I saw hikuli cultivated near some of the houses in San Francisco. They were in blossom, producing beautiful large, white flowers. The plant is used at the mitotes, but not generally.

On both sides of the steep arroyo near San Francisco were a great number of ancient walls of loose stones, one above the other, a kind of fortification. In other localities, sometimes in places where one would least expect them, I found a number of circular figures formed by upright stones firmly embedded in the ground, in the same way as those described earlier in this narrative.

The pueblo, mirabile dictu, had a Huichol teacher, whom the authorities considered, and justly so, to be better than the ordinary Mexican teacher. He was one of nine boys whom the Bishop of Zacatecas, in 1879, while on a missionary tour in the Huichol country, had picked out to educate for the priesthood. After an adventurous career, which drove him out of his own country, he managed now to maintain himself here. Although his word could not be implicitly trusted, he helped me to get on with the Coras, and I am under some obligation to him.

A prominent feature in the elaborate ceremonies of the tribe, connected with the coming of age of boys and girls, is the drinking of home-made mescal. The lifting of the cochiste, as described among the Aztecs, is also practised, at least among the Coras of the sierra, and is always performed at full moon.

The people begin to marry when they are fifteen years old, and they may live to be a hundred. The arrangement of marriages by the parents of the boy without consulting him is a custom still largely followed. On five occasions, every eighth day, they go to ask for the bride they have selected. If she consents to marry the man, then all is right. One man of my acquaintance did not know his "affinity" when his parents informed him that they had a bride for him. Three weeks later they were married, and, as in the fairy-tale, lived happily ever afterward. His parents and grandparents fasted before the wedding. In San Francisco I saw men and women who were married, or engaged to be married, bathing together in the river.

Fasting is also a notable feature in the religion of the Coras, and is considered essential for producing rain and good crops. Abstinence from drinking water for two days during droughts is sometimes observed. The principal men on such occasions may undertake to do the fasting for the rest of the people. They then shut themselves up in La Comunidad, sit down, smoke, and keep their eyes on the ground.



The Coras of the canon are not always in summer in accord with Father Sun, because he is fierce, producing sickness and killing men and animals. Chulavete, the Morning Star, who is the protecting genius of the Coras, has constantly to watch the Sun lest he should harm the people. In ancient times, when the Sun first appeared, the Morning Star, who is cool and disliked heat, shot him in the middle of the breast, just as he had journeyed nearly half across the sky. The Sun fell down on earth, but an old man brought him to life again, so that he could tramp back and make a fresh start.

The Morning Star is the principal great god of the Coras. In the small hours of the morning they frequently go to some spring and wash themselves by his light. He is their brother, a young Indian with bow and arrow, who intercedes with the other gods to help the people in their troubles. At their dances they first call him to be present, and tell their wants to him, that he may report them to the Sun and the Moon and the rest of the gods.

A pathetic story of the modern adventures of this their great hero-god graphically sets forth the Indian's conception of the condition in which he finds himself after the arrival of the white man. Chulavete was poor, and the rich people did not like him. But afterward they took to him, because they found that he was a nice man, and they asked him to come and eat with them. He went to their houses dressed like the "neighbours." But once when they invited him he came like an Indian boy, almost naked. He stopped outside of the house, and the host came out with a torch of pinewood to see who it was. He did not recognise Chulavete, and called out to him: "Get away, you Indian pig! What are you doing here?" And with his torch he burned stripes down the arms and legs of the shrinking Chulavete. Next day Chulavete received another invitation to eat with the "neighbours." This time he made himself into a big bearded fellow, with the complexion of a man half white, and he put on the clothes in which they knew him. He came on a good horse, had a nice blanket over his shoulder, wore a sombrero and a good sabre. They met him at the door and led him into the house.

"Here I am at your service, to see what I can do for you," he said to them.

"Oh, no!" they said. "We invited you because we like you, not because we want anything of you. Sit down and eat."

He sat down to the table, which was loaded with all the good things rich people eat. He put a roll of bread on his plate, and then began to make stripes with it on his arms and legs.

"Why do you do that?" they asked him. "We invited you to eat what we eat."

Chulavete replied: "You do not wish that my heart may eat, but my dress. Look here! Last night it was I who was outside of your door. The man who came to see me burned me with his pine torch, and said to me, 'You Indian pig, what do you want here?' "

"Was that you?" they asked.

"Yes, gentlemen, it was I who came then. As you did not give me anything yesterday, I see that you do not want to give the food to me, but to my clothes. Therefore, I had better give it to them." He took the chocolate and the coffee and poured it over himself as if it were water, and he broke the bread into pieces and rubbed it all over his dress. The sweetened rice, and boiled hen with rice, sweet atole, minced meat with chile, rice pudding, and beef soup, all this he poured over himself. The rich people were frightened and said that they had not recognised him.

"You burned me yesterday because I was an Indian," he said. "God put me in the world as an Indian. But you do not care for the Indians, because they are naked and ugly." He took the rest of the food, and smeared it over his saddle and his horse, and went away.

The Coras say they originated in the east, and were big people with broad and handsome faces and long hair. They then spoke another language, and there were no "neighbours." According to another tradition, the men came from the east and the women from the west.

In the beginning the earth was fiat and full of water, and therefore the corn rotted. The ancient people had to think and work and fast much to get the world in shape. The birds came together to see what they could do to bring about order in the world, so that it would be possible to plant corn. First they asked the red-headed vulture, the principal of all the birds, to set things right, but he said he could not. They sent for all the birds in the world, one after another, to induce them to perform the deed, but none would undertake it. At last came the bat, very old and much wrinkled. His hair and his beard were white with age, and there was plenty of dirt on his face, as he never bathes. He was supporting himself with a stick, because he was so old he could hardly walk. He also said that he was not equal to the task, but at last he agreed to try what he could do. That same night he darted violently through the air, cutting outlets for the waters; but he made the valleys so deep that it was impossible to walk about, and the principal men reproached him for this. "Then I will put everything back as it was before," he said.

"No, no!" they all said. "What we want is to make the slopes of a lower incline, and to leave some level land, and do not make all the country mountains."

This the bat did, and the principal men thanked him for it. Thus the world has remained up to this day.

No rain was falling, and the five principal men despatched the humming-bird to the place in the east where the rain-clouds are living, to ask them to come over here. The clouds came very fast and killed the humming-bird, and then returned to their home. After a while the humming-bird came to life, and told the principal men that the clouds had gone back. The people then sent out the frog with his five sons. As he proceeded toward the east he left one of his sons on each mountain. He called the clouds to come, and they followed and overtook him on the road. But he hid himself under a stone, and they passed over him. Then the fifth son called them on, and when they overtook him he, too, hid himself under a stone. Then the fourth son called the clouds and hid, then the third son called, and then the second, and finally the first, who had been placed on a mountain from which the sea can be seen to the west of the sierra. When the storm-clouds went away again, the frogs began to sing merrily, which they do to this day after rain, and they still hide under stones when rain is coming to the Cora country.

The rabbit in olden times had hoofs like the deer, and the deer had claws. They met on the road and saluted each other as friends. Said the deer: "Listen, friend, lend me your sandals, to see how they feel. Only for a moment." The rabbit, who was afraid the deer would steal them, refused at first, but at last he agreed, and the deer, putting them on, rose and began to dance. "Oh, how beautifully it sounds!" he said. He danced five circuits, and began to dance mitote and sing. The rabbit sat looking on, and was in a dejected mood, fearing that the deer might not give him back his sandals. The deer then asked permission to run five big circuits over the mountains. The rabbit said no, but the deer went away, promising to come back directly. He returned four times, but on the fifth round he ran away. The rabbit climbed up on a mountain and saw the deer already far off. He wanted to follow him, but he could not, because his feet were bare. The deer never returned the hoofs to the rabbit, and hoofless the rabbit has remained to this day.

I had many interesting interviews with the old shaman whom the authorities had appointed to serve me. He confided to me that for many years he had faithfully fulfilled his office as the principal singing shaman of the community, but that the people had once suddenly accused him of practising sorcery and wanted to punish him. Being very intelligent and upright, he was of great assistance to me, and the more eager to do all he could for the grudge he bore his compatriots for accusing him of sorcery. No doubt he was glad of my coming, as it gave him a chance to rehabilitate himself, since, for the first time in three years, he had been engaged to sing at the dance. Be this as it may, I obtained much valuable information from him. He could elucidate the trend of Indian thought better than any shaman I had hitherto met, and his talk was full of aphorisms and opinions with reference to Indian views of life.

Referring to the many regulations and observances the Indians have to comply with in order to insure food, health, and life, he said: "A man has to do a good deal to live. Every tortilla we eat is the result of our work. If we do not work, it does not rain." That the "work" consists in fasting, praying, and dancing does not detract from its hardship.

Other sayings I picked up are as follows:

We do not know how many gods there are.

The Moon is man and woman combined; men see in her a woman, women see a man.

It is better to give a wife to your son before he opens his eyes very much; if not, he will not know whom he wants.

Illness is like a person; it hears.

Everything is alive; there is nothing dead in the world. The people say the dead are dead; but they are very much alive.

My friend went with me in the afternoon to the place where the mitote was to be given. As the preparations of the principal men consume two days, and I was bent on seeing everything, I went to the place the day before the dance was to come off. It was a few miles away in a remote locality, on top of a hill the upper part of which was composed mainly of huge stones, some of them as regular in shape as if they had been chiselled. Here and there in the few open spaces some shrubbery grew. An opening in the midst of the great mass of stones had been prepared to serve as a dancing-place. The big stones looked dead enough, but to the Indians they are alive. They are what the Coras call Taquats or ancient people. Once upon a time they went to a mitote, just as we were doing now, when the morning star arose before they arrived at their destination, and all were changed into stone, and ever since have appeared like stones. My companion pointed out the various figures of men, women, and children, with their bundles and baskets, girdles, etc., and in the waning light of day it was not difficult to understand how the Indians had come to this conception of the fantastic forms standing all around the place. Even a mountain may be a Taquat, and all the Taquats are gods to whom the Coras pray and sacrifice food; but it is bad to talk about them.

It had often been a puzzle to me why primitive people should make for themselves stone idols to whom they might sacrifice and pray; but what is to us a rock or stone may be to the Indian a man or a god of ancient times, now turned into stone. By carving out features, head, body, or limbs, they only bring before their physical eyes what is in their mind's eye. This peculiar kind of pantheism can never be eradicated from the Indian's heart unless he is from infancy estranged from his tribal life.

In the centre of the dancing-place stood a magnificent tree not yet in leaf, called chocote, and there was some shrubbery growing about and around the place, which is very old. Only a few yards higher up among the rocks is a similar spot, with traces of still greater antiquity. The Indians had promised me that on this occasion one of their shamans would make a god's eye for me, and I was shown the stone on which he would sit while making it. It was near the tree; and back of it, arranged in a circle around the fire, were six similar stones, in place of the stools I had seen in Pueblo Viejo. The principal men had swept the place in the morning, and since then had been smoking pipes and talking to the gods.

There were also present a female principal, an old woman, with her little granddaughter who represented the moon. These too, it seemed, had to attend to certain religious duties which they perform for five years, the child beginning at the innocent age of three. During her term she lives with the old woman, whether she is related to her or not. The old lady has charge of the large sacred bowl of the community, an office vested only in a woman of undoubted chastity. This bowl is called "Mother," and is prayed to. It consists of half of a large round gourd, adorned inside and outside with strings of beads of various colours. It is filled with wads of cotton, under which lie carved stone figures of great antiquity. None but the chief religious authority is allowed to lift up the cotton, the symbol of health and life. The bowl rests also on cotton wads. On festive occasions the woman in charge brings the bowl to the dancing-place and deposits it at the middle of the altar. Parrot feathers are stood up along the inner edge, and each person as he arrives places a flower on top of the cotton inside of the bowl. This vessel is really the patron saint of the community. It is like a mother of the tribe, and understands, so the Indians say, no language but Cora. The Christian saints understand Cora, Spanish, and French; but the Virgin Mary at Guadalupe, the native saint of the Mexican Indians, understands all Indian languages.

Leaving the principales to prepare themselves further for the dance, my friend and I early next morning went to see a sacred cave where the Huichols go to worship. It was situated in the same hill, outside of the country of that tribe. There were a great many caves and cavities between the stones over which we made our way, jumping from one to another. Near the lower edge of this accumulation of stones I noticed, down in the dark, deep recesses, ceremonial arrows which the pious pilgrims from beyond the eastern border of the Cora land had left. Soon after passing this point We came to a cave, the approach of which led downward and was rather narrow. With the aid of a pole or a rope it can easily be entered. I found myself at one of the ancient places of worship of the Huichol Indians, the cave of their Goddess of the Western Clouds. It was not large, but the many singular ceremonial objects, of all shapes and colours, accumulated within it, made a strange impression upon me. There were great numbers of ceremonial arrows, many with diminutive deer-snares attached, to pray for luck in hunting; as well as votive bowls, gods' eyes, and many other articles by which prayers are expressed. In one corner was a heap of deer-heads, brought for the same purpose. As my companion entered, a rat disappeared in the twilight of the cave.

I wanted to take some samples of the articles, but he begged me not to do it, as the poor fellows who had sacrificed the things might be cheated out of the benefits they had expected from them. He had, however, no objection to nay taking a small rectangular piece of textile fabric, with beautifully colored figures on it. "This is a back shield," he said, "and the Huichols do not do right by those things. They place them in the trails leading out of their country, to prevent the rain from coming to us. Lions and other ferocious animals are often represented on them, and they frighten the rain back."

On our return to the dancing-place I found the man who had been deputed to make the god's eye lying in a small cave in quite an exhausted condition, having fasted for many days. The ceremonial object had already been made, under incantations. It was very pretty, white and blue, and had a wad of cotton attached to each corner. Its efficacy was, however, lost as far as I was concerned, as I had not been sitting beside the man while he made it, praying for what I wanted. This is a necessary condition if the Morning Star is to be made to understand clearly what the supplicant needs.

On the altar, beside the sacred bowl of the community, had been placed food and many ceremonial objects, not omitting the five ears of seed-corn to be used in raising the corn required for the feasts. In the ground immediately in front of the altar were four bunches of the beautiful tail-feathers of the bluejay.

Opposite to this, on the west side of the place, was another altar, a smaller one, on which had been put some boiled pinole in potsherds, with tortillas and a basket of cherries. This was for the dead, who if dissatisfied might disturb the feast. Afterward the pinole is thrown on the ground, while the people eat the rest of the food.

The fasting shaman came forth on our arrival and took his position opposite the main altar, talking to the gods for half an hour. The newly made god's eye had been stuck into the ground in front of him. On his left side stood the little girl, and behind her the old woman, her guardian, and a man, who was smoking tobacco. Two young men, one at the right, the other at the left, held in their hands sticks with which they woke up people who fell asleep during the night while the dance was going on.

The shaman prayed to the Morning Star, presented to him the ears of corn that were to be used as seed, and asked him to make them useful for planting. The gods know best how to fructify the grains, since all the corn belongs to them. "And as for this man," he added, speaking of me, "you all knew him before he started from his own country. To us he seems to be good, but you alone know his heart. You give him the god's eye he asked for."

A little after dark the singer for the occasion began to play a prelude on the musical bow, which the Coras always glue to the gourd, uniting the two parts to form one instrument. The gourd was placed over a small excavation in the ground to increase its resonance. The singer invoked the Morning Star to come with his brothers, the other stars, to bring with them their pipes and plumes, and arrive dancing with the rain-clouds that emanate from their pipes as they smoke. The Morning Star was also asked to invite the seven principal Taquats to come with their plumes and pipes.

The Coras-dance like the Tepehuanes and the Aztecs, but with quicker steps, and every time they pass the altar the dancers turn twice sharply toward it. At regular intervals the old woman and the little girl danced, the former smoking a pipe. The little girl had parrot feathers tied to her forehead and a bunch of plumes from the bluejay stood up from the back of her head. In the middle of the night she danced five circuits, carrying a good-sized drinking-gourd containing water from a near-by brook, which originates in the sacred lagoon.

The shaman sang well, but the dancing lacked animation, and but few took part in it. When the little girl began to dance with her grandmother, I seated myself on a small ledge not far from the musician. Immediately the shaman stopped playing and the dancing ceased. In an almost harsh voice, and greatly excited, he called to me, "Come and sit here, sir!" He was evidently very anxious to get me away from the ledge, and offered me a much better seat on one of the stones placed for the principal men. I had inadvertently sat on a Taquat! This sacred rock of the dancing-place had a natural hollow, which the Indians think is his votive bowl, and into which they put pinole and other food. "Never," my friend told me next day, "had anyone sat there before."

Later in the evening, when there was a pause in the performance, I noticed that all the men, with the singing shaman, gathered in a corner of the dancing-place, seating themselves on the ground. They were discussing what they should do in regard to the skulls I had asked for. One of the principal men told them that a dream last night had advised him not to deny the "Senor" anything he asked for, as he had to have a "head" and would not go without one. "You are daft, and he comes here knowing a good deal," the dream had said.

They all became alarmed, especially the man who had steadily opposed their complying with my request, and they agreed that it was better to give the white man what he wanted. The gobernador even raised the question whether it would not be best to let me have the skulls early next morning, together with the other things I was to get; or, if not then, at what other time? My shaman friend diplomatically proposed that I should set the time for this.

Next morning I got the god's eye as well as a splendid specimen of a musical bow with the gourd attached, the playing-sticks, etc., all of which were taken out of a cave near the dancing-place. There was another cave near by, into which the principal men are accustomed to go to ask permission from the sun and moon and all the other Taquats to make their feasts.

The morning saw the feast concluded in about the usual way. Tobacco was smoked over the seed-corn on the altar, and sacred water was sprinkled from a red orchid over everything on the altar, including the sacred bowl and the flowers on top of it, as well as over the heads of all the people present, to insure health and luck. This is done on behalf of the Morning Star, because he throws blessed water Over the whole earth, and on the corn and the fruit the Coras eat. The flowers are afterward taken home, even by the children, and put in cracks in the house walls, where they remain until removed by the hand of time.

The people of Santa Teresa and San Francisco, at certain rain-making feasts, fashion a large locust (chicharra) out of a paste made of ground corn and beans, and place it on the altar. In the morning, after the dancing of the mitote, it is divided among the participants of the feast, each eating his share. This is considered more efficient even than the dancing itself.

It is evident that the religious customs of the canon of Jesus Maria are on the wane, mainly because the singing shamans are dying out, though curing shamans will remain for centuries yet. As the Indians now have to perform their dances secretly, the growing generation has less inclination and little opportunity to learn them, and the tribe's ritual and comprehensive songs will gradually become lost.

My shaman friend in San Francisco complained to me that the other shamans did not know the words of the songs well enough. Tayop (Father Sun) and the other gods do not understand them, he said, and therefore these shamans cannot accomplish anything with "los senores." It was like sending a badly written letter: "the gentlemen" pass it from one to another, none of them being able to make out its meaning.

In the mean time my efforts to obtain anthropological specimens were more laborious than successful, because it was very difficult to get anyone to show me where they could be found. To make things worse, suddenly another man dreamed that I had enough "heads," and so I was not permitted to search for them any more. But I did not intend to content myself with the few I had secured. I had made arrangements with a Cora some time before to show me some skulls he knew of, and after much procrastination on his part I at last got him to accompany me.

We rode for fifteen miles in the direction of Santa Teresa. The country was rough and but sparsely inhabited. In fact, I passed three deserted ranches, and near one of them I killed a Gila monster that was just making its burrow. There lay an air of antiquity over the whole landscape. About half a league before reaching the caves we sought, I came upon quite an extensive fortification; I also noticed a number of trincheras in one arroyo; and above it on a mesa, running along the edge, we found a wall built of loose stones. The mesa, 300 by 200 feet in extent, was a natural fortress difficult of access, except at one point where a little cordon, like an isthmus, led to it. Here, however, I found no vestige of ancient inhabitants.

There were two shallow caves close to each other in the remote valley into which the guide had led me. In the larger one, which was eight feet deep and twelve feet broad, nine skulls were found. In the other were only a few bones, and I noticed indications of partitions, in the shape of upright stones, between the skeletons. The bodies must have been partly buried, with the heads protruding, in spaces a foot square.

It was nearing dusk and I had to get back to my camp that evening. On the road my mule gave out, and for the last part of the way I had to walk. I refreshed myself with some zapotes, which were just in season. This native fruit of Mexico has the flavour of the pear and the strawberry, and is delicious when picked fresh from the tree; but as soon as it falls to the ground it is infested with insects.

Contrary to expectation, when I was ready to leave the village, I found it exceedingly difficult to get men. As the Coras here do not understand the mule business, I had to resort to the Mexicans in the valley, who, however, acting under instructions from the padre, would have nothing to do with me. They even shunned those who were seen in my company. One man who used to carry on some trading with the Huichols was more daring than the rest. He declared that he would serve the devil himself if he got paid for it, and tried to make up a party for me, but failed. He was ruining his reputation for my sake, he told me; even his compadre (his child's godfather), on account of his association with me, ran away when he saw him coming. The situation finally became so exasperating that I was compelled to write to the Bishop in Tepic, and lay the case before him. I stated that the padre, without having seen me, had placed me in a bad light before the people, and had then left the country, making it impossible for me to convince him of his error of judgment; that if it were not for the strong recommendations I had from the Government and the Commanding General of the Territory, it would be impossible for me to stay here, except at great personal risk.

To await an answer, however, would have involved too great a loss of time. Luckily I found three dare-devil fellows, but recently come into the valley for a living, who were willing to go with me. These, together with the man already mentioned and one Cora Indian, enabled me to make a start. Thus I parted from pretty San Francisco, and the nice Indians there, who had believed in me in spite of the wickedness the Mexicans had attributed to me. The Coras are the only primitive race I have met who seem to have acquired the good qualities of the white man and none of his bad ones.

On an oppressively hot June morning, when I finally got away, the alcalde rode along with me for a couple of miles. We soon began to ascend the slope of the mountains that form the western barrier of the Huichol country, which, among the Mexicans, is reputed to be accessible only at four points. Next morning, while packing the mules, the father of one of my Mexicans ran up to us with a message that seemed quite alarming. Immediately after I left San Francisco yesterday, the Mexican authority at Jesus Maria had come over to tell me that the Huichols were on the warpath and determined not to allow me to enter their pueblos. The messenger impressed upon my men the necessity of turning back and implored them not to run any risk by accompanying me. The chief packer came hastily to me with this news, which I at once declared to be false. But the men, nevertheless, stopped packing, and proposed to go back. They declared that the Huichols were bad, that they were assassins, that there were many of them, and that they would kill us all.

Now, what was I to do? To turn back from the tribe the study of which had been from the outset my principal aim was not to be thought of; even to delay the trip would be impossible, as the wet season was fast approaching, in which one cannot travel for months. I tried to reason with them and to ease their minds by pointing out the great experience I had had with Indians in general. I also appealed to their manly pride and courage. "Have we not five rifles?" I said. "Cannot each one of you fight fifty Indians?" Still they wavered, and it looked as if they were going to desert me, when the cook courageously exclaimed: "Vamos, vamos!" ("Let us go on!") They again began to pack, and I managed to keep my troupe together.

The real danger for me lay in the evil rumours the Mexicans had spread, and in. the fact that the whites were afraid of me. The Indians do not follow the "neighbours" in their reasoning; they only think that a white man of whom even the Mexicans are afraid must certainly be terrible. The reason why I had chosen this route was that a friend of mine in far-away Guadalajara had given me a letter of recommendation to an acquaintance of his, a half-caste, who acted as escribano (secretary) to the pueblo of San Andres, or, to give its name in full, San Andres Coamiata. I had been told that this man was temporarily absent, in which case I should be at the mercy of the strange Indians.

The immediate prospect looked dark enough to make me consider the advisability of the long detour to the town of Mezquitic, to get assistance from the government authorities there and to enter the Huichol country from the east by way of Santa Catarina. Against this plan, however, my men urged that they could not be back in their country before the wet season set in, to attend to their fields. Finally, I decided to risk going to San Andres. If Don Zeferino was not there, I would come back and then try Mezquitic. Two days later, after a laborious ascent, I sent my chief packer ahead to San Andres, which was still about eight miles off. What a mountainous country all around us! The Jesuit father Ortega was right when he said of the Sierra del Nayarit: "It is so wild and frightful to behold that its ruggedness, even more than the arrows of its warlike inhabitants, took away the courage of the conquerors, because not only did the ridges and valleys appear inaccessible, but the extended range of towering mountain peaks confused even the eye."

My messenger returned after two days, saying that Don Zeferino was at home and would be at my disposal. In the meantime it had begun to rain; my men were anxious to return home to the valley, and I started for San Andres.

END OF VOL. I.



NOTES

[1] I have used once or twice the expression gentile Indians, referring to these Tarahumares.

[2] Several years after my expedition passed through those regions the Apaches on more than one occasion attacked outlying Mormon ranches and killed several persons.

[3] See page 356.

[4] With which the fruit is brought down.

[5] The Rio Fuerte, the only large water-course in the Tarahumare country, empties into the Pacific Ocean.

[6] As related by an old "Christian" Tarahumare woman in Huerachic, on the upper Rio Fuerte.

[7] A kind of tomato.

THE END