"What were we before the white man from the far water came? Half naked, working our scanty crops with hoes of wood, often suffering from famine as the traditions relate, without sheep and beasts of burden, without peach trees and many vegetables, without sugar, flour and tobacco, and driven from place to place in the deserts by our ancient enemies. Where did you get your shirt, your cotton cloth, and your hoe? Has not Wasintona given us wagons and many other things, and protected us from the Navaho and Apache? The white man is _pash lolomi_, 'very good.'" The old man seemed vexed at the force of this argument, and he began a speech which lasted, it seemed to the listeners, about two hours. It is a loss to science that this speech could not be taken down. As near as could be gathered he began at the beginning when the people came up from the underworld, and traced the history through its various stages, detailing the events, weaving in ancient lore arguing, expanding, and digressing until he brought it down to the present. As he drew his remarks to a close, a blast of wind charged with sand blew down the canvas sun-shade. The old chief found in this a corroboration of his contention, and, in the confusion, seized his hoe and a can of peaches, which was a present, and made off angrily, firing as a parting shot, "Go away; you are very bad!" It is scarcely necessary to say that the next day, bright and early, witnessed the exodus of all strangers from that quiet valley near the Middle Mesa. Nashihiptuwa, clad in his natural wrinkled bronze costume, was hoeing in his bean patch, looking neither to the right nor to the left. X BRIEF BIOGRAPHIES The former chief Snake Priest of Walpi was a young man of good presence, of splendid physique, with regular features and grave, dignified look; in whose face there seemed to be often a trace of melancholy, arising perhaps from deep thought. For it takes a man to be Snake Priest, and the office brings out all there is in one.