In following up this matter more specifically as pertaining to Ácoma, we find the Indian agent reporting in 1897 that there were fifty-five children on the mesa, but no school. The building formerly used by Catholic missionaries for a school-house was used by the United States in some other way. In 1917 the agent again reports “no school at Ácoma but one at Acomita. If the mesa is still to be inhabited” he recommends that a school should be installed there, but admits that “because the people are most unprogressive, the situation demands the utmost tact and ability.” In 1919, the agent says that “of 150 children of school age but 19 were in attendance at Acomita and that the Ácoma people are very backward, almost resentful of anything being done to assist them. So long as there is opportunity for them to remain in isolation at the peñol of Ácoma, where almost anyone can be safely hidden in the cliffs and escape from the influence of law and authority, there is an opportunity for them to evade their duties and responsibilities. Much as Ácoma appeals to me, as it must to anyone having the least regard for history and sentiment, I believe that to minimize its importance is an important step in the progress of these people.” This agent’s remedy would be to increase permanent school facilities at Acomita and exert “proper pressure” to make the children attend.[102] I was told in 1922 that all children not at Acomita are sent to Albuquerque or Santa Fé, but it was fairly obvious that a good many of the younger ones can get no regular teaching whatever, since their parents migrate too frequently between the mesa and the farm villages. The long procession of the years has produced but little material change in Ácoma. Very few references to this pueblo occur in government reports and such alteration as one notes is in the increased hostility of the mental attitude of its people toward the white man. Its geographic isolation from other pueblos is matched by its aloofness in every other respect. No matter at what point of mental or spiritual contact we attempt some _rapprochement_, we are now met by closed doors and our knocking gains no entrance. Yet it was not always so at Ácoma. Lieutenant Abert, who was, in 1847, a member of the Advanced Guard of the Army of the West, says, in his “Examination of New Mexico,” that when he had gone to Ácoma from Laguna, we entered some of the houses and the people received us with great gladness. They brought out circular baskets, nearly flat, filled with a kind of corn bread or _guayave_. It bears a striking resemblance to a hornet’s nest and is as thin as a wafer. [After describing the rock and the houses he goes on to say], these people appear to be well provided with all the necessaries and luxuries that New Mexico affords. They are quiet and seem to be happy and generous. [Illustration: THE PUEBLO OVEN]