y medicine men with prayer rites ever sit
alone in the deserted rooms. The men from the river villages on the
way for the pine of the hills used in their sacred dances, do halt to
scatter prayer meal at sacred places where the water once ran:--there
is ever the hope that if prayers enough are thought, the springs in
the Mother Mountain may make fertile again the fields of the high
levels,--for in the days of the carving of Pu-ye from the white cliffs
there were certainly many streams and wide harvests in the land that
is called now the desert lands.

And to the west is Tse-c[=o]me-u-pin, the sacred mountain where the
lightning plays, and westward also, but not so far, is the Cave of the
Hunters where prayers are made to the Trues--the guardian spirits of
the Sacred Ways, and the wild things of the forest, symbolizing sacred
ways and sacred colors. These places of prayer and of sacrifices are
here to-day--and the way to them is marked by the symbols of stars and
of planets--many eyes see them--but the readers of them are not so
many to-day. A Te-hua man will tell you they are the forgotten records
of the Lost Others--and will sprinkle prayer meal craftily to make
amends for the truth which is half a lie. The unspoken pagan gods of
the Lost Others have endless life, and eternal youth, in the land.

All is as it was in the ancient day, except that the dwellings have
changed from the ancient places, and the priests go over more ground
to reach the high places of prayer.

In the valley of the P[=o]-s[=o]n-ge many vigils were kept through the
nights of the Springtime, as messages from the south brought word of
the steady, and thus far, harmless advance of the white strangers. The
treachery at Tiguex in the day of Coronado was a keen memory. It
would take much wisdom to avoid war with the iron men of the white
god, yet keep their own wives and daughters for their own tribe.

Many arrows were made--also spears and shields. Men went hunting and
women dried the meat, pounding it into shreds for the war trail if
need be. From earliest dawn were heard the grinding songs as the
corn of yellow and blue and red and white was ground by the maidens
keeping time to the ancient carols--and ever above the head of the
worker was hung the sacred and unhusked ear, which, when resting,
she contemplated, kneeling, and the thought in her heart must be
the sacredness of the life-giving grain, and the prayer of thanks
that it was given by the