The Hopi were originally migratory people moving slowly down to their present home from the north. Probably the cliff dwellings in Colorado and the southern Utah country, and certainly in the Canyon du Chelley, were built by them. After Walpi had been settled, other tribes came to Sichomovi. Meanwhile the Spanish monks had discovered Tusayan, and had thoroughly disciplined and intimidated the unhappy people. Like the parent who gives his son a thrashing, they did it for the Hopi’s good, but their methods were tactless. Great beams a foot thick and twenty long may today be seen in the old houses in Walpi, which these sullen Hopis dragged from San Francisco mountains a hundred miles away, under the lash of the zealous monks. The Walpis seem to have a morose nature, which one observes today in their attitude toward visitors. Perhaps the regime of the Spaniards cured them forever of hospitality. They joined enthusiastically in the rebellion of 1680. When every Spaniard was killed, the Walpis went back contentedly to their reactionary ways. The Hano people are of the Tewa tribes, some of whom still live near Santa Fé. On the invitation of the Walpi, they migrated to Tusayan, but the Walpi treated them abominably, refusing to share their water with them, or to allow them on their mesa. When the Hano asked for food, the Walpi women poured burning porridge on their hands. When the Hano helped defeat the Utes they were allowed to build the third village on top of the mesa. They still speak a different tongue from the Walpi, though they lived for centuries within a quarter of a mile of them. The reason is interesting, if true. “When the Hano first came, the Walpi said, ‘Let us spit in your mouths and you will learn our tongue,’ and to this the Hano consented. When the Hano moved to the mesa they said to the Walpi, ‘Let us spit in your mouths, that you may learn _our_ tongue,’ but the Walpi refused, saying it would make them vomit. Since then, all the Hano can talk Hopi, and none of the Hopis can talk Hano.” However that may be, our little guide was uneasy when we crossed into Walpi, and exchanged no words with its inhabitants, who as they passed gave him uncordial looks. As we left Walpi, it was almost twilight. It had been a burning hot day, but the coolness of evening at high altitude had settled on the sizzling rock. Shadows that in midday had actually been, not purple, but deep crimson, had lengthened and become cool blue-gray. We carefully steered our car, loaded with Hopi pottery, down the rocky and uneven wagon trail. At times, the ledges projected so high in the road that we heard an unpleasant scraping noise of loosening underpinnings. We used our brake constantly, and braked with our engine at the steepest turns. At last we reached the sandy stretch at the bottom, and with the advantage of a downgrade, managed to get through it safely. [Illustration: SECOND MESA, HOPI RESERVATION.] [Illustration: A HOTAVILLA SYBIL.]