Some of the men had worked red ribbons and skeins of yellow yarn into their long black hair, and all were painted, although, unlike Northern Indians, the Pueblos try to please in their appearance, instead of making themselves as horrible as possible.
Some were half white and some half blue, while others were marked with geometrical figures. Some were of one solid color from crown to toe.
Not a few of them were adorned with handsome white eagle feathers, and some had their heads almost entirely covered with downy feathers.
Among the Pueblos the feather is a symbol of prayer. They say the eagle soars toward the sun at will, and his soft white feathers float upward on the breeze, like thoughts.
When the eagles are breeding the Pueblos go into the mountains and capture the young, which are kept in captivity for Saint Geronimo Day.
And so it is that when the Indian decorates himself on this great occasion with fluttering feathers each feather is equivalent to a prayer that is constantly ascending to the Sun Father.
To say the least, the idea is poetical.
By the time the sun dance was ready to begin more than fifteen hundred witnesses had assembled, and more were coming.
Inza and Miss Abigail intrusted themselves to the care of the boys, who found for them a fine position to witness the celebration.
“Where is Merriwell?” asked the spinster, looking around. “I heard him talking to you in front of the tent, Inza, but I have not seen him this morning.”