In a moment, as though grieved by his thoughtlessness and want of hospitality, Da-ä-zhy called to his oldest daughter, and bade her prepare some talawush to give me a shampoo. The woman muttered some protest,—"it was enough to wash her own husband's head without having to wash mine,"—but her father sternly rebuked her for her want of courtesy to the stranger. In a short time the preparations were all made. I sent to Mrs. De Vore and borrowed a couple of towels, and then in the shade outside knelt down with my head over a large bowl full of the refreshing suds. Very gently at first, and afterwards more vigorously, the good woman lathered my head—and oh, how cooling and soothing it was!—while her sister and the interpreter stood by and laughed. Then Hosteen himself came and laughed at the droll remarks of his daughter. This general laughter called others, and by and by Mrs. De Vore and her sister could not resist the temptation to come and see what all the fun was about. Just as they sat down, close by, my gentle manipulator was saying: "Navaho men have hair only on the top of their heads, but you have hair also on the bottom [my beard]. Shall I also put talawush on the bottom hair as well as the top?" Laughingly I bade her put it everywhere she liked, and just as my mouth was at its widest she brought up a handful of suds and filled it full. Of course I half choked, and this only made the laugh greater than ever, for, with the greatest coolness and sly nonchalance she exclaimed: "It is a good thing that you got a mouthful. White men need to have their mouths washed out pretty often!"
And what a delightful sensation the whole operation gave one! It was refreshing beyond description, and, for days after, my hair was as silky and soft as that of a child.
CHAPTER X
THE NAVAHO AS A BLANKET WEAVER[5]
When the Spaniard came into Arizona and New Mexico three hundred and fifty years ago, he found the art of weaving in a well-advanced stage among the domestic and sedentary Pueblo Indians, and the wild and nomad Navahoes. The cotton of these blankets was grown by these Arizona Indians from time immemorial, and they also used the tough fibres of the yucca, and agave leaves, and the hairs of various wild animals, either separately or with cotton. Their processes of weaving were exactly the same then as they are to-day, there being but slight differences between the methods followed before the advent of the whites and after. Hence, in a study of Indian blanketry, as it is made even to-day, we are approximating nearly to the pure aboriginal methods of pre-Columbian times.
Archæologists and ethnologists generally presume that the art of weaving on the loom was learned by the Navahoes from their Pueblo neighbors. All the facts in the case seem to bear out this supposition. Yet, as is well known, the Navahoes are a part of the great Athabascan family, which has scattered, by separate migrations, from Alaska into California, Arizona, and New Mexico. Many of the Alaskans are good weavers, and according to Navaho traditions, their ancestors, when they came into the country, wore blankets that were made of cedar bark and of yucca fibre. Even in the Alaska (Thlinket) blankets, made to-day of the wool of the white mountain-goat, cedar bark is twisted in with the wool of the warp. Why, then, should not the Navaho woman have brought the art of weaving, possibly in a very primitive condition, from her original Alaskan home? That her art, however, has been improved by contact with the pueblo Hopi, and other Indians, there can be no question, and, if she had a crude loom, it was speedily replaced by the one so long used by the Pueblo. Where the Pueblo weaver gained her loom we do not know, whether from the tribes of the South, or by her own invention. But in all practical ways the primitive loom was as complete and perfect at the Spanish conquest as it is to-day.
Any loom, to be complete, must possess certain qualifications. As Professor Mason has well said: "In any style of mechanical weaving, however simple or complex, even in darning, the following operations are performed: First, raising and lowering alternately different sets of warp filaments to form the 'sheds'; second, throwing the shuttle, or performing some operation that amounts to the same thing; third, after inserting the weft thread, driving it home, and adjusting it by means of the batten,—be it the needle, the finger, the shuttle, or a separate device."
The frame is made of four cottonwood or cedar poles cut from the trees that line the nearest stream or grow in the mountain forests. Two of these are forked for uprights, and the cross beams are lashed to them above and below. Sometimes the lower beam is dispensed with, and wooden pegs driven into the earth are used instead. The frame ready, the warp is arranged on beams, which are lashed to the top and bottom of the frame by means of a rawhide or horsehair riata (our Western word "lariat" is merely a corruption of la riata). Thus the warp is made tight and is ready for the nimble fingers of the weaver. Her shuttles are pieces of smooth, round stick upon the ends of which she has wound her yarn, or even the small balls of yarn are made to serve this purpose. By her side is a rude wooden comb with which she strikes a few stitches into place, but when she wishes to wedge the yarn of a complete row—from side to side—of weaving, she uses for the purpose a flat, broad stick, one edge of which is sharpened almost to knife-like keenness. This is the "batten." With the design in her brain her busy and skilful fingers produce the pattern as she desires it, there being no sketch from which she may copy. In weaving a blanket of intricate pattern and many colors the weaver finds it easier to open the few warp threads needed with her fingers and then thrust between them the small balls of yarn, rather than bother with a shuttle, no matter how simple.
But before blankets can be made the wool must be cut from the backs of the sheep, cleaned, carded, spun, and dyed. It is one of the interesting sights of the Southwest region to see a flock of sheep and goats running together, watched over, perhaps, by a lad of ten or a dozen years, or by a woman who is ultimately to weave the fleeces they carry into substantial blankets. After the fleece has been removed from the sheep the Navaho woman proceeds to wash it. Then it is combed with hand cards—small flat implements in which wire teeth are placed—purchased from the traders. (These and the shears are the only modern implements used.) The dyeing is sometimes done before spinning, generally, however, after. The spindle used is of the simplest character—merely a slender stick thrust through a circular disk of wood. In spite of the fact that the Navahoes have seen the spinning-wheel in use by the Mexicans and the Mormons, who, at Tuba City, live practically as their neighbors, they have never cared either to make or steal them. Their conservatism preserves the ancient, slow and laborious method. Holding the spindle in the right hand, the point of the short end below the balancing disk resting on the ground, and the long end on her knee, the spinner attaches the end of her staple close to the disk, and then gives the spindle a rapid twirl. As it revolves she holds the yarn out so that it twists. As it tightens sufficiently she allows it to wrap on to the spindle, and repeats the operation until the spindle is full. The spinning is done loosely or tightly according to the fineness of weave required in the blanket. There are practically four grades of blankets made from native wool, and it must be prepared suitably for each grade. The coarsest is, of course, the easiest spun. This is to make the common blankets. These seldom have any other color than the native gray, white, brown, and black, though occasionally streaks of red or some other color will be introduced. The yarn for these is coarse and fuzzy, and nearly a quarter of an inch in diameter. The next grade is the extra common. The yarn for this must be a little finer, say twenty-five per cent. finer, and is generally in a variety of colors. The third grade is the half fancy, and this is closer woven yarn, and the colors are a prominent feature of the completed blankets. These half-fancy blankets are those generally offered for sale as the "genuine" Navaho material, etc., and, were the dyes used of native origin, this designation would be correct. Unfortunately, in by far the greater number of them, aniline dyes are used, and this, by the wise purchaser, is regarded as a misfortune. The next grade is the native wool fancy. These are comparatively rare blankets, as the yarn must be woven very tightly, and the weaving also done with great care. The highest grade that one will ordinary come in contact with is the Germantown. This style of blanket is made entirely of purchased Germantown yarn, which has almost superseded the native wool fancy, as, to the ordinary purchaser, a Germantown yarn blanket looks so much better than one made from its Navaho counterpart. The yarn is of brighter colors—necessarily so, owing to the wonderful chromatic gamut offered by the aniline dyes; it is spun more evenly (not necessarily more strongly, and, indeed, as a matter of fact, is far less strong), and (to the Indian) is much less trouble to procure. Then, too, when woven, owing to its good looks, it sells for more than the native wool fancy, upon which so much more work has had to be put. Hence Madam Navaho, being no fool, prefers to make what the people ask for, and "Germantowns" are turned out ad libitum.