On the ridges south of Hishi human figures stand.  They are scattered, watching and spying attentively.  They are videttes,—­outposts, placed to scan the plains and the slopes of the mountains, lest some enemy sneak up and pounce upon the defenceless village.  For at the time of which we are speaking the Tanos, or Hishi, are not only defenceless, but singularly unsuspecting and heedless of danger.  They would be at the mercy of an enemy, were it not for these guards and scouts, who watch and pry, straining every organ of perception that their people at home may be without care while singing, praying, and making merry.  Is not the dance now going on at the village danced, prayed, and sung for their benefit also?

Whenever these outposts turn toward their pueblo they see clouds of dust rising from it, hear loud rhythmic shouting, whoops and yells, beating of drums, and the shrill sounds of flutes.  A haze seems to cover the tall and long terraced buildings quite distinct from the vertical columns of sand-whirls that drift over the plain of Galisteo, in calm weather rising above the horizon like thin films of smoke.

It is a great day at Hishi.  A dance is performed, songs are sung, and prayers and sacrifices are offered that shall be powerful with Those Above.  The people make merry over the fruits of the soil that have now matured.  They are grateful, and they wish to be precious to the higher powers in years to come.  The great harvest dance is performed to-day.  A long procession perambulates the long village.  The Koshare trot ahead.  They are the same black and white goblins with whom we are already acquainted, but their bodies are decorated now with ripe fruit, with small squashes and ears of corn, all strung to cords of fibre or buckskin, and hung over their shoulders like wreaths.  Wild sunflowers adorn their heads.  They are followed by the Cuirana, whose bodies are daubed over with bluish clay.  Then the general public tramp along.  The procession is divided into four sections, the faces of all being painted ad libitum.  The first detachment is led by an old man whose snow-white hair supports a wreath of yellow blossoms.  He is the so-called summer cacique.

The winter cacique leads on the second group.  Behind each ear he wears a tall plume from the wings of the eagle, and around his neck are strung rows upon rows of sacred shell beads, turquoises, and gaudy pebbles.  The third is preceded by the great shaman of the hunt.  His dress is a tight-fitting suit of buckskin; long fringes depend from his sleeves, and the front and shoulders of his jacket are profusely embroidered with porcupine-quills.  A small plumelet of eagle-down dances over his head.  The last section is led by the highest shaman.  His head is also decorated with yellow flowers, and a green and a yellow plume stand erect behind each ear.  The war shaman is not to be seen; the spirits of strife have nothing to do with the feast of peace.  The war captain and his assistants accompany the procession to keep order and clear the way.