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 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.

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, 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 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. 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.

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 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 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 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.

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.

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 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 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 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 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.

Following the windings of the well-laid-out road we descended into the cañon and made camp a few miles 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 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 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 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!”)

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 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 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, 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 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 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!”

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 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 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 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: