Then there is a most painful silence. The hush is intense, the stillness perfect. It is broken by the prayer of the chief priest, who sprinkles more sacred meal into the mixture. Others do the same. The liquid is again stirred, and then sprinkled to all the cardinal points, and the same is done in the air outside, above the kiva.
Then the stirring priest takes some white earth, and mixing it with the charm liquid, makes white paint which he rubs upon the breast, back, cheeks, forearms, and legs of the chief priest. All the other priests are then likewise painted.
The Chief Antelope Priest depositing Pahos at the Shrine of
the Spider Woman.
Throwing the Snakes into the Circle of Sacred Meal.
Now there is nothing whatever in this liquid that can either charm a snake or preserve an Indian from the deadly nature of its bite. Even the Hopis know that all its virtue is communicated in the ceremonies I have so imperfectly and inadequately described. I make this explanation lest my reader assume that there is some subtle poison used in this mixture, which, if given to the snakes, stupefies them and renders them unable to do injury.
The singing of the sixteen songs referred to is a most solemn affair. Snake and Antelope priests meet in the kiva of the latter. The chief priests take their places at the head of the altar, and the others line up on either side, the Snake priests to the left, the Antelope to the right. Kneeling on one knee, the two rows of men, with naked bodies, solemn faces, bowed heads, no voice speaking above a whisper, demand respect for their earnestness and evident sincerity. To one unacquainted with their language and the meaning of the songs, the weird spectacle of all these nude priests, kneeling and solemnly chanting in a sonorous humming manner, their voices occasionally rising in a grand crescendo, speedily to diminish in a thrilling pianissimo, produces a seriousness wonderfully akin to the spirit of worship.
According to the legendary lore of the Snake clan the Zunis, Hopis, Paiutis, Havasupais, and white men all made their ascent from the lower world to the earth's surface through a portion of Pis-is-bai-ya (the Grand Canyon of the Colorado River) near where the Little Colorado empties into the main river. As the various families emerged, some went north and some south. Those that went north were driven back by fierce cold which they encountered, and built houses for themselves at a place called To-ko-ná-bi. But, unfortunately, this was a desert place where but little rain fell, and their corn could not grow. In their pathetic language the Hopis say, "The clouds were small and the corn weak." The chief of the village had two sons and two daughters. The oldest of these sons, Tiyo, resolved to commit himself to the waters of the Colorado River, for they, he was convinced, would convey him to the underworld, where he could learn from the gods how always to be assured of their favor.
(This idea of the Colorado River flowing to the underworld is interesting as illustrative of Hopi reasoning. They said, and still say, this water flows from the upperworld in the far-away mountains, it flows on and on and never returns, therefore it must go to the inner recesses of the underworld.)