On my way back to civilisation, I spent some time at Guajochic, near which place the great hikuli expert, Shaman Rubio, lives. He is a truly pious man, well-meaning and kind-hearted, living up to his principles, in which Christianity and Paganism are harmoniously blended. He is highly esteemed by all his countrymen, who consider him the greatest hikuli shaman in that part of the Tarahumare country. His profession brings him a very comfortable living, as his services are constantly in demand, and are paid for by fine pieces of the animals sacrificed. For curing the people he even gets money; and what with praying and singing, drinking tesvino and hikuli, fasting and curing the sick, he passes his days in the happy conviction that he keeps the world going. From him I obtained specimens of the various kinds of cacti which the Tarahumares worship,—a betrayal of the secrets of the tribe, for which the other shamans punished him by forbidding him ever to go again on a hikuli journey. Though in the first year he obeyed the sentence, he did not take it much to heart, feeling himself far superior to his judges, who, he knew, could not get along without him, and in the end would have to come to him; for he is the most virtuous of them all, and therefore knows the commands of Tata Dios better than anyone else.

It is to him that I owe a good deal of what I know about this plant-worship, as well as several songs used in the cult. He came often to see me, and one day told me in confidence that the hikuli in my possession would have to be fed before they started on their long journey to the United States; for it was a long time since they had had food, and they were getting angry. The next time he came he brought some copal tied up in a cotton cloth, and after heating the incense on a piece of crockery he waved the smoke over the plants, which he had placed in front of him. This, he said, would satisfy them; they would now go content with me, and no harm would come to me from sorcerers, robbers, or Apaches. This was a comfort, for to reach Chihuahua I had to pass through some disturbed country, and there were rumours of a revolution.

It seems that at present only the districts around Nararachic and Baqueachic get hikuli from its native country, and that all the others procure it from these two. Until recently the people of Guachochic also went to fetch plants, and a few may yet undertake the journey. One old man showed me some hikuli which he had gathered thirty-five years ago. At Nararachic they use hikuli all the year round, that is, as long as they have corn, because “hikuli wants tesvino.” The people in the barrancas are too timid to go on the expeditions, and they buy the plants at the price of a sheep apiece. The purchaser holds a feast, not only when he brings the demi-god to his home, but also a year after the event. In the eastern section of the country, and in the foothills around Rio Fuerte, hikuli is not used at all. It is very rarely planted by the Tarahumares; the only instance I saw of it was in Tierras Verdes.

A significant light is thrown on the antiquity of the cult, as well as on the age of the tribe itself, by a certain variation in the ceremonial which I observed in the southwestern part of the Tarahumare country. There it is the custom of the shaman to draw underneath his resonator-gourd a mystical human figure in the sand, and to place the hikuli in its centre. Regarding this mystical figure, my lamented friend, Frank Hamilton Cushing, informed me that similar or almost identical drawings are found depicted on the lava rocks of Arizona. In a letter dated October 30, 1893, he said:

The idea of immortality is so strong with the Tarahumares that death means to them only a change of form. They certainly believe in a future life, but they are afraid of the dead, and think that they want to harm the survivors. This fear is caused by the supposition that the dead are lonely, and long for the company of their relatives. The dead also make people ill, that they too may die and join the departed. When a man dies in spite of all efforts of the shamans to save his life, the people say that those who have gone before have called him or carried him off. The deceased are also supposed to retain their love for the good things they left behind in this world, and to be trying every way to get at them. So strong is the feeling that the departed still owns whatever property he once possessed, that he is thought to be jealous of his heirs who now enjoy its possession. He may not let them sleep at night, but makes them sit up by the fire and talk. To soothe his discontent, tesvino and all kinds of food are given him, because he needs the same things he needed here. In the course of the year several ceremonies are performed, by which he is actually chased off, and the survivors constantly take precautions against his return to bother them.

Sometimes the dead are sent by sorcerers to harm people and make them ill, but generally they come of their own accord. They enter the house at night and drink the tesvino and eat the food prepared for a feast, and what they cannot eat they spoil. To protect the beer against such mischief the people place bows and arrows next the jars, and cover the vessels with sprigs of the odorous artemisia. The dead will also kill cattle and sheep, and spit and blow in the faces of the people, to make them ill, and possibly cause their death. Sometimes the dead are viewed as spirits, and the shaman sees them flying through the air, like birds. If the spirit of a dead person takes up his abode in a house, the owner of the dwelling will feel a choking sensation, dry up, and die, unless the shaman gives to the dead plenty of tesvino, and drives him away with incantations.

The dead are supposed to be about at night; therefore the Tarahumares do not like to travel after dark, for fear of meeting the dead, who whistle when they pass the living. Only shamans can travel at night, although sometimes even they have to fight with the dead, who come running out of the caves on all fours. In the daytime the Tarahumares are not afraid of the dead, though even then they do not dare to visit burial-places, modern or ancient. I found it difficult to get Indians to carry bones of skeletons excavated from ancient burial-caves, and even the Mexicans would not allow their animals to carry burdens of that kind, for fear that the mules would get tired, that is to say, play out and die.

When a person dies, his eyes are closed, his hands crossed over his breast, and the relatives talk to him one by one, and bid him good-bye. The weeping widow tells her husband that, now that he has gone and does not want to stay with her any longer, he must not come back to frighten her or his sons or daughters or anyone else. She implores him not to carry any of them off, or do any mischief, but to leave them all alone.

A mother says to her dead infant: “Now go away! Don’t come back any more, now that you are dead. Don’t come at night to nurse at my breast. Go away, and do not come back!” And the father says to the child: “Don’t come back to ask me to hold your hand, or to do things for you. I shall not know you any more. Don’t come walking around here, but stay away.”

The body is wrapped in a blanket almost before it is cold, to be buried later, but food is at once placed around it, and ashes are liberally strewn over and around the corpse, to enable the relatives to discover, by the tracks, into what kind of animal the dead has changed. At night some fox or coyote, polecat or rat, is sure to be attracted by the smell of the food; but the people believe that it was the departed who returned in the form of the animal to get his food. A shaman, without even looking at the tracks, may be able to tell what animal shape the dead assumes.

Within twenty-four hours the corpse is taken away to be buried. It is tied in three or four places to one or two poles and carried by two men. Women never go with them to the funeral. As soon as the undertakers have accomplished their task, they immediately wash their persons well. Upon their return, branches of the mountain cedar are burned inside of the house, to “cure” it.

The body is laid at rest in a shallow grave inside of a cave or just outside of it, with the head to the east and the feet to the west. In some caves, however, this rule is not adhered to, for I found corpses placed in accordance with the formation of the floor of the cave. The body is covered with an inch of earth, then with a row of pine or palm sticks put on lengthwise, and over this a layer of earth is spread five or six inches deep. On top of all, stones are thrown. The bodies of grown persons are stretched out to their full length, but with children the knees are generally drawn up.

This is one Way in which the pagan Tarahumares bury their dead. Another mode, equally common, is to place the body lying on its back, on the surface, without any earth to cover it; in this case the mouth of the cave is walled up with stones, or stones and mud, and several bodies may be found inside.

When exhuming skeletons I have frequently found bits of charcoal, which was explained by the fact that during the first night the mourners keep a fire near the grave, which to-day serves the same purpose as candles. This also accounts for the smokiness of the interior of the burial-caves, even of the ancient ones.

The dead keeps his buckskin pouch and three small gourds with beans. Three ears of corn are placed to the left of his head, as well as a small jar of tesvino. Another small jar of tesvino is placed near his feet, as well as his bow and arrows, the stone with which the arrows are stretched, reeds and sinews, his steel for striking fire, the small stick with which paint is put on the arrows, his sucking-tubes when the deceased has been a shaman, in fact all his light-weight belongings, besides balls of gum from the pine-tree, necklaces of Coix Lachryma-Jobi and a hikuli plant. Everything heavy, such as his axe, machete, beads, and money, he leaves, as it is thought that the weight would hinder him from rising to heaven. This is the practical view the Indians have taken since their contact with the whites, as valuables frequently attract marauders. The dead man’s sandals, his violin, and the vessels from which he used to take his food, are kept in a separate place for a year, that is, until after the last function for the dead is over; then at night the shaman and other men take them away and bury them somewhere, but not with the dead. The skins on which he died are treated in the same way, and are never used again, lest a very ugly dog might be born of them. The house is always destroyed, and the me-tare and many jars and baskets are broken.

On the third day after the death, the relatives begin to prepare the first feast for the dead, which is held within a fortnight. One or two sheep or goats are killed, and the lungs, the heart, and the windpipe are hung from a stick outside the burial-cave.

As soon as the tesvino is ready the feast comes off, although comparatively little of the liquor is used at this first function. The relatives, men and women, visit the grave and leave a jar with pinole, a small jar with tesvino, three tortillas, and three cigarettes with the dead, if he was a man; with a woman, four tortillas, etc., are required. The size of the tortillas varies with the age of the person. For adults the ordinary tortilla is used; to young people over six years old, medium-sized ones are given; and children get small ones, about an inch and a half in diameter. I have seen medium-sized ones made into the shape of a cross.

All the mourners talk to the departed, the shaman first. He tells him that he had better take away everything they have given him, and not come and disturb the people he has left behind. He should leave them alone, and some day they, too, will have to go where he is. He should not kill any of the animals belonging to the family, as they have killed a sheep for him and given him the best part, the lungs, that he may eat and be satisfied and not take what now is theirs.

At the first feast I have seen worn in the hair by both men and Women a peculiar kind of artificial flower. It is made from a short bit of reed in one end of which four incisions are made, with the parts turned outward to stand out like the corolla of a flower. It is stuck under the hair-ribbon at one side of the head. The mourners also make crosses on their foreheads with charcoal.

The second feast is given half a year later, and again animals are killed and a large quantity of tesvino is made. Three men and three women carry food and tesvino to the grave, the relatives remaining at home. On their return they stop at a distance from the house and throw ashes over each other’s heads before entering.

For the third function, which is the largest, an animal is selected from among those last acquired by the deceased, and quantities of food and beer are prepared. This feast is the final effort to despatch the dead. A large earthen bowl is made especially for the purpose. It is about two feet in diameter and six inches deep. It is filled with water, and a drinking-gourd placed inside of it, upside down. The shaman beats this gourd with a corn-cob fastened to the end of a little stick. His assistants help him, one by swinging the rattle, the other by singing. After a while the shaman lifts the bowl up and after carrying it about in three ceremonial circuits throws it into the air. It falls to the ground and breaks into many pieces, and the people dance and trample on the shreds and on the drinking-gourd.

The young people conclude the function by running a race of some hundred yards. The men have their ball, and as they run they scatter ashes to the four cardinal points to cover the tracks of the dead. They return rejoicing, manifesting their delight by throwing up their blankets, tunics, and hats, because now the dead is at last chased off. If the deceased be a woman, the women run a race with rings and sticks.

A very elaborate third function, given by a widow, was described to me as follows: There were five patios. On one, for the dead, was erected one large cross and two small ones, and three gourds with tesvino and a basket with uncooked meat were placed near by. A fire was lighted, and one man had to watch here. On another patio one cross was raised, and a branch from a pine-tree placed next to it. Here, too, a jar with tesvino and a basket with uncooked meat were deposited, and one man and two women kept watch, but no ceremonies were performed. A third patio was for the hikuli cult, where the shaman rasped and sang. On the fourth patio, yumari was danced, and one large cross and two smaller ones had been erected. Finally, on the fifth patio four torches of resinous pinewood, each a yard high, were placed at the four cardinal points. A peculiar feature was that one man alone danced here between these four torches, cutting with his knife three times through each flame as he danced. This he did in reprises.

According to the names which the Tarahumares apply to the three functions for the dead, the main idea of the first is to give food; of the second, to replenish the first supply; and of the third to give drink. The three feasts are on an increasing scale of elaborateness, the first being comparatively insignificant. Each generally lasts one day and one night, and begins at the hour at which the dead breathed his last. There is always a special patio prepared for the dead, and another one for the hikuli cult, besides the ordinary dancing-place, and much howling and singing goes on, especially at the last.

At the feasts, the shaman steeps herbs in water and Sprinkles this medicine over the people. Hikuli dancing and singing always play a prominent part at all the festivities, for the plant is thought to be very powerful in running off the dead, chasing them to the end of the world, where they join the other dead. Yumari is danced at intervals and much tesvino is used, and at all feasts the survivors drink with the dead.

There are three feasts for a mall, and four for a woman. She cannot run so fast, and it is therefore harder to chase her off. Not until the last function has been made will a widower or a widow marry again, being more afraid of the dead than are other relatives.

After the death of a person, anyone who rendered him any service, as, for instance, watching his cattle for a week, claims something of what the dead left. He is satisfied, however, with a girdle or the like.

Once I was present at the burial-feast for a man who had hanged himself a fortnight before, while under the influence of liquor and angry over some property out of which he considered himself cheated. He had changed into a lion. Two men and two women carried food and tesvino; the wife did not go with them, as the deceased had died alone, and she was afraid of being carried off by him. His father-in-law led the procession, carrying a goat-skin with its four feet remaining. The animal had belonged to the deceased and had been sacrificed for him, and the skin was to be given to him that in his new life he might rest on it. The suicide had been buried in a little cave with his feet toward the entrance. Having deposited the food near the dead man’s head, the women sat down on a stone inside, while the men stood up near the mouth of the cave, all faces turned toward the grave. The father-in-law seated himself on a stone near the feet of the dead. It was a dreary winter evening in the Sierra and the scene was singularly impressive. The old man was a strong personality, powerfully built, and a shaman of great reputation, who in his entire bearing showed his determination to keep the dead at bay. He seemed to exercise a reassuring influence over the whole assembly.

I shall not easily forget the solemn and convincing way in which he upbraided the dead for his rash act. Taking the reed flower from his hair and holding it in his right hand, he waved it down and up, as if swayed by the force of his own thoughts, in accentuating his points, and he talked and argued with the dead for a quarter of an hour. The man was a great orator, and spoke so earnestly that my interpreter Nabor was affected almost to tears. The speech was a kind of dialogue with the dead, the speaker supplying the responses himself, and this is the gist of it:

All present then said good-bye to him, and all the women added, “Fool!” and then they all ran quickly into a deep water-hole, splashing into it clothes and all, that nothing from the dead might attach itself to them. They changed their wet attire after their arrival at the house. Later in the evening a magnificent hikuli feast was held. The Indians sat around the big fire, which cast a magical light over the tall old pine-trees around the patio, while the dancers moved about in their fantastic way through the red glow. Such a scene makes a deeper impression than any that could be produced on the stage.

The Christian Tarahumares believe that the shaman has to watch the dead throughout the year, or the deceased would be carried away by the Devil. If the feasts were not given, the departed would continue to wander about in animal shape. This is the direful fate meted out to people who are too poor to pay the shaman. Sometimes, if the dead person has not complied in life with the customary requirements in regard to feasts and sacrifices, the shamans have a hard time in lifting him to heaven. It may take hours of incantations and much tesvino to get his head up, and as much more to redeem his body. Sometimes the head falls back, and the shamans have to call for more tesvino to gain strength to lift him up again.

The Tarahumares had no great scruples about my removing the bodies of their dead, if the latter had died some years before and were supposed to have been properly despatched from this world. Where a body had been buried, the bones that were not taken away had to be covered up again. One Tarahumare sold me the skeleton of his mother-in-law for one dollar.

Nearly the whole country of the Tarahumares is drained by the river Fuerte, which, with its many tributaries, waters as many barrancas. The main one, namely Barranca de San Carlos, is from 4,000 to 4,500 feet deep, and sinuous in its course. If there were a passable road along its bottom, the distance from the source of the river to a point a little below the village of Santa Ana, where Rio Fuerte emerges from the Sierra, could be easily covered in two days; but as it is, a man requires at least a week to travel this distance, so much is he impeded by the roughness of the country.

Having descended into the barranca, which now felt almost uncomfortably warm, after the piercing winds of the highlands, I first visited the plateaus on the southern side, where the Indians have still kept themselves tolerably free from the white man’s evil influence and are very jealous of their land. One night, while camping in a deep arroyo with very steep sides frowning down on us, one of the Indian carriers woke us with the startling news: “Get up! A stone is falling and will strike us!” I heard a noise, and instantly a stone, half the size of a child’s head, hit the informant himself, as he sleepily rose. He lost his breath, but soon recovered, and no further damage was done.

I secured the necessary carriers and went down again to the river, which I now followed westward from Nogal for about twenty-five miles. The elevation at Nogal is 4,450 feet, about 800 feet higher than the place at which we left the river again. At the outset we came upon two very hot springs, the water of which had a yellow sediment. The gorge was narrow throughout. Sometimes its two sides rise almost perpendicularly, leaving but a narrow passage for the river. We then had either to wade in the water or to ascend some thousand feet, in order to continue our way. But generally there was a bank on one side or the other, and now and then the valley widened, yielding sufficient space for some bushes, or even a tree to grow, though it soon narrowed again. In some such spots we found a shrub called baynoro, with long, flexible branches and light-green leaves. Its small, yellow berries were as sweet as honey, but they did not agree with the Mexicans, who had stomach-aches and lost their appetites after eating them. The Indians made the same complaints, but I felt no ill effects from them.

Along the river we saw the tracks of many raccoons and otters, and there were also ducks and blue herons.

The colour of the water in the deep places was greyish green, and as the river rises in the high sierra, it felt icy cold to wade through. One day we had to cross it eight times. On one such occasion, while wading waist-deep, the Indian who carried the photographic outfit in a bag on his back, forgot for a moment, on account of the stinging cold, how far his burden hung down, and let it dip into the water. The prospect of being prevented, perhaps for a long time to come, from photographing, was very annoying. Six plate-holders were so wet that I could not even draw the shutters out, but luckily I had more elsewhere.

We came upon several ancient cave-dwellings, all of which were rather small, and attributed by the Tarahumares to the Tubar Indians. One of them was situated about 250 feet above the bottom of the barranca. A two-storied, rather irregularly shaped building occupied the entire width of the cave, without reaching to the roof. The floor of the house was scarcely two yards broad, but the building widened out very much, following the shape of the cave. The materials used in the construction were stone and mud or, rather, reddish grit; and smaller stones had been put between larger ones in an irregular way. The walls were only five or six inches thick and were plastered with mud. An upright pole supported the ceiling, which was rather pretty, consisting of reeds resting on the rafters, and covered on top with mud. The ceiling of the second story had been made in the same way, but had fallen in. A piece of thick board half covered the entrance. In the first story I found an additional chamber, and in it a skeleton, of which I secured the skull and some typical bones.

Not far from this, and situated in very rough country, was another cave, that contained ten one-storied chambers of the same material and construction. The cave was fifty feet long and at the mouth seven feet high. The apertures of the chambers were fairly squared, and not of the shape of the conventional ear of corn. One door was a foot and a half broad, and two feet and a half high. I crawled through the chambers, which were miserably small. The floor was plastered, and in some rooms I noticed circular holes sunk into the ground in the way that I had already observed in Zapuri. There were also small square holes, the sides being six inches long in the front wall.

Twenty miles from here, just north of the pueblo of Cavorachic, was a third cave which contained thirteen houses in ruins, The material here, too, was the same as before, but the houses were built to the roof of the cave, and were rounded at the corners. Peculiar round loop-holes were seen here, too. Eight of them formed a horizontal line, and one extra hole was a little higher up. A track could be made out at certain places along the river, but the country was very lonely. In the course of several days only six Indian families were encountered, and two of those lived here only temporarily. We also met five stray Indians that had come down from the highlands to fetch bamboo reeds for arrows, etc. It was quite pleasant to meet somebody now and then, although, unfortunately, no one had anything to sell, except a few small fish, the people being themselves as hard up for food as we were. We carried our little metate on which we ground corn for our meals, but we found it very difficult on this trip of four weeks’ duration to secure from day to day corn enough to satisfy our wants. One item in our menu, new to me, but common throughout northern Mexico, was really excellent when we could procure the very simple material from which it was made, namely squash-seeds. These were ground very fine and boiled in a saucepan. This dish, which is of Tarahumare origin, is called pipian, and looks like curds. Mixed with a little chile it is very palatable, and in this period of considerable privation it was the only food I really enjoyed.

But such luxuries were not served every day. Far from it. For several days in succession we had nothing but corn-cakes and water. Therefore our joy was great when at last we one day espied some sheep on the other side of the river. They belonged to a woman who watched them herself, while wintering among the rocks with her herd of about a dozen sheep and goats. I sent my interpreter over to make a bargain for one of the animals, and as he did not return after a reasonable lapse of time, and as we were all hungry, I went across the river myself to see the dashing widow. I found my man .still bargaining, lying on the ground stretched out on his stomach and resting his head on his hands. She was grinding corn on the metate and seemed to pay little attention to either of us, but her personal attractiveness at once impressed me. She was still in her best years and had fine bright eyes. A ribbon dyed with the native yellow dye from lichens ran through the braids of her hair, and was marvellously becoming to her almost olive complexion. I could not help saying, “How pretty she is!” to which the interpreter, in a dejected mood, replied: “Yes, but she will not sell anything, and I have been struggling hard.” “Of course, she will sell,” said I, “handsome as she is!” at which remark of mine I noticed she smiled. Though I judged from the way in which she wore her hair, in two braids, hanging in a loop in the neck, that she had been in association with the Mexicans, I did not expect that she could understand Spanish so well. I immediately returned to my camp to fetch some beads and a red handkerchief to make an impression on my obdurate belle. But on my way back to her I met my interpreter, who brought the glad tidings that she had made up her mind to sell, and that I might send for the animal whenever I wanted it. The price was one Mexican silver dollar. So I sent my “extras” along with the money, and in return received a fine sheep with long white wool, when all we had hoped for was only a goat. There is not the slightest doubt in my mind that my felicitous compliment brought about this happy result.

During our travels along the river, every day we came upon traps for catching fish. The Tarahumares have various modes of fishing. Sometimes they manage to catch fish with their hands in crevices between stones, even diving for them. In the shallow parts of the rivers and in the brooks, following the course of the stream, two stone walls a foot or two high are built. These walls converge at the lower end and form a channel, in which is placed horizontally a mat of stalks of the eagle fern (Pteris aquilina). When the fish attempt to cross this mat, through which the water passes freely, they are intercepted. Often the fish caught in this way are only an inch long, but none is too small for a Tarahumare to reject.

Other similar walls form square or oblong corrals, where the fish can easily enter, but not so readily find a way out. After dark the owners come with lighted torches and carefully examine the corrals, turning up every stone. The fish are blinded by the glare of the light and can be caught and thrown into baskets. Frogs, tadpoles, larvae, and water-beetles are also welcome.

In the central part of the country they use a spear made of a thin reed and tipped with thorns of the nopal. Sometimes it is shot from a diminutive bow, like an arrow. But a more interesting way is to hurl it by means of a primitive throwing-stick, which is nothing but a freshly cut twig from a willow (jaria) about six inches long, left in its natural state except for the flattening of one end on one side. The spear is held in the left hand, the stick in the right. The flat part of the latter is placed against the end of the spear, which is slightly flattened on two sides, while the end is squarely cut off. By pressing one against the other, the throwing-stick is bent, and sufficient force is produced by its rebound to make the spear pierce small fish. Many a Tarahumare may be seen standing immovable on the bank of a streamlet, waiting patiently for a fish to come, and as soon as he has hit it throwing himself into the water to grab it.

But a more profitable way of catching fish is by poisoning the water. In the highlands a kind of polygonum is used for this purpose. It is pounded with stones and thrown into the small corrals. When the fishing is to be done on a somewhat extensive scale, two species of agave—the amole (the soap-plant) and the soke—are used, and many households join in the sport. First of all maguey plants have to be collected, and wine made, as this is indispensable to the success of the undertaking. At the place selected for the fishing the people assemble, and two managers are appointed, one for each side of the river. It is their duty to see that everything is done in the right and proper way and all the requisite ceremonies are observed. The women are a couple of hundred yards back cooking herbs and making pinole for the men to eat. No pregnant women are allowed to be present, as then the fish would not die.

Half-circular corrals of stone are built to intercept the fish that drift along, irrespective of any private traps that may be found on the place. Fish caught in the latter belong to those who put up the traps. While constructing these corrals, the men catch a few fish with their hands, between the rocks, open them in the back and give them to the women, to broil. When they are done, the men pound the fish to a pulp, mix it with pinole, and roll the mass into a ball two or three inches in diameter. One of the managers then goes down stream, below the corrals, and places the ball in a water pool. It is a sacrifice to the master of the river, a large serpent (Walúla), which makes an ugly noise. Every river, water-hole, and spring has its serpent that causes the water to come up out of the earth. They are all easily offended; and therefore the Tarahumares place their houses some little distance from the water, and when they travel avoid sleeping near it.

Whenever the Tarahumares make pinole while away from home, they sacrifice the first part to the water-serpents, dropping it with the little stick with which the pinole is stirred. They sprinkle it first forward, then to the left, then to the right, and then upward, three times in each direction. If they did not do this, the water-serpents would try to catch them and chase them back to their own land. Besides the sacrifice of the fish ball, they offer axes, hats, blankets, girdles, pouches, etc., and especially knives and strings of beads, to the master of the fish, who is considered to be the oldest fish. This is in payment for what they are going to catch, and the donations are either hung to a cross or a horizontal bar specially erected in the middle of the river, and remain hanging there until daybreak, when their respective owners take them back.

In the meantime eight or ten men have gathered the amole and soke. They wrap the plants in their blankets and bring them direct to the river, where they are to be used. The leaves are pounded with stones and spread out for a while before sunset. As soon as it is dark the men throw them into the water, and trample on them to make the juice come out. Three or four men take turns, standing waist-deep in the water, treading with all their might and howling. The effect of the poison in the course of the night is said to reach down some 300 yards. It stupefies the fish, and although many of them revive, a few are killed and may be eaten, as the poison does not affect the meat.

The managers see to it that everybody does his duty and that no one falls asleep during the night, while the women help by watching the mats, that the otters may not eat the fish caught in them.

A curious detail is that one man on each side of the river is deputed to heat stones and throw them into the river three or four at a time, every half-hour, possibly to frighten off the serpent. During the night not one fish is taken up, but at daybreak the managers go down the river to investigate the effect of the poison, and upon their return the fish are gathered in, the men often diving into deep water for them. The work is done with great earnestness and almost in silence, the women helping the men in catching the fish. While. the fishing is going on they do not eat any of the fish, for fear of not getting more, but during the day quantities are broiled and eaten, without salt or chile, however, and the bones are invariably thrown into the fire. Most of the fish are cut open in the back and placed on rocks or on trees to dry for future use. Such fishing may last for two days and nights, and is finished by dancing yumari and drinking maguey wine. On one occasion as much was caught as ten men could carry. Expeditions of this kind may be repeated two or three times a year; but when food is plentiful a whole year may pass without one being undertaken.

Palo de la flecha, too, is used as poisoning material, and seems to be even more powerful than the two plants mentioned. There is a milky juice under the bark of this tree which, when it comes in contact with the human skin, makes it smart like a burn. The water is poisoned by cutting the bark from the trunk and boughs directly into the water, the people taking care to stand to the windward. One man who neglected this precaution got some juice in his eyes and was blinded for three days, though an application of salt water finally cured him.

Although a single man may poison fish in a small way even in winter, he is hardly likely to do so except in summer-time, when provisions are low. The Indians dislike going into cold water; besides, they say that the cold impairs the effect of the poison.