together until it seemed no longer a cord, but a solid piece of wood.
Thus she made the base of her basket; then, threading her needle, which
was but a horny cactus stem set in a head of hardened pitch, she
stitched in and out over the upper and under the lower layer, drawing
her thread firmly each time. The thread was the creamy, satin-like
kah-hoom. Round and round she coiled the chippa, the butt of one piece
overlapping the tip of another, while with her needle she covered all
with the smoothly drawn kah-hoom. After a time she laid the kah-hoom
aside for a stitch or two of the black root of the tule, called tsuwish.

The children had watched the starting of the basket, then had begun a
game of match, with white and black pebbles. After a time Gesnip,
looking up from her play, exclaimed, as she saw the black diamond
pattern the weaver was making:--

"Mother, why are you weaving a rattlesnake basket?"

"I am making it to please Chinigchinich that he may smile upon me and
guard you, children, and Cuchuma from the bite of the rattlesnake. There
are so many of them here this year, and I fear for you."

"Thank you, mother," said Gesnip. "If Titas's mother had made a black
diamond basket, maybe the snake would not have bitten her."

"I think Chinigchinich does smile upon you," said Payuchi, "for when we
were so hungry in the month of roots [October] you wove him the hunting
basket with the pattern of deer's antlers, trimmed with quail feathers,
and see how much food we have had: first the rabbits, then the
grasshoppers, and now the fish and elk."