in his strength and security, and sat down upon the rock under which Togo'av was hiding; and he, seeing his opportunity, sank his fangs into the flesh of the hero. Stone Shirt sprang high into the air and called to his daughters that they were betrayed and that the enemy was near; and they seized their magical bows and their quivers filled with magical arrows and hurried to his defense. At the same time, all the nations who were surrounding the camp rushed down to battle. But the beautiful maidens, finding their weapons were destroyed, waved back their enemies, as if they would parley; and standing for a few moments over the body of their slain father, sang the death song and danced the death dance, whirling in giddy circles about the dead hero and wailing with despair, until they sank down and expired.
The conquerors buried the maidens by the shores of the lake; but Tumpwinai'rogwinump was left to rot and his bones to bleach on the sands, as he had left Sikor'.
There is this proverb among the Utes: "Do not murmur when you suffer in doing what the spirits have commanded, for a cup of water is provided"; and another: "What matters it who kills the game, when we can all eat of it?"
It is long after midnight when the performance is ended. The story itself is interesting, though I had heard it many times before; but never, perhaps, under circumstances more effective. Stretched beneath tall, somber pines; a great camp fire; by the fire, men, old, wrinkled, and ugly; deformed, blear-eyed, wry-faced women; lithe, stately young men; pretty but simpering maidens, naked children, all intently listening, or laughing and talking by turns, their strange faces and dusky forms lit up with the glare of the pine-knot fire. All the circumstances conspired to make it a scene strange and weird. One old man, the sorcerer or medicine man of the tribe, peculiarly impressed me. Now and then he would interrupt the play for the purpose of correcting the speakers or impressing the moral of the story with a strange dignity and impressiveness that seemed to pass to the very border of the ludicrous; yet at no time did it make me smile.
The story is finished, but there is yet time for an hour or two of sleep. I take Chuar'ruumpeak to one side for a talk. The three men who left us in the canyon last year found their way up the lateral gorge, by which
CANYONS OF THE COLORADO.
they went into the Shi'wits Mountains, lying west of us, where they met with the Indians and camped with them one or two nights and were finally killed. I am anxious to learn the circumstances, and as the people of the tribe who committed the deed live but a little way from these people and are intimate with them, I ask Chuar'ruumpeak to make inquiry for me. Then we go to bed.
September 17.--Early this morning the Indians come up to our camp.