayed [31] by rains. It was early in December, but we found Helianthus ten to twelve feet high in bloom everywhere in the cañons. A Salvia with a blue corolla, dotted with red glands, was very striking, a new variety, as it proved. We also observed elders with flowers and leaves at the same time, and the Bambusa formed a thick light-green undergrowth in beautiful contrast to the darker shades of the oaks, elders, and fan palms. The latter were the last of their kind we saw on this side of the sierra.

We then went six miles further to the northeast. At first the trail followed the little river, whose clear and rapid water is about a foot deep and on an average six feet wide. Frequently its bed had to be cleared of palm trees to make it passable for the pack train, and big boulders and heavy undergrowth made travel rough. Then, ascending a cordon which led directly up to the main range, we followed for a while a dim trail on which the Apaches used to drive the herds of cattle they had stolen, and which is said to lead to a place so inaccessible that two Indians could keep a whole company at bay. The surface soil we had lately been travelling over was covered with boulders and fragments of conglomerate.

The Sierra Madre was now so close that the tilted masses of its rocks seemed to overhang our tents threateningly where we had pitched them at its foot. From this camp we had about the same splendid view as from the ridge of Huehuerachi we had just left behind; and between us and the foot-hills of the Sierra de Bacadehuachi stretched out a vast mass of barren-looking rocks and hills. The Mexicans call them agua blanca, a designation also applied to the small water course that runs through them in a northerly and southerly direction, but which from our point of view could not be [32] made out in the chaotic confusion. Away off toward the north, at a distance of from fifteen to twenty miles, could be seen a high chain of sharp peaks.

I may mention here that I found the water of many streamlets and brooks throughout the western mountains of Mexico to have a slightly whitish colour and a dull, opalescent look, like a strong solution of quinine. The Mexicans call it agua blanca, or agua zarca, and consider it the best water they have. Many places, especially ranches, are named after it. In the locality where we now found ourselves the water had a slightly bitter taste, owing to a strong admixture of iron and other minerals, but generally it was very palatable.

Here, only twenty-three miles from Nacori, and at an elevation of 4,000 feet, we were obliged to make camp for three days. Dense fogs and occasional hard showers made travel impossible. Besides, our principal guide, Agustin Rios, became dangerously ill. He was sixty-five years old, and I decided to send him back.

When I hired him I had not been aware that he was afflicted with an incurable disease, and that on this account his wife had tried to keep him at home. Now he had to be carried on a sort of palanquin constructed for the occasion, and I regret to state that he died before he reached his home in Nacori. He had been a reliable man, and his loss was very deplorable.

Before he left he gave me directions for finding a rather large ancient pueblo, which he had come across [33] once in the sierra, and of which he frequently spoke to us. However, our search for it proved fruitless, and I am inclined to think that it would probably not have differed much from those we found later on Bavispe River.

From now on I made it a rule to send three or four men about two days ahead of the main body of the expedition, to make a path. Occasionally they were guided by Apache tracks, but for the most part we cut our own way through the wilderness. Instead of adopting the Mexican method of going uphill as straight as practicable, I had the trail cut zigzag, and to this I attribute the fact that I was able to pull through at all, as it saved the animals an immense amount of strain. The steepest inclination we ascended was 40°, while for the most part we climbed at an angle of about 30°. On some of the ridges, in order to help an animal up, one man had to drag it by a line, while two others pushed it from behind. In many places the mules had to be led one by one along the narrow edge of chasms.

To look at these mountains is a soul-inspiring sensation; but to travel over them is exhaustive to muscle and patience. And the possibility of losing at any moment [34] perhaps the most valuable part of your outfit is a constant and severe strain on your mind. Nobody except those who have travelled in the Mexican mountains can understand and appreciate the difficulties and anxieties attending such a journey. Not only the animals themselves, but everything they carry is vital to the success of the expedition, and there is always a danger that, for instance, your camera and photographic outfit, and the priceless collection of negatives already taken, may roll down a precipice.

A mule with its bulky pack is, to a certain extent, helpless on these narrow mountain trails. Old and experienced animals often manoeuvre their packs with a cleverness that is almost human: yet, whenever a mule runs accidentally against some projection, or its foot slips, the poor beast invariably loses its balance, and over it goes, down the hill with ever-increasing velocity.

On one occasion I heard a noise coming from above without being at first able to discern what caused it. A few stones came tumbling down, and were presently followed by a donkey, pack and all, turning over and over with astounding speed. It cleared a perpendicular rock some twenty feet high and landed at its base, rolling over twice. Then, to my amazement, it rose to its feet in the midst of its scattered cargo. And do you know what that cargo consisted of?—a case of dynamite and our tool chest! As fast as their legs could carry them, two Mexicans were by its side, promptly reloading the [35] donkey and leading it up to the trail as coolly as if nothing had happened. A very fine mule, raised on the plains of Arizona, was naturally giddy, and met with such a mishap three times in one day, tumbling down 150 to 200 feet without, however, being seriously hurt. At first I was greatly shocked to see the animals thus rolling over and over with their packs, down the mountain sides, never stopping until checked by some large tree or rock, sometimes 200 feet below. But the Mexicans were evidently quite accustomed to such happenings, which seemed to be in the regular line of their travel.

I could not help admiring the agility as well as the valour of my Mexican packers and muleteers on such occasions. They moved about as sure-footed and quick as sailors on their ship, and always on the alert. Whenever one of the poor beasts lost its foothold, the men would instantly run after it, and as soon as some obstacle stopped its downward career they would be by its side and relieve it of its burden. Of course, sometimes the animal was badly bruised about the head, and unable to carry a pack for a few days; but, mira-bile dictu! in the majority of cases it rose to its feet. Then, after giving it a few moments’ respite, the packers would strap the cargo again on its back, unless they deemed it proper to take a part of it upon themselves, so that the beast might more safely climb the declivity. The men really seemed indefatigable. One of them once took upon his head a large case of honey and carried it up the ridge on a run. Strange as it may sound, on my first journey across the Sierra Madre I did not lose one animal by such accidents.

Climbing, climbing, climbing, one massive cordon after another, at the start through dense oak thickets, and over hills flattened and eroded with countless deep, precipitous gashes seaming the rock in every direction. [36] Numerous springs oozed and trickled from the stratified conglomerate along the edges, sides, and bottoms of the ravines. The tops of some of these truncated knolls were quite swampy in the depressions, and covered with a thin-stemmed feathery grass. Here and there was a clump of scrub oaks; sparsely scattered about were small pines. We found great numbers of Opuntia Missouriensis, called by the Mexicans nopal; small mesquite shrubs, too, are seen everywhere, while the resurrection plant covers great areas, like the heather on the Scotch hills. Here are also found century plants, or agaves, and many species of small ferns, such as the graceful maidenhair. In the larger water-courses are poplars and maples, now presenting their most brilliant hues, and carrying the thoughts of the Americans back to their Northern homes.

Thus we advanced for about six miles and made camp, at an elevation of 6,300 feet, on some old trincheras, with a fine view over the vast country we had left below. Large flocks of gray pigeons of remarkable size squatted on the pine trees nearby, and two specimens of the gigantic woodpecker we here observed for the first time. Here, too, Mr. Robinette shot a new species of squirrel, Sciurus Apache. It was large, of a pale grayish-yellow color varied with black, and having a long, full and bushy tail.

We had now arrived in the pine region of the sierra. The Mexican scouts reported that the country ahead of us was still more difficult of access; but the track having been laid out well by Professor Libbey along the pine-covered slopes, we safely arrived at the crest of the sierra, which here has an elevation of 8,200 feet. The steep slopes of the valleys and crevices were covered with slippery pine needles eight to twelve inches long, while the pines rose up to a [37] height of a hundred feet or more. The forest, never touched by a woodman’s axe, had a remarkably young and fresh look about it. Now and then, however, at exposed places we came upon trees broken off like matches, telling of what terrific storms may rage over these solitary regions that received us calmly enough. Not until we had reached the top did we feel the wind blowing pretty hard from the east and encouraging us in our hopes that the fine weather would continue, although the moon appeared hazy.

Having ascended the sierra, we made a picturesque camp on the top of the cordon, in the midst of forests so dense that we did not get any view of the landscape. While here, Mr. Stephen discovered, on the summit of a peak, about four hundred and twenty feet above the brow of the ridge, a small, circular structure about four feet in diameter. Four or five large fragments of scoria, each about fifteen inches high, were set around in a circle, and the space between them was filled in [38] with small fragments. No nicety was shown in the work, but the arrangement of the stones was not accidental. It was, however, quite old, for in several places the fragments were cemented together with a thick coat of lichen. The purpose of the circle is a matter of conjecture.

We were now obliged, as the guide did not seem to know any more of the country, to explore ahead of us before the main body of the expedition could proceed further. Several of us went out in different directions, and I happened to strike the right course, which here unexpectedly goes first northward. Accompanied by my dog “Apache,” I walked in the fresh morning air through the sombre pine woods, the tops of which basked in glorious sunshine, and along the high cordon, which ran up to a height of 8,900 feet (the highest point reached on my first expedition over the Sierra Madre), until I came to a point where it suddenly terminated. But I soon ascertained that a spur branching off to the east would lead us in the right direction.

I sat down to gaze upon the magnificent panorama of the central part of the Sierra Madre spread out before me. To the north and northeast were pine-covered plateaus and hills in seemingly infinite successions; on the eastern horizon my eyes met the dark, massive heights of Chuhuichupa, followed towards the south by ridge upon ridge of true sierras with sharp, serrated crests, running mainly from northwest to southeast. And between them and me was an expanse of gloomy, pine-hidden cordons, one succeeding close upon another, and running generally in the same direction as the sierras. Primeval stillness and solitude reigned all over the woodland landscape. I like the society of man, but how welcome and refreshing are occasional moments of undisturbed communion with Nature! [39]

On the following day the pack train moved along the path I had walked over. We were pleasantly surprised to find at this season, the middle of December, and at this elevation, a species of violet in bloom, while Lupinus and Vicia were already in seed. We made our camp at a place 7,400 feet above sea level, and here we noticed trincheras close by, with water running through them from a marsh.

We also happened to come upon some stone piles made of rough stones laid on top of each other to a height of about three feet. The Mexicans called them “Apache Monuments,” and I saw here eight or ten, three at a distance of only twenty yards from each other and lying in a line from east to west. On the next day we found an Apache track with similar monuments. Some of these piles did not seem to be in places difficult to travel, and therefore could hardly have been intended for guide-posts, though others might have served that purpose; nor is it easy to see how they could have been meant for boundary marks, unless they were erected by [40] some half-castes who kept company with the Apaches, to divide off the hunting grounds of various families. It seems to me more likely that they are connected with some religious rite.

We had some little difficulty in making our descent to the Bavispe River, but at last we discovered, and travelled down, an old but still practicable trail, dropping nearly 1,000 feet. A little further northward we came down another 1,000 feet, and thus we gradually reached Bavispe, which is here a rapid, roaring stream, girth-deep, and in many places deeper. It here flows northward, describing the easterly portion of the curve it forms around the Sierra de Nacori.

I selected as a camping ground a small mesa on the left bank of the river, among pines and oaks and high grass, about forty feet above the water edge. A meadow set park-like with pines extended from here nearly three-quarters of a mile along the river, and was almost half a mile wide. Near our camp we found several old and rusty empty tin cans, such as are used for putting up preserved food. One of them was marked “Fort Bowie.” Doubtless this spot had been used before as a camping ground, probably by some of General Crook’s scouts. [41]

At Bavispe River we had to remain for some little time to allow the animals to recuperate, and to get them, as far as possible, in condition for the hard work still ahead. I also had to send back to Nacori for fresh provisions. Of course, not much was to be gotten there, but we got what there was in the line of food stuffs, panoche (brown sugar) and corn. My messengers had orders to bring the latter in the form of pinole, that is, toasted corn ground by hand into a fine meal. This is the most common, as well as the most handy, ration throughout Mexico. A little bag of it is all the provisions a Mexican or Indian takes with him on a journey of days or weeks. It is simply mixed with water and forms a tasty gruel, rather indigestible for persons not accustomed to it. When boiled into a porridge, however, pinole is very nourishing, and forms a convenient diet for persons camping out. Aside from this we still had a supply of wheat flour sufficient to allow the party fifteen pounds a day, and our stock of canned peas and preserved fruit, though reduced, was not yet exhausted. The jerked beef had given out even before we reached the main sierra, and we had to depend [42] on our guns for meat. Luckily, the forest was alive with deer, and there were also wild turkeys. Thus there was no difficulty about provisions, although the Americans sighed for their beloved bacon and hot biscuits.

Fish seemed scarce in this part of the Bavispe River; at least we did not succeed in bringing out any by the use of dynamite. We got only five little fish—one catfish, and four suckers, the largest six inches long.

On Christmas Day the black bulb thermometer rose in the sun to 150° F., although that very night the temperature fell to 22.9° F., a difference of nearly 130°. The warmth was such that even a rattlesnake was deceived and coaxed out by it.

We made every effort to celebrate Christmas in a manner worthy of our surroundings. We could not procure fish for our banquet, but one of the Mexicans had the good luck to shoot four turkeys; and Kee, our Chinese cook, surprised us with a plum pudding the merits of which baffle description. It consisted mainly of deer fat and the remnants of dried peaches, raisins, and orange peel, and it was served with a sauce of white sugar and mescal. The appreciation of this delicacy by the Mexicans knew no bounds, and from now on they wanted plum pudding every day.

On the upper Bavispe we again found numerous traces of a by-gone race who had occupied these regions long before the Apaches had made their unwelcome appearance. In fact, all along on our journey across the sierra we were struck by the constant occurrence of rude monuments of people now long vanished. They became less numerous in the eastern part, where at last they were replaced by cave dwellings, of which I will speak later. [43]

More than ever since we entered the Sierra de Nacori, we noticed everywhere low stone walls, similar to those we had seen in the foot-hills, and evidently the remains of small cabins. The deeper we penetrated into the mountains, the more common became these hut-walls, which stood about three feet high, and were possibly once surmounted by woodwork, or, perhaps, thatched roofs. All the houses were small, generally only ten or twelve feet square, and they were found in clusters scattered over the summit or down the slopes of a hill. On one summit we found only two ground plans in close proximity to each other.

The stones composing the walls were laid with some dexterity. They were angular, but never showed any trace of dressing, except, perhaps, by fracture. The interstices between the main stones were filled in with fragments to make the walls solid. Neither here nor in any other stone walls that we saw were there any indications of any mud or other plaster coating on the stones.

On top of a knoll in the mountains south of Nacori, at an elevation of 4,800 feet, well preserved remains of this kind of dwelling were seen. The house, consisting of but one room about ten feet square, was built of large blocks of lava. The largest of these were eighteen inches long, and about half as thick, and as wide. The walls measured about three feet in height and one foot and a half in thickness, and there was a sufficient amount of fallen stone debris near-by to admit of the walls having been once four or five feet high. There were the traces of a doorway in the northwest corner of the building. Numerous fragments of coarse pottery were scattered around, some gray and some red, but without any decoration, except a fine slip coating on the red fragments. [44]

In the Sierra de Nacori, on the summit of a steep knoll, and at an elevation of about 6,500 feet, we found two huts of such laid-up walls. The rough felsite blocks of which they were composed were surprisingly large, considering the diminutive size of the cabins. We measured the largest block and found it to be two feet long, ten inches wide, and eight inches thick. There were many others almost as large as this one. But there was only one tier of stones left complete in place. Although there were well-built trincheras in all the surrounding arroyos, there were no traces of either tools or pottery on that hill.

On the western slope of the Sierra de Nacori, on top of another knoll, and at an elevation of 6,400 feet, we found numerous rude ground plans, some of which showed rubble walls fifteen inches thick. They formed groups of four or five apartments, each ten by twelve feet. But on the north side of that summit there was a larger plan, nearly eighteen feet square; however, the outlines of the entire settlement were not distinct enough to enable us to trace its correct outlines.

Many fragments of pottery lay about, but neither in number nor in interest could they be compared with those found near the ruins in the southwest of the United States, for instance, near the Gila River. Some of the potsherds were one-third of an inch thick, and large enough to show that they had been parts of a large jar. They were made of coarse paste, either gray or brown in colour. Some had a kind of rude finish, the marks of a coarse fibre cloth being clearly discernible on the outside. Others were primitively decorated with incisions. One sherd of really fine thin red ware was picked up, but there was no trace of ornamentation on it. We found, besides, a few cores of felsite and some shapeless flakes and several fragments of large metates. [45]

In the valley formed between the mountains on the upper Bavispe River we met with very many such houses. The clusters which we came across seemed to have been composed of a larger number of houses. Parapets, also built of undressed stones and surrounding these villages, now became a constant feature. Even within sight of our camp was such a parapet, six feet high, and house ruins were near by. We also discovered an ancient pueblo consisting of thirty houses, all of the usual small dimensions, but not all alike in shape. Some were round, others triangular, but most of them were rectangular, measuring eight by ten feet. Along two sides of this village ran a double wall, while the other two sides were bound by a single wall constructed on the same principle. Evidently these walls were built for the protection of the people in time of war.

About five miles south of our camping place the river turns eastward, and again two miles below this point it receives a tributary from the west. One day I followed the broken cordon on its eastern bank, then turned north and ascended an isolated mountain, which rises about fifteen hundred feet high above the river. There is a small level space on top, and on this there has been built, at some time, a fortress with walls of undressed stones from two to six feet high and three feet thick. It was about fifty paces long in one direction, and about half that length in the other. Remains of houses could be traced, and inside of the walls themselves the ground plan of three little chambers could be made out.

On the Bavispe River we photographed a trinchera which was about eight feet high and thirty feet long; and one of the foremen observed one which was at least fifteen feet high.

I decided to move the camp one and a half miles [46] down the river, and to its right bank, on a cordon, where Mason, one of my Mexican foremen, had discovered some ruins. It was very pleasant here after the rather cool bottom of the valley, which in the morning was generally covered with a heavy fog. On this ridge were many traces of former occupancy, parapet walls and rude houses divided into small compartments. The parapets were lying along the north and south faces of the houses, and just on the brink of the narrow ridge. On the south side the ridge was precipitous, but toward the north it ran out in a gentle shallow slope toward the next higher hill. The building material here is a close-grained felsite, and huge fragments of it have been used in the construction of the parapets. These boulders were, on an average, thirty-five inches long, twenty-five inches thick and fifteen inches wide; while the stones used in the house walls measured, on the average, fourteen by nine by seven inches.

On the western end of the ridge is a small house group, which, for convenience sake, I will designate as “Mason’s Ruins.” They showed a decidedly higher method of construction, and the walls were better preserved, than in any we had seen so far. The ground plans could be readily made out, except in a small part of the southwest corner. These walls stood three to five feet high, and the stones here too were dressed only by fracture. They were laid in gypsiferous clay, a mass of which lay close to the southwest corner. This clay is very similar to the material used by the Moquis in whitening their houses. The stones themselves were felsite, which abounds in the locality. The blocks have an average size of twelve inches square by six inches thick. It should be noted that no regard was paid to the tying of the corners and the partition walls; but considerable care had been taken in making the walls vertical, and [49] the angles were fairly true. The walls were almost twelve inches thick, and on the inner side they had evidently never been plastered.

Being coated with some white plaster, these ruins look white at a distance, and the Mexicans therefore called them casas blancas. I heard of an extensive group of such buildings near Sahuaripa, and there are also some ruins of this category near Granados, and in the hills east of Opoto. Undoubtedly they belong to a more recent period than the rude stone structures described before. Most of the ancient remains of the Sierra are remnants of tribes that expanded here from the lowlands, and only in comparatively recent times have disappeared. I also perceived that they were built by a tribe of Indians different from those which erected the houses in the caves of the eastern and northern Sierra Madre, and in the country east of it, and may safely be ascribed to Opatas.

In spite of the rest here, the animals did not seem to improve on the grama and buffalo grass. It was rather perplexing to note that they grew weaker and weaker. The grass of the sierra, which was now gray, did not seem to contain much nourishment, and it became evident that the sooner we proceeded on our journey, the better. To save them as much as possible, we loaded only half the regular weight on the mules and donkeys, and sent them back the next day to fetch the balance of the baggage. In this way, and by strengthening the poor beasts with a judicious use of corn, I managed to pull through and overcome this most serious of all difficulties, which, at one time, threatened to paralyse the entire expedition.

On December 31st we moved up a steep zigzag trail cut out by us, and then went north and east through broken foot-hills. We got into a series of cordon mesas, [50] but the breaks between them were not at all difficult to pass. On the mountain sides grew oaks and, higher up, pines.

The country was wild and rugged. Everywhere we encountered fallen rocks, and there was a scarcity of water. It was a kind of comfort to see now and then some trincheras in these desolate regions. At four o’clock we camped on a steep place amidst poor grass, and only a trickling of water in the bed of a little rill.

Here, at last, the men whom I had sent to Nacori for provisions overtook us, bringing eighteen dollars’ worth of panoche, and two and a quarter fanegas of pinole. Measuring by fanegas was then still in vogue in Mexico; a fanega equals about sixty-four kilograms.

This, the messengers stated, was all that the women would grind for us. Twenty of them had been set to work to fill our order, and when they had laboured until their hands were tired, they declared they would grind no more; and if the caballeros in the mountains wanted further quantities, they should come and make mills of themselves. From this we judged that their tempers had risen in proportion to the heaps of pinole they were producing, and that they did not bless the day when we had come into their peaceful valley, since it meant so much hard work for them.

Though we were now provisioned for some time to come, I was anxiously looking forward to the day when we should reach the eastern side of the sierra. The animals were rapidly giving out, and it was the opinion of the packers that they could not last longer than a week; but what little corn we could spare for them each day worked wonders, and in this way we enabled them to carry us through.

The most noticeable among the plants in the valleys was the madroña or strawberry tree (Ardutus Texana) [51] growing singly here and there. Its beautiful stem and branches, ash-grey and blood-red, are oddly twisted from the root to the top. Now and then, in this world of pine trees, we came upon patches of grama grass. We also observed piñon trees, a variety of pine with edible seeds.

Apache monuments were plentiful in this part of the sierra, and after four days of travel, on January 5, 1891, we arrived at an old Apache camping place, called by the Mexicans “Rancheria de los Apaches.” It was a sheltered place, and we decided to stop again and rest, as now we could not be very far from the Mormon colonies in the eastern part of the sierra. We had, on the day before, heard a shot, which had not been fired by anyone of our party, and we had met some short-horn cattle that must have belonged to some settlers.

We halted on a bare conglomerate scalp near a little [52] creek, which we called “Bonito,” and which shortly below our camp joins the Gabilan, an affluent of the Bavispe River which probably has its origin near Chuhuichupa. The elevation of our camp was 6,620 feet. The summit of the sierra toward the east appeared to be 2,000 feet high, and the first ridge, at the foot of which we camped, rises here almost perpendicularly about a thousand feet. The little stream already mentioned originates in a deep cañon and adjoining it are four large cordons descending from the ridge east of us and spreading themselves out like a gigantic fan, which we had noticed from some distance on the previous day. From our camp led a track eastward, up along one of these cordons, and a reconnoitring party found a Mormon settlement ten or twelve miles off.

The day after our arrival I went out to take a look at the country. South of us, at no great distance from the camp, I found patches of fertile black soil partly cultivated with corn and turnips that did not appear to be flourishing, and with potatoes which were doing well. An old horse stood there, and I also noticed a small tent. Going up closer I found a plough standing outside. This made quite a queer impression in these solitary mountains, but the implement was apparently not out of place, judging from the beautiful black soil near-by. In the tent I saw a heap of bed-clothes piled up on some tin pails, and there were also some pots with potatoes and corn. The owner of all this was not at home; but the atmosphere was American, not Mexican. I had evidently come upon an outpost of one of the Mormon colonies.

Throughout January the days continued to be fine, though at times a southerly cold wind was blowing; but at night it was cold and the water in our buckets was often frozen. Then we felt what a real comfort a large [53] camp-fire is. Before sundown we would gather the fallen trees and such sorts of wood, and roaring fires were built in front of each tent. The smoke, to be sure, blackened our faces, but the fire made the tents wonderfully comfortable, filling them with light and warmth. For beds we used fragrant pine boughs.

We also had several falls of snow, the heaviest two and a half inches, and on the coldest night, on January 10th, the thermometer went down to 6° F. As the rays of the sun partly melted the snow in the course of the day, the animals could at least get a meagre meal. On January 15th a cup of water froze inside of my tent, but during the day we had 57° F.

We soon found out that in the river Gabilan, some four miles south of our camp, there were immense quantities of fish, which had come up to spawn. No one ever interfered with them, and their number was simply overwhelming. As the task of feeding thirty men in these wild regions was by no means a trifling one, I resolved to procure as many fish as possible, and to this end resorted to the cruel but effective device of killing them by dynamite. I trust that the scarcity of provisions in the camp will serve as my excuse to sportsmen for the method I employed. We used a stick of dynamite six inches long, and it raised a column of water twenty feet in the air, while the detonation sounded like a salute, rolling from peak to peak for miles around. In two hours three of us gathered 195 fish from a single pool. Most of them were big suckers; but we had also thirty-five large Gila trout. All were fat and of delicate flavour, and lasted us quite a long time.

Never have I been at any place where deer were so plentiful. Almost at every turn one of them might be seen, sometimes standing as if studying your method of approach. I sent out five men to go shooting in the [54] northwesterly direction from the camp, and after a day and a half they returned with ten deer. At one time we had fifteen hanging in the kitchen.

One morning our best marksman, a Mexican named Figueroa, brought in three specimens of that superb bird, campephilus imperialis, the largest woodpecker in the world. This splendid member of the feathered tribe is two feet long; its plumage is white and black, and the male is ornamented with a gorgeous scarlet crest, which seemed especially brilliant against the winter snow. The birds go in pairs and are not very shy, but are difficult to kill and have to be shot with rifle. One of their peculiarities is that they feed on one tree for as long as a fortnight at a time, at last causing the decayed tree to fall. The birds are exceedingly rare in the museums. They are only found in the Sierra Madre. On my journeys I saw them as far south as the southernmost point which the Sierra Madre del Norte reaches in the State of Jalisco, above the Rio de Santiago. I frequently observed them also in the eastern part of the range. [55]

Here, too, a great many specimens of the rare Mexican titmouse and some beautiful varieties of the duck tribe were procured.

A few days after our arrival at the Rancheria de los Apaches, Professor Libbey left our camp, returning to the United States by way of Casas Grandes. After bidding him good-bye, I made an excursion of a week’s duration to the north of our camp, to look for possible antiquities, especially a casa blanca, of which I had heard considerable from the people in Nacori.

The woods, considering that it was midwinter, were quite lively with birds. Everywhere I saw bluejays; crested titmice, too, were plentiful, as well as crossbeaks. A large yellowish squirrel also attracted my attention. It was of the same kind as that recently found by our expedition. The country was hilly and full of small cañons, and well watered by springs. Outcroppings of solidified volcanic ash looked in the distance like white patches in the landscape. We searched diligently for some twenty-five miles to the north of the main camp, and also toward the east and west, but no trace of former habitation was found except trincheras and house ruins such as we had seen before. Near one of the group of houses I saw three metates in an excellent state of preservation.

While out on this trip I was one day surprised by the appearance of a Mormon in my camp. It was really a pleasure to see someone from the outside world again; and this was a frank and intelligent man, very pleasant to talk to. He told me that he had never been farther north than where he was now; nor had he ever been farther west than the little creek about two miles west of the place where he met me, which he called the “Golden Gulch.” This creek probably originates in [56] the mountains near by; there was still another creek west of us which joined the Golden Gulch near the Mormon’s tent, and this he called “North Creek.” The ranch near our main camp he had taken up only about three years ago, and he considered agriculture in this region successful, especially with potatoes. Maize, too, may also ripen. Furthermore, he told me of some interesting cave dwellings near the Mormon settlement on the eastern edge of the sierra, which I decided to investigate.

When the Mormons had come to colonise parts of northern Mexico, an American called “Apache Bill,” who had lived for a number of years with the Apaches, told them of a large, fertile valley showing many evidences of former cultivation. Probably he referred to a locality that had once been inhabited by a remnant of the Opata Indians, who had become christianised and had received fruit trees from the missionaries. The trees, when found, were said to be still bearing fruit, while the people had vanished—having probably been killed off by the Apaches.

I returned to the main camp, leaving, however, two men behind to search still further for the casa blanca. When they returned after a few days, they reported that nothing could be found, and that the country was difficult of access. On my return I found the men who had gone to Casas Grandes back already, bringing with them some provisions and the first mail for three months.

Two miles east of our camp obsidian was found in situ. It was not in the natural flow, but in round, water-worn pebbles deposited in the conglomerate. Many of these had been washed out and had rolled down the hill, where a bushel of them might be collected in a few hours. The outcrop does not extend [57] over a large area, only about two hundred yards on one side of the bank.

On January 22d I started eastward toward the Mormon settlement, passing the watershed at a height of 8,025 feet. After fifteen miles of travel we arrived at the Mormon colony called Pacheco, and situated on the Piedras Verdes River. It consists of small wooden houses lying peacefully on the slope, surrounded by pine forests, at an elevation of seven thousand feet. A saw-mill bore evidence of industry. There were sixteen families living here, and as we arrived some eighty children were just streaming out of school. Near by stood a kindly looking old man, possibly their teacher. The children, who ranged in age from seven to eighteen years, were all studying in one class. They showed remarkably varied physiognomies, yet all looked healthy and sturdy, and were demure and well-behaved.

We made camp one and a half miles from the village, and in the evening we were visited by my friend from the sierra and another Mormon. Both expressed their readiness to serve us in every way they could; we bought some potatoes and half a hog.

As is the custom with the Mormons, they have several colonies outlying from a central one. Among these is Cave Valley, about five miles east to north from Pacheco, immediately upon the river already mentioned. On the following day I went there with the scientific corps to examine the cave dwellings of which the Mormons had been speaking. The settlement (having an elevation 6,850 feet) consisted of eight houses. Knocking on the door of one of these I walked in, introduced myself, and stated the purpose of my visit. “How do you do?” said my host; “my name is Nelson”—as if he had been accustomed to receive strangers every day. [58]

Mr. Nelson was quite a charming old man, more than seventy years old, but hardy. In spite of the cold, he walked out in his shirt sleeves in the full moonlight to select a camping place for me. The animals, he suggested, might be left in the field for the night; he would see about them in the morning, and he did not think there would be any difficulty about keeping them there. We got a fine camp on top of a hill with a view of the valley in which the caves are.

Mr. Nelson told us of two interesting caves on this side of the river; also, that there were numerous “inscriptions” (petroglyphs), that the country was full of mounds, and that skeletons and mummies had been found but had been buried again. From his statement it was evident that we had a rich field before us, and the results of the following day more than came up to our expectations.

The old man, acting as our guide, showed us on the way to the valley a primitive kind of corn-mill driven by water power, and with some pride he pointed out to us [59] an “infant industry,” the product of which so far was a dozen wooden chairs with seats of interwoven strips of green hide, instead of cane.

A number of caves were found to contain houses. One of them especially made a great impression on us on account of an extraordinary cupola-shaped structure, which from a considerable distance sprang into view from the mouth of the cave. Most of the caves were found on the western side of the river; but there were also some on the eastern bank, among them a number of burial caves. In one of the latter a well-preserved mummy was shown to us. It had already been taken up two or three times to be looked at; but our guide intimated that the influential Mormons in Utah did not want to have the skeletons and caves disturbed. I therefore left it for the present, but thought that in time we might get this, with whatever others might be found there.

I was introduced to a Mormon in the neighbourhood, who invited me to excavate a large mound close to his house. He would even help to dig, he said, and I was free to take whatever I might find inside of it. He was sure that there would be no difficulty about the mummies I might want to remove from the burial caves. [60]

Finding the locality so inviting for research, I decided to remain here, returning to Pacheco only to despatch the rest of my party to make excavations at the ranch of San Diego, thirty miles to the east, down on the plains of Chihuahua. The ranch was temporarily leased by an American, Mr. Galvin, who received my expedition hospitably, and invited the members to remain as long as they pleased and to make excavations wherever they wanted.

Cave Valley is the widening of a long, low-walled cañon through which the Piedras Verdes River flows. As its name implies, it contains many caves in the felsitic conglomerate overlying the region. It is from one-quarter to half a mile wide, and has a fine, rich, loamy soil. The stream is ten to twenty feet wide and from one to three feet deep. Fine forests of pine, oak, cedar, and maple surround it, and make it an ideal dwelling-place for a peaceful, primitive people.

The little knoll on which we were encamped rises on the north side of a brook which empties itself in the river. It was in equally close proximity to the dwellings of the living and the dwellings of the dead. [61]

Up the main stream, on the western wall of the cañon, and about a mile from our camp, is a large cave containing the curious cupola-shaped structure already mentioned. The cave is easy of approach up a sloping bank from its south side, and arriving at it we found it quite commodious and snug. It is about eighty feet wide at its mouth, and about a hundred feet deep. In the central part it is almost eighteen feet high, but the roof gradually slopes down in the rear to half that height.

A little village, or cluster of houses, lies at its back and sides. The interior of most of the rooms must have been quite dark, though the light reaches the outside of all the houses. The walls are still standing about six feet high. The compartments, though small, are seldom kennel-like. Some of the houses have shallow cellars. [62] The roof of the cave was thickly smoked over its entire surface. From traces of walls still remaining on it, we may infer that a second story had been built toward the centre of the cave, though this could only have been five feet high. These traces of walls on the roof further prove the important fact that this second story had been built in terrace-fashion, receding about four feet back from the front of the ground story.

The cave had evidently been occupied for a very long time, the houses showing many alterations and additions, and on the walls I counted as many as twelve coatings of plaster and whitewash. The conventional design of the ear of corn is well preserved in every doorway. Rude scrawlings of soot and water cover nearly all the front [63] walls, mixed here and there with a few traces of red ochre. There are meander designs, lightning, and drawings of cows and horses; but the latter were doubtless put on after the walls were demolished, and their general appearance denotes recentness.

Several of the cyclopean riffles lead from the cave cliff to the stream.

The houses here, as well as in all other caves we examined, were built entirely of a powdery substance, the decomposed material of the cave itself. Great quantities of it were found on the floors of caves which had not been occupied by man. It is not of a sandy nature, and its colour is light brown, sometimes almost grey, or even white. The ancient builders simply had to mix it with water and mould it into bricks, which, though fairly uniform in thickness, were very irregular in size. There were no marks of implements on the walls; all the work seems to have been done by hand and smoothed over with some wetted fabric. In one cave of this valley the walls show finger-marks on the plaster. Occasionally we found a small boulder of hard stone embedded in the wall.

The most unique feature of this cave, however, is the cupola-shaped structure which stands in an open space in front of the house group, near the mouth of the cave, but still under its roof. Its height, measured inside, is twelve feet, and its widest inside diameter is eleven feet. Its walls average eight inches in thickness. It has one aperture three feet wide at the top, another one of the same dimension near the base, and there are several others nearly opposite each other. In the two upper ones are seen distinct impressions of timber in the plaster.

The building was made by twisting long grass into a compact cable and laying it up, one round upon another. [64] As the coil proceeded, thick coats of plaster were laid on inside and outside. This plaster, which is the same material as that of which the houses are constructed, got thoroughly mixed with the straw during the process of building, and the entire structure was finished without any opening except the one at the top. The other apertures were undoubtedly cut out afterward. There is no trace of withes or other binding material to hold the straw cables in place. They are kept in position only by the plaster, which here, as in the houses, is almost as hard as the conglomerate of the surrounding rocks.

My Mexicans from Sonora called it olla, a jar, and insisted that it was a vessel used for keeping water; but this is entirely improbable, for several reasons, mainly because the river is in close proximity and easy of access. [65] It was without the slightest doubt a granary. Similar structures, used for that purpose to the present day, may be seen in the States of Vera Cruz and Tlaxcala. In a cave only a short distance away, the rear portion of which also contained a group of houses, we found between the mouth of the cave and the house walls the remains of five of these peculiar buildings which I call granaries. They, too, were made of straw and plaster, similar to the one described, but the walls [66] here were only two inches thick. The remains showed that they had not been set up in any special arrangement, nor were all five alike. Two of them were deeply sunken into the floor of the cave, and inside of them we found, between the rubbish and debris that filled them, several grains of corn and some beans.

The other caves which we examined in this valley were of the same general character as these two, although we found no granaries in them. On this page [67] is shown the ground plan of a cave on the east side of the river, and attention is drawn to the singular concrete seats or blocks against the wall in the house on the west side of the cave. A floor of concrete had been made in this cave extending inward and fairly level.

Evidence of two-storeyed groups of houses was clearly noticeable in many caves; but our investigations were somewhat impeded by the destruction wrought by some Mormon relic-hunter, who had carried off almost everything removable. He had even taken away many of the door lintels and hand-grips, in fact, most of the woodwork, from the houses.

In the rear of some of the caves it was so dark that we had to light a candle to find our way, crawling from house to house. In one instance we found a stone stairway of three steps.

In spite of the tremendous dust which is raised by digging into the ground, and which makes the work very arduous, we searched diligently and succeeded in bringing to light a number of objects which fairly welt illustrate the culture of the ancient people. Among [68] them were needles and awls of bone; a complete fire drill with a stick showing drilling, basketry work covered with piñon pith mats and girdles, threads of fibre or hair, and sandals plaited of yucca leaves. Wads of cotton and pieces of pottery were found in many places; and an interesting find was a “boomerang” similar to that used to this day by the Moqui Indians for killing rabbits. The handle is plainly seen, but the top is broken. The implement, which is made of very hard, reddish wood, has but a slight curve. We discovered many smooth pieces of iron ore that had probably been used for ceremonial purposes, and a bow that had been hidden away on a ledge.

That the ancient cave-dwellers were agriculturists is evident from the numerous corncobs, as well as grains of corn and beans, that we came upon. Datems, a green, sweet fruit still eaten by the Mexicans, were identified everywhere in the cave-dwellings.

Having effectually started the work of investigation here, I went to look after the second section of my expedition, which had been sent to San Diego. I covered the thirty-five miles with four pack mules in one day. There is a charming view from the brow of the sierra over the plains of San Diego, which are fully ten miles wide; but after descending to them I found a hard, cold wind blowing. The weather here is not at all as pleasant as in the sheltered Cave Valley up in the mountains. [69]

I went to Casas Grandes, a village of 1,200 souls, six miles north of San Diego, and succeeded in getting a draft cashed. On learning that Mr. Moses Thatcher, a prominent Mormon apostle from Utah, was on a tour of inspection of the colonies, I proceeded to Colonia Juarez, a prosperous Mormon settlement on the Piedras Verdes River, ten miles from Casas Grandes and six miles from San Diego. It was only four years old, but had already a number of well laid-out broad streets, set on both sides with cottonwood trees, and all the houses were surrounded by gardens. I explained to Mr. Thatcher that I desired to make excavations in Cave Valley, and he courteously acceded to my wishes, adding that I might take away anything of interest to science.

To reduce expenses, I paid off many of my Mexican men, who then returned to their homes in Sonora, going over the sierra by the trail we had made in coming east. A few months later several of them returned, bringing others with them, and asked to work again in the camp, which remained in San Diego for about nine months longer—long enough for us to see quite a little trade in oranges, sugar, tobacco, etc., developing between Sonora and Chihuahua by way of the road cut out by us, and called, after me, el camino del doctor.

[70] Excavations in Cave Valley were continued, and the burial caves gave even better results than the cave-dwellings. They were located in the eastern side of the cañon, which is rarely touched by the sun’s rays. With one exception the ceilings and sides of these caves were much blackened by smoke. There was not the slightest trace of house walls, and no other sign that the place had ever been inhabited; therefore, a fire here could have had no other purpose than a religious one, just as the Tarahumares to this day make a fire in the cave in which they bury their dead. Indeed, at first sight there was nothing in the cave to indicate that they had ever been utilised by man; but below the dust we came upon a hard, concrete floor, and after digging through this to a [71] depth of three feet, we fortunately struck a skull, and then came upon the body of a man. After this we disinterred that of a mother holding a child in her arms, and two other bodies, all lying on their left sides, their knees half drawn up, and their faces turned toward the setting sun. All were in a marvellous state of preservation, owing to the presence of saltpetre in the dust. This imparted to the dead a mummy-like appearance, but there was nothing to suggest that embalming or other artificial means of preservation of the bodies had been used. The entire system was simply desiccated intact, merely shrunken, with the skin on most of the bodies almost unbroken. The features, and even the expression of the countenance, were in many cases quite distinct. Some had retained their eyebrows and part of their hair, and even their intestines had not all disappeared.

The hair of these people was very slightly wavy, and softer than that of the modern Indian; in fact, almost silky. The statures were quite low, and in general appearance these ancients bear a curious resemblance to the Moqui Indians, who have a tradition that their ancestors came from the south, and who, to this day, speak of their “southern brethren”; but it would be [72] very rash to conclude from this that the cave-dwellers of northwestern Chihuahua are identical with the Moqui ancestors. I afterwards brought to light several other bodies which had been interred under similar conditions. The bottom of the burial caves seems to have always been overlaid with a roughly level, concrete floor. There was no trace here of cysts, or other formal sepulture.

None of the remains wore ornaments of metal, but various shell ornaments, anklets and bracelets of beautifully plaited straw, which, however, crumbled into dust when touched. Their clothing consisted of three layers of wrappings around the loins. Next to the body was placed a coarse cotton cloth; then a piece of matting, and over that another cotton cloth. Between the legs was a large wad of cotton mixed with the feathers of the turkey, the large woodpecker, and the bluejay. In a few instances, the cotton cloth was dyed red or indigo. Near the head of each body stood a small earthenware jar of simple design; in some cases we also found drinking gourds placed at the head, though in one instance the latter had been put on the breast of the dead. Buried with the person we found a bundle of “devil’s [73] claws” (Martynia). These are used by the Mexicans of to-day for mending pottery. They drill holes through the fragments to be joined and pass into them one of these claws, just as we would a rivet. The claw is elastic and strong, and answers the purpose very well. My Mexicans understood at once to what use they had been put.

As already alluded to, trincheras were also found in Cave Valley, where they were quite numerous. There was one or more in every ravine and gully, and what was a new feature, some were built across shallow drainages on the very summit of a hill. This summit was a bald conglomerate, about 150 feet above the valley. In one place we observed eight trincheras within 150 feet of each other, all built of large stones in the [74] cyclopean style of masonry. The blocks were lava and hard felsite, measuring one and a half to three feet. As a rule, these trincheras had a lateral extent of thirty feet, and in the central part they were fifteen feet high. After all the great labour expended in their construction, the builders of these terraces had secured in each only a space thirty feet long and fifteen feet wide; in other words, these eight terraces yielded together barely 3,000 square feet, which means space enough for planting five or six hundred hills of corn. People who do not know the Indians would consider this too small a result to favour the theory that these terraces were erected for agricultural purposes. But the Indian’s farming is, in proportion to his wants, conducted on a small scale, and he never thinks of raising more corn than he actually needs; in fact, many tribes, as for instance the Tarahumares, seldom raise enough to last the family all the year through.

Further groups of cave-dwellings were found some ten miles higher up the river, in what is called the “Strawberry Valley,” probably through the prevalence of the strawberry tree, of which several beautiful specimens were seen. The largest cave there contained fourteen houses. Unlike the dwellings in the Cave Valley, here a gallery ran in front of the houses. The woodwork here was fresher than that of the Cave Valley houses, and as the walls had only three coats of plaster and whitewash, and the corners did not show much wear, these dwellings were undoubtedly of more recent origin. But the general character of the structures was similar to those we first investigated. No implements were found in these caves. In the same locality were quite a number of smaller caves containing houses in demolition. In one of them the walls were composed of stones and mud, and here we also saw the first circular-shaped house in a cave. [75]

By digging below the concrete floor of one of the rooms, we came upon the skeletons of five adults. This was a singular fact, showing that these ancient cave-dwellers observed the custom of burying their dead under the floors of their houses when conditions permitted it. Cave-dwellings comprising twenty rooms were also seen by the Mormons at the head of Bavispe River.

My relations with [76] the Mormons continued to be friendly, and in my dealings with them I found them honest and business-like. While thriftily providing for the material requirements of this life, they leave all their enjoyment of existence for the future state. Their life is hard, but they live up to their convictions, though these, in some points, date from a by-gone stage in the development of the human race.

They were much interested in our work, never doubting but that it could only be to their advantage to have light thrown upon the mysteries buried in their caves, as, in their opinion, our researches would only confirm the statements made in the “Book of Mormon,” which mentions the prehistoric races of America. They [79] told me that the book speaks of the arrival of three races in America. The first landing was made at Guaymas in Sonora, the people being fugitives from the divine wrath that destroyed the Tower of Babel. They were killed. The second race landed in New England, coming from Jerusalem; and the third, also coming from Jerusalem, landed in Chile.

We spent altogether about six weeks in Cave Valley, and the weather, as far as our experience went, was pleasant enough, although in February, for several days, a strong, cold wind was blowing, so as to interfere with our work in the mounds at daytime and with our sleep at night. In addition to the discomforting feeling that at any moment my tent might be blown down, I was worried by the possibility of its falling on the results of our excavations, the pottery and skeletons, which, for safety’s sake, I kept in my tent. The situation was not improved by some indiscreet burro (donkey), who would stray into the camp and get himself entangled in the tent ropes.

On January 30th nearly seven inches of snow fell. One day a flock of twenty-five turkeys was observed near our camp; but our efforts to get within shooting distance proved futile, as these cunning birds, who apparently move about so unconcernedly, always disappeared as if they had vanished into the ground, whenever one of us, no matter how cautiously, tried to approach them.

News of Apaches was again afloat, and one day a Mexican officer called at the camp obviously in pursuit of Apaches from whom he had recently taken twelve horses: but unfortunately the men had escaped. The presidente of Casas Grandes had been advised of the killing of two Americans near San Bernardino by some Apaches, and had also ordered some men to look for the miscreants in the sierra. [80]

Having thoroughly investigated the caves, we turned our attention to the mounds, which are very numerous in this part of the country. They are always covered with grass, and sometimes even trees grow on them. When excavated they disclosed the remains of houses of a type similar to that of the cave-dwellings. Some of the mounds were high enough to justify the supposition that the houses had two stories, each six or seven feet high, and containing a number of rooms. From the locality in which the mounds were found it becomes at once evident that the houses which once stood there were not destroyed by inundations and covered by diluvial deposits. The mounds are composed of gravelly cement and fine debris of house walls, and the rooms left are completely filled with this material. It is easy to imagine how the mounds were formed by the gradual demolition of the ceilings, plastering, and roofs, forming a heap which to-day appears as shapely as if it had been made by man for some definite purpose.

The houses were communal dwellings, each consisting of one room, which generally was not quite ten feet square. The walls, eight to nine inches thick, built of a mixture of clay and earth, were fairly well preserved in places. In one house, which had unusually solid compartments, the walls were twenty, and in some places even thirty-three, inches thick. Here nothing could be found, either in the rooms or by excavating below the floor. The same conventional doorways were met with in all the mound houses, but there was hardly any trace Of woodwork.

Excavations in one of the mounds near our camp disclosed very interesting composite structures. One part of the walls consisted of large posts set in the ground and plastered over, forming a stuccoed palisade. At right angles with this was a wall of cobble-stones, [81] and among the buried debris were fragments of adobe bricks. In one room of this group, at a depth of less than five feet, we struck a floor of trodden concrete. Breaking through we found a huddle of six or seven skeletons, which, however, were not entire.

Rarely if ever was any object found in these rooms, except, perhaps, some stray axe, or some metates and grinding stones, and in one case a square stone paint pot. But by digging below the concrete floors we came upon skeletons which seemed to have been laid down without regard to any rule, and with them were invariably buried some household utensils, such as earthenware jars and bowls, beautifully decorated; axes and mauls, fairly carved and polished. One very rare object was secured: a doubled-grooved axe. The skeletons were badly preserved, but we were able to gather several skulls and some of the larger bones.

The floor material was so hard that only by means of heavy iron bars could we break through it. As it was [82] impracticable for us to make complete excavations, the number of rooms each mound contained cannot be stated. There were in the immediate neighbourhood of Cave Valley at least ten or twelve separate groups, each of which had from four to eight rooms on the ground floor. The entire district is richly studded with mounds. On an excursion three or four miles down Piedras Verdes River I saw several groups of mounds, some of which, no doubt, contained many objects of antiquity. On top of one low hill was a large group, and half a mile north of this another, 160 paces long and containing two oblong mounds. Some of the mounds were ten or twelve feet high.

A very trustworthy Mormon informed me that there were no ruins, in caves or otherwise, along the river between this settlement and Colonia Juarez; nor were there any, he said, for a hundred miles south of Pacheco, though mounds could be seen in several places. Therefore when I at last departed from Cave Valley, I took his advice and did not follow the course of the Piedras Verdes River down to San Diego, but led the pack train the safer, though longer, way over the regular [83] road. The country along the river was afterward explored by members of my expedition. They came upon several small caves high up on the side of the cañon, some of which had once been inhabited, to judge from the many potsherds and the smoky roofs; but no cave-houses were found until higher up the river, where some were seen in the sandstone cliffs.

I broke camp in Cave Valley on March 11th, and arrived on the same day at Old Juarez, a few miles from my camp at San Diego. Now the weather was warm; the grass was sprouting, and I noticed a flock of wild geese going northward.

The plains of San Diego used to swarm with antelopes, and even at the time of my visit herds of them could be seen now and then. One old hunter near Casas Grandes resorted to an ingenious device for decoying them. He disguised himself as an antelope, by means of a cloak of cotton cloth (manta) painted to [84] resemble the colouring of the animal. This covered his body, arms, and legs. On his head he placed the antlers of a stag, and by creeping on all fours he could approach the antelopes quite closely and thus successfully shoot them. The Apaches, according to the Mexicans, were experts at hunting antelopes in this manner.

We excavated a mound near Old Juarez and found in it a small basin of black ware. There were twelve or fifteen other mounds, all containing house groups. The largest among them was 100 feet long, fifty feet wide, and ten feet high; others, while covering about the same space, were only three or four to six feet high. They were surrounded, in an irregular way, by numerous stone heaps, some quite small, others large and rectangular, inclosing a space thirty by ten feet.

[87]

From an archæological point of view, the district we now found ourselves in is exceedingly rich, and I determined to explore it as thoroughly as circumstances permitted. One can easily count, in the vicinity of San Diego, over fifty mounds, and there are also rock carvings and paintings in various places. Some twenty miles further south there are communal cave-dwellings, resembling those in Cave Valley, which were examined by members of the expedition at the San Miguel River, about eight miles above the point at which the river enters the plains. Inside of one large cave numerous houses were found. They had all been destroyed, yet it was plainly evident that some of them had originally been three stories high.

But the centre of interest is Casas Grandes, the famous ruin situated about a mile south of the town which took its name, and we soon went over to investigate it.

The venerable pile of fairly well preserved ruins has already been described by John Russell Bartlett, in 1854, and more recently by A. F. Bandelier; a detailed description is therefore here superfluous. Suffice it to say that the Casas Grandes, or Great Houses, are a mass of ruined houses, huddled together on the western bank of the river. Most of the buildings have fallen in and form six or eight large mounds, the highest of which is about twenty feet above the ground. Low mesquite bushes have taken root along the mounds and between the ruins. The remaining walls are sufficiently well preserved to give us an idea of the mode of building employed by the ancients. At the outskirts of the ruined village the houses are lower and have only one story, while in its central part they must have been at one time at least four stories high. They were not palaces, but simply dwellings, and the whole village, which probably once housed 3,000 or 4,000 people, resembles, in its [88] general characteristics, the pueblos in the Southwest, and, for that matter, the houses we excavated from the mounds. The only features that distinguish these from either of the other structures are the immense thickness of the walls, which reaches as much as five feet, and the great height of the buildings. The material, too, is different, consisting of enormous bricks made of mud mixed with coarse gravel, and formed in baskets or boxes.

A striking fact is that the houses apparently are not arranged in accordance with any laid-out plan or regularity. Nevertheless they looked extremely picturesque, viewed from the east as the sun was setting. I camped for a few days on top of the highest mound, between the ruined walls.

No circular building, nor any trace of a place of worship, could be found. The Mexicans, some of whom have nestled on the eastern part of the ruins, have from time to time come upon beautiful jars and bowls, which they sold to relic hunters or used themselves. Such pottery is far superior in quality and decoration to anything now made in Mexico. The ancient metates of Casas Grandes, which are much appreciated by the present inhabitants of the valley, are decidedly the finest I have ever seen. They are square in shape, resting on four legs, and well finished. There have also been taken out some stone axes and arrowheads, which are much like those found in the Southwest of the United States.

[89] Some years ago a large meteorite was unearthed in a small room on the first floor of one of the highest of the buildings. When discovered it was found carefully put away and covered with cotton wrappings. No doubt it once had served some religious purpose. On account of its glittering appearance, the Mexicans thought it was silver, and everybody wanted to get a piece of it. But it was taken to Chihuahua, and the gentleman who sent it to Germany told me that it weighed 2,000 pounds.

There are still traces of well-constructed irrigation ditches to be seen approaching the ruins from the northwest. There are also several artificial accumulations of stones three to fifteen feet high and of various shapes. One of them has the form of a Latin cross measuring nineteen feet along its greatest extent. Others are rectangular, and still others circular. About three miles off, toward the west, are found pictures pecked on large stones, one representing a bird, another one the sun.

An interesting relic of the population that once prospered in Casas Grandes Valley is a watch tower, [90] plainly visible on a mountain to the southwest, and about five miles, in a straight line, from the ruins. Well-defined tracks lead up to it from all directions, especially from the east and west. On the western side three such trails were noticed, and several join at the lower part of the ridge, which runs southward and culminates in the promontory on which the watch tower stands 1,500 feet above the plains.

The western side of the ridge is in some places quite precipitous, but there is a fairly good track running along its entire extent to the top. Sometimes the road is protected with stones, and in other places even with walls, on the outer side. Although the ascent is, at times, steep, the top can be reached on horseback.

The path strikes a natural terrace, and on this is seen a ruined house group built of undressed stones on the bare rock. Some of the walls are twenty-four inches thick. And a little to the south of it is a large mound, from which a Mormon has excavated two rooms. A very well-built stone wall runs for more than 100 paces from north to south on the western, or most easily accessible, side of the pueblo.

After leaving this ancient little village, we made a pleasant ascent to the top, where a strikingly beautiful panorama opened up before us on all sides. The summit commands a view of the fertile valleys for miles around in every direction. To the west is the valley of the Piedras Verdes River, and to the east the valley of Casas Grandes; and in the plains to the south the snakelike windings of the San Miguel River glitter in the sun. Toward the north the view is immense, and fine mountains form a fitting frame for the landscape all around the horizon.

What a pre-eminently fine position for a look-out! As I contemplated the vast stretches of land commanded [91] from this point, I pondered for how many centuries sentinels from this spot may have scanned the horizon with their eagle eyes to warn their people of any enemy approaching to disturb their peaceful occupations.

The fort is circular and about forty feet in diameter. The surrounding wall is on one side about eleven feet high and very broad, while in other places it is much lower and narrower. There are four clearly outlined chambers in the centre; but by excavations nothing could be found in them, except that the flooring was one inch thick. [92]

It was quite warm here. Some birds were about, and there were a few flowers out. Wild white currant bushes were growing inside of the fortress, breathing delicious fragrance. But aside from the top, the mountain was all but barren of vegetation.

A few days afterward I went on an excursion up the Casas Grandes Valley, as far as the Mormon colony Dublan. This valley, which is about fifteen miles long and equally as broad, is very fertile where properly irrigated, and maize and wheat fields delight the eye. Naturally, the country is well populated, and the mounds which are met with everywhere prove that this was already the case in ancient times. In fact, mounds, in groups or isolated, are numerous as far north as Ascension.

How richly the apparently poor soil repays the labour which man expends on it may be seen in the flourishing colony the Mormons have here. Wherever they go, the Mormons transform waste land into scenes of prosperity, so much so that the Mexicans attribute the success of these indefatigable developers to a gold mine, which they are supposed to work secretly at night.

As I found it imperative to return to the United States in the interest of the expedition, I considered it [93] expedient to reduce my scientific corps to three. My camp at San Diego I left in charge of Mr. H. White, who later on was relieved by Mr. C. V. Hartman. During my absence they conducted excavations of the mounds along the southern bank of the Piedras Verdes River, near its junction with San Miguel River, and in convenient neighbourhood to the camp. Neither the mounds themselves nor the houses inside of them differ much from those already described on the upper part of the river, except that some of the mounds here were somewhat larger. Judging from the beams left, they probably contained a few three-story houses. However, in either locality most of the mound houses were only one story high, and where second or third stories were indicated, they were never found intact. In neither place were circular houses observed. The mounds here were located on a rich, alluvial clay soil.

Here, as on the upper part of the river, the treasures we secured were taken from underneath the floors of the houses, where they had been buried with the dead. Here, as there, they consisted of beautifully decorated earthenware jars and bowls, some of them in bizarre representations of animal and human forms, besides stone implements, shell beads, pieces of pyrites and turquoise, all being generally unearthed intact.

The things were found alongside of skeletons, which were huddled together in groups of from two to five in one of the corners. The jars, bowls, etc., had generally been deposited close to the body, as a rule near the head. The skulls of the skeletons were mostly crushed, and crumbled to dust when exposed to the air. There was no trace of charring on the bones, although in some cases charcoal was found close to the skeletons.

To excavate such mounds is slow and tedious work, requiring much patience. Sometimes nothing was [94] found for weeks. Small mounds gave results as good as, if not better than, some large ones. In shape they are more or less conical, flattened at the top; some are oblong, a few even rectangular. The highest among them rose to twenty or twenty-five feet, but the majority varied from five to twelve feet. The house walls inside of them were from eight to sixteen inches thick.

The pottery which was excavated here may be judged by the accompanying plates. It is superior in quality, as well as in decoration, to that produced by the Pueblos of the Southwest of the United States. The clay is fine in texture and has often a slight surface gloss, the result of mechanical polishing. Though the designs in general remind one of those of the Southwestern Pueblos, as, for instance, the cloud terraces, scrolls, etc., still most of the decorations in question show more delicacy, taste, and feeling, and are richer in colouring.

This kind of pottery is known only from excavations in the valleys of San Diego and of Piedras Verdes River, as Well as from Casas Grandes Valley. It forms a transition from the culture of the Pueblos of Arizona and New Mexico to that of the Valley of Mexico, a thousand miles farther south. In a general way the several hundred specimens of the collection can be divided into four groups:

(1) The clay is quite fine, of white colour, with a slightly grayish-yellow tinge. The decorations are black and red, or black only. This is the predominant type, and may be seen in Plates I. and II.; also Plate III., a.

(2) Of a very similar character, but somewhat coarser in texture, and heavier. See Plate III., b to g, and Plate IV., f Both these groups include variations in the decorative designs, as may be seen in the rest of Plate IV.

[96]

(3) Brown pottery with black decorations. See Plate V., a, b, c, and e.

(4) Black ware.

Here follows a condensed description of the more important specimens shown in the plates:

PLATE I

Heights: a, 18.5 cm; b, 15.2 cm; c, 16.2 cm; d, 18.8 cm; e, 11.3 cm; f, 8.5 cm.

a, particularly graceful in outline and decoration, is a representative type that is often found.

c, from Colonia Dublan, is made in the shape of a horned toad, the lizard so familiar to anyone who has visited the Southwest of the United States. The head with its spikes, and the tail as well, are well rendered; the thorny prominences of the body are represented by the indentations around the edge.

d, the principal decoration here is the plumed serpent with a bird’s head.

e, a vase in the shape of a duck.

f, a bowl decorated only around the edge and in the interior.

PLATE II

Height, 16.5 cm.

Here is shown what, in regard both to manufacture and to decoration, is the best specimen in the collection. Its principal ornaments are the plumed serpent and two birds, all clearly seen in the extension of the design above and below the vase. The lower section is a continuation of the upper one.

The birds are represented as in flight. Mr. M. H. Saville is probably right in considering them as quetzals, though the habitat of this famous trogon is Central America and the southernmost part of Mexico. The bird and the serpent form the decoration of other jars of this collection and would indicate that the makers of this pottery were affiliated with the Aztecs in their adoration of the great deity Quetzalcoatl. [97]

PLATE III

Heights: a, 18.5 cm; b, 18 cm; c, 17 cm; d, 11 cm; e, 14.5 cm; f 15.3 cm; g, 24.2 cm.

c, a jar in the shape of a conventionalised owl.

d, a jar in the shape of a fish.

f is a much conventionalised representation of four horned toads. Around its upper part it has two serpents, apparently coral snakes, attached in high relief.

PLATE IV

Heights: a, 14 cm; b, 16.8 cm; c, 18.6 cm; d, 12.2 cm; e, 22 cm; f, 18.5 cm.

a, a very realistic representation of the rain-grub.

c has a black slip.

d is very strong and highly polished, and differs also in colouring from the rest.

PLATE V

Heights: a, 3.7 cm; b, 9.8 cm; c, 25.6 cm; d, 17 cm; e, 20.7 cm; f, 19.3 cm; g, 19.3 cm.

This brown ware is very handsome, and its ornamentation is strikingly artistic in its simplicity. See, for instance, Plate V., e. D, f, and g represent pottery from Casas Grandes, distinguished by a certain solidity and a higher polish.

[98]

[99]

When in the middle of January, 1892, I resumed my explorations, my party was only about one-third as large as it had been the year before. In pursuance of my plan, I again entered the Sierra Madre, returning to it, as far as Pacheco, by the road on which we had come down to San Diego. We travelled over freshly-fallen snow a few inches deep, and encountered a party of eight revolutionists from Ascension, among whom I perceived the hardest looking faces I had ever laid eyes on. All questions regarding their affairs they answered evasively, and I could not help feeling some anxiety for three of the men, who with a Mexican guide, had for some weeks been exploring the country around Chuhuichupa, a discarded cattle range some forty miles south of Pacheco. Next day I sent a man ahead to warn them against the political fugitives. The Mormons told me that for more than a fortnight they had been keeping track of these suspicious-looking characters who had been camping in the neighbourhood.

There were repeated falls of snow, and the sierra assumed a thoroughly northern aspect. Only the multitude of green parrots with pretty red and yellow heads, chattering in the tree-tops and feasting on pine cones, [100] reminded us that we were in southern latitudes. As all tracks had been obliterated by the snow, I secured a Mormon to guide us southward.

About ten miles south of Pacheco we passed Mound Valley, or “Los Montezumas,” so named after the extraordinary number of montezumas, or mounds, found in the locality, probably not far from a thousand. Looking at them from a distance, there seemed to be some plan in their arrangement, inasmuch as they formed rows running from north to south. They are small, and nearly all of them are on the south side of a sloping plain which spread itself over about 500 acres in the midst of densely pine-covered highlands.

On making camp a few miles south of this plateau we found that one of the mules had strayed off. My dismay over the loss of the animal was not alleviated by the news that the mule was the one that carried my blankets and tent, and that I had a good prospect of passing at least one uncomfortable night on the snow. The American who had been intrusted with keeping count of the animals on the road immediately went back to look for the lost one; but not until next day did a Mexican, who had been sent along with him, bring back the pack, which the mule had managed to get rid of. The animal itself and its aparejo were never recovered by us.

On my arrival at Chuhuichupa I found everything satisfactory. There are extensive grass-lands here, and a few years after our visit the Mormons established a colony. The name Chuhuichupa is interesting, as it is the first one we came upon that was of undoubted Tarahumare origin “chuhui.” being the Spanish corruption of “Chu-i,” which means “dead.” The name signifies “the place of the dead,” possibly alluding to burial caves.

[103]

Here Mr. Taylor had discovered very interesting cave-dwellings, fifteen miles southeast to east in a straight lilac from the camp, but fully twenty-five miles by the track he had followed. The Mexicans called the cave Garabato, a Spanish word, which in Mexico is used in the sense of “decorative designs,” and refers here to ancient paintings or scrawlings on the house walls. The cave is situated in a gorge on the northern slope of the Arroyo Garabato, which drains into the Rio Chico. It is in conglomerate formation, faces east, and lies about 215 feet above the bottom of the gorge. The ascent is steep and somewhat difficult. At a little distance the high, regular walls of the houses, with their many door and window openings, presented a most striking contrast to their surroundings of snow-covered jagged cliffs, in the lonely wilderness of pine woods. Some of the walls had succumbed to the [104] weight of ages, but, on the whole, the ruins are in a good state of preservation, and although I found cave-dwellings as far south as Zapuri, Chihuahua, none of them were nearly as well preserved nor on such an extensive scale. Time would not allow me to visit the cave myself, and the following description is based on notes taken by Mr. Taylor on the spot, as well as on his photographs and his verbal explanations.

The space covered by the houses and fallen walls was 125 feet from side to side, and at the central part the dwellings were thirty-five feet deep. The roof of the cave, or rather, the overhanging cliff, was at the highest point eighty feet above the floor. The houses were arranged in an arc of a circle so large as hardly to deviate from a straight line. The front row seems to have been of but one story, while the adjoining row back of it had two stories. The roof of the houses at no place reached the roof of the cave. Each room was about twelve feet square, and the walls, which showed no evidence of blocks or bricks, varied in thickness from fifteen inches at the base to seven inches at the top of the highest. At some places large stones were built into the walls; in another wall wooden posts and horizontal sticks or laths were found. The surface of the walls, which were protected against the weather, was smooth and even, and the interior walls showed seven or eight coatings of plaster. The floors, where they could be examined, were smoothly cemented and so hard as to effectively resist the spade. The pine poles which formed the roof were smooth, but not squared; they were three to four inches in diameter; and some of them were twenty-four feet long. According to all appearances, they had been hewn with a blunt instrument, as they were more hacked than cut. Many of them were [105] nicely rounded off at the ends, and several inches from the ends a groove was cut all around the pole.

In the centre of the back rooms of the ground floor there was usually a pine pole, about ten inches in diameter, set up like a rude pillar. Resting on this and the side walls of the rooms in a slight curve was a similar pole, also rounded, and running parallel to the front of the houses; and crossing it from the front to the rear walls were laid similar poles or rafters about four inches in diameter. The ends of these were set directly into the walls, and covering them was a roofing of mud, some three inches thick, hard, and on the upper surface smooth. The second story, where it had not caved in, was covered in the same manner. None of the lower story rooms had an outlet to the apartments above, and the evidence tended to prove that [106] the second story houses were reached from the bottom of the cave over the roofs of the front row of houses by means of ladders.

Most of the rooms were well supplied with apertures of the usual conventional form; sometimes there were as many as three in one room, each one large enough to serve as a door. But there were also several small circular openings, which to civilised man might appear to have served as exits for the smoke; but to the Indian the house, as everything else, is alive, and must have openings through which it can draw breath, as otherwise it would be choked. These holes were three or four inches in diameter, and many of them were blocked up and plastered over. A large number of what seemed to have been doorways were also found to be blocked up, no doubt from some ulterior religious reason.

A peculiar feature of the architecture was a hall not less than forty feet long, and from floor to rafters seven feet high. Six beams were used in the roof, laid between the north and south walls. There were rafters of two different lengths, being set in an angle of about ten degrees to each other. The west wall contained twelve pockets, doubtless the cavities in which the rafters had rested. They were, on an average, three inches in diameter, and ran in some six inches, slanting downward in the interior. The east wall was found to contain upright poles and horizontal slats, forming a framework for the building material. The interior was bare, with the exception of a ledge running along the southern side and made from the same material as the house walls. It was squared up in front and formed a convenient settee.

At the end of this hall, but in the upper story, was found a house that was distinguished from the others by [107] a peculiar decoration in red, while the space around the door was painted in a delicate shade of lavender.

There seems to have been still another hall of nearly the same length as the one described, but which must have been at least one foot and a half higher. It is now almost entirely caved in.

No objects of interest were found that could throw any light on the culture of the builders of these dwellings, except the fragment of a stone axe and a piece of matting.

The day after my arrival at Chuhuichupa I continued my journey, now accompanied by Mr. Taylor and Mr. Meeds. We had as a guide an old Mexican soldier, who had been recommended to us as a man who knew the Sierra Madre better than anyone else. He had, no doubt, lived a wild life; had taken part in many a “scrap” with the Apaches, as his body showed marks of bullets in several places, and he had prospected for gold and silver, traversing a good deal of ground in the mountains at one time or another. But topographical [108] knowledge per se does not necessarily make a good guide. Although “Don Teodoro,” by something like instinct, always knew where he was, it did not take us long to discover that he had not judgment enough to guide a pack-train, and his fatuous recklessness caused us a good deal of annoyance, and even loss.

After leaving the grass-lands of Chuhuichupa, we passed through extensive pine regions, full of arroyos and cordons, and it struck me how silent the forest was here. No animal life could be seen or heard. About ten miles south we caught sight of the Sierra de Candelaria, which suddenly loomed up in the southeast, while the Arroyo de Guaynopa yawned on our left. We slowly ascended a beautiful cordon running toward the southwest. The track we followed, our guide assured us, was el camino de los antiguos, but it probably was only an Apache trail. The cordon was rather narrow, and from time to time gave us sweeping views of the stupendous landscape in one direction or another, as the animals slowly made their way up and finally reached the summit. A grandly beautiful sight awaited us; we went a little out of our way to gain a promontory, which, our guide said, was designated “Punto Magnifico.” It was at an elevation of 8,200 feet, and gave us certainly the most strikingly magnificent view of the Sierra Madre we yet had enjoyed.

An ocean of mountains spread out before and below us. In the midst of it, right in front of us, were imposing pine-clad mesas and two weathered pinnacles of reddish conglomerate, while further on there followed range after range, peak after peak; the most distant ones, toward the south, seeming at least as far as eighty miles away. The course of the rivers, as they flow deep down between the mountains, was pointed out to us. The principal one is the Arros River, which from the [109] west embraces most of the mesas, and then, turning south, receives its tributaries, the Tutuhuaca and the Mulatos, the latter just behind a pinnacle. West of the Arros River stretches out the immense Mesa de los Apaches, once a stronghold of these marauders, reaching as far as the Rio Bonito. The plateau is also called “The Devil’s Spine Mesa,” after a high and very narrow ridge, which rises conspicuously from the mesa’s western edge and runs in a northerly and southerly direction, like the edge of a gigantic saw. To our amazement, the guide here indicated to us where the camino real from Nacori passes east over a gap in the “Devil’s Spine” ridge, and then over several sharp buttes that descend toward the mesa. An odd-looking mesa lay between Rio Bonito and Rio Satachi. Farthest to the west were the big hogbacks near Nacori, standing out ominously, like a perpetuated flash of lightning. The sun was nearing the horizon; the air was translucent, and the entire panorama steeped in a dusky blue.

Immediately below us, to our left, lay Guaynopa. The mountainside looked so steep that it seemed impossible for us to descend from where we were. But we already heard the voices of our muleteers singing out to the animals 1,000 feet below, and that reminded us that we also had better reach camp before darkness should overtake us. We descended 2,500 feet, and, leaving the pines behind, found ourselves in a warmer climate. It never snows here, according to our guide. That the precipitation took the shape of rain we learned when we were impeded by it for two days.

There were yet eighteen miles between us and the deserted mines of Guaynopa. It was a laborious journey over the hills, mostly ascent. Finally we came to a steep slope covered with oaks, along which there was a continuous descent toward Guaynopa. While zigzagging our [110] way down, we caught sight of a large cave with houses and some white cone-shaped structures staring at us across an arroyo midway up the opposite side, which was at least two thousand feet deep. Through my field glasses I could make out very distinctly a group of houses of the usual pattern; and the large, white structures could without difficulty be recognised as granaries, similar to those observed in Cave Valley. It was my intention to go back and examine this cave more closely, as soon as I had found a camping place; but circumstances interfered. Several years later the cave was visited by Mr. G. P. Ramsey, to whom I owe the following brief description.

The cave is situated about twenty-five miles in a straight line south of the Mormon colony of Chuhuichupa. There are indications of a spring in the cave, and there is another one in the arroyo itself. The buildings are in a very bad condition, owing to the action of the elements and animals; but fifty-three rooms could be counted. They were located on a rocky terrace extending from the extreme right to the rear centre of the cave. This extreme right extended slightly beyond the overhanging cliff, and contained groups of two-storied houses. In the central part of the cave were a number of small structures, built of the same material and in a similar manner as those I described as granaries in Cave Valley. They were still in excellent condition, and, as will be seen at a glance, they are almost identical with the granaries used to the present day in some southern States of Mexico.

We continued our descent, and, having dropped altogether some 2,000 feet, at last found ourselves alongside some lonely and unattractive old adobe houses. They were built by the Spaniards and are reputed to have once been the smelter of the now abandoned silver [113] mine of Guaynopa. Only the naked walls remain standing on a decline, which was too steep to give us sufficient camping ground. So we went still a little further, to the top of a hill near by, where we made a tolerably good camp.

This then was the famous locality of Guaynopa, credited with hiding such fabulous wealth. There was still another mine here of the same repute, called Tayopa, and both of them are said to have been worked once by the Jesuits, who before their expulsion from Mexico were in possession of nearly all the mines in the country. According to tradition, the Apaches killed everybody here, and the mines were forgotten until recent times, when ancient church records and other Spanish documents revealed their existence. Several expeditions have been sent out, one, I believe, by the Government for the purpose of locating them; but being situated in the roughest and most inaccessible part of the Sierra Madre, they are still awaiting their rediscovery, unless, contrary to my knowledge, they have been found in recent years. There is no doubt that the country carries very rich silver ore, and we ourselves found specimens of that kind; but the region is so difficult of access that it probably would require too great a capital to work the mines.

There was now a plain track leading along the hillside down toward the Rio Aros, which is scarcely two miles off; but the country was so wild and rugged that the greatest care had to be exercised with the animals to prevent them from coming to grief. The path runs along the upper part of a steep slope, which from a perpendicular weathered cliff drops some 400 feet down into a gorge. As the declivity of the slope is about forty-five degrees, and the track in some places only about a foot wide, there is no saving it if an animal loses [114] its foothold, or if its pack slips. All went well, however, until we reached a point where the track commenced to descend, when our villain of a guide tried to drive some burros back on the track, instead of leading each one carefully. The result was that one of the poor beasts tumbled down, making immense bounds, a hundred feet at a time, and, of course, was killed.

We had no difficulty in fording the Guaynopa Creek near its junction with the Aros River, and selected a camping place on a terrace 200 feet above it. The stream, which is the one that passes the cave-dwellings, carries a good deal of limpid water, and there are abundant signs that at times it runs very high. The elevation of the ford, which is here about the same as that of Aros River, 3,400 feet, was the lowest point we reached in our crossing of the Sierra Madre between Chuhuichupa and Temosachic. It took us almost the entire day to move the animals the one mile and a half to this camp. On the way we had found some good quartz crystals in the baryte, about four inches high and one inch in width.

The country before us looked more forbidding than ever, as if it did not want us to penetrate any further into its mysteries, but our guide seemed to be quite at home here.

Our march toward Rio Chico was about thirty miles of ups and downs, ascending to a height of 7,600 feet and descending again some 3,000 feet. In the beginning it was almost impossible to make out the track; where it did not lead over bare rocks, it was nearly obliterated by overgrown grass. The first ascent was over a mile long in a straight line; then, after a little while, came the most arduous climbing I had until then ever attempted. Following the slope of the mountain, the track rose higher and higher in long zigzags, without any [115] chance for the animals to rest, for at least three-quarters of a mile. It was necessary to push them on, as otherwise the train would unavoidably have upset, and one or the other have rolled down the declivity. One large white mule, El Chino, after it had almost climbed to the top, turned giddy at the “glory-crowned height” it had reached, and, sinking on its hind legs, fell backward and rolled heels over head down, with its two large canvas-covered boxes, like a big wheel. As luck would have it, it bumped against a low-stemmed old oak that cropped out of the hillside in an obtuse angle to it, some ninety feet below. Making one more turn up the stem, the mule was nicely caught between the forked branches, which broke the momentum, loosened the cargo, and caused the animal to fall back into the high grass. One box landed close by, the other, containing our library, pursued its course downward 200 feet further, bursting open on the way and scattering the wisdom of the ages to the winds, while the mule escaped without a scratch.

The burros came into camp three hours after us, and the drivers explained how they had succeeded in bringing them up the long slope only by constantly punching them to prevent them from “falling asleep.”

As we continued our journey toward Rio Chico the panorama of the sierra changed continuously. We got a side view of the big Mesa de los Apaches, and many weathered pinnacles of eroded conglomerate were seen standing out like church spires in this desert of rock, varying in colour from red to lead gray. Once we caught sight of a stretch of the Rio Aros deep down in a narrow, desolate valley, some 3,000 feet below us. The geological formation of the region is mostly volcanic; then follows conglomerate, and on the high points porphyry appears.

We camped on the crest of the eastern side of the [116] Rio Chico Cañon, in an ideal place with bracing air. A fine, sloping meadow afforded quite an arcadian view with the animals peacefully grazing and resting; but looking westward, the eye revelled in the grand panorama of the sierra. The two sides of the Rio Chico Valley rise here evenly from the bottom of the gorge so as to suggest the letter V. In many places its brow is overhung by precipitous cliffs, and further down still more steeply walled chasms yawn up from the river bed.

My chief packer now became ill from the effects of poison ivy. He was one of those unfortunate individuals who are specially susceptible to it. According to his own statement it sufficed for him to pass anywhere near the plant, even without touching it, to become afflicted with the disease. In this case he did not even know where he had contracted it, until the cook showed him some specimens of the plant near an oak tree close by the kitchen tent. The poor fellow’s lips were badly swollen; he had acute pains in his eyes, and felt unable to move. Sometimes, he said, the disease would last ten days, and his skin become so tender that he could not endure the weight or contact of his clothes. But by applying to the afflicted parts of his body a solution of baking soda in water, I was able not only to relieve his suffering, but to enable him, after two days, to continue with us on our journey.

In the meantime we had investigated some caves in the conglomerate of the steep cañon side, about 250 feet above the bottom of the gorge, and rather difficult of access. The house group occupied the entire width of a cave, which was eighty feet across, and there was a foundation wall made of stone and timber underneath the front part. The walls were made of stone, with mortar of disintegrated rock that lined parts of the cave and were plastered inside and out with the [117] same material. Lintels of wood were seen in the windows, and rows of sticks standing in a perpendicular position were found in two of the walls inside of the plastering. On one side of the cave, some two feet off, was a small tower, also in ruins, measuring inside four feet in diameter, while the walls were about six inches thick.

Pinnacles of eroded conglomerate are a prominent characteristic of the landscape west of the Rio Chico; further on, the usual volcanic formation appears again. After fully twenty miles of travel we found ourselves again in pine forests and at an altitude of 7,400 feet. Here we were overtaken, in the middle of February, by a rain and sleet storm, which was quite severe, although we were sheltered by tall pine trees in a little valley. It turned to snow and grew very cold, and then the storm was over. Here a titmouse and a woodpecker were shot, and the bluebirds were singing in the snow.

Travelling again eleven miles further brought us to the plains of Naverachic, where we camped. It was quite a treat to travel again on comparatively level land, but, strange to say, I felt the cold so much that I had to walk on foot a good deal in order to keep warm. The word Naverachic is of Tarahumare origin; nāvé means “move,” and ráchi refers to the disintegrated trachyte formation in the caves.

We had just emerged from a district which at that time was traversed by few people; perhaps only by some illiterate Mexican adventurers, though it had once been settled by a thrifty people whose stage of culture was that of the Pueblo Indians of to-day, and who had vanished, nobody knows how many centuries ago. Over it all hovered a distinct atmosphere of antiquity and the solemnity of a graveyard. [118]

About thirty miles from the village of Temosachic (in the Tarahumare tongue Remosachic means Stone Heap) we entered the plain of Yepomera, and came upon an entirely different formation, limestone appearing in an almost horizontal layer some thirty feet deep. In this bed the Mexicans frequently find fossils, and at one place four large fossil bones have been utilised as the corner posts of a corral or inclosure. We were told that teeth and bones were accidentally found at a depth of from twenty to thirty feet and some bones were crystallised inside. This formation, which stretches itself out toward the east of Temosachic, but lies mainly to the north of this place, has an extent of about fifteen miles from north to south, and from three to four miles from east to west.

Fossils picked up by Mr. Meeds in the cutting of a creek near Yepomera consisted of some fragmentary teeth and pieces of bones from some small animal. They were found in the hard clay that underlies the lime-stone. Large fossil bones also are said to have been gathered near the town of Guerrero, Chihuahua, quite recently. It seems to be a custom with the common people to make a concoction of these “giants’ bones” as a strengthening medicine; we heard of a [119] woman who, being weak after childbirth, used it as an invigorating tonic.

Here in Temosachic we were joined by Mr. Hartman, who had brought part of our baggage from San Diego by wagon in order to enable us to travel as unencumbered as possible.

From now on, until as far as the southern border of the State of Chihuahua, the country is occupied by the large Indian tribe of the Tarahumares. They are now confined to the Sierra Madre, but in former times they also occupied the entire plain of Chihuahua, as far west as the present capital of that State, and in a narrow strip they may have reached as far as 100 miles north of Temosachic. They were the main tribe found in possession of the vast country which is now the State of Chihuahua, and although there are still some 25,000 left, the greater part of them have become Mexicanised, adopting the language and the customs of the whites, together with their dress and religion. Father Ribas, in the seventeenth century, speaks of them as very docile and easily converted to Christianity.

The high plateau of the Sierra Madre for a couple of hundred miles southward is not difficult to follow. Most of it is hilly and clad in oaks and pines; but there are also extensive tracts of fine arable land, partly under cultivation, and fairly good tracks connect the solitary villages and ranches scattered over the district. The country of the aborigines has been invaded and most [120] of the descendants of the former sovereigns of the realm have been reduced to earning a precarious living by working for the white and mixed-breed usurpers on their ranches or in their mines. The native language, religious customs, and dress are being modified gradually in accordance with the new régime. Only in the less desirable localities have the Tarahumares been able to hold their own against the conquerors.

There is not much interest attached to the study of half-civilised natives, but the first pure-blooded Tarahumares I met on their little ranch about ten miles south of Temosachic were distinctly Indian and very different from the ordinary Mexican family. There was a kind of noble bearing and reserve about them which even the long contact with condescending whites and half-breeds had not been able to destroy. The father of the family, who, by the way, was very deaf, was a man of some importance among the native ranchers here. When I approached the house, mother and daughter were combing each other’s hair, and did not allow themselves to be disturbed by my arrival. The younger woman wore her long glossy tresses plaited in Mexican fashion. She evidently was in robust health and had well-moulded, shapely arms and an attractive face, with an eagle nose. She was beautiful, but I could not help thinking how much better she would have looked in her native costume.

On the road we had several times overtaken donkey-trains carrying corn to the mines of Pinos Altos. In the small Rio Verde we caught three kinds of fish: suckers, catfish, and Gila trout, which grow from one to three feet long, and, according to Tarahumare belief, change into otters when they are old.

The name of the village of Tosanachic is a Spanish corruption of the Tarahumare Rosanachic, which means [121] “Where there is White,” and alludes to a number of white rocks or cliffs of solidified volcanic ash, which rise to a height of some fifty feet and give to the little valley quite a striking appearance. There are caves in these rocks, and three poor families of Pima Indians lived in some of them.

In the village we noticed the first Tarahumare plough, the share of which was made of a section of oak. In its general appearance it is an imitation of the ordinary Mexican plough, in other words, is simply a tree stem with a branch as a handle. But, however primitive in design and construction, the civilised man’s implement always has an iron share. Of course, such among the Tarahumares as can afford iron shares, never fail to get them; but in several parts of their country ploughs made entirely of wood, that is to say, ploughs with wooden shares, are seen. The foremost part of such a plough is cut to a point, and into a groove made for the purpose a section of tough oak is inserted, to serve as a share. It is held in place by the tapering of the groove, and some wedges or plugs. The share has [122] naturally to be renewed quite frequently, but it serves its purpose where the ground is not stony. Later on, in Cusarare, Nararachic and other places, I found ploughshares of stone applied in the same manner as were the wooden ones.

Here at an elevation of 7,600 feet, and at the end of February, I saw the first flowers of the year, some very fresh-looking yellow Ranunculus. On crossing the ridge to Piedras Azules, sixty-odd miles south of Temosachic, a decided change of climate and vegetation was noticeable. I found another kind of Ranunculus, as well as various other flowers, and as we passed through a small but gorgeous cañon, with the sun shining against us through the fresh leaves of the trees, everything in Nature made the impression of spring. All was green except the ground, which was gray. The road was stony, and bad for the feet of the animals; altogether the country presented a new aspect with its small volcanic hills, many of them forming cones.

A few Indian hamlets surrounded by peach trees in full bloom were found here. The Indians here are [123] Pimas, who, in their general characteristics, resemble the Tarahumare, although they impress you as being less timid and suspicious, and more energetic, perhaps also more intelligent, than the latter. We had no difficulty in taking some photographs. Among those who agreed to have their pictures taken was a dignified, courteous old man, who thought he was a hundred years old, but was probably only eighty. He showed me some scars on his body, which were a souvenir from a fight he once had with a bear.

In order to see more of the Southern Pimas I went [124] to the near-by village of Yepachic, which I think is also a Tarahumare name, yēpá meaning snow. There are, however, more Mexicans than Pimas in the village, and the presidente was a half-caste Tarahumare; he was once a shepherd, but had made money by trading mescal to the natives—six bottles for a cow.

Although the Pimas whom I visited in the neighbourhood, were very reserved, and even more Indian-like than the Tarahumares I had seen so far, still in their dress they showed more traces of advancing civilisation [127] than the latter tribe. Everything here betrays the nearness of the mines, with the characteristic accompaniment of cheap clothes, cheap, tawdry jewelry, and a slight influx of iron cooking utensils. The Pimas, like the Tarahumares, use pine cones for combs; and we picked up several discarded ones near their houses.

I went still fifteen miles further northward, but found that most of the Indians there had gone to the Pinos Altos mines to look for work. That “March comes in like a lion” I realised even here in the sierra, when, on this excursion, on which I had not taken my tent along, I was overtaken by a snow-storm. We had gone to bed with the stars for a canopy, clear and beautiful; we woke up under blankets of snow, which turned to rain, drenching us to the skin and making us shiver with cold.

I saw several small, shallow caves, and learned that many of them were utilised by the Pimas during the wet season. I also passed a rock-shelter, which served as a permanent home. The housewife was busy making straw hats. She was very shy, as her husband was away; but I elicited the information that she gets two reales (25 cents) for each hat. The making of straw hats and mats is quite an industry among the Pimas. In the houses they have a cellar-like dug-out outside of the dwelling and covered with a conical roof of dry grass. These cellars, in many cases, serve not only as the work-rooms, but also as store-rooms for their stock in trade.

In one or two instances I found Pima families living in open inclosures, a kind of corral, made from cut-down brushwood. I noticed two small caves that [128] had been transformed into storehouses, by planting poles along the edge and plastering these over with mud, to make a solid wall, behind which corn was stored.

In Yepachic I estimated there were about twenty Pima families. I had some difficulty in inducing them to pose before the camera; the presidente himself was afraid of the instrument, thinking it was a diabolo (devil).

There are probably not more than sixty Pima families within the State of Chihuahua, unless there are more than I think near Dolores. Some twenty-odd families of these live in caves during the wet season, and a few of them are permanent cave-dwellers. I understand that the Pimas in Sonora utilise caves in the same way.

I made an excursion from the mine of Pinos Altos (elevation 7,100 feet) to Rio Moris, about ten miles west, where there are some burial caves; but they had already been much disturbed by treasure seekers, and I could secure only a couple of skulls. An interesting feature of the landscape near Rio Moris is a row of [129] large reddish pinnacles, which rise perpendicularly from the river-bed up along the hillside, and form a truly imposing spectacle. An excited imagination may see in them so many giants suddenly petrified while walking up the mountain. Around Pinos Altos and Jesus Maria the rock is of blue porphyry, quite hard in places, and speckled with little white patches. It is in this rock that the gold- and silver-bearing quartz occurs.

Through the courtesy of the bullion-convoy I was enabled to dispatch some of my collections via Chihuahua to the museum at New York, among other things eight fine specimens of the giant woodpecker.

Then, sending my train ahead, I made with a guide a little detour to visit the [130] beautiful waterfall near Jesus Maria. It is formed by the River Basasiachic, which, except during the wet season, is small and insignificant. Before the fall the stream for more than a hundred yards runs in a narrow but deep channel, which in the course of ages it has worn into the hard conglomerate rock. The channel itself is full of erosions and hollowed-out places formed by the constant grinding and milling action of the rapidly rushing water, and the many large pebbles it carries. Just at the very brink of the rock, a low natural arch has been eroded, and over this the stream leaps almost perpendicularly into the deep straight-walled cañon below. The height of the cascade has been measured by a mining expert at Pinos Altos, and found to be 980 feet. Set in the most picturesque, noble environments, the fall is certainly worth a visit.

I arrived at its head just as the last rays of the setting sun were gilding the tops of the mountains all around. The scenery was beautiful beyond description. Above and around towered silent, solemn old pine-trees, while: the chasm deep down was suffused with a purple glow. About midway down the water turns into spray and reaches the bottom as silently as an evening shower, but as it recovers itself forms numerous whirlpools and rapids, rushing through the narrow gorge with an incessant roar. When the river is full, during the wet season, the cascade must present a splendid sight.

I wanted to see the fall from below. The guide, an elderly man, reminded me that the sun was setting, and warned me that the distance was greater than it seemed. We should stumble and fall, he said, in the dark. But as I insisted on going, he put me on the track, and I started on a rapid run, jumping from stone to stone, zigzagging my way down the mountainside. The entire scenery, the wild, precipitous rocks, the stony, crooked [131] path, the roaring stream below—everything reminded me of mountains in Norway, where I had run along many a säter path through the twilight, alone, just as I was running now.

As luck would have it, I met an Indian boy coming up from the river, Where he had been trout fishing, and I asked him to accompany me, which he did. About half-way down we arrived at a little promontory from which the fall could be seen very well. The rock seemed to be here the same as on top, showing no sign of stratification. A few yards from the point we had reached was a spring, and here we made a fire and waited for the moon to rise. To make him more talkative, I gave the boy a cigarette. He spoke only Spanish, and he told me that he had neither father nor mother, and when his uncle died he was quite alone in the world; but a Mexican family brought him up, and he seemed to have been treated well. At present he was paying two dollars a month for his board, earning the money by selling grass in Pinos Altos.

At nine o’clock we began to ascend through the moonlit landscape. I had left my mule some hundred yards from the fall, and here I also found the guide. At two o’clock in the morning I arrived at my camp.

The road continued through rather monotonous country, the altitude varying from 6,300 to 7,700 feet. Grass began to be scarce, and the animals suffered accordingly. It is the custom with Mexican muleteers to select from among themselves a few, whose business throughout the journey it is to guard the animals at night. These men, immediately after having had their supper, drive the animals to a place where suitable pasture is found, never very far from the camp, and bring them back in the morning. They constitute what is called la sabana. Comparatively few men suffice for this duty, [132] even with a large herd, as long as they have with them a leader of the mules, a mare, preferably a white one. She may be taken along solely for this purpose, as she is often too old for any other work. The mules not infrequently show something like a fanatic attachment for their yegua, and follow blindly where they hear the tinkling of the bell, which is invariably attached to her neck. She leads the pack-train, and where she stops the mules gather around her while waiting for the men to come and relieve them of their burdens. Sometimes a horse may serve as a leader, but a mare is surer of gaining the affection of all the mules in the train. This is an important fact for travellers to bear in mind if they use mules at all. In daytime the train will move smoothly, all the mules, of their own accord, following their leader, and at night keeping close to her. In this way she prevents them from scattering and becomes indispensable to the train.

But in spite of the vigilance of the sabana and the advantage of a good yegua, it may happen, under favourable topographical and weather conditions, that robbers succeed in driving animals away. While giving the pack-train a much-needed rest of a day in a grassy spot, we woke next morning to find five of our animals missing. As three of the lot were the property of my men, they were most eagerly looked for. The track led up a steep ridge, over very rough country, which the Mexicans followed, however, until it suddenly ran up against a mountain wall; and there the mules were found in something like a natural corral.

Not until then did our guide inform me that there lived at Calaveras (skulls), only three miles from where we were stopping, a band of seven robbers and their chief, Pedro Chaparro, who was at that time well-known throughout this part of the Tarahumare country. I had [133] no further experience with him, but later heard much of this man, who was one of a type now rapidly disappearing in Mexico. He did not confine his exploits to the Mexicans, but victimised also the Indians whenever he got an opportunity, and there are many stories in circulation about him.

On one occasion he masqueraded as a padre, a black mackintosh serving as his priestly garb. Thus attired he went to the unsophisticated Tarahumares in the more remote valleys and made them send out messengers to advise the people that he had come to baptise them, and that they were all to gather at a certain place to receive his blessings. For each baptism he charged one goat, and by the time he thought it wise to retire he had quite a respectable herd to drive home. When the Indians found out that they had been swindled, they caught him and put him into jail, intending to kill him; but unfortunately some of his Mexican confrères heard of his plight and came to his rescue. However, a few years later, this notorious highwayman, who had several murders to answer for, was caught by the government authorities and shot.

On the road, as we travelled on, we met many Tarahumares carrying on their backs trays (huacales) with apples, which they were taking to market. The price per tray was $2, and the apples were delicious.

At night it was very cold, the thermometer falling to [134] 13° below the freezing point. I was sorry to learn from my men that the prospects of grass further south were small.

At the village of Bocoyna (elevation 7,100 feet) we were 400 miles from San Diego by the track we had made. Bocoyna is a corruption of the Tarahumare Ocoina (ōcó = pine; ína = drips; meaning Dripping Pine, or Turpentine). Here I had to stop for two days, because no less than six of us, including myself, were suffering from the grippe, which a piercing, dry, cold wind did not tend to alleviate. However, as the worst cases did not last more than five days, we soon were all well again, though the Mexicans were almost overcome by the effects of the disease.

The presidente here was a powerful-looking half-caste and very original. After I had read to him twice my letter from the governor of the state, in which the people were told, among other things, to promote the success of the expedition in every way, especially by selling us what provisions we needed and not to overcharge us, he, by way of obeying the orders of his superior, immediately ordered that not more than $6 should be charged for a fanega of corn. He also had at [135] once four nice, fat hens killed and sold them to us at the market price.

After we passed Bocoyna, the country for ten miles was flat, but fertile. It was gratifying to observe that here the Indians had some ranches with considerable land still left to them. We passed several such homesteads lying close together, and as many as four yokes of oxen were ploughing, each attended by a Tarahumare, whose entire clothing consisted of a breech-cloth. The Indians here are very numerous and they are still struggling to resist the encroachments of the whites upon their land, though the ultimate result is in all cases the same. [136]

We were lucky enough to secure a guide who, spoke the Tarahumare language very well, and our next stop was at the pueblo of Cusarare (a Spanish corruption of Usarare, usáka = eagle), an Indian village situated in a rather rough country full of weathered porphyry rocks. We made camp a few miles outside of the village and sent the guide to prepare the people for our coming. There had recently been considerable talk among the Mexicans of the wild people in the deep gorges, called barrancas, and it was with no little anticipation that I approached the country now immediately before us. There were no Mexicans living in Cusarare, nor in the country ahead of us; in fact, with the exception of the small mining camp in Barranca de Cobre, there were none within fifty miles to the south, and almost an equal distance from east to west.

Indian pueblos throughout Mexico are almost abandoned for the greater part of the year. I refer, of course, only to those which have not yet become Mexican settlements. The first thing the missionaries in the early times had to do was to force the Indians to leave their scattered ranches and form a pueblo. To make a place a pueblo they had to build a church. The Indians [137] were pressed into service to erect the building, and kept at work, if necessary, by a troop of soldiers who often accompanied the missionaries and in this way assisted them in spreading the gospel.

From the missionaries’ point of view this was a very practical arrangement; but the purpose of having the Indians remain in the villages has not been accomplished [138] to this day. Only the native-chosen authorities, who are obliged to reside there during their term of office, form something like a permanent population in the pueblos. The natives come together only on the occasion of feasts, and on Sundays, to worship in the way they understand it. Someone who knows the short prayer, generally the gobernador, mumbles it, while the congregation cross themselves from time to time. If no one present knows the prayer, the Indians stand for a while silently, then cross themselves, and the service is over.

After church they meet outside for the second purpose that brings them to the village, namely, the transaction of whatever judicial business may be on hand, generally the adjustment of a theft, a marriage, etc.

I arrived in the pueblo on a Sunday, and a great many Indians had come in. Easter was approaching, and every Sunday during Lent, according to early missionaries’ custom, the so-called “Pharisees” make their appearance. These are men who play an important part in the Easter festival, which always lasts several days. They paint their faces hideously, tog themselves up with feathers on their sombreros, and carry wooden swords painted with red figures. Such ceremonies were a clever device of the Jesuits and Franciscan missionaries to wean the Indians from their native feasts by offering them something equally attractive in the new religion they were teaching. The feasts are still observed, while the teachings are forgotten.

I found the people assembled before the old adobe church, where they had just finished their service. The gobernador at once attracted my attention as he stood with his large white blanket wrapped around him, Indian fashion, up to his chin—a fine, almost noble personality, with a benign expression on his eagle face.

The Indian never allows anything to interfere with [139] whatever business he may have on hand, be it public or private. Presently all rose, and eight men, the authorities of the pueblo, marched in two rows to the court house, followed by the rest of the people. There is always found near the church a commodious building, called La Comunidad, originally intended as city hall, court house, and hotel. In this case it was so dilapidated that the judges and officers of the court about to be held took seats outside on the lawn in front of one of the walls. They were preparing to administer justice to a couple of offenders, and as this is the only occasion on which I have seen the details of Indian judicial procedure carried out so minutely as to suggest early missionary times, I am happy to record the affair here in full.

The gobernador and four of the judges seated themselves, white man’s fashion, on a bench erected for the purpose, where they looked more grand than comfortable. Two of them held in their right hands canes of red Brazil wood, the symbol of their dignity. The idea of the staff of command, sceptre, or wand, is wide spread among the Indians of Mexico; therefore, when the Spaniards conquered the various tribes, they had little difficulty in introducing their batons (la vara), as emblems of authority, which to this day are used by the gobernadors and other officials. They are made much in the same way as the ancient staffs, and of the same material, the heavy, red Brazil wood. Below the head of these canes there is always a hole bored, and through this a leather thong is passed, by which the staff is hung up on the wall when not in use. Those of the highest authorities are ornamented with silver caps; the lesser officers have smaller canes, in proportion to the degrees of their dignity, while the lowest officials have only a thin stick, about a foot and a half long, through the hole of which a red ribbon is passed. The small canes [140] are not carried in the hand, but stuck in the girdle on the left side. Nobody summoned before the judges by a messenger carrying a staff of red Brazil wood dares to disobey the command. The most desperate criminal meekly goes to his doom, following often a mere boy, if the latter has only a toy vara stuck in his belt with the red ribbons hanging down. It is the vara the Indians respect, not the man who carries it.

No supreme court in any civilised community is so highly respected and so implicitly obeyed as were the simple, grave men sitting in front of the crumbling adobe wall and holding on to their canes with a solemnity that would have been ridiculous, if it had not been sublime.

Four “soldiers” formed a line on each side. There was nothing to distinguish them from ordinary civilians, except their “lances,” or bamboo sticks to which bayonet points had been fastened. These lances they [141] planted in the ground and seated themselves. Presently the two culprits, a man and a woman, came forward, with never a suggestion in their placid faces that they were the chief actors in the drama about to be enacted. They seated themselves in front of the judges, while the witnesses took their places behind them. The mother of the woman sat close by her guilty daughter, but there was no other exhibition of sentiment. The judges did most of the talking, addressing questions to the defendants, who made a few short answers; the rest of the assemblage observed a decorous silence. There were neither clerks nor lawyers.

I was, of course, not able to follow the testimony, but it was very short, and it was explained to me that the woman had run away with a married man. They had provided themselves with plenty of corn from the man’s former home, and furthermore had stolen some beans, and lived very happy in a cave for a year. The man could not be captured, even though on several occasions he visited his family. But they frequently made native beer, and got drunk, and while in this condition they were caught and brought before this tribunal.

While the trial was going on, one of the “soldiers” got up and went some twenty yards off, dug a hole in the ground and planted a thick pole or post in it. No sooner had he completed his task, when the accused man rose with a queer smile on his face, half chagrined, half sarcastic.. Dropping his blanket, he walked deliberately up to the pole, flanked by two soldiers, each of whom took hold of his hands, and by putting them crosswise on the further side of the pole, made the culprit hug the pole very tightly. Now another man, wrapped closely in his blanket, stepped briskly up, drew as quick as a flash a leather whip from under his [142] garment, and dealt four lashes over the shoulders of the prisoner, who was then released, and stolidly walked back to his seat, as if nothing had happened.

Now came the woman’s turn to be punished for her part in the thefts. They took off her blanket, but left on a little white undergarment. She was marched to the pole and held in the same manner as the man; but another man acted as executioner. She, too, received four lashes, and wept a little when they struck her; but neither she nor her fellow-sufferer made any attempt at, or sign of, revolt against the sentence of the court. While the chastising went on, the audience rose and stood reverently. After returning to her seat, the woman knelt down, and both delinquents shook hands with the chief judge.

There still remained the second part of the accusation to be dealt with, the one relating to the marital complications. The man asked permission to leave his first wife, as he wanted to marry the woman with whom he ran away. But no divorce was granted to him. He was ordered to return to his legitimate spouse, who was present at the proceedings with her child in her arms. Evidently disappointed, he slowly stepped over to where she was standing and greeting him with a happy smile.

But the woman with whom he had been living had now to be provided with another husband. Who would take her? The judge addressed the question to a young man, a mere boy, standing near by, and he replied that he would marry her, if she were willing. She said yes, so he sat down beside her. Their hands were placed together, the gobernador said a few admonishing words to them, and they rose, man and wife, duly married. How was this for rapid transit to matrimonial bliss? [143]

The next day the guide took us up along some higher ridges, and after ten or twelve miles of slow ascent, we arrived at the summit of Barranca de Cobre, where we made a comfortable camp about half a mile back of the point at which the track descends into the cañon. Here we had an inspiring view; deep gorges and ravines, the result of prolonged weathering and erosion, gashing the country and forming high ridges, especially toward the south and west. In other words, here we observed for the first time barrancas, which from now on form an exceedingly characteristic feature of the topography of the Sierra Madre. These precipitous abysses, which traverse the mighty mass of the sierra like huge cracks, run, as far as Sierra Madre del Norte is concerned, mainly from east to west. In the country of the Tarahumare, that is to say, the State of Chihuahua, there are three very large barrancas. They are designated as Barranca de Cobre, Barranca de Batopilas, and Barranca de San Carlos. The Sierra Madre del Norte runs at an altitude of from 7,000 to 8,000 feet, at some points reaching even as high as 9,000 feet. It rises so gradually in the east, for instance, when entered from the direction of the city of Chihuahua, that one is surprised to be suddenly almost on top of it. The western side, however, falls off more or less abruptly, and presents the appearance of a towering, ragged wall. In accordance with this general trait of the mountain system, the beginnings of the barrancas in the east are generally slight, but they quickly grow deeper, and before they disappear in the lowlands of Sinaloa they sometimes reach a depth of from 4,000 to 5,000 feet. Of course, they do not continue equally narrow throughout their entire length, but open up gradually and become wider and less steep.

Besides these large barrancas, which impede the [144] traveller in the highlands and necessitate a course toward the east, there are innumerable smaller ones, especially in the western part of the range, where large portions of the country are broken up into a mass of stupendous, rock-walled ridges and all but bottomless chasms. A river generally flows in the barrancas between narrow banks, which occasionally disappear alltogether, leaving the water to rush between abruptly ascending mountain sides.

As far as the first of the large barrancas was concerned, near the top of which we were standing, we could for some little distance follow its windings toward the west, and its several tributaries could be made out in the landscape by the contours of the ridges. Barranca de Cobre is known in its course by different names. Near the mine of Urique (the Tarahumare word for barranca), it is called Barranca de Urique, and here its yawning chasm is over 4,000 feet deep. Even the intrepid Jesuit missionaries at first gave up the idea of descending into it, and the Indians told them that only the birds knew how deep it was. The traveller as he stands at the edge of such gaps wonders whether it is possible to get across them. They can in a few places be crossed, even with animals if these are lightly loaded, but it is a task hard upon flesh and blood.

It was in these barrancas, that I was to find the gentile (pagan) Indians I was so anxious to meet. From where I stood looking at it the country seemed forgotten, lonely, untouched by human hand. Shrubs and trees were clinging to the rocky brows of the barrancas, and vegetation, could be seen wherever there was sufficient earth on the mountain and the sides of the ravines; but, on the whole, the country looked rather barren and lifeless. [145]

Still, it did not take us long to find traces of human [147] beings. Our tents were pitched on an old trinchera. Cut deep into a rough ledge not far off was the rough carving of a serpent, sixty feet long, that must have been left here by a race antecedent to the Tarahumares. And a little further off we came upon the ruins of a modern Tarahumare house. It seems as if the Indians must extract a living out of the rocks and stones; though when we got down into the barranca and into the ravines we came upon patches of land that could be cultivated; and there were some small areas of pasture, although extremely precipitous.

The first thing to do was to despatch the guide into the valleys and gorges below, which from our camping place could not be seen, only surmised, that he might persuade some Tarahumares to act as carriers on an excursion I contemplated making through the region. In a couple of days a party was made up, consisting, besides myself, of Mr. Taylor, the guide, two Mexicans, and five Tarahumares with their gobernador. Bundles weighing from forty to seventy-five pounds were placed on the backs of the Indians and the Mexicans; even the guide took a small pack, though it would have been beneath the dignity of the gobernador to take a load upon himself. But his company was valuable on account of his great influence with his people.

It was an exceedingly interesting excursion of several days’ duration. Owing to the presence of the gobernador the Indians received us well. Nobody ran away, though all were extremely shy and bashful, and the women turned their backs towards us. But after a while they would offer us beans from a pot cooking over the fire. They served them in earthenware bowls with a couple of tortillas (corn cakes). In another vessel, which they passed around among us, they offered [148] the flavouring, coarse salt and some small chile (Spanish peppers), which vegetable is cultivated and much relished by the Tarahumares.

But the most interesting dish was iskiate, which I now tasted for the first time. It is made from toasted corn, which is mixed with water while being ground on the metate until it assumes the consistency of a thick soup. Owing to certain fresh herbs that are often added to the corn, it may be of a greenish color, but it is always cool and tempting. After having tramped for several days over many miles of exceedingly rough country, I arrived late one afternoon at a cave where a woman was just making this drink. I was very tired and at a loss how to climb the mountain-side to my camp, some 2,000 feet above; but after having satisfied my hunger and thirst with some iskiate, offered by the hospitable Indians, I at once felt new strength, and, to my own astonishment, climbed the great height without much [149] effort. After this I always found iskiate a friend in need, so strengthening and refreshing that I may almost claim it as a discovery, interesting to mountain climbers and others exposed to great physical exertions. The preparation does not, however, agree with a sedentary life, as it is rather indigestible.

The dress of the Tarahumare is always very scanty, even where he comes in contact with the whites. One may see the Indians in the mining camps, and even in the streets of the city of Chihuahua, walking about naked, except for a breech-cloth of coarse, home-spun woollen material, held up around the waist with a girdle [150] woven in characteristic designs. Some may supplement this national costume with a tunic, or short poncho; and it is only right to add that most of the men are provided with well-made blankets, which their women weave for them, and in which they wrap themselves when they go to feasts and dances. The hair, when not worn loose, is held together with a home-woven ribbon, or a piece of cotton cloth rolled into a band; or with a strip of palm leaf. Often men and women gather the hair in the back of the head, and men may also make a braid of it.

The women’s toilet is just as simple. A scrimpy woollen skirt is tied around the waist with a girdle, and over the shoulders is worn a short tunic, with which, however, many dispense when at home in the barranca. The women, too, have blankets, though with them they are not so much the rule as with the men. Still, mothers with babies always wear blankets, to support the little ones in an upright position on their backs, the blanket being tightly wrapped around mother and child. The women nowadays generally wear sandals of the usual Mexican cowhide pattern, like the men; but there is ample evidence to prove that such was not the case in former times.

The people are, for Indians, not especially fond of [151] ornaments, and it is a peculiar fact that mirrors have no special attraction for them. They do not like to look at themselves. The women often wear ear-ornaments made of triangular pieces of shell attached to bead strings, or deck themselves with strings of glass beads, of which the large red and blue ones are favourites; and necklaces made from the seed of the Coix Lachryma-Jobi are used by both sexes, chiefly for medicinal purposes. The men wear only single strings of these seeds, while the necklaces of the women are wound several times around the neck. The shaman, or medicine-man—a priest and doctor combined—is never without such a necklace when officiating at a feast. The seed is believed to possess many medicinal qualities, and for this reason children, too, often wear it.

Peasant women in Italy and Spain use the same seed as a protection against evil, and even American women have been known to put strings of them on teething children as a soothing remedy.

An important fact I established is that the Indians [152] in the barrancas, in this part of the country, use something like trincheras for the cultivation of their little crops. To obtain arable land on the mountain slopes the stones are cleared from a convenient spot and utilised in the construction of a wall below the field thus made. The soil is apt to be washed away by heavy rains, and the wall not only prevents what little earth there is on the place from being carried off, but also catches what may come from above, and in this way secures sufficient ground to yield a small crop. Fields thus made can even be ploughed. On the slopes of one arroyo I counted six such terraces, and in the mountainous country on the Rio Fuerte, toward the State of Sinaloa, chile, beans, squashes, Coix Lachryma-Jobi, and bananas are raised on trincheras placed across the arroyos that run down the hills. There they have the form of small terraces, and remind one of similar ones found [155] farther north as ancient ruins, to such an extent that one might suppose that the Tarahumares have made use of the relics of antiquity. Mr. Hartman in one long arroyo thereabouts observed four at some distance from one another. They were from four to ten feet high, and as broad as the little arroyo itself, some eight to sixteen feet.

[156]

The houses we saw on this excursion were of remarkable uniformity, and as the people have had very little, if any, contact with the whites, it is reasonable to infer that these structures are original with them. On a sloping mesa six families were living in such buildings not far from one another.

These houses have a frame of four forked poles, planted firmly into the ground, to form a square or rectangle. Two joists are laid over them parallel to each other. Under one of them, in the front of the house, is the doorway. The joists support the fiat roof of loose pine boards, laid sometimes in a double layer. The rear joist is often a foot or so lower than the front one, which causes the roof to slant towards the back. The boards may simply be logs split in two and with the bark taken off. The walls are made by leaning boards, ends up, against the roof, while the door consists of a number of boards, which are removed or replaced according to convenience. In most instances the doorway is protected from the outside against wind and weather by a lean-to. Access to the house is gained sideways, even where a small vestibule is built, extra poles being driven in the ground to support the porch-roof boards.

While this style of architecture may be said to be typical throughout the Tarahumare country, there are [157] many variations. Generally attempts are made to construct a more solid wall, boards or poles being laid lengthwise, one on top of the other, and kept in place by sliding the ends between double uprights at the corners. Or they may be placed ends up along the side of the house; or regular stone walls may be built, with or without mud for mortar. Even in one and the same house all these kinds of walls may be observed. A type of house seen throughout the Tarahumare country, as well as among the pagan Tarahumares in the Barranca de Cobre, is shown in the illustration.

It is also quite common to see a frame work of only two upright poles connected with a horizontal beam, against which boards are leaning from both sides, making the house look like a gable roof set on the ground. There are, however, always one or more logs laid horizontally and overhung by the low eaves of the roof, [158] while the front and rear are carelessly filled in with boards or logs, either horizontally or standing on ends. In the hot country this style of house may be seen thatched with palm-leaves, or with grass.

The dwelling may also consist only of a roof resting on four uprights (jacal); or it may be a mere shed. There are also regular log-cabins encountered with locked corners, especially among the southern Tarahumares. Finally, when a Tarahumare becomes civilised, he builds himself a house of stone and mud, with a roof of boards, or thatch, or earth.

It is hardly possible to find within the Tarahumare country two houses exactly alike, although the main idea is always easily recognised. The dwellings, though very airy, afford sufficient protection to people who are [159] by no means sensitive to drafts and climatic changes. The Tarahumares do not expect their houses to be dry during the wet season, but are content when there is some dry spot inside. If the cold troubles them too much, they move into a cave. Many of the people do not build houses at all, but are permanent or transient cave-dwellers. This fact I thoroughly investigated in subsequent researches, extending over a year and a half, and covering the entire width and breadth of the Tarahumare country.

In this land of weather-worn porphyry and inter-stratified sandstone, natural caves are met with everywhere, in which the people find a convenient and safe shelter. Although it may be said that houses are their main habitations, [160] still the Tarahumares live in caves to such an extent that they may be fitly called the American cave-dwellers of the present age.

Caves were man’s first abode, and they are found in certain geological formations in all parts of the globe. Human imagination always peopled the deep, dark caverns with terrible monsters guarding treasures, and legends and fairy tales still cling about many of them. Shallow caves, however, have from the earliest time attracted man to seek shelter in them, just as the animals took refuge in them against the inclemency of the weather. Prehistoric man in Europe was a cave-dweller, and modern investigations have given us a clear and vivid picture of the life of the ancient race, who existed in France while the mammoth and the reindeer were roaming over the plains of western Europe.

As civilisation advanced, under changing climatic conditions, and as man began to improve his tools and implements, he deserted the caves and preferred to live in houses of his own building. But a long time after the caves had been abandoned as abodes of the living, they were still used for interring the dead. Do we not remember the story told in Genesis, how Abraham bought for 400 shekels a cave from Ephron that he might bury Sarah there and have a family tomb?

The cave-dwellers of France vanished many thousand years ago; but there are yet in several parts of the globe, for instance, in Tunis and in Central Africa, races who still adhere to the custom of living in caves, although their condition of life is different from that of the antediluvian cave-dwellers.

In Mexico the cave-dwellers are in a transitory state, most of them having adopted houses and sheds; but many of them are still unable to perceive why they should give up their safe and comfortable natural shelters [161] for rickety abodes of their own making. Padre Juan Fonte, the pioneer missionary to the Tarahumares, who penetrated into their country eighteen leagues from San Pablo, toward Guachochic, speaks of the numerous caves in that country and relates that many of them were divided into small houses. Other records, too, allude to the existence of cave-dwellers in that part of the Sierra Madre. Still, the fact of there being cave-dwellers to-day in Mexico was until recently known only to the Mexicans living in their neighbourhood, who regard this condition of things as a matter of course.

[162]

While most of the Tarahumares live permanently on the highlands, a great many of them move for the winter down into the barranca, on account of its warmer temperature, and, if they have no house, they live wherever they find a convenient shelter, preferably a cave; but for want of better accommodations they content themselves with a rock shelter, or even a spreading tree, This would suit them well enough were it not that, at least in recent years, there has not been rain enough in the barrancas to enable the people to raise there the corn they need. They therefore go back to the highlands in March, because in the higher altitudes rainfall can be depended upon with more certainty. The general custom among the Indians living near to a barranca is to plant two crops of corn; one in early March on the crest, and the other one in June, at the beginning of the rainy season, down in the barranca, [163] and after having harvested at both places they retire to their winter quarters to enjoy themselves. Sometimes the cave of a family is not more than half a mile from their house, and they live alternately in one or the other abode, because the Tarahumares still retain their nomadic instincts, and even those living permanently on the highlands change their domicile very frequently. One reason is that they follow their cattle; another that they improve the land by living on it for a while; but there are still other reasons for moving so much about, which are known only to themselves. In summer many people leave their caves on account of the scorpions, tarantulas, and other pests that infest them.

In front of the entrance to the cave there is generally a wall of stone, or of stone and mud, raised to the height of a man’s chest, as a protection against wind and weather, wild beasts, etc. The cave is fitted up just like the houses, with grinding stone, earthen jars and [164] bowls, baskets, gourds, etc, The fire is always in the middle, without hearth or chimney, and the jars in which the food is cooked rest on three stones. A portion of the ground is levelled and made smooth for the family to sleep on. As often as not there are skins spread out on the floor. Sometimes the floor space is extended by an artificial terrace in front of the cave. In a few cases the floor is plastered with adobe, and I have seen one cave in which the sides, too, were dressed in the same way. [167] Generally there are one or two store-houses in the caves, and these constitute the chief improvement. Of course, there are a good many caves where there are no storehouses; still they are the striking feature of the cave. A few times I found walls of stone and mud erected inside of the cave, breast high, to partition off one or two rooms for the use of the family, as well as for the goats and sheep. Often, inclosures are built of wooden fences for the domesticated animals and occupy the greater part of the cave.

[165]

The largest inhabited cave I have seen was nearly a hundred feet in width and from twenty to forty feet in depth. If caves are at all deep, the Indians live near the mouth. They never excavate caves, nor do they live in dug-outs. I heard of one arroyo, where six inhabited caves, only thirty or fifty yards apart, can be seen at one time; but this is a rare case. Generally they are farther apart, maybe a hundred yards to a mile, or more; and that suits the Tarahumares very well, each family preferring to live by itself.

In one place I saw a cave, or rather a shelter under a big boulder, utilised as a dwelling; and here a kind of parapet had been built of stone gravel, terrace fashion, to enlarge the area of the cave floor.

Inhabited caves are never found in inaccessible places, as is the case with cliff-dwellings in the southwestern part of the United States. Where caves are difficult of access, the Indians may place a wooden ladder, or rather, a notched tree trunk, which is the national style of staircase. Once I saw steps cut into the soft “rock” (solidified volcanic ash), leading up to a dwelling. There was also a kind of settee cut out of the cave-wall.

Many of the caves are remarkably symmetrical in shape, and naturally quite comfortable. Caves may be [168] found in the arroyos in the highlands, as well as in the barrancas. If I were to designate a region where they are more plentiful than elsewhere, I should mention the country from Carichic towards Urique, and also to the north and west of Norogachic. Many caves have within the memory of man been permanently abandoned, owing to the occupancy of the land by the Mexicans, as the Indians dislike to be near the whites.

The Tarahumares are not the only tribe still clinging to caves. As we have seen, the Pimas, too, are, to a limited extent, cave-dwellers, and the same is the case with the northern Tepehuanes, as well as with the allied Huarogios in their small area.

Are these cave-dwellers related to the ancient cliff-dwellers in the southwestern part of the United States and northern Mexico? Decidedly not. Their very aversion to living more than one family in a cave and their lack of sociability mark a strong contrast with the ancient cliff-dwellers, who were by nature gregarious. The fact that the people live in caves is in itself extremely interesting, but this alone does not prove any connection between them and the ancient cliff-dwellers. Although the Tarahumare is very intelligent, he is backward in the arts and industries. It is true that the women weave admirable designs in girdles and blankets, but this seems to be the utmost limit of their capabilities. In the caves they sometimes draw with ochre clumsy figures of animals and women, and on some rocks may be seen outlines of feet scratched with stone “in order to leave their imprint in this world when they die.” Tarahumare pottery is exceedingly crude as compared with the work found in the old cliff-dwellings, and its decoration is infantile as contrasted with the cliff-dwellers’ work. The cliff-dwellers brought the art of decoration to a comparatively high state, as shown in [171] the relics found in their dwellings. But the cave-dweller of to-day shows no suggestion of such skill. Moreover, he is utterly devoid of the architectural gift which resulted in the remarkable rock structures of the early cliff-dwellers. These people as far as concerns their cave-dwelling habits cannot be ranked above troglodytes.

The Tarahumare never lives all his life in one house or cave; nor will he, on the other hand, leave it forever. He rarely stays away from it for more than two or three years. A family, after inhabiting a house for a time may suddenly decide to move it, even if it is built of stone. The reason is not always easy to tell. One man moved his house because he found that the sun did not strike it enough. After a death has occurred in a dwelling, even though it was that of a distant relative incidentally staying with the family, the house is destroyed, or the cave permanently abandoned; and many other superstitious apprehensions of one kind or another may thus influence the people. Very often a man moves for the sake of benefiting the land, and after tearing down his house he immediately plants corn on the spot on which the house stood. A family may thus change its abode several times a year, or once a year, or every other year. The richest man in the Tarahumare country, now dead, had five caves, and moved as often as ten times in one year.

A never absent feature of the Tarahumare habitation, be it house or cave, is a level, smooth place in front of it. This is the dancing place, or patio, on which he performs his religious exercises, and he may have more than one. The formation of the land may even oblige him to build terraces to obtain space enough for his religious dances.

On this patio, which measures generally about ten [172] yards in every direction, one, two, or three crosses are planted, as the central object of all ceremonies (except those in the cult of the sacred cactus híkuli1). The cross is generally about a foot high; sometimes it stands two feet above ground. It is made of two sticks of unequal length, preferably sticks of pine wood, tied together in the form of the Latin cross. I saw two crosses raised outside of a man’s house, which were formed by the natural growth of small pine trees, and these were four feet high. The shamans, for their curing, use small crosses—three or four inches long.

It is a well-known fact that on their arrival in America the Spaniards to their amazement found Indians in possession of the cross. Omitting here the cross of Palenque, the symbol of a tree, the tree of life, it is safe to say that the original cross of most Mexican tribes is the Greek cross, though the Latin was also used. To them the former is of fundamental religious moment, as indicating the four corners of the world; but a word for cross, or anything corresponding to it, does not occur in the language of any of the tribes known to me. Nevertheless the cross (the Greek), to the Indian the symbol of a cosmic idea, is pecked on the rocks, or drawn on the sand, or made in corresponding strokes with medicine over the patient’s body. [173]

With the Tarahumare the cross is the pivot around which all his ceremonies and festivals move. He always dances to the cross, and on certain occasions he attaches strings of beads, ears of corn, and other offerings to it. It is used by the heathen as well as by the Christian Tarahumares. The question is whether this tribe has changed its form since its contact with the whites or whether the cross was originally like the one in use to-day. From many of the Tarahumares’ utterances I incline to think that their cross represents a human figure with arms outstretched, and is an embodiment of Father Sun, the Perfect Man. When two crosses are placed on the patio, the smaller stands for the moon. This conception also explains the custom of setting up three crosses at the principal dance, the rutubúri, the third cross representing probably the Morning Star. Among Christianised natives the three crosses may come gradually to mean the Trinity.

On one occasion I saw a cross at least ten feet high with a cross beam only one foot long, raised next to two crosses of ordinary size, all standing on the patio of a well-to-do Indian, and the inference was easily drawn that the high cross was meant for Father Sun. The Northern Tepehuanes say that the cross is Tata Dios, the Christianised Indian’s usual designation of God. [174]

The impression that the cross represents a human figure gains further probability by the fact that a cross is erected on the special patio of the dead, and I have noticed that this cross is moved in the course of the ceremonies to the principal dancing place “to see the dancing and drink tesvino,” as the Indians explained it. Surely, this cross represented the dead.

On this page are seen the front and rear view of a cross which is of great interest, although its shape is evidently an exaggerated imitation of a Catholic cross [175] or crucifix. I came upon it in the mountainous country east of Morelos, and the Tarahumares near the Ranch of Colorados presented it to me. It had apparently not been made long ago, and was painted with red ochre. The arms have been tied on in the usual fashion with a twine of fibre, the mode of fastening it appearing most distinctly on the back of the cross.

Seen from the front the designs on the head, or the uppermost part, represent the Morning Star, the dots being his companions, the other stars. But it is significant that this constellation is also called the “eyes” of the cross. The dots on the other side of the cross are also meant for stars, in order that, as the Indian explained to me, Tata Dios may see the stars where they are dancing; he lives in the stars—a belief [176] evidently arising from Catholic influence. The human figures painted on the cross are intended to emphasise its meaning. The most important of these human-like contours are those directly below the junction of the arms with the vertical stem. They are evidently repetitions of the main cross, the arms being expressed in the crude carvings. What the various pairs Of curved sidelines mean, I am unable to say.

What is of more importance to the Tarahumare than his dwelling is his store-house, which he always builds before his domicile. In fact, his personal comfort is made secondary even to that of his domestic animals. As a survival of the time when he had no house at all may be noted the fact that husband and wife, after having been away on a journey for several [177] days or longer, do not on the first night after their return sleep in the house or cave, but at some convenient place near the store-house.

These store-houses are always well put together, though many of them are not large enough to accommodate a medium-sized dog, the Tarahumares preferring number to size. In them he stores what little property he has beyond that in actual use, chiefly corn and beans, some spare clothing and cotton cloth, hikuli, herbs, etc. The door of the house is made from one or more short boards of pine wood, and is either provided with an ingeniously constructed wooden lock, or the boards are simply plastered up with mud along the four edges. The Tarahumare rarely locks his house on leaving it, but he is ever careful to fasten the door of his storehouse securely, and to break open a store-house sealed up in the manner described is considered the most heinous crime known to the tribe. Mexicans have committed it and have had to pay for it with their lives.

The most common kind of store-house is from four to six feet high, round, and built of stones and mud, with a roof of pine boards, weighed down with earth and stones. Other store-houses of similar size are square and built of boards with corners interlocked. They, too, are covered with boards. These diminutive buildings are often seen inside of caves; or else they are erected in places difficult of access, on tops of boulders, for instance. Sometimes they are seen in lonely places, more often, however, near the dwellings; and the little round structures make a curious effect when erected on boulders in the vicinity of some hut, looking, as they do, like so many diminutive factory chimneys. They proclaim more clearly than anything else the fact that when the people reach that stage in their development in which they begin to till the [178] soil, they soon become careful of the little property they have, in marked distinction to the savage and nomadic tribes, who are always lavish and improvident. I have seen as many as ten store-houses of the kind described, and once even fourteen near one dwelling, but generally one or two only are found near by.

Small caves, especially when difficult to reach and hidden from view, may be utilised as store-houses, and are then sealed up in the same way as the other varieties are. Sometimes regular log-houses are used. [179]

We continued our way toward the south, crossing Barranca de Cobre where it is 3,300 feet deep. The track we followed was fairly good, but led along several dangerous precipices, over which two burros rolled and were killed. The highest point we reached on the track over the highlands south of the barranca was 8,300 feet. There seemed to be a divide here, the climate being cool and moist, and the farthest ranges toward the south and west enveloped in mist and fog. Although Barranca de Batopilas is not as narrow and impressive as the barranca we had just left, still the mighty gap, as we looked into its hazy bottom from the highlands, presented an imposing, awe-inspiring sight.

Following the windings of the well-laid-out road we descended into the cañon and made camp a few miles [180] this side of the town of Batopilas. The silver mines here, which are old and famous, were discovered in the seventeenth century. I was cordially received by Mr. A. R. Shepherd, the well-known mining expert, whose courtesy and kindness were much appreciated by the members of the expedition.

My recent experience had convinced me that the only way to study the natives properly was to live among them for a length of time, and as such a thing was out of the question with so large a party as I still had with me, I made up my mind to discharge as soon as possible everybody and to remain alone.

The country was now suffering from a relentlessly scorching sun. The heat increased as the wet season approached, and, as the animals were getting weaker and weaker, I disposed here of about half of them, and the number of attendants and the amount of baggage were correspondingly reduced. On continuing the journey with the weak and hungry mules, we found the ascent of the southern side of Barranca de Batopilas quite laborious; but on the crest we enjoyed the fresh breeze, the more gratefully after the enervating heat in the bottom of the cañon.

Thus we arrived at the village of Yoquibo (yōkí = bluebird; īvo = mesa: bluebird on the mesa). Here I had to stop for a few days to reconnoitre the road. I was told that the grass had been burned by the Indians almost as far as the ranches of Guachochic, our main objective point. The Indians at that time (May) always burn the grass, and the entire country is wrapped in smoke. This, they think, is necessary to produce rain; smoke-clouds and rain-clouds, in their opinion, bringing about the same ultimate result. But it is exceedingly trying for travellers, man and beast. Only by accident is some little spot of grass spared here [181] and there, and progress becomes almost an impossibility.

Immediately upon our arrival I went to see the gobernador, and, strange to say, I found him engaged in teaching his young wife how to weave. Three months ago his first wife had died of smallpox. Old bachelors and widowers have a hard time in getting wives, because the Tarahumare belles have a decided preference for young men. But the wifeless Indian feels very unhappy, as it means that he has to do all the woman’s housework, which is very laborious, and therefore thoroughly distasteful to him. By way of fascinating this young girl, the gobernador had to exert himself to the extent of teaching her how to make girdles and wearing apparel.

The next day this gentleman returned my call, carrying his bow and arrows. I had already learned in Batopilas that the party of Indians who, about two years ago, had been exhibited by a now deceased traveller as representative cave-dwellers, had been gathered mainly in the neighbourhood of Yoquibo. My visitor had been one of the troupe, and I was eager to find out what impression the civilised world had made on this child of nature, who had never known anything but his woods and his mountains. Therefore, almost my first question was, “How did you like Chicago?” “It looks very much like here,” was the unexpected reply. What most impressed him, it seemed, was neither the size of the city nor its sky-scrapers, though he remembered these, but the big water near which those people dwelt. He had liked riding in the railroad cars, but complained that he had not had enough to eat on the journey.

His experience on the trip had familiarised him with the white man and his queer, incomprehensible ways, and [182] made him something of a philosopher. I wanted him to accompany me on my visits to the few houses here, as the people were very shy and timid. Although he was very much engaged, as I could see, having to look after his animals as well as his wife, he obligingly went with me to two houses. We saw a woman with twins; one of them a miserable-looking specimen, suffering from lack of food.

There were also some cave-dwellings near Yoquibo, one or two of which were occupied. In the afternoon, when I went out alone, the people all disappeared the moment they saw me approaching, except one group of strangers who had come to beg and did not pay any [183] attention to me. They were too busily engaged in making ready for the pot a certain kind of larvae, by extracting them from the cocoon, a small white sac of silky texture found on the strawberry tree.

The guide told me that Indians like these, who beg for food, always return, to those who give them alms, the amount of the gift, as soon as their circumstances allow.

Here in Yoquibo I met one of those Mexican adventurers who under one pretext or another manage to get into the Indian villages and cannot be routed out again. Certain of them ply some little trade, generally that of a blacksmith, others act as “secretaries,” writing what few communications the Indians may have to send to the government authorities; some conduct a little barter trade, exchanging cheap cotton cloth, beads, etc., for sheep and cattle; but most of them supply the Indians with Mexican brandy, mescal. The one in Yoquibo had established himself in the only room left intact in the old dilapidated vicarage, and eked out a living by selling mescal to the Indians.

This fellow’s appearance, especially his unsteady, lurking eyes, suggested the bandit. No doubt, like most of his class, he was in hiding from the government authorities. He was something of a hypochondriac, and among other ailments he thought he had an animal in his stomach, which he got in there by way of a knife-stab he had received some time ago. When he came to me to get some remedy, he carried a rather fine rifle, and in spite of all his suffering, real or imaginary, the bandit nature asserted itself, when I made some complimentary remark regarding his weapon. His half-closed eyes slurred in a crafty, guileful manner from side to side as he drawled: “Despues de Dios, mi rifle!” (“Next to God, my rifle!”)

[184] After considerable looking about, I at last found an Indian willing to act as guide for the next stage of our journey. He was an elderly man, and at dusk he was quietly sitting near the camp fire, eating his supper, when the tall figure of Mr. Hartman appeared on the scene, wrapped in a military overcoat. He probably looked to the Indian very martial and threatening as he approached through the twilight. At any rate, his appearance had a most unexpected effect on our guide. I suddenly heard a noise behind me, and on looking around, I saw him running as fast as his legs would carry him, leaving his supper, dropping his blanket, splashing through the creek and disappearing in the night, never to be seen again by us. He imagined that a soldier was coming to seize and kill him; that the meat-pot in which he was to be cooked was already on the fire, while the skulls of other unfortunates that had been eaten were lying in a heap near one of the tents. He alluded apparently to four skulls which I had taken out of an ancient burial cave. In explanation I will say that some time ago he had been arrested for some crime and had broken away from jail; soldiers, or rather, the police, were after him, and he mistook Mr. Hartman for one of his pursuers and ran for safety.

The incident proved somewhat unfortunate for us. In consequence of the wild stories he told about us, the Indians, of a suspicious nature anyway, sent messengers all over the sierra, warning the people against the man-eaters that were coming. Our strange proceedings in Cusarare, namely, the photographing, had already been reported and made the Indians uneasy. The terrible experience of our runaway guide seemed to confirm their wildest apprehensions, and the alarm spread like wildfire, growing in terror, like an avalanche, the farther [185] it went. We found the ranches deserted on every hand, women and children hiding and screaming whenever they caught a glimpse of us. At every turn our progress was impeded. Wherever I came I was abhorred as the man who subsisted on babies and green corn, and the prospect of my ever gaining the confidence of the Indians was exceedingly discouraging for the next four or five months.

Though it was impossible to secure a new guide, I still made a start next day, following a fairly good track which leads south toward Guachochic. Yet further obstacles presented themselves. The animals began to give out. It was the season of the year when they change their coats, and are in poor condition even under the best circumstances, and mine were exhausted from lack of food. They would not eat the dry grass, and the green pasture was still too scanty to suffice for their maintenance. The information that the natives had burned all the grass proved correct to its fullest extent, so there was nothing for me to do but to establish a camp, scarcely a day’s journey off, at Tasajisa, where there was some pasture along the ridges that had as yet escaped the fire of the Indians. Leaving the larger part of my outfit and about half of my mules in charge of my chief packer, Mr. Taylor and I continued the journey with the best and strongest of the animals, making a circuitous tour to the little mining town of Zapuri, in the neighbourhood of which were some caves I wanted to investigate.

After a day’s journey we turned westward and got beyond the range of the fires. Turkeys were seen close to our camp and appeared plentiful; I also saw a giant woodpecker, but just as I got ready to shoot, it flew away with a great whirr of its wings. We soon began to descend, and after a long and fatiguing day’s travel [186] over cordons and sierras, and through a wide barranca surrounded by magnificent towering mountains, we arrived, late in the afternoon, at Zapuri. The superintendent of the mine, to whom I brought a letter of introduction from the owner of the property, received us with cordial hospitality. Here the climate was splendid; the nights were just pleasantly cool, the mornings deliciously calm; they were all the more enjoyed after the windy weather of the sierra.

Immediately upon my arrival here I had a chance, through the courtesy of the superintendent, to secure a Mexican and some strong mules, which took Mr. Taylor over to Parral on his way back to the United States. Mr. Hartman remained with the expedition two months longer, to join me again the following year for a few months. I also got a guide for myself and made an excursion to the caves in the neighbouring barrancas. After we had gone some ten miles over very bad roads, we came to the home of an old Tarahumare woman, who was reputed to be very rich. Knowing Mexican exaggeration in this regard, I computed that the twelve bushels of pesos she was supposed to have hidden might amount, perhaps, to $50 or $100 Mexican money. Whatever her wealth was, she showed it only in a lavish display of glass beads around her scrawny neck; they must have weighed at least six or eight pounds. But then, her homestead was composed mainly of four or five substantial circular store-houses.

The wealth of the Tarahumare consists in his cattle. He is well off when he has three or four head of cattle and a dozen sheep and goats. There is one instance where a man had as many as forty head of cattle, but this was a rare exception. They rarely keep horses, and never pigs, which destroy their cornfields; and are believed, besides, to be Spaniards (Gachupines). Pork, [187] though sometimes eaten, is never sacrificed. No tame turkeys are kept, but occasionally the people have some hens, and in rare cases a family may keep a turtle dove or a tame quail. When a man has oxen, he is able to plough a large piece of land and raise enough corn to sell some. But corn is seldom converted into money.

Here we packed the most necessary things on our best mule, and with the guide and two Indians, who carried bundles, we descended to the river. The road was fairly good, but as we approached the river we came to several bad places. In one of these the mule’s aparejo struck a rock, which caused the animal to lose its foothold. Unresistingly it slid down the steep slope for about seven yards and came against a tree, forefeet on one side, hindfeet on the other. The boy who led it, eager to do something, managed to get the halter off, so that there was nothing by which to hold the animal except its ears. I held fast to one of these, steadying myself on the loose soil by grabbing a root sticking out of the ground. The intelligent animal lay perfectly still over the trunk. Finally I managed to get out my bowie-knife and cut the ropes off the pack, which rolled down the hill, while the mule, relieved of its bulky burden, scrambled to its feet and climbed up. It was born and bred in the barranca, otherwise it would never have been able to accomplish this feat.

Toward evening we arrived at the section of a barranca called Ohuivo (Ōví = return, or “the place to which they returned”) on the Rio Fuerte. The Indians here, although many of them have been affected by the nearness of the mines, are reticent and distrustful, and our guide evidently had not much influence with them. They refused to be photographed, and even the gobernador ran away from the terrible ordeal.

During the several days I remained in this valley the [188] heat never varied from 100°, day and night, which was rather trying and made doing anything an exertion. The country looked scorched, except for the evergreen cacti, the most prominent of which was the towering pithaya. Its dark-green branches stand immovable to wind and storm. It has the best wild fruit growing in the north-western part of Mexico, and as this was just the season when it ripens, the Indians from all around had come to gather it. It is as large as an egg and its flesh soft, sweet, and nourishing. As the plant grows to [189] a height of twenty to thirty-five feet, the Indians get the fruit down with a long reed, one end of which has four prongs, and gather it in little crates of split bamboo, which they carry by straps on their backs. It is a sight to see men, women, and children start out gaily at daybreak, armed with slender sticks, climbing rugged heights with grace and agility, to get the pithaya, which tastes better when plucked at dawn, fresh and cool, than when gathered during the heat of the day. The fruit, which lasts about a month, comes when it is most needed, at the height of the dry season (June), when the people have a regular feasting-time of it. Mexicans also appreciate the pithaya, and servants frequently abscond at that time, in order to get the fruit. The beautiful white flowers of the plant are never found growing on the north side of the stem.

With the Indians, the pithaya enters, of course, into religion, and the beautiful macaw (guacamaya), which revels in the fruit, is associated with it in their beliefs. The bird arrives from its migration to southern latitudes when the pithaya is in bloom, and the Indians think that it comes to see whether there will be much fruit; then it flies off again to the coast, to return in June, when the fruit is ripe. The following gives the trend of one of the guacamaya songs: “The pithaya is ripe, let us go and get it. Cut off the reeds!1 The guacamaya comes from the Tierra Caliente to eat the first fruits. From far away, from the hot country, I come when the men are cutting the reeds, and I eat the first fruits. Why do you wish to take the first fruits from me? They are my fruits. I eat the fruit, and I throw away the skin. I get filled with the fruit, and I go home singing. Remain behind, little tree, waving as I alight from you! I am going to fly in the wind, and some day I will return and eat your pithayas, little tree!” [190]

Followed the river a day’s journey up and noticed some small tobacco plantations on the banks. I met some good-looking people, who had come from Tierras Verdes, the locality adjoining on, the south. Their movements were full of action and energy. Their skins showed a tinge of delicate yellow, and as the men wore their hair in a braid, they had a curious, oriental appearance. The women looked well in black woollen skirts and white tunics. The people from that part of the country are known for their pretty, white, home-made blankets, and it was evident that in those inaccessible parts the Indians had still something for the white man to take away.

The natives of this valley had a curious habit, when they were made to dive for fish, of afterward throwing themselves in a row on the sun-heated sand to warm their stomachs for a minute or two.

Near Ohuivo, in the mountains toward Morelos, there used to live a family of ten albinos. When I was there only two survived, smallpox having made havoc among them. Their skin was so delicate that [191] even the contact with their clothing irritated it. Mr. Hartman visited one of them, an old woman who lived in a cave with her husband, a small, dark-skinned fellow, and the two certainly were “mated, but not matched.” Her features were entirely Indian, but her complexion was unique in Mexico, even among the white population. She reminded one of a very blond type of Scandinavian or Irish peasantry. Her hair was yellowish-white, but her eye-brows and -lashes were snow-white. The face and body were white, but disfigured with large red spots and small freckles. She kept her eyes more than half shut, and as she was very shy it was not possible to ascertain the color of the iris; but Mr. Hartman was assured by the husband that it was bluish.

Most of the Indians in Ohuivo live in houses. The few caves that are occupied are not improved in any way. One cave contained ancient habitations, and tradition says that there the Tubares had once established themselves. The cave is nothing but a nearly horizontal crack in the rock, situated on the southern side of the river, some 300 feet above the bottom of the valley. It runs from south-east to north-west to a length of about 200 feet, interrupted perpendicularly by a crevice. Entering the cave at the southernmost end I found twelve low-walled rooms, standing singly, but closely side by side. They were square with rounded corners. The walls were built of stone and mud and one foot thick, and the floors were hard and smooth. A store-room, in a good state of preservation, resembled in every detail the store-houses used by the Tarahumares of the present day, being square and built of stone and mud. In none of these rooms was it possible for me to stand upright. Apart from this group, a few yards higher up in the cave, were two small houses. The floor of the [192] cave was getting higher and higher. I had to crawl on my stomach for about ten yards and came suddenly to the edge of a precipice; but a track led around it to the other side, where I found the main portion of the houses, eighteen in all, the largest having a side thirteen feet long, though the others were considerably smaller. They were arranged just like those of the first section, in one row, and were made of the same material, except a few, which were built of adobe. In these the walls were only eight inches thick. One of the rooms was still complete, had square openings, and may have been a store-room. The others seem to have had the conventional Indian apertures. In two chambers I noticed circular spaces sunk into the floor six inches deep and about fourteen inches in diameter. What I took to be an estufa, nineteen feet in diameter, was found in the lowest section. Behind it was only a small cluster of five houses higher up in the cave.

Though this is the only ancient cave-dwelling I visited in Ohuivo, I was assured that there were several others in the neighbourhood. The broken country around Zapuri is interesting on account of the various traditions which, still living on the lips of the natives, refer to a mysterious people called the Cocoyomes, regarded by some Tarahumares as their ancient enemies, by others as their ancestors. They were the first people in the world, were short of stature and did not eat corn. They subsisted mainly on herbs, especially a small agave called tshāwí. They were also cannibals, devouring each other as well as the Tarahumares. The Cocoyomes lived in caves on the high cliffs of the sierra, and in the afternoon came down, like deer, to drink in the rivers. As they had no axes of iron they could not cut any large trees, and were unable to clear much land for the planting of corn. They could only [193] burn the grass in the arroyos in order to get the fields ready. Long ago, when the Cocoyomes were very bad, the sun came down to the earth and burned nearly all of them; only a few escaped into the big caves.

Here in Zapuri the Cocoyomes had four large caves inside of which they had built square houses of very hard adobe; in one of the caves they had a spring. The Tarahumares often fought with them, and once, when the Cocoyomes were together in the largest cave, which had no spring, the Tarahumares besieged them for eight days, until all of the Cocoyomes had perished from hunger. From such an event the name of Zapuri may have been derived. Intelligent Mexicans, whom I consulted, agree that it means “fight” or “contest” (Spanish, desafio).

From a place called Tuaripa, some thirty miles farther south, near the border of the Tepehuane country, and in the same mountainous region, I have the following legend, about the Cocoyomes and the serpents:

[194]

Once having again ascended to the highlands, I found rather level country as far as Guachochic, some forty-five miles off by the track I followed. The name of the place signifies “blue herons,” and the fine water-course, which originates in the many springs here, was formerly the abode of many water-birds. The locality thus designated is to-day a cluster of Mexican ranches, most of them belonging to one family. There is an old church, but at present no independent Indians live in Guachochic; the aborigines found about the place are servants of the Mexicans.

Guachochic lies at an elevation of 7,775 feet and at the southern end of a mesa, the largest one in the [195] Sierra Madre del Norte, being twelve miles long and three miles wide. Except on the southern end this plateau is bordered with stately pine forests. Many Indians live on the mesa and in the numerous valleys adjoining it, but they are all “civilised”; that is, contaminated with many Mexico-Christian notions, and have lost their pristine simplicity.

I had a letter of introduction to the principal personage in Guachochic, Don Miguel, who enjoys the rare reputation of being just and helpful toward the Indians; and, being a large land-owner, he is a man of considerable influence also with his fellow-countrymen. To those in need he lends money on liberal terms out of the pile of silver dollars buried under the floor of his house. Robbers know from sad experience that he is not to be trifled with. Once, when a band of marauders had taken possession of the old adobe church and were helping themselves to the buried cash of the inhabitants of the ranches, he rallied the terrorised people, gave the robbers battle and routed them effectually. He upholds authority against lawlessness, and wants justice to have its course, except when one of his own relatives has done the shooting—I was sorry to learn that in this regard he was probably not beyond rebuke; but his many good deeds to the needy and oppressed, whether Mexican or Indian, should make us lenient toward this failing. The Indians appeal to him of their own accord. Three ruffians once went to the house of a well-to-do Indian, recently deceased, and told his mourning relatives that they had come to see to the division of the property among the heirs, and that they must have good things to eat and plenty to drink while thus occupied; calling upon the relatives to brew plenty of beer and kill an ox. Their orders were promptly obeyed; but in addition they charged the heirs a fee of three oxen, one fanega [196] of corn, and some silver money. This struck the simple and patient Indians as rather excessive, for what would then be left to divide between themselves? So they took their grievance to Don Miguel to be settled. I do not know of any white man in those parts who would have taken the trouble, as he did, to protect the poor Indians’ rights against the wily schemers.

The old gentleman was not at home when I arrived at his ranch, but I met one of his sons, who lives at Guachochic.

“I am the postmaster,” he said proudly, stepping forward and showing me, at the same time, his credentials, which he evidently always carried in his pocket. The mail from the lowlands to the mining towns passes over this place, and the mail-carrier sleeps in this house. In the course of the year he may also bring a few letters to the inhabitants of this part of the country. We soon entered into a conversation about postal matters, which naturally interested me greatly, as I was anxious to communicate as often as possible with the outside world. In spite of the great pride this man took in his office, his notions regarding his duties were rather vague. Being desirous of knowing what was going on among his neighbours, he had no compunction about opening the few letters they got; not that he destroyed them after reading them—he very coolly handed them over opened. The people did not like this, and considered it rather high-handed on his part; but then, what was there for them to do about it?

He said he had heard that I could cure people. When a man is called Doctor, the Mexican peasantry expect him to possess comprehensively all useful knowledge in the world. Looking at me for a moment, this healthy, ruddy-cheeked man suddenly, without saying a word, took hold of my hand and pressed it against his [197] forehead for a little while; then, all the time in silence, he carried it backward until my fingers touched a small excrescence on his back. Now was the chance to find out whatever was the matter with him!

On my next visit to his office he received me with a queer, hesitating expression on his face, and suddenly blurted out, “Can you cut out trousers?” For some time he had had a piece of cloth in his house, and he said he would pay me well if I could help him to have it made into trousers. To cure people, mend watches, repair sewing-machines, make applejack, do tailoring, prognosticate the weather—everything is expected from a man who comes from far away. And the good people here are astonished at a confession of ignorance of such matters, and take it rather personally as a lack of good-will toward them. It is the old belief in the medicine man that still survives in the minds of the people, and they therefore look upon doctors with much greater respect than on other persons.

People who live outside of civilisation are thrown upon their own resources in cases of sickness. The daughter of my Mexican guide was confined and the coming of the afterbirth was delayed. I give here, for curiosity’s sake, a list of the various remedies applied in the case:

1. The carapace of the armadillo, ground and taken in a little water. This is a Tarahumare remedy, said to be very effective for the trouble mentioned.

2. The skunkwort (the herb of the skunk).

3. The patient to hold her own hair in her mouth for half an hour.

4. The wood of Palo hediondo, boiled.

5. Urina viri, half a cup. This remedy is also externally used for cuts and bruises.

6. Fresh excrement from a black horse. A small [198] quantity of water is mixed with it, then pressed out through a piece of cloth and taken internally.

7. Perspiration from a black horse. A saddlecloth, after having been used on the horse, is put over the abdomen of the woman.

8. A decoction of the bark of the elm.

9. Pork fat.

After a number of days the patient recovered. Whether it was propter hoc or merely post hoc is a matter of conjecture.

Guachochic served admirably as a central point from which excursions in various directions could be made, as it lies in the very midst of the Tarahumare country. It is true that the Mexicans have appropriated all the best land round about, and their extensive and fertile ranches lie all around Guachochic. Toward the east, in the direction of the pueblos of Tonachic and Lagunitas, the broad strip of good arable and pasture land as far as Parral is owned exclusively by Mexicans.

But in the immediate neighbourhood of Guachochic toward the west and south lie the ridges and barrancas that run toward Sinaloa, and these are inhabited by pagan Tarahumares. Toward the north the Indians hold undisputed sway over that extensive region of mountains, pine-covered plateaus and well-watered arroyos around the pueblos of Norogachic, Pamachic and Nararachic, and here are found the most independent Tarahumares that are left, who still defy the whites to take their land away from them. They are more valiant than the rest and not easily intimidated.

The first thing for me to do, after establishing camp near Guachochic, was to secure strong mules and the necessary men to bring up the outfit that had been left behind in Tasajisa, and after a week’s absence they returned with all the animals and goods intact.

[199] Guachochic is an uninteresting place at its best, and at this season it seemed especially dreary, on account of the crop failure from which the sierra had been suffering for the last two years. There is never much to get here, but now even corn and beans could hardly be bought. It was therefore quite a treat to have a square meal with Don Miguel, whose wife was a clever cook, and who, considering all circumstances, kept a fair Mexican table. He could also give me some general information about the Indians; but not only here, but in many other parts of Mexico, I was often astonished at the ignorance of the Mexican settlers concerning the Indians living at their very doors. Aside from certain conspicuous practices, even intelligent Mexicans know little of the customs, much less of the beliefs, of the aborigines. Regarding the pagans in the barrancas, I could get absolutely no information beyond a general depreciation of them as savages, bravos (fierce men) and broncos (wild ones). One Mexican whom I interviewed about certain caves thought that the only thing I could be looking for was the silver possibly hidden in them, and therefore told me that there were 12,000,000 pesos buried in a cave near the mining town Guadalupe y Calvo, waiting to be recovered. Thus it was exceedingly difficult in the beginning to determine just which would be the best way to start my investigations, and all that was left for me to do was to find out for myself where my best field was by making extensive excursions into the domains of the Tarahumare in company with an intelligent interpreter. And there was the rub! There are in this part of the sierra a certain number of men who make a living by dealing with the Indians, and who, having been born and bred in the country, speak the difficult language of the Tarahumares as well as the Indians themselves. But as each man operates in a certain [200] district and has a monopoly of the trade with the Indians within its confines, the temptation to cheat the unsophisticated natives out of their little property is naturally very great, and by far the greater number of the dealers succumb to it. As soon, however, as one of them is found out, he loses his influence with the Indians, and to go with a man of that stamp would have been disastrous to my purpose. The duty of the lenguaraz, as the interpreter is called, is to smooth the traveller’s way among the distrustful Indians with skilful words, to get provisions, make bargains, and explain to the Indians the purpose of his visit. Last but not least, he must obtain all possible information from them. This may mean one day’s hard work, and the trying of his patience with many apparently futile questions which are made to get at the Indian’s real meaning. Thus it may be understood how one is completely at the mercy of one’s lenguaraz, and how important it is for the success of an expedition to find the right man. There is nothing else to do but to try and try again, one after another.

The Indians near Guachochic seemed all to be depressed, poor, and hungry. Most of their animals had died from lack of food, and the few that had not succumbed to starvation had to be sold in exchange for corn. A couple of Indians who were on their way to Parral to buy wheat died of starvation before they reached their destination. The Indians ascribed the hard times to the presence of the whites, who had deprived them of their lands as well as of their liberty. The gods, as they put it, were angry with the whites and refused to send rain.

In the summer, especially in July, a false truffle is found on the highlands of Guachochic, which serves as a food to the Indians. It grows abundantly a couple [201] of inches below the ground, raising the earth a little; and is found also under the limb of a fallen tree. The dogs help in finding this fungus, and they are so fond of it that they go of their own accord to look for it. Pigs grow fat on this food, and coyotes, bears, and grey foxes also eat it. It is considered by Professor W. G. Farlow as a variety of Melanogaster variegatus, which he calls Mexicanus. It tastes like an over-ripe pear, with a flavour of onion when one first bites into it. The ordinary Melanogaster variegatus is eaten in Europe, and esteemed for its pleasant taste.

It was disagreeable to travel during the dry season, on account of the difficulty in getting provisions and finding pastures for the animals. But I made up my mind to start under any circumstances on an excursion toward the north-east, knowing that the fresh grass would come up quickly after a few of the thunder-storms not infrequent at that season. Toward the end of June I selected a few of my strongest animals, and, leaving one of my Mexicans to take care of the remainder, started out with two. As luck would have it, a heavy storm drenched our first camp, and afterward the rain seemed almost to pursue me, much to the delight of the Indians I visited, who had been praying and dancing for rain for a long time. One day I had the imposing spectacle of three thunder-storms coming up from different [202] directions. The one in the south sent flashes of lightning out of its mass of dark clouds over the clear sky; but after all, not much rain resulted.

There was no difficulty in finding one’s way from Guachochic to Norogachic. At one place I noticed an Indian trail leading up a ridge apparently consisting of volcanic tuff. To facilitate the ascent, steps, now worn and old, had been cut for a distance of a couple of hundred feet. I made my way among the Indian ranches to Norogachic, the residence of the only priest living at present in the Tarahumare country. The name of the place contains an allusion to a certain rock in the vicinity. There is another priest who pays some attention to the Tarahumares, but he lives in Nonoava, and makes only annual visits to baptise infants or marry their elders who wish for the blessings of the Church. [203]

Called on the padre and found him to be a very social, nice, energetic-looking person with a tinge of the “red man” in his veins.

He complained to me that the Indians were lazy about coming to mass. None of them paid taxes, and there was no way of forcing them. Nearly all of them he considered heathens, and only about a thousand came to the feasts. They arrive in the village on the evening before, and hear vespers. Then they give themselves up to drinking, and on the feast day proper are not in a condition to go to church.

He thinks there are some great men among the Tarahumares, but that, their mental faculties being entirely [204] uncultivated, they are, as it were, rough diamonds. In the padre’s opinion not only all the Indians, but also the Mexicans living’ among them, will soon relapse into paganism altogether.

Living under rough conditions as he does, it is a lucky thing for the padre that his physique is equal to emergencies. Once at the neighbouring village of Tonachic (= where there are pillars) he admonished the people, in a powerful sermon, to mend their ways. As they were coming out of the church, a scoundrel who resented the charges attacked him with a stick, but the padre managed to disarm him and gave him such a sound thrashing with his assailant’s own weapon that the latter had to keep his bed for a fortnight.

He showed me his stately old adobe church, built in missionary times. The ceiling, however, was infested with myriads of bats, the smell of which was quite sickening, and I was glad to get out again. With him in this uttermost outpost of Christendom lived his aged mother and six sisters, and they treated us with all the hospitality their very limited means permitted. We especially enjoyed their home-made macaroni.

In the family of the good priest lived a little Indian orphan girl, about five years old, as nice and sweet a child as one might wish to see. He was teaching her how to read and write, and she had learned her letters in two months.

The padre, good-natured to officiousness, helped me to get Indians to be photographed, fie also would insist upon arranging them before the camera. His efforts, however, were directed more toward achieving artistic triumph than scientific truth, and he wanted, for instance, to decorate the Indians with peacock feathers. He yielded, however, to my suggestion that turkey feathers would be more appropriate, and straightway [205] ordered one of his turkeys to be caught and deprived of some of its tail feathers. The only way in which I could show my appreciation of the disinterested kindness of the family was by photographing them, too.

It was a new sensation to them, and the ladies asked to have it done next day, as they wanted to arrange their hair and prepare themselves properly.

After them it was the turn of the presidente of the village “to look pleasant,” but at this juncture the camera met with an accident. The ring holding the lens broke and fell out. This happening miles away from civilisation was decidedly annoying. But the sisters proved themselves equal to the occasion. Their father having been a tinsmith, they had picked up the trade and had tools; and the ring was soldered on so well that it lasted until I returned to the United States the following year.

Norogachic is situated in the most populous part of the Tarahumare country, and its presidente exercises authority over the large surrounding district. He told me that his municipality counted 4,168 souls, among them about 300 Mexicans. With the help of a very intelligent Mexican I made a rough calculation of the number of Indians belonging to Tonachic and Guachochic, next neighbours of Norogachic, and estimated in the former 350, and in the latter 250 families. Counting [206] each family as consisting of eight members, this would give us a population of 4,800. Thus the most populous part of the Tarahumare country, including the three municipalities of Norogachic, Tonachic, and Guachochic, would contain a population of about 8,500 Indians,

As the presidente of Norogachic is an honourable man and speaks the native language, he exercised great influence over them, and on one occasion, when they had gathered in large numbers and threatened to avenge some abuse, he was able to avert disaster. Nature had endowed him with the doubtful blessing of bloodshot eyes, a feature generally attributed to powerful sorcerers, and this was perhaps more a point in his favour than otherwise with the Indians.

One day he took us to the top of a hill where there were some stones set in circles, about one foot above and half a foot under the ground. They reminded us of similar stone arrangements we had come upon in Sonora, but these were larger and more primitive. Altogether there were nine circles, varying in size from nine to thirteen feet in diameter. One, however, measured only five feet across, and the stones forming it were fully two feet above the ground. Close by was another similar small circle, and some little distance off still another. On a small mesa I found a flint arrow-point. There were also some potsherds there, but of the same kind as those used by the people of to-day.

The natives rightly count only three seasons—the dry, the rainy, and the winter. The first lasts from March till June, and is very warm and windy. Throughout July and August one can generally count on thunder-storms and heavy rains, while the mornings are bright. The rains then rarely extend over a large territory, but are confined to local showers, a circumstance very annoying to the agricultural inhabitants, who often see [207] dark clouds rolling up, apparently full of moisture, yet resulting in nothing but gusts of wind. A ridge may change the course of the clouds. Sometimes one valley may be flooded with rain, while not far away the heat is drying up everything. During September and October more constant rains occur, and may last more or less for a week at a time.

In the beginning of the wet season (July and August) the rains come from the south-west, but later on north-eastern winds bring rain. In winter there are constant winds from the south-east to the north, somewhat trying until one gets used to them. Snow is by no means unknown, and Indians have been known to freeze to death when caught out intoxicated.

The climate in the sierra, although not so pleasant on account of the constant winds, is extremely salubrious, the heat never exceeding 97° F., while the nights are deliciously cool. Lung diseases are here unknown. When I asked an old American doctor in Guadalupe y Calvo about his experience in regard to the health of the people, he said, “Well, here in the mountains [208] they are distressingly healthy. Despite a complete defiance of every sanitary arrangement, with the graveyards, the sewers, and a tannery at the river’s edge, no diseases originate here. When cholera reached the mountains some years ago, nobody died from it. The people simply took a bath in Mexican fashion, and recovered.” Down in the barrancas, however, where the heat often becomes excessive, the climate is far from healthy, and I have seen even Indians ill with fever and ague, contracted generally during the rainy season.

Between these two extremes, on the slopes of the sierra, toward the warm country, at an elevation of 5,000 feet, I found the most delightful climate I ever knew. It was like eternal spring, the air pure and the temperature remarkably even. There is a story of a Mexican woman, who, settling in this part of the country, broke her thermometer because the mercury never moved and she therefore concluded that it was out of order. The pleasantness of the climate struck me particularly on one occasion, after a prolonged stay in the invigorating though windy climate of the sierra. I had caught a cold the night before, and was not feeling very well as I dozed on the back of my mule while it worked its way down the mountain-side, but the sleep and the delightful balmy air made me soon feel well again. At times a mild zephyr played around us, but invariably died out about sunset. The night was delightfully calm, toward morning turning slightly cooler, and there was nothing to disturb my sleep under a big fig-tree but the bits of figs that were thrown down by the multitudes of bats in its branches. They were gorging themselves on the fruit, just as we had done the afternoon before.

Journeying on the pine-clad highlands, the traveller finds nothing to remind him that he is in the southern latitudes, except an occasional glimpse of an agave [211] between rocks and the fantastic cacti, which, although so characteristic of Mexican vegetation, are comparatively scarce in the high sierra. The nopal cactus, whose juicy fruit, called tuna, and flat leaf-like joints are an important article of food among the Indians, is found here and there, and is often planted near the dwellings of the natives. There are also a few species of Echinocactus and Mammilaria, but on the whole the cacti form no conspicuous feature in the higher altitudes of the sierra.

Along the streamlets which may be found in the numerous small valleys we met with the slender ash trees, beside alders, shrubs, Euonymus with brilliant red capsules, willows, etc. Conspicuous in the landscape was still the madroña, with its pretty, strawberry-like, edible berries.

Flowers on the whole are not abundant in the sierra. The modest yellow Mimulus along the water-courses is the first to come and the last to go. Various forms of columbine (Aquilegia) and meadow rue (Thalictrum) should also be remembered. In August and September I have seen the sloping hills of the sierra north-west of the pueblo of Panalachic (Banalachic; banalá = face, i. e., the outline of a prominent rock near by), covered with large crimson flowers, and also certain yellow ones, called baguis, making the country appear like a garden. I noticed in the same locality two kinds of lovely lilies, one yellow and one containing a single large red flower. The Tarahumare have names for all these plants.

Before all, however, should be mentioned the carmine-red Amaryllis. Like the crocus and the snowdrops of northern climates it appears before the grass is green. It is a perfect treat to the eye to meet now and then in this dry and sandy country, and at such a chilly elevation, this exquisitely beautiful flower, which is here [212] appreciated only by the humming-birds. Edible plants, species of Mentha, Chenopodium, Cirsium, for instance, and the common water-cress, are, at a certain time of the year, numerous; but fruits and berries are rare, blackberries being the most common ones.

Animal life is not particularly plentiful in the sierra. Still, deer, bears, and mountain lions are fairly common, and there are many kinds of squirrels and rats. The jaguar (felis onza) is found now and then on the summits of the barrancas. Eagles, hawks, turkeys, blackbirds, and crows are the most noticeable birds. The turkey is called by the Tarahumares, tshīví; by the Mexicans of the sierra of Chihuahua, guajolote; while farther south he is designated cocono. Now and then the brilliant green trogon is met with.

There are many species of woodpeckers, all familiar to and named by the Tarahumares. The giant woodpecker is seen in the more remote parts, but it is on the point of being exterminated, because the Tarahumares consider his one or two young such a delicacy that they do not hesitate to cut down even large trees to get at the nests. The Mexicans shoot them because their plumage is thought to be beneficial to health. It is held close to the ears and the head in order to impart its supposed magnetism and keep out the maleficent effects of the wind. In the pairing season these birds keep up a chattering noise, which to my ears was far from disagreeable, but very irritating to a Mexican whom I employed. He used to shoot the birds because they annoyed him.

Corn is the most important agricultural product of the Tarahumares. The average crop of a family may be estimated at six or twelve fanegas. One exceptionally rich Tarahumare, now dead, is said to have raised as much as four hundred fanegas a year, but this was a fact [213] unique in the history of the tribe. The people also raise beans, squashes, chile, and tobacco, all on an exceedingly small scale. On the highlands, the primitive plough already described (page 121) is still used sometimes, though it is rapidly being superseded by ploughs of Mexican pattern. In the arroyos and barrancas, where the condition of the land makes ploughing impossible, the Indians use the ancient mode of agriculture, still in vogue among remote natives of Mexico and called coamillar. They cut down the trees, clear a piece of land from brushwood, and leave it in this condition until just before the wet season sets in. Then they burn the wood, which by that time is well dried up, and plant the corn in the ashes. They simply make a hole in the earth with a stick, drop a few grains of corn into it, and close it up with the foot. Of the usual number of grains I am not aware. The Tepehuanes use four. Their hoes are generally bought from the Mexicans or else home-made, the natural knotted growths of tree limbs being utilised. Women never assist in ploughing, though they may be seen helping in the fields with the weeding and hoeing, and even with the harvesting.

In the sierra a piece of land may yield good crops for three years in succession without manure, but in the broad mountain valleys and on the mesas a family can use the same field year after year for twenty or thirty seasons. On the other hand, down in the barrancas, a field cannot be used more than two years in succession, because the corn-plants in that time are already suffocated with weeds. The planting is done from the middle of April to the first week in July, and the harvest begins about the first week in October and lasts until the beginning of December.

Communal principles prevail in clearing the fields, in ploughing—each furrow in a field is ploughed by a different [214] man—in corn planting, in hoeing, weeding, harvesting, gathering wood for feasts, in fishing and in hunting.

If a man wants to have his field attended to, the first thing he has to do is to prepare a good quantity of the national stimulant, a kind of beer called tesvino. The more of this he has, the larger the piece of land he can cultivate, for the only payment his helpers expect and receive is tesvino.

The master of the house and his sons always do first one day’s work alone, before their friends and neighbours come to help them. Then they begin in earnest to clear the field of stones, carrying them in their arms or blankets, and cut down the brushwood. Tesvino is brought out into the field, and iskiate, and the men, all very much under the influence of the liquor, work with the animation of a heap of disturbed ants.

When the work of hoeing and weeding is finished, the workers seize the master of the field, and, tying his arms crosswise behind him, load all the implements, that is to say, the hoes, upon his back, fastening them with ropes. Then they form two single columns, the landlord in the middle between them, and all facing the house. Thus they start homeward. Simultaneously the two men at the heads of the columns begin to run rapidly forward some thirty yards, cross each other, then turn back, run along the two columns, cross each other again at the rear and take their places each at the end of his row. As they pass each other ahead and ill the rear of the columns they beat their mouths with the hollow of their hands and yell. As soon as they reach their places at the foot, the next pair in front of the columns starts off, running in the same way, and thus pair after pair performs the tour, the procession all the time advancing toward the house.

A short distance in front of it they come to a halt, [215] and are met by two young men who carry red handkerchiefs tied to sticks like flags. The father of the family, still tied up and loaded with the hoes, steps forward alone and kneels down in front of his house-door. The flag-bearers wave their banners over him, and the women of the household come out and kneel on their left knees, first toward the east, and after a little while toward each of the other cardinal points, west, south, and north.

In conclusion the flags are waved in front of the house. The father then rises and the people untie him, whereupon he first salutes the women with the usual greeting, “Kwīra!” or “Kwirevá!” Now they all go into the house, and the man makes a short speech thanking them all for the assistance they have given him, for how could he have gotten through his work without them? They have provided him with a year’s life (that is, with the wherewithal to sustain it), and now he is going to give them tesvino. He gives a drinking-gourd full to each one in the assembly, and appoints one man among them to distribute more to all.

The same ceremony is performed after the ploughing and after the harvesting. On the first occasion the tied man may be made to carry the yoke of the oxen, on the second he does not carry anything.

The southern Tarahumares, as well as the northern Tepehuanes, at harvest time, tie together some ears of corn by the husks, two and two. The ears are selected from plants which have at least three or four ears, and after a while tesvino is made from them. At the harvesting feast, the stalks of these plants are strewn on the ground, as well as stalks of squash plants, and over them the people dance kuvála.

The Tarahumare takes good care of his domestic animals and never kills one of them, unless it be for a sacrifice. Sheep and goats are kept at night in enclosures [216] or caves. The shepherd follows his flock wherever the animals choose to find their food, and there are no better herdsmen than the Tarahumares, who wisely trust to the natural instinct of the beasts. They do not pride themselves on breeds. It is astonishing to notice the number of rams with two pairs of horns among the tribe. In every flock two or three specimens may be observed, one pair bending forward, the other to the side. I have seen some with three pairs of horns. Near Nonoava, where the Indians are much Mexicanised, they make butter and cheese, using the rennets from the cow, sheep, and deer, but they do not drink the milk, saying that it makes them stupid, and they are watchful to prevent their children from drinking it. Dogs are not much liked except for hunting. A great number of them hang around the houses, but they have to make their own living as best they can. They are of the same mongrel class found everywhere among the Indians of to-day. They are generally of a brownish color and not large, but some of them are yellow and with ears erect.

The so-called dogs of Chihuahua, which command quite a price among dog-fanciers, are found only in the capital of the state. They are small pet dogs and very timid, with large ears and prominent eyes. I understand that the yellowish-brown are considered the purest breed, but they are found in many different colors, from snow-white and black-and-white to dark-brown. They are said to have a small cavity on the top of the head, though according [217] to some authorities this is not an unfailing mark of the breed, which seems to be indigenous. The illiterate Mexican, in his tendency to connect everything good with Montezuma, thinks that the pure dogs of Chihuahua are descendants of those which were left behind by that regent near Casas Grandes at the time when he started south, which afterward became wild and degenerated into the prairie-dogs of to-day.

Another dog indigenous to Mexico is the hairless dog, also a pet, found throughout the republic among the Mexicans. It is credited with possessing curative properties, for which reason people keep them in their beds with them at night. [218]

As I travelled along I found the natives unobliging and afraid of me. One man who had hid himself, but was after a while forced to reappear, bluntly asked, “Are you not the man who kills the fat girls and the children?” At another time I was taken for Pedro Chaparro, the famous robber, who had notoriously deceived the Indians. The guide took only a half-hearted interest in me, as he feared that by being seen with me he was ruining his trade with the natives, who were especially suspicious about my writing in my note-book, taking it as a proof of my design to take their land away from them. Still, I accomplished a good deal and made interesting observations, though the difficulties under which I had to labour were quite exasperating.

It was a positive relief, when in the beginning of August, six weeks after my start from Guachochic, I arrived at Guajochic (guajo = sancudo, a small mosquito), one of the stations where the bullion trains stop on their travels between Batopilas and Carichic. The man then in charge of this rather lonely looking place, [219] Andres Madrid, turned out to be very interesting. Born of Tarahumare parents, in the town of Carichic, he had received quite a liberal Mexican education and was virtually a Mexican, though in hearty sympathy with his native tribe. His grandfather had been a noted shaman, or medicine man, whom Don Andres, as a boy, had accompanied on his travels. He was intelligent, lively and imaginative, of a strong humourous vein, and very entertaining. Generous in giving information about the Indians, and speaking the native language, he would have made an ideal interpreter, except for the fact that he grew tired too easily. Only by piecemeal and when having an abundance of time could an ethnologist expect to take advantage of his accomplishments. As he was honest, and helpful to the Indians, and besides was a representative of the Mexican authorities, the Indians had unlimited respect, nay, adoration, for him.

[220] Knowing all that happens in the sierra, he had already heard of me some time ago, and laughed at the cannibalistic propensities attributed to me. He immediately sent a messenger to el capitan at Nararachic, to advise him of my arrival, and to request him to tell the Indians to present themselves to be photographed by a man who came from Porfirio Diaz, a name to conjure with in Mexico, who wanted to know all about the Tarahumares. Nararachic is an insignificant pueblo, to which the Indians of this locality belong. The name means “where one was weeping.”

Being taken under the wing of Don Andres benefitted me in many ways. When the Indians from the hills all around could see my white tent close by his little home, they understood that I could not be so bad, or else the good Don Andres would not have anything to do with me.

The Indians in the vicinity had recently gone through the sensation of fighting with four real robbers, who had several times succeeded in plundering store-houses while the owners were off at some feast. At last the Indians had caught them. The thieves travelled on foot, but had a pack-horse which carried all the blankets and handkerchiefs stolen, the total value of which ran up to $112. Sixty-five Tarahumares had banded together in the course of four or five hours, and obliged the robbers to take refuge in a cave, from which they defended themselves with rifles for several hours. The Tarahumares first threw stones at them, as they did not want to waste their arrows. Finally Don Andres, who had been sent for, arrived at the place, and induced the robbers to surrender; but only with difficulty could he prevent the Tarahumares from attacking them. “What does it matter,” they said, “if one or two of us are killed?” Cowards as the Tarahumares are when [221] few in number, they do not know fear when many of them are together. They are harmless when not interfered with, but neither forget nor forgive an injury. On several occasions they have killed white men who abused their hospitality, and they even threatened once, when exasperated by abuses, to exterminate all the whites in some sections of their domain.

The robbers were taken by an escort of Indians to the little town of Carichic, and from there sent to Cusihuiriachic (“where upright pole is”) to be tried. This place is about a hundred miles from Nararachic, and as the Indians during the next weeks were called to be present at the trial as witnesses, it annoyed them not a little. They were sorry they had not killed the evil-doers; and it would even have been better, they said, to have let them go on stealing.

In the fight the gobernador had got a bullet through his lung. I saw him a fortnight afterward, smoking a cigarette and on the way to recovery, and after some days he, too, walked to Cusihuiriachic. A few months later the robbers managed to dig themselves out of the prison.

On an excursion of about ten miles through the picturesque Arroyo de las Iglesias, I passed seventeen caves, of which only one was at present inhabited. All of them, however, had been utilised as dwellings before the construction of the road to Batopilas had driven the Indians off.

I saw also a few ancient cave-dwellings. Of considerable interest were some burial-caves near Nararachic, especially one called Narajerachic (= where the dead are dancing). A Mexican had been for six years engaged there in digging out saltpetre, with which he made powder, and the cave was much spoiled for research when I visited it. But I was able to take away some [222] thirty well-preserved skulls and a few complete skeletons, the bodies having dried up in the saltpetre. Some clothing with feathers woven in, and some bits of obsidian and of blue thread were found, but no weapons or utensils. According to the miner, who appeared to be trustworthy, he had excavated more than a hundred corpses. They were generally found two and a half feet below the surface, and sometimes there were others underneath these. With many of them he found ear ornaments made of shells, such as the Tarahumares of to-day use, besides some textile made of plant fibre, and a jar with beans.

A few months later at Aboreachic (Tarahumare: Aoreachic = where there is mountain cedar) I examined a burial-cave in which the dead were interred in a different manner from that described before. The cave is somewhat difficult of access. The ascent of 300 feet has to be made over a track at some places so steep that holes have been cut for the feet, to enable a person to climb up. On reaching the top I found a spacious cave, which had been used as a kind of cemetery, but unfortunately the peculiarity of the cave had attracted treasure-seekers, whose destructive work was everywhere to be seen. Still I could see that the corpses had been placed each by itself in a grave in the floor of the cave. The graves were oblong or circular basins lined with a coating of grass and mud and about three feet deep. Apparently no earth had been placed immediately over the body, only boards all around it laid lengthwise in a kind of box. The bodies were bent up and laid on their sides. Over the top boards was spread a layer of pine bark about an inch thick, which in turn was covered with earth and rubbish three inches deep, and this was overlaid with the coating of grass and mud so as to form a solid disk four or five inches, [223] thick. The edge of the basin was slightly raised, thus making the disk a little higher than the level of the floor. I secured four skulls from here, besides a piece of excellently woven cloth of plant fibre, another piece interwoven with turkey feathers, and a fragment of a wooden needle.

Don Andres told me that he had observed similar modes of burial in the neighbourhood of Nararachic. It may be worth mentioning that the miner who excavated in the burial-cave near Nararachic mentioned above, told me of having met with somewhat similar structures in his cave; the material was the same, but they were of different sizes, not larger than two feet, and he found them empty.

The ancient modes of burial that I have come upon, in the Tarahumare country are either like those in Nararachic or in Aboreachic. There scarcely seems any doubt that the bodies buried here were Tarahumares. The Indians of to-day consider the dead in the ancient burial-caves their brethren, and call them Ana-yáuli, the ancients.

From Guajochic I went to Nonoava (in Tarahumare: Nonoa, nōnó = father), although this town is outside of the Tarahumare country proper. The natives here, as may be expected, are pretty well Mexicanised, and losing their customs, religion, and language. The Apache raids were well remembered here, as they were in Carichic, Cusarare, and Bocoyna.

I came upon a Mexican here who had married a Tarahumare woman. His predilection for her tribe was also attested by his dress, which was exactly like that worn by the natives. He had a dark, almost swarthy complexion, but otherwise he did not resemble an Indian. His big; stomach and short arms and legs betrayed his real race, and contrasted strangely with the [224] slender limbs and graceful movements of the Tarahumares.

Near Nonoava I photographed a magnificent fig-tree of the kind called beyota, the fruit of which is appreciated even by the Mexicans. It was 116 feet across, and the leaves, as in other trees of the species, were very small. There are larger trees of this kind to be found, but they are rare. In the wet season, when the figs are ripe, the Tarahumares have a habit of singing under the trees while gathering the fruit.

I noticed some beautiful mezquites in the bed of a creek, the bottom of which was clayish. Although the season for it was late, Indians were gathering the fruit. The proper season is before the rain sets in. The Indians throw the seeds away, but boil the fruit, grinding it between stones and mixing it with water. This drink is also used through Sonora and Chihuahua by the Mexicans.

On my return I again spent some time in Guajochic. The Indians came to visit me every day, and following my rule of giving to every visitor something to eat, I was making satisfactory progress in cultivating their friendship. Some of them after eating from my plates and cups, went to the river to rinse their mouths and wash their hands carefully, to get rid of any evil that might lurk in the white man’s implements. To be generous is the first step toward gaining the confidence of both the Indians and the Mexicans, and a gift of food is more eloquent than a long speech. The Indian, however, before he knows you, always wants to see you eat first.

I interviewed many of the shamans, and began to gain some little knowledge of their songs, which helped to bring me nearer to them. Shortly after my first arrival here it happened that rain fell, and precipitations [225] continued quite frequently during my stay. The Indians, who are intensely interested in rain, to obtain which they make so many exertions and sacrifices, evidently began to connect my presence with it. Before my departure they confided to Don Andres that “It was no good that that man went away; it might happen that he carried the rain with him.” They even seemed to delight now in posing before my mysterious camera, which they imagined to be a powerful rain-maker. I heard no more excuses for not wanting to be photographed. They no longer told me that it would cause their death, and that their god would be angry with them; nor was there any more of that unwillingness expressed by one Indian who told me that, inasmuch as he did not owe me anything, he did not want to be photographed. Thus, almost without knowing it, I established friendly relations with the people.

However, it must not be thought that all my troubles were ended yet. The Indians are very clannish, and, although my damaged prestige was now almost restored, and, no doubt, favourable rumours heralded me wherever I went, still the good-will of each district had in a way to be won. Many months later, when I found myself among the pagans farther south, I was interpellated quite persistently on the subject of the skulls in Yoquibo. They wanted to know why I had dug them up. My Mexican interpreter, whom they took to task on the subject, advanced an explanation, which was no doubt strictly in accordance with his best knowledge and belief. He declared that my object had been to find out whether those people had been properly baptised—a reason which apparently perfectly satisfied the Indians.

I travelled in a southeasterly direction, making my way back to Guachochic, over the highlands of Humarisa (húmashi = to run). This locality is of considerable [226] elevation, with the Indian ranches lying about here and there on strips of level land, which run in among the rocky hills like fjords. Bears are quite common here, and the Indians have difficulty in guarding their fields against them. They are not even to be frightened by stones, and at night they will eat corn until they have enough, and then walk away.

The time of the year in which it is most difficult for the Indians to subsist had passed, and the copious rains of the past months had developed ears of corn. Rarely or never do the Indians plant corn enough to last them all the year round, and they have, therefore, during the summer to depend for support mainly on herbs, roots, fruits, etc. The leaves and flowers of the ash-tree are cooked and eaten, and the flowers of the pine-tree. They never suffer from hunger when living near a river, where they can fish, but in the highlands they have been known to die of starvation.

These natives are fonder of corn than of any other food, and when working for the whites would leave without a word if no more corn or flour were forthcoming. They like, too, to have meat every day, though they cannot always get it. They rarely, if ever, kill any of their domestic animals for food, as, according to their views, man is only the manager for the gods to whom these creatures really belong, and cows, sheep, and the like can be killed only as sacrifices and eaten at the feasts. But any kind of animal in the forest and field, in the air and the water, is acceptable. I once asked a strong and healthy-looking Indian how he managed to keep in such good condition, when food was so scarce, and he said that he ate meat, “What kind of meat?” I asked, and he replied, “Mice, gophers, and small birds.” Their favourite meat, however, is deer, mice, and skunks.

Chunks of meat are simply laid upon the coals to [229] roast, or turned before the fire on a wooden spit, the ends of which rest on stones. This, by the way, is the universal method of cooking meat in Mexico. These Indians often eat their meat almost raw, nor have they any repugnance to blood, but boil and eat it. Fish and frogs are broiled by being placed between two thin sticks tied together at the ends to do duty as a gridiron.

The flowers of the maize are dried in the sun, ground and mixed with water; if not required for immediate consumption they are put in jars and kept for the winter. Many herbs are very palatable, as, for instance, the makvásari (of the Crucifercæ), which is also kept for winter use after having been properly dried. In the autumn the Indians sometimes eat potatoes, which, when cultivated at all, are planted between the corn, but grow no larger than pigeon eggs. The people eat three kinds of fungi, and they have an extensive knowledge of the poisonous ones. Salt and chile are used as relishes.

A peculiar delicacy is ārí, the secretion of a scale insect, carteria mexcicana. In the months of July and August it is gathered from the branches of certain trees in the barrancas, rolled by hand into thick brown sticks, and thus preserved for the winter. A small portion is boiled in water and eaten as a sauce with the corn porridge. Its taste is sweetish acid, not particularly pleasant to the palate, but very refreshing in effect, and it is said to be efficacious in allaying fever. The Indians prize it highly, and the Mexicans also buy it.

Just a few miles before reaching Guachochic, one passes the pueblo of Tonachic, from whence the Indians have been more or less driven off by the whites. In missionary times the village appears to have been of some importance, to judge from the church, which is quite pretty, considering its location in the middle of the sierra. [230] In the sacristy I saw lying about three empty cases, but the silver crucifixes and chalices they once contained had been carried off by Mexican thieves. The man in charge of the building showed me three immense drawers full of gold- and silver-embroidered silken robes of exquisite fineness and great variety. There were at least several dozens of them.

The altar-piece was arranged and painted very tastefully in red and gold. Several oil paintings were hanging in the church, but so darkened by the hand of time that it was impossible to make out whether they were of any artistic merit. Wonderful men those early missionaries, who brought such valuables into this wilderness, over hundreds and thousands of miles, on the backs of mules or Indians. It was rather anomalous to see the poor, naked Indians outside the door, for whose benefit all this had been done. A woman was sweeping away the dirt from the swarms of bats that nested in the ceiling.

The richest and most prominent man in the village enjoyed the reputation of being a great ladron. When I called on him I found him in bed suffering from a tooth-ache. He had his head wrapped up and was completely unnerved, and many people came to sympathise with him in his affliction. When I told him that I liked the Tarahumares, he answered, “Well, take them with you, every one of them.” All he cared for was their land, and he had already acquired a considerable portion of it. His wife was the only person in the village who knew how to recite the prayers in the church. This made the husband feel proud of her, and he evidently considered her piety great enough to suffice for the family.

On my return to Guachochic I discharged the Mexicans who had been with me since my travels through [233] Sonora; they were here of little use to me, as they did not know the country. I also disposed of the greater number of my mules, keeping only about half a dozen.

With the kind permission of Don Miguel I installed most of my baggage in one of his houses, and considered his ranch a kind of headquarters from which I made several long excursions in various directions. Thanks to my pack and riding mules I could take along, as barter, corn, glass beads, tobacco, and cotton cloth, and bring back collections made on the road. I was accompanied by a couple of Mexicans from this part of the country and some Indians who acted as carriers. Of course, whenever I went down into the barrancas, I had to leave my mules and cargo in some safe place on the highlands and take along only the most necessary stores as we proceeded on foot. On such trips I had to depend entirely on the natives; they secured the food, and selected the cave or rock shelter, or the tree under which we slept.

Our bill of fare was made up mainly of corn and beans, with an occasional sheep or goat, and some herbs and roots as relishes. Corn was prepared in the styles known to the Indians, either as corn-cakes (tortillas) or, more often, by simply toasting the grains on a piece of crockery over the fire. The dish is easy enough to prepare and does not taste at all bad, but it is hard work for one’s teeth to make a meal of it, as the kernels assume the consistency of little pebbles, and many months of such a diet lengthens your dentist’s bill at about the same ratio as that in which it shortens your molars. You will ask why I did not carry provisions along with me. Simply because preserved food is, as a rule, heavy to carry, to say nothing of its being next to impossible to secure more when the supply is exhausted. Some chocolate and condensed milk which I ordered [234] from Chihuahua did not reach me until seven months after the date of the order. Besides, the Indians are not complaisant carriers, least of all in this exceedingly rough country.

For over a year I thus continued to travel around among the Tarahumares, visiting them on their ranches and in their caves, on the highlands and in the barrancas. There are few valleys into which I did not go in this central part of the Tarahumare country, that is, from the Barranca de Batopilas and Carichic in the north toward the regions of the mining place Guadalupe y Calvo in the south. By and by I also found a suitable lenguaraz, Don Nabor, who lived a day’s journey from Guachochic. He was a tall, lank, healthy-looking fellow, some fifty years old, very poor and blessed with a large family of sons and daughters, some of them full grown. All his life he had been intimate with the Indians; he spoke their language as well as he did Spanish, and really liked the Tarahumares better than his fellow Mexicans. Being a great hunter but a poor shot he brought home but little game, and made his living chiefly by trading with the Indians. He was the picture of good-nature, laughing with the Indians at their jokes, and weeping with them at their sorrows. Among them he passed as a wit, and being very honest was a general favourite. He never took anything without asking, but was not backward about that. Of his teeth he had hardly any but two of his upper incisors left, which was rather hard for a man of his ravenous appetite; but he utilised them with such squirrel-like dexterity as almost to keep pace with others. [235]

The Tarahumare of to-day is of medium size and more muscular than his North American cousin, but his cheek-bones are equally prominent. His colour is light chocolate-brown. I was rather surprised often to find the faces of the people living in the warm barrancas of a lighter colour than the rest of their bodies. The darkest complexions, strange to say, I encountered on the highlands near Guachochic. In the higher altitudes the people also develop higher statures and are more muscular than in the lower portions of the country.

Both men and women wear long, flowing, straight black hair, which in rare cases is a little wavy. When a woman marries, I am told, she cuts her hair once. When the hair is cut because it has grown too long and troublesome, they place it under a stone or hang it in a tree. A shaman once cut his hair short to get new thoughts with the new hair, and while it was growing he kept his head tied up in a piece of cotton cloth to keep his thoughts from escaping. When the people are very old, the hair turns gray; but they never grow bald. Beards are rare, and if they appear the Indians pull them [236] out. Their devil is always represented with a beard, and they call the Mexicans derisively shabótshi, “the bearded ones.” Much as they enjoy tobacco, an Indian would not accept some from me, because he feared that coming from a white man it would cause a beard to grow on his face.

There are more women in the tribe than men. They are smaller, but generally just as strong as the other sex, and when angered, for instance by jealousy, the wife may be able to beat her husband. Hands and feet are small. Many of the women have surprisingly small and well-shaped bones, while the men are more powerfully built. The corner teeth differ from the front teeth in that they are thicker, and, in spite of exceptionally fine teeth, tooth-ache is not unknown in the tribe. Men, even those who are well nourished, are never stout. The women are more inclined to corpulency.

Eight people with hair-lip, seven hunchbacks, six men and four women with six toes to their feet, and one or two cases of squint-eyes came under my notice. One [237] boy had a club-foot with toes turned inside, and I saw one man who had only stumps of arms with two or three finger-marks on each. I have observed one case of insanity among these Indians.

Pediculi (lice) from the heads and clothing of the Tarahumare are blackish in colour, but the claw is not different from that of the white men’s parasites.

When at ease, the Tarahumare stands on both legs, without stiffness. In micturition he stands, while the Tepehuane sits down. The body is well balanced. The [238] gait is energetic. He swings his arm and plants his foot firmly, with the toes generally in, gliding along smoothly with quick steps and without swaying to and fro, the body bent slightly forward. The palm of the hand is turned to the rear. Tarahumares climb trees by embracing the tree as we do; but the ascent is made in jumps, the legs accordingly not embracing the tree as, much as is the case with us. In swimming they throw their arms ahead from one side to another. They point with the open hand or by protruding the lips and raising the head at the same time in the desired direction. Like the Mexicans they beckon with their hands by making downward movements with their fingers.

To the casual observer the native appears dull and heavy, so much so that at first it would seem hopeless to get any intelligent information out of him; but on better acquaintance it will be found that their faces, like those of Mexican Indians in general, have more variety of feature and expression than those of the whites. At the same time it is true that the individual does not show his emotion very perceptibly in his face. One has to look into his eyes for an expression of what passes in his mind, as his face is not mobile; nor does he betray his feelings by involuntary actions. If he blushes, as he sometimes does, the colour extends down the neck and is visible in spite of his dusky skin. Laughter is never immoderate [239] enough to bring tears to the eyes. The head is nodded vertically in affirmation and shaken laterally in negation only by the civilised Tarahumares.

There is a slight though undefinable odour about the Tarahumare. He is not aware of it; yet he will tell you that the Mexican smells like a pig, and the American like coffee, both offensive odours to Tarahumares. They all love to feel warm, and may often be seen lying in the sun on their backs or stomachs. Heat never seems to trouble them. Young babies sleep on their mothers’ backs without any covering on their heads to protect them from the fierce rays of the summer sun. On the other hand, the Tarahumare endures cold unflinchingly. On an icy winter morning, when there are six inches of snow on the ground, many a man may be seen with nothing on but his blanket fastened around his waist, pursuing rabbits.

While their senses are keen, I do not consider them superior to those of any well-endowed white man. To test eyesight, Sir Francis Galton directs us to cut out a [240] square piece of white paper one and a half inches a side, paste it on a large piece of black paper, and mark how far a person can distinguish whether the square is held straight or diagonally. None of the Indians could distinguish the different positions until they were within seven hundred and ten feet. On another occasion, however, when I tested six individuals, four men could tell the position of the square at a distance of nine hundred and five feet. One of these had syphilis. They certainly do not feel pain in the same degree as we do. On this point any collector of hair could have reason to satisfy himself. Scientists consider the hair a particularly distinguishing feature among the races of men, not only in regard to its colour, but also as to its texture. In fact, the human race is by some classified according to the character of the hair of the head. Compared under the microscope a section of the hair of a Chinaman or an American Indian is found to be circular, that of a European oval in shape. As a rule, the flatter the hair the more readily it curls, the perfectly cylindrical hair hanging down stiff and straight. A section of the straight hair of a Japanese, for instance, forms a perfect circle. So much importance being attached to the structure of the hair, I made a collection from different individuals. They were willing enough to let me have all the samples I wanted for a material consideration, of course, but the indifferent manner in which they pulled the hair from their heads, just as we should [241] tear out hairs from the tail of a horse, convinced me that inferior races feel pain to a less extent than civilised man. I once pulled six hairs at a time from the head of a sleeping child without disturbing it at all; I asked for more, and when twenty-three hairs were pulled out in one stroke, the child only scratched its head a little and slept on.

They are not so powerful at lifting as they are in carrying burdens. Out of twelve natives, ten of whom were eighteen and twenty years old, while two owned to fifty years, five lifted a burden weighing 226 2/5 pounds (102 kilograms). I was able to lift this myself. The same five lifted 288 3/5 pounds (130 kilograms), as also did two strong Mexicans present, aged respectively eighteen and thirty years. In order to test their carrying capacity, I had them walk for a distance of 500 feet on a pretty even track. One very poor and starved-looking Tarahumare carried 226 2/5 pounds (102 kilograms) on his back, though tottering along with some difficulty; two others carried it with ease, and might have taken it farther. All three were young men.

Their endurance is truly phenomenal. A strong young man carried a burden of over 100 pounds from Carichic to Batopilas, a distance of about 110 miles, in seventy hours. While travelling with such burdens they eat nothing but pinole, a little at frequent intervals.

The wonderful health these people enjoy is really their most attractive trait. They are healthy and look it. It could hardly be otherwise in this delightful mountain air, laden with the invigorating odour of the pines combined with the electrifying effect of being close to nature’s heart. In the highlands, where the people live longer than in the barrancas, it is not infrequent to meet persons who are at least a hundred years old. Long life is what they all pray for.

[242] They suffer sometimes from rheumatism, but the most common disease is pleurisy (dolor de costado), which generally proves fatal. Syphilis rages in some parts of the country. There was at the time of my visit to Pino Gordo hardly a native there who had not, at one time or another, been afflicted with it; but the victims get quickly over it without special treatment, sometimes within a year. Children of syphilitic parents show the symptoms soon after birth. Small-pox, too, plays havoc among the population. I have seen some people suffering with cataract in the eyes, and some foot-runners complained that their sight sometimes became impaired during or after a race. The Tarahumares have not any cases of tape-worm, although their sheep have it; probably the large quantities of tesvino drunk during the winter may have something to do with this.

Medicine takes remarkably strong hold of the Indians. One man suffered for two weeks from fever and ague, lost his appetite, and seemed a general wreck; but after a two-grain quinine pill became at once himself again, and a few days later was able to take a message [243] for me to a place forty miles off and return the same day.

The natives do not bathe except in the wet season. When they go to feasts, they wash their hands and faces, and the women comb their hair. Sometimes they may wash their feet, but more frequently they clean their heads. In fact, the regular way of taking a bath is to wash the head. For this purpose they use an agave called sōké. Occasionally they use a white earth from Cusarare, called javoncillo; it is very soft and it is also used as white colour in decorating pottery. When the men go into deep water to bathe they smear fat all over their bodies to guard against all kinds of bad animals in the water; women do not usually take this precaution.

A Tarahumare does not commit homicide unless he is drunk. There are only isolated exceptions. A jefe politico (prefect) told me that in forty years he had heard of only two murders. In both of these cases a drunken husband had killed his wife at a feast, and knew nothing of the crime after he became sober. I have been told that in some rare instances a Tarahumare woman will sit on her child right after its birth to crush it, in order to save herself the trouble of bringing it up. The Tepehuanes are reputed to do the same thing, and for the same purpose. Still with both tribes crimes of this kind are exceedingly rare.

Suicide is never committed unless a person is drunk and angered by some slight or by jealousy. At one time there was a veritable epidemic of suicides among the Indians near Guachochic, the men hanging themselves with their girdles; one of them even suspended himself by the feet. But it is doubtful whether a pagan Tarahumare ever killed himself.

As a rule, the Tarahumare is not a thief. Only when he thinks himself entirely unobserved, he may appropriate [244] some trifle that particularly strikes his fancy, but the indications are that he learned the art from the Mexicans. Once on our travels we passed a man who was weeding his field. We tried to induce him to give us some information, but he was too busy to talk, and we went on. Soon he noticed that we had accidentally dropped our large axe, and immediately he interrupted his pressing work and came running after us with it. I wanted to compensate him for the trouble he had put himself to, but he would not accept the money I offered, saying that he had not had to go far, and, anyway, he did not bring the axe to get payment for it.

As long as he is in his native state, a Tarahumare never cheats at bargains. He does not like to sell anything that is in any way defective. He always draws attention to the flaw, and if a jar has any imperfection, it requires much persuasion to make him part with it. He shows honesty also in other ways. Often I trusted Indians with a silver dollar or two for corn to be delivered a few days later, and never was I disappointed by them. On the other hand, they are chary of selling anything to a stranger. When a Mexican wants to buy a sheep, or some corn, or a girdle, the Tarahumare will first deny that he has anything to sell. What little he has he likes to keep for himself, and he considers it a favour to part with any of his belongings for money. A purchase, however, establishes a kind of brotherhood between the two negotiants, who afterward call each other “naragua,” and a confidence is established between them almost of the same character as that which exists between compadres among the Mexicans.

From outsiders they accept silver coins, but not paper money, because they have been cheated with wrappers from cigarette boxes, and besides, they have no means of keeping such money safe and sound from mice, moisture, [245] etc. Among themselves a little trading goes on, the highlands obtaining from the barrancas in the west copal, chile, ari, ear ornaments made from shells, and goats, in exchange for corn and beans. The Indians from Nararachic go to Rio Concho for the shells from which they make their ear pendants. The powder produced in working the shells is saved and mixed with salt to be used as a remedy for eye troubles.

The tribe has undeniably a certain gift for mechanics. The people are deft with their fingers and do everything neatly. This shows itself in their ingeniously constructed wooden locks and in the niceness with which they stuff animals. They are also very clever in following tracks, and even recognise the hoof-prints of particular horses among others in the same trail. They will also tell you that a tired deer keeps its toes more closely together than an animal just aroused from its lair. And never do they lose their way in the forest, not even when drunk. They love to sit among their corn plants, and will hide among them when strangers approach.

The Tarahumares are inquisitive, and will stand for a long time looking at you from a distance, if anything unusual attracts their attention. They are very critical and there is much gossip going on among them. They also laugh at the Mexicans, and say that the hair on their faces is like the fur on a bear. Squint-eyes also afford them much amusement. They are smart, attentive and patient. They have no qualms of conscience about telling an untruth, but my experience with them shows appreciation and gratitude for benefits received. An Indian whom I had occasion to treat to a good meal, many months afterward at a feast came up and said to me, “You were good to me when I was very hungry,” and he proved his thankfulness by assisting me in various ways in establishing friendly relations with [246] his people, which otherwise would have been very difficult to bring about.

Children are bright, and when sent to school learn Spanish quickly. They also master reading and writing without difficulty. They are diligent, eager to learn, and very religious, docile, and easily converted to Christianity.

There is a story about a padre who asked a Tarahumare boy, “What is God doing in Heaven?” The boy said, “The same as the macaw does in the tree.” The padre asked, “What does the macaw do in the tree?” and the boy replied, “He eats the good seeds and lets the bad ones drop.” A Mexican asked me if God was going to walk on earth again, and my Tarahumare attendant remarked, “No, he is now afraid to come, because people have too many rifles.”

When they learn something their ambition runs high, and the boys always want to become generals and presidents of the republic.

The Tarahumares are careful observers of the celestial bodies, and know the Pleiades, the Belt of Orion, and the Morning and the Evening Star. The Great Dipper is of no special interest to them. Near Guachochic the Tarahumares plant corn in accordance with the positions of the stars with reference to the sun. They say if the sun and the stars are not equal the year will be bad; but when the stars last long the year will be good. In 1891, the sun “travelled slowly,” and the stars “travelled quickly,” and in June they had already “disappeared.” Therefore the Tarahumares predicted that their crops would be below the average, which came true. On June 3d I asked an Indian how much longer the sun would travel on, and he told me that it ought not to be more than fifteen days. The Tarahumares are reputed to be good weather prophets among the [247] Mexicans, who frequently consult them upon the prospects of rain. The Indians judge from the colour of the sun when he rises as to whether there will be rain that day. If the crescent of the moon is lying horizontally, it is carrying much water; but when it stands up straight, it brings nothing. This belief is shared by the Mexicans. When the moon is full and has “a ring around,” she is dancing on her patio. At the period of the dark moon she is dead, but will return after three days. Eclipses are explained as collisions between the sun and the moon on the road, when they fight.

The Tarahumare men make bows and arrows, and in the central part of the country are great hunters and clever at shooting. The fore-shaft of their arrows is made of palo hediondo, a wood used also in the making of needles. But the people living near the pueblo of Panalachic and the Barranca de Cobre are poor shots, and their favourite weapon is the axe. The boys still play with slings, which not so long ago were used for killing squirrels. A club with a stone (Spanish, macana) is said to have been formerly in common use. The grandfathers of the present generation of Nararachic had flint-tipped arrows. The Indians also know how to prepare excellent buckskin. They peg the hide on the ground and leave it for three days, and when it is sufficiently dry the hair is scraped off with a knife. It is then smeared over with the brain of the animal and hung up in the sun for four days. The next step is to wash it well in warm water in a wooden trough. Then it is well kneaded, and two people taking hold of it draw it out of the water and stretch it well between them. It is dried again and is then tanned with the crushed bark of the big-leaved oak-tree.

A natural cavity in a rock is chosen for a vat, in which the skin is left for two days. After this it is well rinsed [248] and squeezed until no water remains in it. Two persons are required for the operation, which is always performed in a place on which the sun beats strongly, while at the same time it is sheltered from the wind by surrounding rocks.

Deer are caught in snares fastened to a bent tree, so that the animal’s foot is held, while the tree when released hoists the quarry up. The Indians also chase deer with dogs toward some narrow passage in the track where they have placed sharp-pointed pine sticks, two feet long, against which the deer runs and hurts itself. Blackbirds are decoyed by kernels of corn threaded on a snare of pita fibre hidden under the ground. The bird swallows the kernel, which becomes entangled in its oesophagus and is caught. Small birds are also shot with bow and arrows, or killed with stones.

The Tarahumare is ingenious in devising many kinds of traps for birds and animals. Into the burrow of the gopher he places a small upright frame cut from a piece of bark. There is a groove inside of the frame, and in this the snare runs; and a string is attached to a bough above ground. Another string, on which some grains of corn are threaded, keeps the snare set and obstructs the gopher’s passage through the frame. When trying to get at the kernels the gopher cuts the string, the snare is released, and he is caught in his own burrow.

Squirrels are hunted in the most primitive way—by cutting down the tree on which an animal is discovered. Sometimes it will escape when the tree falls, and then the man has to cut down another tree, and thus he may go on felling as many as ten trees before he can bag his game, not a very substantial reward for a whole day’s work.

[249] The women make girdles and blankets on primitive looms, inserting characteristic designs in the weaving. It takes four days of constant work to make a girdle, but no woman weaves more than one blanket in a year, and it is almost an event when it is finished. The weaving frame consists simply of four sticks—placed on [250] the ground tied together in a rectangle or triangle, and pieces of reed on which the thread is wound, one for each colour, are used as shuttles. Textiles from Pamachic are especially highly valued. The blankets from that locality are sold all over the Tarahumare country and are the finest made by the tribe.