induces it to straighten, when it is picked up. But this time the big
snake really got into the crowd, second or third row, through space
hurriedly opened for him by the frightened and more or less squealing
white visitors. The priest was unable to follow it quickly without
stepping on people, who had repeatedly been warned not to sit too close.

[Illustration: Figure 11.--Snake Priests with Snake.

--Photo by Bortell]

Very quietly and without rising, a man in the third row picked up the
snake and handed it to the gatherer. The writer shuddered but did not
realize that the impromptu gatherer was her son, so bronzed by a
summer's archaeology field trip that she did not recognize him.
Afterward he merely said, "It was a harmless bull snake, and the priest
couldn't reach it; it's a shame for visitors to crowd up and get in the
way unless they are prepared to sit perfectly still, whatever happens."
Really one feels ashamed of the squealing and frightened laughter of
careless white visitors who stand or sit nearer than they should and
then make an unseemly disturbance when a snake gets too close. The
priests resent such conduct, but always go right on without paying any
attention to it. The rattles and singing voices of the Antelope priests
furnish a dignified, rhythmic accompaniment throughout the dance, and
the Snake men move in perfect time to it.

When all the snakes have been carried and the last one has been dropped
from the mouth of the carrier, the chant ceases. A priest draws a great
round cloud symbol on the ground. Quickly the Hopi maids and women, (a
small selected group), who stand ready with baskets of meal, sprinkle
the ground within the circle. At a signal all the snakes, now in the