In March the sun begins to be warm. During the morning, while still in the shadow, the cave is cold but in the afternoon when the sun creeps in, it is very pleasant. Some days the sun is actually hot as it beats into the sheltered cave. Chipmunks and squirrels, even the lizards, come out of hibernation to sun themselves on the warm rocks. The Indians do likewise. As the sun begins to climb into the cave each afternoon the people come out to meet it. Uncomfortable winter clothing is thrown aside and soon most of the inhabitants of the cave are sunning themselves on the front terraces. Everyone is happy. There is much laughter and boisterous shouting. The aged men and women bring their rheumatic bones out into the warm sunlight and immediately feel new life. Gaunt old men, whose creaking joints have not climbed the cliff trails for years, get a new gleam in their eyes as they vow they will raise a crop of corn this summer. Aged women begin to twist their gnarled fingers as they dream of making pottery again. The able-bodied men sit in small groups, dreaming and talking of the planting time that is coming. Wrinkled old priests assure them that it will be a fine season. All signs are right; the gods are smiling on their people. The women think of new pottery they must make, repairs they plan for their houses, and marriages they must arrange for their daughters. Young wives, in whom romance has not been dulled by too many children, playfully comb the lice from their husbands’ heads and dream of babies soon to come. Spring is a fine time for that. Here and there young unmarried men lean against the walls, presumably dozing in the sun. But they are the busiest of all. Each one is endeavoring to catch the eye of some dusky young maiden whose full-rounded curves are causing her mother to think of a son-in-law. The young man’s eyes seldom connect; the ever vigilant eyes of mothers and aunts come between. The really active members of the populace are the children. Some play on the trash pile in front of the cave; others scramble over the boulders that litter the slope below. Their rich brown skins flash in the sun as they endeavor to make up in one afternoon for all of the cold inactivity of the winter. Their shouts and laughter are mingled with the barking of their dogs and the gobbling of the turkeys they are disturbing. During the winter the turkeys stayed close to the cave but now they are scattered over the slope, nipping off the early buds and searching for the first insects of spring.