in one tenement.

We were knit not only thus but in the very intimacies of life--sharing
hopes and bereavements. My first son, named for him, should now be
twenty-two. The old home in Santa Fé was as my own. The truly wonderful
little woman he found in Peru for mate--who shared his hardships among
the cannibals of the Amazonas and elsewhere, and so aided and still
carries on his work--I met in her maiden home, and am glad I may still
call her friend.

Naturally, among my dearest memories of our trampings together is that
of the Rito, the Tyuonyi. It had never in any way been pictured before.
We were the first students that ever explored it. He had discovered it,
and was writing "The Delight Makers." What days those were! The weather
was no friend of ours, nor of the camera's. We were wet and half-fed,
and cold by night, even in the ancient tiny caves. But the unforgettable
glory of it all!

To-day thousands of people annually visit the Tyuonyi at ease, and camp
for weeks in comfort. The School of American Archæology has a summer
session there; and its excavations verify Bandelier's surmises. Normal
students and budding archæologists sleep in the very caves (identified)
of the Eagle People, the Turquoise, Snake and other clans. And in that
enchanted valley we remember not only the Ancients, but the man who gave
all this to the world.

During the six years I was Librarian of the Los Angeles Public Library,
far later, no other out-of-print book on the Southwest was so eagerly
sought as "The Delight Makers." We had great trouble in getting our own
copy, which slept in the safe. The many students who wished copies of