Gambling is also a common indulgence among the men and much of the exchange of goods is through gambling rather than trading. At any time of the day a knot of interested onlookers can be seen somewhere in the city, silently watching some game of chance. Anything that has the slightest value can be gambled. The stakes may be only insignificant objects, or a man may stake everything he possesses against a single fine piece of jewelry. It may be a guessing contest, a game of skill, or a pure game of chance in which small carved bones are thrown on the floor and the winner is determined by the manner in which the bones turn up. Someone wins, someone loses, and no one is hurt. By a few days of diligent labor a man can replace any of the things lost, except jewelry, which has the greatest value of any of his possessions. Necklaces, pendants, and earrings are made of turquoise, colored stones and sea shells. Some of them are exquisite: the beads of turquoise or stone are sometimes so fine that there are thousands of them on a single necklace. Such a necklace requires weeks of painstaking labor. Toward the middle of July there is an ominous threat in the air each afternoon. Billowing thunderheads fill the sky and turn to a dark angry shade. Sudden gusts of wind rip across the mesa tops threatening to uproot the corn and there is a distant roll of thunder. The air is heavy and depressing. Each day the skies become darker. Except for the men who are watching fields, the people stay close to the cave. No one wants to be far from shelter when the storm breaks. At last the day comes. By noon the sky is filled with heavy clouds. Shortly afternoon there is a sudden roar of wind. Cannonading crashes of thunder echo constantly through the canyons and searing tongues of lightning flick the treetops. Suddenly, all is still. Not a leaf stirs; the world is breathless. The storm draws back its arm for one quiet moment, then mercilessly lashes the earth with floods of rain. Wind, thunder and lightning resume and for a noisy hour the mesas bow their heads under the wrath of the elements. A roaring waterfall shoots out over the front of Cliff Palace cave and from the bottom of the canyon comes the roar of a rushing stream. The people are silent as they watch the storm from their sheltered housetops. There is joy in their hearts, for the rain ends all worries, but there is an ominous note in the terrible fury of the storm. The male rains of summer are often like this. They make a great show of noise and power, far different from the gentle female rains of spring. In an hour the storm ends as suddenly as it began. The rain stops, the clouds break up and the sun beams down on a dripping world.