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Show 280 WESTERN WILDS. one has nothing to trade, and is not a prospector for mines. So I told them I was collecting information about the friendly Indians for the-use of government, which - may be passed as in a sense true. The Moquis have a close struggle for existence. The sand sur-rounding the mesa presents the poorest show for farming I ever saw, yet every- where among these sand- hills are their little walled fields, three or four rods square, and from the measure Papa showed me, I estimated that his field had produced what would amount to twelve or fifteen bushels of corn, and half as much wheat, to the acre. The water from neither of the springs runs more than ten rods before sinking in the sand ; but in some places they have constructed little troughs of rock or wood which carry a stream perhaps as big as one's finger to the field, and help the case a little. With a sharp stick they dig a hole about eighteen inches deep through the top sand, which brings them to a moister stratum, in which they lodge the grain. Around the hill they then place a few stones, and after dressing in clean clothes, sit in solemn silence for hours by the fields supposed to be praying for rain. If no rain comes, which is generally the case, they carry water in their wicker- jugs from the spring, and pour a pint or so on each hill. If the season is favorable, the corn grows about two feet high, and yields ten to fifteen bushels per acre; if unfavor-able, they get nothing, and live upon goat's milk and white roots, with a rare dessert of wild fruit, mescal, or game. I said " supposed to be praying," as I could learn of no religious be-lief among them, though their Mormon visitors credit them with be-ing very pious. I explained at great length our ideas of God and nature, and asked Papa as to theirs, with this result: Papa Nothing! ( Nada.~) The grandfathers said nothing of Dios what you say Got God ( making several attempts at the word.) Myself But, say to me, who made this mesa, these mountains, all that you see here ? P. Nothing ! It is here. M. Was it always here ? P. ( With a short laugh) Yes, certainly, always here. What would make it be away from here ? M. But where do the dead Moquis go? Where is the child I saw put in the sand yesterday ? Where does it go ? P. Not at all. Nowhere ; you saw it put in the sand. How can it go anywhere ? M. Did you ever hear of Montezuma ? P. No; Monte Montzoo ( attempting the word) Melicano man? |
