About the camp Wupa was very useful. Mounted on his agile burro, a sight well worth seeing, he brought the mail from Keam’s Canyon. He collected wood and water, indulging in many a song and exclamation. The cook especially seemed to him a fit subject of jest. The cook was really an adept at snoring and the still watches of the desert night were often too vocal. Wupa used to sing out “Dawa yamu, Kook!” “Daybreak, cook!” followed by a fine imitation of snoring which the subject of the jest did not enjoy. But Wupa was at his best when prospecting an ancient ruin to locate the most promising place to dig for relics. At such times his gravity and wisdom fairly bulged out. His advice was clearly and forcibly given, but the nemesis of humorists followed him, and no one ever thought of taking him seriously. And he never seemed disappointed. Wupa is a true humorist, without bitterness, one to be laughed at and loved. He was almost tearful at parting and made many protestations of friendship, at the same time presenting two watermelons from his field. These melons were unripe, according to un-Hopi standards, but were received in the spirit in which they were given, and later some natives met on the road to Keam’s Canyon had an unexpected feast.
The romance of Wupa’s devotion to his Mexican señora and the fine flavor of constancy he showed toward her received a rude shattering the year after the commencement of this account. He took unto himself a Hopi helpmeet,—an albino,—and a whimsical pair they looked when they came to the Snake Dance the following summer.
This step of Wupa’s, in view of the repeated confidences that Hopi maidens were not to his taste anyhow, was a surprise to his friends. His choice of an albino for a mate clears him to some extent, as no doubt he believes her to be as near an approach to a white woman as a Hopi may hope to reach. However, his friends wish him well and feel like saying, “Long live Wupa, ‘great’ by name and truly great in quip, gibe, and gest by nature.”
A visit to the East Mesa cannot be regarded as complete without an interview with Toby. Usually no one leaves this portion of Tusayan without seeing him. His name, which means “the fly,” exactly fits Toby, who has all the pertinacity of that well-known insect.
Several years ago, however, the writer failed to meet Toby and remained in complete ignorance of his great possibilities, except by hearsay, until the next season. Then when the party wound its way up to the first bench of the mesa under the dizzy cliffs and camped on a level spot near a peach tree on land which the Tewa have held for two centuries, Toby was there as a reception committee.
His “how do” was rather startling and unexpected. After the routine of handshaking, Toby remarked, “This my lan’,” and pointing to the antique tree long past fruit-bearing, “This my peach tlee.” Proud of his possessions he squatted on the ground and drew a plan of his lan’ and inquired as he pointed out the locations of his crops, “Have you seen my con [corn]? Have you seen my beanzes?” Suddenly an idea struck him. He approached the leader of the party and put these questions to him, “You good man, uneshtan’, you honesht man?” Then as if satisfied, he turned to another of the party and said, “You handsome man; you beautiful man,” and it was not long before Toby had a packet of coveted smoking tobacco, although from the unkempt appearance of the explorers, his laudations were base flattery.
It was plain that Toby was desirous of airing his remarkable English, of which he is very proud, and also of paving the way to sundry small gratuities. These intentions of the Hopi are quite as apparent as that of the little child who says, “Ducky likes sweet cakes.” Toby was asked to bring in a burro load of wood for cooking purposes, but with great suavity he explained that on this day the Snake priests hunted in the East world-quarter, and according to custom no one must work in that direction. On account of these conscientious scruples of Toby’s, the venerable peach tree was requisitioned for enough dead branches till such time as he should sally forth with his burros for cedar billets.
The day before the Antelope Dance Toby came down to the camp on important business chewing a moccasin sole which he was stitching. He broached the subject by mysteriously saying, “Plenty Navaho come to see Snake Dance. Navaho velly bad, steal evelything.” (This in a furtive way, because the Hopi are afraid of the Navaho.) “Me stay, watch camp; you go see dance; Navaho bad man.” It is well to say that after Toby’s watchful care at the camp all the baking powder and matches were missing. Few Hopi are proof against these articles, especially before a feast, and Toby is evidently no exception. He fought shy of camp after that, no doubt fearing a “rounding up.” Perhaps, however, Toby appropriated the matches and baking powder as rent for his “lan’.”
Toby is father of a large family. When asked to give a census, he counted on his fingers, “Boy, girl; boy, girl; boy,” then with great enthusiasm, “Babee!” Toby’s command of English is due to the fact that he was the prize pupil of a teacher at the Keam’s Canyon School some years ago. He delights to show how he can spell. If no one should ask him to exhibit this accomplishment, he usually brings up the subject by asking, for instance, “How you spell box?” pronounced “boxsh.” If ignorance is professed, Toby spells b-o-x, and follows with dog, cat, man, and other words of one syllable, and proudly finishes by writing his own name in the sand.
Toby thus furnishes great amusement to sojourners at Walpi and also leaves the suspicion in the minds of most that he is a trifle “light in the upper story.”