[Illustration:  (Upper picture) A modern Indian Dance]

[Illustration:  (Lower picture) An estufa]

North of this building, a circular structure thirty feet in diameter rose a few feet only above the soil, like the upper part of a sunken cylinder.  Its top was flat, and large flags of stone formed a rough staircase leading to its roof.  In the centre, a square opening appeared, out of which a tall beam, notched at regular intervals like a primitive ladder, protruded, and down which also the beam disappeared as if extended into the bowels of the earth.  This edifice, half underground, half above the soil, was what to-day is called in New Mexico an estufa.[2] This Spanish word has become a technical term, and we shall hereafter use it in the course of the story as well as the designations tshikia and kaaptsh of the Queres Indians.

The estufas were more numerous in a single pueblo formerly than they are now.  Nor are they always sunken.  At the Rito there were at least ten, five of which were circular chambers in the rock of the cliffs.  These chambers or halls were, in the times we speak of, gathering places for men exclusively.  No woman was permitted to enter, unless for the purpose of carrying food to the inmates.  Each clan had its own estufa, and the young men slept in it under the surveillance of one or more of the aged principals, until they married, and frequently even afterward.

There the young men became acquainted with the affairs of their individual connections, and little by little also with the business of the tribe.  There, during the long evenings of winter, old men taught them the songs and prayers embodying traditions and myths, first of their own clan, then of the tribe.[3] The estufa was school, club-house, nay, armory to a certain extent.  It was more.  Many of the prominent religious exercises took place in it.  The estufa on special occasions became transformed into a temple for the clan who had reared it.

From the depths of this structure there came a series of dull sounds like beats of a drum.  The youngsters stopped short, and looked at each other in surprise.

“The new house,” whispered Okoya, “which the Corn clan have built here is empty, yet there is somebody in its estufa.  What may this mean?”

“Let us look into it,” eagerly suggested Shyuote.

“Go you alone!” directed the elder brother.  “I will walk on, and you can overtake me by-and-by.”

That suited Shyuote.  He crept stealthily toward the round building.  There was an air-hole in the rim which rose above the ground.  Crouching like a cat, the boy cautiously peered through this opening, but quickly withdrew with an expression of disappointment.  The underground chamber was not even finished; its walls were dark and raw, the floor rough, and on this floor a half-dozen young fellows in every stage of dress or undress were lounging.  One of them mechanically touched a small drum with a stick, while two or three of the others were humming a monotonous tune to the rhythm of his rappings.  Shyuote stole away in evident discontent; his curiosity was satisfied, but at the expense of his expectations.