and westerly direction, swinging their rattles down and up, while passing from one point to the other, and from side to side whenever they reach it.  The down-and-up movement of the rattle is not a simple down and up, but the down stroke is always followed by a short after-clap before the arm rises for the new swing, producing thus a three-part rhythm.  They sing the following stanza, repeating it over and over again: 

    Ru-tu-bu-ri vae-ye-na Ru-tu-bu-ri vae-ye-na
    Rutuburi, from one side to the other moving!  Rutuburi,
    from one side to, etc.

    O-ma wae-ka xa-ru-si.  O-ma wae-ka xa-ru-si. 
    All! many!  Arms crossed!  All! many!  Arms crossed!

This is the introduction and prelude to the whole dance.  After this formal opening the men take their places in line to the right of the shamans, and the women to the left.  They stand for a few minutes while the shamans sing and swing their rattles, the men silently holding their arms folded over their breasts, as described in the song.  This crossing of the arms I take to mean a salutation to the gods.  While the Tarahumares of to-day never salute each other by shaking hands, neither is there any trace at present of their ever having saluted each other by crossing arms over the breast, which form was probably never used except with the gods, at ceremonies.

All the people are closely wrapped in their blankets, which they wear throughout the dance.  In its general traits, the dance is performed in the same way as the opening ceremony.  The shamans, or sometimes only the leader, jumps along as described, but the men just walk to and fro, and have to take long steps in order to keep abreast with the leaders.  The women follow the men after the latter have gone several yards ahead, skipping in the same way as the shamans, though less pronounced.  They stamp the, hard ground with the right foot and run without regard to time, so that the pattering of their naked feet reminds one of a drove of mules stampeding.  They overtake the men, so as to turn around simultaneously with them and wait again for a few seconds for the men to get ahead of them.  Thus the dance is continued without interruption for hours and hours.  This may sound as if the spectacle was monotonous; but such is not the case.  On the contrary, there is a certain fascination in the regular, rhythmical movement from side to side—­like the double pendulum of some gigantic, unseen clock.  The shaman specially captivates the attention of the observer, being the very incarnation of enthusiasm.  He swings his rattle with energy and conviction, as if bent on rousing the gods out of their indifference, while he stamps his right foot on the ground to add weight to the words, which he pours forth in a loud, resonant voice from his wide-open mouth.  Although the Tarahumare, as a rule, has a harsh and not very powerful singing voice, still there are some noteworthy exceptions, and the airs of the rutuburi songs are quite pleasing to the ear.  These, as all their dancing-songs, are of great antiquity and strangely enchanting.