Native Americans: 22 Books on History, Mythology, Culture & Linguistic Studies. James Mooney

of the logs. A man personating a god then enters, places his hands upon the various parts of the many deities represented in the picture, then upon the corresponding parts of the patient's body. The whole picture is then destroyed and the colored sands are carried off to the north in a blanket and strewn under trees.

      Sixth Day: This is the first day of the large dry-paintings. The painting is commenced early in the morning, and is not finished until mid-afternoon. The one on this day is the whirling log representation. After it is finished, feathers are stuck in the ground around it, and sacred meal is scattered on parts by some of the assisting singers. Others scatter the meal promiscuously; one of the maskers uses a spruce twig and medicine shell, applying meal to every figure and object in the painting. Then the medicine-men all gather up portions of the sacred meal, putting it in their medicine pouches. The patient soon enters and takes his seat in the centre of the painting. The usual incantations are gone through, after which the colored sands of the painting are applied to the corresponding parts of the patient's body, then gathered up and carried off to the north. During the day two sets of beggars go out to the neighboring hogáns. These personate Hasché̆ltĭ, Tónenĭlĭ—Water Sprinkler, the God of Water, who is really a clown—and as many Haschĕbaád as care to go out. The beggars carry whips made of yucca leaves, and one who does not respond to their appeals for gifts is whipped,—if he can be caught,—which creates a great deal of amusement. The personators act like a company of clowns, but at the same time they gather a large quantity of food. When the day is thoroughly taken up with dry-painting and ceremonies, there is less of the ceremonial at night. The medicine-men, to the accompaniment of the basket drum, sing for a short time only on this sixth night, while outside the late evening is spent in dancing by those who are later to participate in the closing dance.

      Seventh Day: This day is practically consumed with the making of another large dry-painting. The masked men go out on another begging tour, also, and the medicine ceremonies and the destroying of the dry-painting are practically the same as those of the day before, while during the evening the medicine-men sing to the accompaniment of the drum.

      Eighth Day: The dry-painting is finished about three o'clock in the afternoon. After its completion there is a large open-air initiation. To become a full member of the Yébĭchai order one must first be initiated in the hogán; the second initiation is a public one; the third, another inside the hogán; the fourth, another in the open. These different initiation ceremonies, the same in point of ritualism, may be carried over several years.

      Ninth and Final Day: To the average person and to the Indians as a whole the last day is the Yébĭchai dance. From a distance the Indians have been gathering during the two previous days, and the hospitality of the patient's family, as well as that of all the people living in the neighboring hogáns, is taxed to the utmost. And from early morning until dark the whole plain is dotted with horsemen coming singly and in groups. Great crowds gather at the contests given half a mile from the hogán, where horse-races, foot-races, groups of gamblers, and throngs of Indians riding wildly from race-track to hogán fill the day with hilarity and incidents memorable to all. Toward the end of the day preparation is made for the closing part of the nine-day rite. Great quantities of fuel have been brought from the distant plateau, and placed in many small piles at each side of the smooth dance ground to the east of the hogán. As soon as it is dark the fuel is ignited, making two long lines of camp-fires, furnishing both light to see the dancers and warmth to the spectators, for the Yébĭchai cannot be held until the autumn frosts begin, when the nights have the sharp, keen air of the high altitudes.

      Zahadolzhá - Navaho

      This is the last of the dry-paintings used in the Night Chant, being destroyed on the night of the eighth day's ceremonies. It takes its name from the fact that the principal characters represented in it, the dark figures, are all Zahadolzhá, Fringe-mouth Gods. According to the myth underlying the rite these gods made the first paintings of this sort used among the spirit people, and were the ones who furnished succor to the patients on the eighth day of the nine days' healing ceremony. The light figures are female deities—haschĕbaád. In the centre is the cornstalk, a life-giving symbol, and partially encircling the whole is the personified light-giving rainbow, a female personage.

      During the ceremony a man masked as a Zahadolzhá places his hands first upon a part of his likeness pictured in colored earths and then on the corresponding part of the patient, as head, body, and limbs. Later the colored earths or sands are carried away in a blanket and placed under brush or trees toward the north.

      With the gathering darkness the human tide flows toward the medicine hogán, illuminated in the dusk by the long lines of camp-fires. All gather about and close around the dance square, having to be kept back by those in charge. Men, women, and children sit on the ground near the fires. Many on horseback have ridden up, and form a veritable phalanx back of the sitting spectators. The dance does not begin at once, and those assembled spend the time telling stories, jesting, and gossiping. Belated arrivals make coffee, or do hurried cooking around the fires.

      Some distance to the east of the dance ground is a brush enclosure where the dancers prepare for their part in the rite. There, too, is a fire for light and warmth. The men in preparation remove all clothing, save short kilts, and paint their bodies with a mixture of water and white clay. Anyone who may have experienced the enjoyment of a sponge bath out in the open on a cold, windy night can appreciate the pleasure of the dance preparation. The dancers are impersonators of Navaho myth characters, twelve usually taking part. No qualifications are necessary other than that the participant be conversant with the intricate ritual of the dance. The dance continues throughout the entire night, one group of men being followed by another. The first twelve men dance through four songs, retiring to the dressing enclosure for a very brief rest after each. Then they withdraw, and twelve others dance for a like period, and so on. The first group sometimes returns again later, and the different groups vie with one another in their efforts to give the most beautiful dance in harmony of movement and song, but there is no change in the step. The several sets have doubtless trained for weeks, and the most graceful take great pride in being pronounced the best dancers. The first group of grotesquely masked men is ready by nine or ten o'clock; they file into the dance enclosure led by Hasché̆ltĭ, their naked, clay-painted bodies glinting in the firelight. While wearing masks the performers never speak in words; they only sing or chant. To address one in conversation would incur the displeasure of the gods and invite disaster. Time is kept by the basket drum and the rhythm of the singing.

      The white visitor will get his best impression of the dance from a short distance, and, if possible, a slight elevation. There he is in touch with the stillness of the night under the starry sky, and sees before him, in this little spot lighted out of the limitless desert, this strange ceremonial of supplication and thanksgiving, showing slight, if any, change from the same performance, held on perhaps the same spot by the ancestors of these people ages ago. As the night wears on the best group of dancers come out. They are, perhaps, from the Redrock country, or from some other far-away district, and have been practising for weeks, that they might excel in this dance. The most revered song of the Yébĭchai is the Bluebird song, which is sung at the approach of day, and is the closing act of the drama. With the last words, "Dóla anyí, dóla anyí," the assembled multitude start for their homes, near and far, melting into the gray of the desert morn, and by the time the sun breaks above the horizon the spot which was alive with people a few hours before is wrapped in death-like stillness, not a soul being within range of the eye.

      Yébĭchai Hogán - Navaho

      Maturity Ceremony

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      The ceremony celebrating maturity of girls among the Navaho is held generally on the fourth night after the first evidence of the maiden's entrance into womanhood. On the first morning following