6. While in New Mexico I sometimes employed a very liberal minded Navajo, named Juan, as a guide and informant. He had spent many years among Americans, Mormons, and Mexicans, and was, I imagined, almost perfectly emancipated from his “early bias.” He spoke both English and Spanish fairly. On one occasion, during the month of August, in the height of the rainy season, I had him in my study conversing with him. In an unguarded moment, on his part, I led him into a discussion about the gods of his people, and neither of us had noticed a heavy storm coming over the crest of the Zuñi Mountains, close by. We were just talking of Estsánatlehi, the goddess of the west, when the house was shaken by a terrific peal of thunder. He rose at once, pale and evidently agitated, and, whispering hoarsely, “Wait till Christmas; they are angry,” he hurried away. I have seen many such evidences of the deep influence of this superstition on them. 7. When the man (or the woman) who gives the entertainment concludes he is sick and that he can afford to call a shaman, it is not the latter who decides what particular rites are best suited to cure the malady. It is the patient and his friends who determine this. Then they send for a man who is known to be skilled in performing the desired rites, and it is his province merely to do the work required of him. 8. Before beginning to describe the ceremonies it will be well to relate the myth accounting for their origin. MYTH OF THE ORIGIN OF DSILYÍDJE QAÇÀL. 9. Many years ago, in the neighborhood of Dsilyi‘-qojòni, in the Carrizo Mountains, dwelt a family of six: the father, the mother, two sons, and two daughters. They did not live all the time in one locality, but moved from place to place in the neighborhood. The young men hunted rabbits and wood rats, for it was on such small animals that they all subsisted. The girls spent their time gathering various wild edible seeds.