In September, 1907, I again visited the Havasupais and then had several wonderful illustrations of their real and genuine hospitality. We decided to camp below the home of an old friend of mine, Uta. As soon as our cavalcade of six persons on horses, mules, and burros appeared, with two pack-horses, he cordially welcomed us, and when I told him that we wished to camp below his _hawa_ he took us into a fenced-in field, where there were peach trees and a corral for our animals. Here we were free from the intrusion of all stray animals, and were able to secure seclusion for the ladies of our party--for, of course, we were camping out and sleeping in the open. Knowing that we should want plenty of water, both for ourselves and our animals, and that it was quite a little walk to Havasu Creek, he took his shovel and in five minutes the limpid stream was flowing through the irrigation ditches close by. The peach tree over our heads--the best in the whole village--was placed at our disposal, and delicious indeed we found the fruit to be, and he sent us figs, beans, melons, and a canteloupe. Without a question as to payment, he supplied us daily during our stay with an abundance of dried alfalfa hay,--the fresh alfalfa not being good for our too-civilized animals. And in every way possible to him he sought to minister to our comfort and pleasure, and did not resent it in the slightest when I bade him retire at meal times, or while we were cooking our provisions. [Illustration: MY HOPI HOSTESS WHO KEPT THE NEIGHBORHOOD QUIET WHILE I SLEPT.] That we paid him abundantly when we left did not in the slightest alter the sweet character of his genuine and simple hospitality.