A Cordial Reception at San Francisco--Mexicans in the Employ
of Indians --The Morning Star, the Great God of the Coras--The
Beginning of the World--How the Rain-clouds were First Secured--The
Rabbit and the Deer--Aphorisms of a Cora Shaman--An Eventful
Night--Hunting for Skulls--My Progress Impeded by Padre's
Ban--Final Start for the Huichol Country--A Threatened Desertion.
At the pueblo of San Francisco, prettily situated at the bend of
a river, I was made very welcome. The Casa Real, another name for
the building generally designated as La Comunidad, had been swept
and looked clean and cool, and I accepted the invitation to lodge
there. It was furnished with the unheard-of luxury of a bedstead,
or rather the framework of one, made of a network of strong strips
of hide. As the room was dark, I moved this contrivance out on the
veranda, where I also stored my baggage, while my aparejos and saddles
were put into the prison next door. Two Indians were appointed to
sleep near by to guard me. When I objected to this I was informed
that two fellows from Jesus Maria had been talking of killing me as
the easiest way of carrying out the padre's orders. I felt quite at
home among these friendly, well-meaning people, and paid off my men,
who returned to their homes. I thought that whenever I decided to
start out again, I could get men here to help me to reach the country
of the Huichols. A shaman who knew more than all others was deputed
to give me the information I wanted about the ancient beliefs and
traditions of the Coras.
The people also agreed to let me see their mitote, which at this
time of the year is given every Wednesday for five consecutive weeks
in order to bring about the rainy season. The fourth of this year's
series was to be on May 22d. As to burial-caves, they at first denied
that there were any skulls in the neighbourhood, but finally consented
to show me some. Later on, how-ever, an important shaman objected to
this, strongly advising the people not to do so, because the dead
helped to make the rain they were praying for, at least they could
be induced not to interfere with the clouds.
A few Coras here were married to "neighbours," and some Cora women
had taken "neighbours" for husbands. For the first time, and also
the last, in all my travels, I had here the gratification of seeing
impecunious Mexicans from other parts of the country at work in the
fields for the Coras, who paid them the customary Mexican wages of
twenty-five centavos a day. The real owners of the land for once
maintained their proper position.
I saw hikuli cultivated near some of the houses in San Francisco. They
were in blossom, producing beautiful large, white flowers. The plant
is used at the mitotes, but not generally.
On both sides of the steep arroyo near San Francisco were a great
number of ancient walls of loose stones, one above the other, a kind
of fortification. In other localities, sometimes in places where one
would least expect them, I found a number of circular figures formed
by upright stones firmly embedded in the ground, in the same way as
those described earlier in this narrative.
The pueblo, _mirabile dictu_, had a Huichol teacher, whom the
authorities considered, and justly so, to be better than the ordinary
Mexican teacher. He was one of nine boys whom the Bishop of Zacatecas,
in 1879, while on a missionary tour in the Huichol country, had picked
out to educate for the priesthood. After an adventurous career, which
drove him out of his own country, he managed now to maintain himself
here. Although his word could not be implicitly trusted, he helped
me to get on with the Coras, and I am under some obligation to him.
A prominent feature in the elaborate ceremonies of the tribe, connected
with the coming of age of boys and girls, is the drinking of home-made
mescal. The lifting of the cochiste, as described among the Aztecs,
is also practised, at least among the Coras of the sierra, and is
always performed at full moon.
The people begin to marry when they are fifteen years old, and
they may live to be a hundred. The arrangement of marriages by the
parents of the boy without consulting him is a custom still largely
followed. On five occasions, every eighth day, they go to ask for
the bride they have selected. If she consents to marry the man, then
all is right. One man of my acquaintance did not know his "affinity"
when his parents informed him that they had a bride for him. Three
weeks later they were married, and, as in the fairy-tale, lived
happily ever afterward. His parents and grandparents fasted before
the wedding. In San Francisco I saw men and women who were married,
or engaged to be married, bathing together in the river.
Fasting is also a notable feature in the religion of the Coras, and is
considered essential for producing rain and good crops. Abstinence from
drinking water for two days during droughts is sometimes observed. The
principal men on such occasions may undertake to do the fasting for
the rest of the people. They then shut themselves up in La Comunidad,
sit down, smoke, and keep their eyes on the ground.
The Coras of the canon are not always in summer in accord with Father
Sun, because he is fierce, producing sickness and killing men and
animals. Chulavete, the Morning Star, who is the protecting genius of
the Coras, has constantly to watch the Sun lest he should harm the
people. In ancient times, when the Sun first appeared, the Morning
Star, who is cool and disliked heat, shot him in the middle of the
breast, just as he had journeyed nearly half across the sky. The
Sun fell down on earth, but an old man brought him to life again,
so that he could tramp back and make a fresh start.
The Morning Star is the principal great god of the Coras. In the
small hours of the morning they frequently go to some spring and wash
themselves by his light. He is their brother, a young Indian with bow
and arrow, who intercedes with the other gods to help the people in
their troubles. At their dances they first call him to be present,
and tell their wants to him, that he may report them to the Sun and
the Moon and the rest of the gods.
A pathetic story of the modern adventures of this their great hero-god
graphically sets forth the Indian's conception of the condition in
which he finds himself after the arrival of the white man. Chulavete
was poor, and the rich people did not like him. But afterward they took
to him, because they found that he was a nice man, and they asked him
to come and eat with them. He went to their houses dressed like the
"neighbours." But once when they invited him he came like an Indian
boy, almost naked. He stopped outside of the house, and the host came
out with a torch of pinewood to see who it was. He did not recognise
Chulavete, and called out to him: "Get away, you Indian pig! What are
you doing here?" And with his torch he burned stripes down the arms and
legs of the shrinking Chulavete. Next day Chulavete received another
invitation to eat with the "neighbours." This time he made himself
into a big bearded fellow, with the complexion of a man half white,
and he put on the clothes in which they knew him. He came on a good
horse, had a nice blanket over his shoulder, wore a sombrero and a
good sabre. They met him at the door and led him into the house.
"Here I am at your service, to see what I can do for you," he said
to them.
"Oh, no!" they said. "We invited you because we like you, not because
we want anything of you. Sit down and eat."
He sat down to the table, which was loaded with all the good things
rich people eat. He put a roll of bread on his plate, and then began
to make stripes with it on his arms and legs.
"Why do you do that?" they asked him. "We invited you to eat what
we eat."
Chulavete replied: "You do not wish that my heart may eat, but my
dress. Look here! Last night it was I who was outside of your door. The
man who came to see me burned me with his pine torch, and said to me,
'You Indian pig, what do you want here?' "
"Was that you?" they asked.
"Yes, gentlemen, it was I who came then. As you did not give me
anything yesterday, I see that you do not want to give the food to me,
but to my clothes. Therefore, I had better give it to them." He took
the chocolate and the coffee and poured it over himself as if it were
water, and he broke the bread into pieces and rubbed it all over his
dress. The sweetened rice, and boiled hen with rice, sweet atole,
minced meat with chile, rice pudding, and beef soup, all this he
poured over himself. The rich people were frightened and said that
they had not recognised him.
"You burned me yesterday because I was an Indian," he said. "God put
me in the world as an Indian. But you do not care for the Indians,
because they are naked and ugly." He took the rest of the food,
and smeared it over his saddle and his horse, and went away.
The Coras say they originated in the east, and were big people with
broad and handsome faces and long hair. They then spoke another
language, and there were no "neighbours." According to another
tradition, the men came from the east and the women from the west.
In the beginning the earth was fiat and full of water, and therefore
the corn rotted. The ancient people had to think and work and fast
much to get the world in shape. The birds came together to see what
they could do to bring about order in the world, so that it would be
possible to plant corn. First they asked the red-headed vulture, the
principal of all the birds, to set things right, but he said he could
not. They sent for all the birds in the world, one after another,
to induce them to perform the deed, but none would undertake it. At
last came the bat, very old and much wrinkled. His hair and his beard
were white with age, and there was plenty of dirt on his face, as he
never bathes. He was supporting himself with a stick, because he was
so old he could hardly walk. He also said that he was not equal to
the task, but at last he agreed to try what he could do. That same
night he darted violently through the air, cutting outlets for the
waters; but he made the valleys so deep that it was impossible to
walk about, and the principal men reproached him for this. "Then I
will put everything back as it was before," he said.
"No, no!" they all said. "What we want is to make the slopes of a
lower incline, and to leave some level land, and do not make all the
country mountains."
This the bat did, and the principal men thanked him for it. Thus the
world has remained up to this day.
No rain was falling, and the five principal men despatched the
humming-bird to the place in the east where the rain-clouds are living,
to ask them to come over here. The clouds came very fast and killed
the humming-bird, and then returned to their home. After a while
the humming-bird came to life, and told the principal men that the
clouds had gone back. The people then sent out the frog with his five
sons. As he proceeded toward the east he left one of his sons on each
mountain. He called the clouds to come, and they followed and overtook
him on the road. But he hid himself under a stone, and they passed
over him. Then the fifth son called them on, and when they overtook
him he, too, hid himself under a stone. Then the fourth son called
the clouds and hid, then the third son called, and then the second,
and finally the first, who had been placed on a mountain from which
the sea can be seen to the west of the sierra. When the storm-clouds
went away again, the frogs began to sing merrily, which they do to
this day after rain, and they still hide under stones when rain is
coming to the Cora country.
The rabbit in olden times had hoofs like the deer, and the deer had
claws. They met on the road and saluted each other as friends. Said the
deer: "Listen, friend, lend me your sandals, to see how they feel. Only
for a moment." The rabbit, who was afraid the deer would steal them,
refused at first, but at last he agreed, and the deer, putting them on,
rose and began to dance. "Oh, how beautifully it sounds!" he said. He
danced five circuits, and began to dance mitote and sing. The rabbit
sat looking on, and was in a dejected mood, fearing that the deer
might not give him back his sandals. The deer then asked permission
to run five big circuits over the mountains. The rabbit said no, but
the deer went away, promising to come back directly. He returned four
times, but on the fifth round he ran away. The rabbit climbed up on a
mountain and saw the deer already far off. He wanted to follow him, but
he could not, because his feet were bare. The deer never returned the
hoofs to the rabbit, and hoofless the rabbit has remained to this day.
I had many interesting interviews with the old shaman whom the
authorities had appointed to serve me. He confided to me that for
many years he had faithfully fulfilled his office as the principal
singing shaman of the community, but that the people had once suddenly
accused him of practising sorcery and wanted to punish him. Being
very intelligent and upright, he was of great assistance to me,
and the more eager to do all he could for the grudge he bore his
compatriots for accusing him of sorcery. No doubt he was glad of
my coming, as it gave him a chance to rehabilitate himself, since,
for the first time in three years, he had been engaged to sing at the
dance. Be this as it may, I obtained much valuable information from
him. He could elucidate the trend of Indian thought better than any
shaman I had hitherto met, and his talk was full of aphorisms and
opinions with reference to Indian views of life.
Referring to the many regulations and observances the Indians have
to comply with in order to insure food, health, and life, he said:
"A man has to do a good deal to live. Every tortilla we eat is the
result of our work. If we do not work, it does not rain." That the
"work" consists in fasting, praying, and dancing does not detract
from its hardship.
Other sayings I picked up are as follows:
We do not know how many gods there are.
The Moon is man and woman combined; men see in her a woman, women
see a man.
It is better to give a wife to your son before he opens his eyes very
much; if not, he will not know whom he wants.
Illness is like a person; it hears.
Everything is alive; there is nothing dead in the world. The people
say the dead are dead; but they are very much alive.
My friend went with me in the afternoon to the place where the mitote
was to be given. As the preparations of the principal men consume
two days, and I was bent on seeing everything, I went to the place
the day before the dance was to come off. It was a few miles away
in a remote locality, on top of a hill the upper part of which was
composed mainly of huge stones, some of them as regular in shape as if
they had been chiselled. Here and there in the few open spaces some
shrubbery grew. An opening in the midst of the great mass of stones
had been prepared to serve as a dancing-place. The big stones looked
dead enough, but to the Indians they are alive. They are what the
Coras call Taquats or ancient people. Once upon a time they went to a
mitote, just as we were doing now, when the morning star arose before
they arrived at their destination, and all were changed into stone,
and ever since have appeared like stones. My companion pointed out
the various figures of men, women, and children, with their bundles
and baskets, girdles, etc., and in the waning light of day it was not
difficult to understand how the Indians had come to this conception
of the fantastic forms standing all around the place. Even a mountain
may be a Taquat, and all the Taquats are gods to whom the Coras pray
and sacrifice food; but it is bad to talk about them.
It had often been a puzzle to me why primitive people should make
for themselves stone idols to whom they might sacrifice and pray;
but what is to us a rock or stone may be to the Indian a man or a
god of ancient times, now turned into stone. By carving out features,
head, body, or limbs, they only bring before their physical eyes what
is in their mind's eye. This peculiar kind of pantheism can never be
eradicated from the Indian's heart unless he is from infancy estranged
from his tribal life.
In the centre of the dancing-place stood a magnificent tree not yet
in leaf, called _chocote_, and there was some shrubbery growing about
and around the place, which is very old. Only a few yards higher
up among the rocks is a similar spot, with traces of still greater
antiquity. The Indians had promised me that on this occasion one of
their shamans would make a god's eye for me, and I was shown the stone
on which he would sit while making it. It was near the tree; and back
of it, arranged in a circle around the fire, were six similar stones,
in place of the stools I had seen in Pueblo Viejo. The principal men
had swept the place in the morning, and since then had been smoking
pipes and talking to the gods.
There were also present a female principal, an old woman, with her
little granddaughter who represented the moon. These too, it seemed,
had to attend to certain religious duties which they perform for five
years, the child beginning at the innocent age of three. During her
term she lives with the old woman, whether she is related to her or
not. The old lady has charge of the large sacred bowl of the community,
an office vested only in a woman of undoubted chastity. This bowl is
called "Mother," and is prayed to. It consists of half of a large round
gourd, adorned inside and outside with strings of beads of various
colours. It is filled with wads of cotton, under which lie carved stone
figures of great antiquity. None but the chief religious authority is
allowed to lift up the cotton, the symbol of health and life. The bowl
rests also on cotton wads. On festive occasions the woman in charge
brings the bowl to the dancing-place and deposits it at the middle of
the altar. Parrot feathers are stood up along the inner edge, and each
person as he arrives places a flower on top of the cotton inside of
the bowl. This vessel is really the patron saint of the community. It
is like a mother of the tribe, and understands, so the Indians say,
no language but Cora. The Christian saints understand Cora, Spanish,
and French; but the Virgin Mary at Guadalupe, the native saint of
the Mexican Indians, understands all Indian languages.
Leaving the principales to prepare themselves further for the
dance, my friend and I early next morning went to see a sacred cave
where the Huichols go to worship. It was situated in the same hill,
outside of the country of that tribe. There were a great many caves
and cavities between the stones over which we made our way, jumping
from one to another. Near the lower edge of this accumulation of
stones I noticed, down in the dark, deep recesses, ceremonial arrows
which the pious pilgrims from beyond the eastern border of the Cora
land had left. Soon after passing this point We came to a cave,
the approach of which led downward and was rather narrow. With the
aid of a pole or a rope it can easily be entered. I found myself
at one of the ancient places of worship of the Huichol Indians,
the cave of their Goddess of the Western Clouds. It was not large,
but the many singular ceremonial objects, of all shapes and colours,
accumulated within it, made a strange impression upon me. There were
great numbers of ceremonial arrows, many with diminutive deer-snares
attached, to pray for luck in hunting; as well as votive bowls, gods'
eyes, and many other articles by which prayers are expressed. In one
corner was a heap of deer-heads, brought for the same purpose. As my
companion entered, a rat disappeared in the twilight of the cave.
I wanted to take some samples of the articles, but he begged me not
to do it, as the poor fellows who had sacrificed the things might
be cheated out of the benefits they had expected from them. He had,
however, no objection to nay taking a small rectangular piece of
textile fabric, with beautifully colored figures on it. "This is
a back shield," he said, "and the Huichols do not do right by those
things. They place them in the trails leading out of their country, to
prevent the rain from coming to us. Lions and other ferocious animals
are often represented on them, and they frighten the rain back."
On our return to the dancing-place I found the man who had been
deputed to make the god's eye lying in a small cave in quite an
exhausted condition, having fasted for many days. The ceremonial
object had already been made, under incantations. It was very pretty,
white and blue, and had a wad of cotton attached to each corner. Its
efficacy was, however, lost as far as I was concerned, as I had not
been sitting beside the man while he made it, praying for what I
wanted. This is a necessary condition if the Morning Star is to be
made to understand clearly what the supplicant needs.
On the altar, beside the sacred bowl of the community, had been
placed food and many ceremonial objects, not omitting the five ears of
seed-corn to be used in raising the corn required for the feasts. In
the ground immediately in front of the altar were four bunches of
the beautiful tail-feathers of the bluejay.
Opposite to this, on the west side of the place, was another altar,
a smaller one, on which had been put some boiled pinole in potsherds,
with tortillas and a basket of cherries. This was for the dead, who if
dissatisfied might disturb the feast. Afterward the pinole is thrown
on the ground, while the people eat the rest of the food.
The fasting shaman came forth on our arrival and took his position
opposite the main altar, talking to the gods for half an hour. The
newly made god's eye had been stuck into the ground in front of him. On
his left side stood the little girl, and behind her the old woman,
her guardian, and a man, who was smoking tobacco. Two young men, one
at the right, the other at the left, held in their hands sticks with
which they woke up people who fell asleep during the night while the
dance was going on.
The shaman prayed to the Morning Star, presented to him the ears of
corn that were to be used as seed, and asked him to make them useful
for planting. The gods know best how to fructify the grains, since all
the corn belongs to them. "And as for this man," he added, speaking
of me, "you all knew him before he started from his own country. To
us he seems to be good, but you alone know his heart. You give him
the god's eye he asked for."
A little after dark the singer for the occasion began to play a
prelude on the musical bow, which the Coras always glue to the gourd,
uniting the two parts to form one instrument. The gourd was placed
over a small excavation in the ground to increase its resonance. The
singer invoked the Morning Star to come with his brothers, the other
stars, to bring with them their pipes and plumes, and arrive dancing
with the rain-clouds that emanate from their pipes as they smoke. The
Morning Star was also asked to invite the seven principal Taquats to
come with their plumes and pipes.
The Coras-dance like the Tepehuanes and the Aztecs, but with quicker
steps, and every time they pass the altar the dancers turn twice
sharply toward it. At regular intervals the old woman and the little
girl danced, the former smoking a pipe. The little girl had parrot
feathers tied to her forehead and a bunch of plumes from the bluejay
stood up from the back of her head. In the middle of the night she
danced five circuits, carrying a good-sized drinking-gourd containing
water from a near-by brook, which originates in the sacred lagoon.
The shaman sang well, but the dancing lacked animation, and but
few took part in it. When the little girl began to dance with her
grandmother, I seated myself on a small ledge not far from the
musician. Immediately the shaman stopped playing and the dancing
ceased. In an almost harsh voice, and greatly excited, he called to
me, "Come and sit here, sir!" He was evidently very anxious to get
me away from the ledge, and offered me a much better seat on one of
the stones placed for the principal men. I had inadvertently sat
on a Taquat! This sacred rock of the dancing-place had a natural
hollow, which the Indians think is his votive bowl, and into which
they put pinole and other food. "Never," my friend told me next day,
"had anyone sat there before."
Later in the evening, when there was a pause in the performance,
I noticed that all the men, with the singing shaman, gathered in a
corner of the dancing-place, seating themselves on the ground. They
were discussing what they should do in regard to the skulls I had
asked for. One of the principal men told them that a dream last night
had advised him not to deny the "Senor" anything he asked for, as
he had to have a "head" and would not go without one. "You are daft,
and he comes here knowing a good deal," the dream had said.
They all became alarmed, especially the man who had steadily opposed
their complying with my request, and they agreed that it was better
to give the white man what he wanted. The gobernador even raised the
question whether it would not be best to let me have the skulls early
next morning, together with the other things I was to get; or, if not
then, at what other time? My shaman friend diplomatically proposed
that I should set the time for this.
Next morning I got the god's eye as well as a splendid specimen of
a musical bow with the gourd attached, the playing-sticks, etc., all
of which were taken out of a cave near the dancing-place. There was
another cave near by, into which the principal men are accustomed to
go to ask permission from the sun and moon and all the other Taquats
to make their feasts.
The morning saw the feast concluded in about the usual way. Tobacco was
smoked over the seed-corn on the altar, and sacred water was sprinkled
from a red orchid over everything on the altar, including the sacred
bowl and the flowers on top of it, as well as over the heads of all
the people present, to insure health and luck. This is done on behalf
of the Morning Star, because he throws blessed water Over the whole
earth, and on the corn and the fruit the Coras eat. The flowers are
afterward taken home, even by the children, and put in cracks in the
house walls, where they remain until removed by the hand of time.
The people of Santa Teresa and San Francisco, at certain rain-making
feasts, fashion a large locust (_chicharra_) out of a paste made of
ground corn and beans, and place it on the altar. In the morning,
after the dancing of the mitote, it is divided among the participants
of the feast, each eating his share. This is considered more efficient
even than the dancing itself.
It is evident that the religious customs of the canon of Jesus Maria
are on the wane, mainly because the singing shamans are dying out,
though curing shamans will remain for centuries yet. As the Indians
now have to perform their dances secretly, the growing generation
has less inclination and little opportunity to learn them, and the
tribe's ritual and comprehensive songs will gradually become lost.
My shaman friend in San Francisco complained to me that the other
shamans did not know the words of the songs well enough. Tayop (Father
Sun) and the other gods do not understand them, he said, and therefore
these shamans cannot accomplish anything with "los senores." It was
like sending a badly written letter: "the gentlemen" pass it from
one to another, none of them being able to make out its meaning.
In the mean time my efforts to obtain anthropological specimens were
more laborious than successful, because it was very difficult to get
anyone to show me where they could be found. To make things worse,
suddenly another man dreamed that I had enough "heads," and so I was
not permitted to search for them any more. But I did not intend to
content myself with the few I had secured. I had made arrangements with
a Cora some time before to show me some skulls he knew of, and after
much procrastination on his part I at last got him to accompany me.
We rode for fifteen miles in the direction of Santa Teresa. The
country was rough and but sparsely inhabited. In fact, I passed three
deserted ranches, and near one of them I killed a Gila monster that
was just making its burrow. There lay an air of antiquity over the
whole landscape. About half a league before reaching the caves we
sought, I came upon quite an extensive fortification; I also noticed
a number of trincheras in one arroyo; and above it on a mesa, running
along the edge, we found a wall built of loose stones. The mesa, 300
by 200 feet in extent, was a natural fortress difficult of access,
except at one point where a little cordon, like an isthmus, led to
it. Here, however, I found no vestige of ancient inhabitants.
There were two shallow caves close to each other in the remote valley
into which the guide had led me. In the larger one, which was eight
feet deep and twelve feet broad, nine skulls were found. In the other
were only a few bones, and I noticed indications of partitions, in the
shape of upright stones, between the skeletons. The bodies must have
been partly buried, with the heads protruding, in spaces a foot square.
It was nearing dusk and I had to get back to my camp that evening. On
the road my mule gave out, and for the last part of the way I had
to walk. I refreshed myself with some zapotes, which were just in
season. This native fruit of Mexico has the flavour of the pear and
the strawberry, and is delicious when picked fresh from the tree;
but as soon as it falls to the ground it is infested with insects.
Contrary to expectation, when I was ready to leave the village,
I found it exceedingly difficult to get men. As the Coras here do
not understand the mule business, I had to resort to the Mexicans in
the valley, who, however, acting under instructions from the padre,
would have nothing to do with me. They even shunned those who were
seen in my company. One man who used to carry on some trading with
the Huichols was more daring than the rest. He declared that he would
serve the devil himself if he got paid for it, and tried to make up a
party for me, but failed. He was ruining his reputation for my sake,
he told me; even his compadre (his child's godfather), on account
of his association with me, ran away when he saw him coming. The
situation finally became so exasperating that I was compelled to write
to the Bishop in Tepic, and lay the case before him. I stated that the
padre, without having seen me, had placed me in a bad light before the
people, and had then left the country, making it impossible for me to
convince him of his error of judgment; that if it were not for the
strong recommendations I had from the Government and the Commanding
General of the Territory, it would be impossible for me to stay here,
except at great personal risk.
To await an answer, however, would have involved too great a loss
of time. Luckily I found three dare-devil fellows, but recently come
into the valley for a living, who were willing to go with me. These,
together with the man already mentioned and one Cora Indian, enabled
me to make a start. Thus I parted from pretty San Francisco, and the
nice Indians there, who had believed in me in spite of the wickedness
the Mexicans had attributed to me. The Coras are the only primitive
race I have met who seem to have acquired the good qualities of the
white man and none of his bad ones.
On an oppressively hot June morning, when I finally got away, the
alcalde rode along with me for a couple of miles. We soon began to
ascend the slope of the mountains that form the western barrier
of the Huichol country, which, among the Mexicans, is reputed to
be accessible only at four points. Next morning, while packing the
mules, the father of one of my Mexicans ran up to us with a message
that seemed quite alarming. Immediately after I left San Francisco
yesterday, the Mexican authority at Jesus Maria had come over to tell
me that the Huichols were on the warpath and determined not to allow
me to enter their pueblos. The messenger impressed upon my men the
necessity of turning back and implored them not to run any risk by
accompanying me. The chief packer came hastily to me with this news,
which I at once declared to be false. But the men, nevertheless,
stopped packing, and proposed to go back. They declared that the
Huichols were bad, that they were assassins, that there were many of
them, and that they would kill us all.
Now, what was I to do? To turn back from the tribe the study of which
had been from the outset my principal aim was not to be thought of;
even to delay the trip would be impossible, as the wet season was fast
approaching, in which one cannot travel for months. I tried to reason
with them and to ease their minds by pointing out the great experience
I had had with Indians in general. I also appealed to their manly
pride and courage. "Have we not five rifles?" I said. "Cannot each one
of you fight fifty Indians?" Still they wavered, and it looked as if
they were going to desert me, when the cook courageously exclaimed:
_"Vamos, vamos!"_ ("Let us go on!") They again began to pack, and I
managed to keep my troupe together.
The real danger for me lay in the evil rumours the Mexicans had spread,
and in. the fact that the whites were afraid of me. The Indians do
not follow the "neighbours" in their reasoning; they only think that
a white man of whom even the Mexicans are afraid must certainly be
terrible. The reason why I had chosen this route was that a friend of
mine in far-away Guadalajara had given me a letter of recommendation
to an acquaintance of his, a half-caste, who acted as escribano
(secretary) to the pueblo of San Andres, or, to give its name in full,
San Andres Coamiata. I had been told that this man was temporarily
absent, in which case I should be at the mercy of the strange Indians.
The immediate prospect looked dark enough to make me consider the
advisability of the long detour to the town of Mezquitic, to get
assistance from the government authorities there and to enter the
Huichol country from the east by way of Santa Catarina. Against
this plan, however, my men urged that they could not be back in
their country before the wet season set in, to attend to their
fields. Finally, I decided to risk going to San Andres. If Don
Zeferino was not there, I would come back and then try Mezquitic. Two
days later, after a laborious ascent, I sent my chief packer ahead to
San Andres, which was still about eight miles off. What a mountainous
country all around us! The Jesuit father Ortega was right when he said
of the Sierra del Nayarit: "It is so wild and frightful to behold that
its ruggedness, even more than the arrows of its warlike inhabitants,
took away the courage of the conquerors, because not only did the
ridges and valleys appear inaccessible, but the extended range of
towering mountain peaks confused even the eye."
My messenger returned after two days, saying that Don Zeferino was
at home and would be at my disposal. In the meantime it had begun to
rain; my men were anxious to return home to the valley, and I started
for San Andres.
END OF VOL. I.
NOTES
[1] I have used once or twice the expression _gentile_ Indians,
referring to these Tarahumares.
[2] Several years after my expedition passed through those regions
the Apaches on more than one occasion attacked outlying Mormon ranches
and killed several persons.
[3] See page 356.
[4] With which the fruit is brought down.
[5] The Rio Fuerte, the only large water-course in the Tarahumare
country, empties into the Pacific Ocean.
[6] As related by an old "Christian" Tarahumare woman in Huerachic,
on the upper Rio Fuerte.
[7] A kind of tomato.
End of Project Gutenberg's Unknown Mexico, Volume 1 (of 2), by Carl Lumholtz