The Hopi story-teller more or less dramatizes his story, often breaking into song or a few dance steps or mimicking his characters in voice and facial expression. Sometimes the writer has been so intrigued with the performance she could scarcely wait for her interpreter (See Figure 13) to let her into the secret. Often the neighbors gathered round to hear the story, young and old alike, and they are good listeners. All of these stories save one, that of Don, of Oraibi, were told in the Hopi language, but having a Hopi friend as an interpreter has preserved, we think, the native flavor of the stories. The first story, as told by Sackongsie, of Bacabi, is a legend concerning the adventure of the son of the chief of Huckovi, a prehistoric Hopi village whose ruins are pointed out on Third Mesa. The writer has since heard other variants of this story. =An Ancient Feud,= as told by Sackongsie "This is a story of the people that used to live on Wind Mountain. There is only a ruin there now, but there used to be a big village called Huckovi; that means wind on top of the mountain. These people finally left this country and went far away west. We have heard that they went to California, and the Mission Indians themselves claim they are from this place. [Illustration: Figure 13.--The Author's Interpreter at Walpi and Daughter, "Topsy."] "These people used to have ladder dances; that is an old kind of a dance that nobody has now. But we are told that a long time ago these people brought trees from far away and set them up in round holes made on purpose in the rock along the very edge of the mesa. "Then the Mud heads (masked Kachinas) furnish the music and young men dressed as leopards and mountain lion Kachinas climb into the tree tops and swing out over the canyon rim to time of the music. You can see the round holes in the rock there now. "Well--it has always been this way among Hopi--when there is a dance, everybody goes to see. "Now there was a dance at Mishongnovi and the boys from Huckovi went over to see it. "Now the war chief at Huckovi was a great man that everybody looked up to, and he had only one son. This young man was so religious that he never went to this kind of just funny dances, but this time he went along with some friends. Long time ago the chief never goes to these dances, nor his son who will follow his steps. "When they got to Mishongnovi the dance was going on and everybody laughing and having a good time, for the clown kachinas were going round pestering the dancing kachinas. These rough clown kachinas took turns appearing and disappearing, and some coming, others going away, then coming back.