“It’s all right, fellows,” said Donald, as he joined his chums; “the chief remembers our foreman at the mine, and is glad to have us here. Fact is, he gave me to understand that he’d look on us as his special guests during the ceremonies connected with the yearly dance to the Little Father, as they call the rattlesnake, under the impression that it was connected with the religion of their forefathers, away back thousands of years.” “Huh!” grunted the unbelieving Billie, “take my word for it now, that’s the same kind of talk he gives every new batch of strangers that shows up here. You see, I’m something of a reader of character, though I’ve never let on to you two fellows about it before; and if ever I saw a shrewd look on the face of a human being it was written large on his phiz.” Adrian chuckled. Possibly that was his own private opinion, for he believed that the annual gathering of numerous whites, deeply interested in the religious ceremonies, and dance of the Zunis, had by degrees come to make it somewhat of a commercial affair. They found so many chances to “bleed” the good-natured travelers that the spirit was now rife in the community, just as you find it in every gypsy camp. After that they wandered around for quite some time, “visiting,” Billie called it. They talked with the natives, finding that the vast majority could not only understand English, but speak it fairly well in the bargain. Donald led his comrades up a crazy ladder to the lower strata of rock houses, as the holes in the face of the high cliff were called. They found that they were singularly lacking in what white boys were accustomed to look upon as actual necessities in their homes. The sleeping places, instead of being comfortable beds, consisted for the most part of some skins thrown down in a corner. “But then,” ruminated Billie, who was given to speculating on occasion, “I reckon now that an up-to-date brass bed would kinder look queer and out of place in this antique hole in the wall. The beds and other furniture are about in keeping with the people and the habitation, ain’t that so Adrian?” “Well,” observed the one addressed, “what else would you expect to find in a living place that had been used for hundreds and hundreds of years by these people, and those who went before them? But you admit that it’s all mighty interesting, don’t you, Billie?” “That’s what it is, Adrian,” heartily replied the other, “and from the way these other visitors are prowling around every-which-way, seems to me they think just the same as we do. Several look like cowboys; you don’t happen to know any of the same, I suppose, Donald?” “No,” Donald answered, after taking a good survey of the parties in question; “never ran across them before; but that isn’t queer, when you come to think how many ranches there are in this Southwest country; and how seldom punchers go outside of the limits of their own range.”