d for familiarising myself with
all their ancient beliefs and thoughts! Perhaps I might solve some
of the mysteries that shroud the workings of the human mind. But--I
should have to buy my fame at the price of living on tortillas and
pinole and beans!

"We may live without poetry, music, and art;
We may live without conscience and live without heart;
We may live without friends, we may live without books,
But civilised man cannot live without cooks."

Concluding that the eminent authority cited was right, I came back
to realities and continued my journey.

By and by I arrived at a fertile little slope partly covered with corn
stubble. At the farther end of it was a large Cora ranch called La
Cienega, and in front of it grew two or three magnificent oak-trees
with light-green stems and equally light-coloured leaves. The people
here were well disposed and sold me some necessary supplies, so I
stopped with them for a day.

While descending to the famous pueblo Mesa del Nayarit, one gets a
magnificent view of the high mountains which form the western border
of the Huichol country and stretch themselves out on the opposite
side of the canon of Jesus Maria like a towering wall of a hazy
blue colour. The pueblo lies on a plain less than a mile in extent
in either direction, on the slope of the sierra, with an open view
only toward the east. There is an idol of the setting sun standing on
the mesa above the village, "looking toward Mexico," as the Indians
express it. This mesa is the one called Tonati by the chroniclers,
while by the Coras it is called Nayariti, and the whole sierra derived
its name from it. The same name is given to a cave in that locality,
where the Coras, as well as the Huichols, deposit ceremonial objects
and other offerings. The setting-sun god is worshipped equally by the
two tribes. The Indians jealously guard this cave, which is never
shown to outsiders. This is practically the terminus of the Sierra
del Nayarit. The sierra from now on is lower and gradually falls down
to Rio de Alica, or Rio Grande de Santiago, where Sierra Madre del
Norte ends.

The people here, though friendly, were less sympathetic and much
more reserved than those of Santa Teresa, and I could find no one
who would divulge tribal secrets. They had received a message from
their sister pueblo telling them they had nothing to fear from me,
but the Coras are not easily scared, anyhow. A stranger may enter