Of all the features of the great lonely stretches of country that one passes under the burning sky of the Southwest, most characteristic are the mesas, those level-topped tables that rise abruptly from the sandy plains, many-colored, and of irregular outline, catching the late afternoon sunlight in such fashion as to bring into view mysterious caverns that often were the early homes of cliff-dwellers. None, of all the mesas, is more striking than Katzímo, rising isolated and abrupt four hundred and thirty feet from a waste of sand. Here, says the long-revered tradition of the Ácomas, their ancestors dwelt after their slow progress from the north[136] until driven forth by disaster, whence comes the appellation of the “Enchanted” Mesa, to build a final home upon the great white rock where we find them to-day. [Illustration: THE CLIFFS OF ÁCOMA KATZÍMO IN DISTANCE; SMALL RESERVOIR ON RIGHT _Bolton_] The first impression of Katzímo as one approaches it by the sandy road is of its extraordinary beauty of color. Buff blended with rose is delicately veiled by the haze which almost everywhere softens severe outlines in the desert, so that the gazer from afar finds one more reason for its baptism of the Enchanted. Nearly circular in form, Katzímo seems to be composed of sheer perpendicular walls fantastically pinnacled and turreted, but on nearer scrutiny a sort of amphitheatre or cave hollowed out by long erosion is found both on the northern and on the western sides; yet so glassy are the walls that there is little encouragement to attempt their conquest. The legend of Katzímo relates that then as now the inhabitants were an agricultural people, cultivating their crops in the plain below. Once, in the timeless yesterday of their race when the season of planting had arrived, the Sun Priest issued a proclamation that all the people must descend the mesa to their fields.[137] There were left on the top only three women, too ill for the work, and one boy to care for them. At night he was directed to stand watch, lest the dreaded Apaches might raid the pueblo in the absence of its warriors. A fearful storm of rain and thunder such as had never been known made his task dangerous the second night, but he stayed at his post till called by his mother, upon whom a portion of her house had fallen. She told him to go down and bring back some of the men to help.... The boy with infinite peril reached the plain and started for the fields.