The shamaness of the basket guild withdrew from a coil she had been weaving a priceless heirloom, inherited from her great-great-grandmother. This proved to be a long needle made from the wing-bone of a hawk and was believed to be an amulet of good luck.
“Will the high-priestess honor and make me happy by accepting this little token? She who uses it will have the blessing of the whole guild.”
Kerœcia took the polished implement, and motioned one of her tamanes to approach. From his hands she received a parcel so delicate and precious that it was protected by a basket-covering of unique design. When she disclosed the contents there was an involuntary exclamation of “A—h—!” from all the curious weavers cognizant of it.
“Will the shamaness make me happy by accepting this example of my handicraft? I have worked on it three years,” she said.
The gift was a fancy basket covered entirely with red-headed woodpeckers’ scalps, among which were placed at intervals many hanging loops of tiny iridescent shells. Around the rim was an upright row of black quails’ top-knots, nodding gayly.
Presently, a representative of the guild brought forward a dice-table top made in anticipation of this visit. It was a round, flat tray, ornamented with dark-brown water lines on a cream-white ground. With it were eight acorn-shaped dice, inlaid with abalone shell and some richly carved ivory sticks with which to keep tally. The acorn shells had first been filled with pitch, and when hardened cleverly inlaid with abalone. Cradle and burden baskets used for storing grain differed in no wise from the weaves of the Monbas.
Row after row of every imaginable stitch and material filled the roomy building. Kerœcia was respectful in her attention to the workers but she forbore a longer interruption of the general trend of the work.
Into the pueblo, set apart for the pottery, one might with profit follow, or linger over the looms of the rug and blanket weavers, as Kerœcia did. But it is fair to suppose that modern eyes are familiar with the striking peculiarities of the Daghestan rugs and Navajo blankets, the stitches of one being familiar to the descendants of Kerœcia’s forebears, while the Navajo Indians have preserved the secret of the other. One is characteristic of native Oriental invention, the other of native American.
“There is need of haste in returning,” admonished Rahula, as the women climbed back into the car and started cityward. “We are due at the marketplace now.”
“Content thyself. The caribou is an excellent traveler,” was Kerœcia’s assurance, as she gathered up the reins and shook the many stranded whip over the horns of her team. They started forward with the easy stride common to the elk family, and were not long in clearing a passage way through the tamanes, trotting along the road carrying huge, well-filled baskets, one on each end of a pole slung across the shoulder. Mingling with them were burros so well burdened that nothing but their noses, tails and forefeet were visible.