It was in his house Tenatsali had remained concealed6 in the long interval7 from the time he rode out so debonairly8 on the war-path to take a scalp, and the arrival of a scalp from Washington. He was obliged to perform a scalp-taking feat9 before he could be admitted to membership among the Priests of the Bow. As he would not secure a scalp in the orthodox way, he had to get one as best he could. It was a very old scalp, one from the National Museum collected by Lewis H. Morgan many years before.
I slept soundly after the long ride, but, rising betimes, sought a guide that I might go to the village, which is like an ant hill, across the little river, and then climb to the summit of that mesa to the East which overlooks the great valley. The two possible interpreters, youths who had been reared by the trader, were both sequestered10 in the village as they were to take part in the dance. And so it was decided I could do no better than engage a schoolboy who, while he spoke11 little or no English, could at least show me the trail up the 176 mesa. In spite of the snow the boy was barefoot, and his single garment was scanty12 protection from the cold. We crossed the wide stretch of plain, rounded the mesa and took the steep trail on the farther side. It was half obliterated13 by the snowdrifts, but the boy ran lightly ahead, up and up, stretching me a hand at the steep places until we reached the broad, table top. There in an open shrine14 stood the image of the war god, Ahaiyuta, his plumes15 bedraggled and blown about by the wind. We passed the ruins covered with spiny16 cactus17 and I waited while the boy, nimble as a goat, descended18 the trail beside the pinnacled19 rock to visit the old images of the war gods ranged in a row in their immemorial cave. There too he saw, I suppose, the painted jars that held the old masks of Sayatasha. When he came back we visited the other war-god shrine and descended the mesa to return across the plain to the store, tired and hungry after our seven-miles’ round.
Here we found people from far and near who had come to see the dance. There was Jesus, the Mexican, and French Dan, Falstaffian and dissolute. There was the Missionary20 whom later I was to know better and the Field Matron, a wraith21 of a woman who went silently among the Indians and gave them some drug she had discovered through an advertisement in the “boiler plate” of her home paper. There were the Indians who fraternize with the whites, like the Albino and the old Mormon, or to give him his full name, Ten Cent Mormon, because he had been baptized by the Mormons in the early days and received ten cents to bind22 the bargain.
The conversation at the dinner table where we had a hearty23, steaming meal was all about the dance, and even the sheriff was moved to express himself. It was the first time this particular dance had been performed for years. The Arrow-Swallowing society had given public exhibitions, but on this occasion there was to be tree-swallowing as well. It was plain enough that the agent and the sheriff really believed that the Indians had supernatural powers.
The agent accompanied me to the village that afternoon and guided me to a place in the large, central court where I could see the dance to advantage. A red blanket was spread for us to sit upon, and we took our places with the expectant crowd. Every living soul 177 in the pueblo, dressed in their best and gayest clothes, lined the roofs of the terraced houses.
Few plays are staged more effectively than these performances. The adobe24 walls of the houses furnish a perfect background. The court seems entirely25 inclosed and the processions of dancers enter and return by passageways set at right angles on either side. In the centre of the plaza26 was a long, white, wooden box painted in colors with cloud-terrace and rain symbols which the musicians used as a resonator for their notched27-stick rattles28. While we talked, the agent pointed29 out familiar faces like Ni?a, the pretty granddaughter of old Nayuchi the war chief, and Lusalu, the fat governor. The small children played on the edges of the crowd and mud-bedaubed clowns lolled around the painted box. Two old men dressed in gala attire30, with white smocks and gay bandas and sashes, took up the notched instruments and began scraping them in a rhythmic31 motion with plectra made of sheep bone. There are few more mysterious and disturbing sounds than this same scraping. The time is perfect, the rhythm inexorable. Something was about to happen.
Two long processions advanced slowly into the plaza. In single file, keeping perfect time, their turtle-shell, leg rattles in absolute unison32, dressed all alike in kilts and armlets, with faces and bodies painted white, the dancers approached each other from opposite sides, and wonderful to behold33, each dancer with head thrown back supported a tall spruce tree erect34 in his mouth. Below were the bodies of the white-painted figures, robust35 and vigorous, and above a moving forest. The processions continued to advance, and curved round the plaza until they displayed their entire length, halted with a loud fanfare36 of gourd37 rattles,—and then became still and silent. There were women among them—and one wearing a white, cylinder-shaped mask. Some children, neophytes, followed, and on one side a tiny boy with a miniature spruce brought up the rear. The dancers rested, withdrew the trees from their mouths and held them, butts38 upward with the top boughs39 resting on the ground. Then it was that the full significance of the performance was revealed. The butts, rudely chopped to a tapering40 point eight or more inches in length, had been entirely swallowed.
178
Again the strident notes of the rattles sounded. The dancers took up their trees, elevated and adjusted them in their mouths and danced as before. There was the same volume of co?rdinated sounds, of gourd rattles, of resonant41 shells and the swish, swish of the garments. Again the white mask danced on.... It grew dark and I left the plaza, in a daze42. What did it all mean—the painted box, the swallowed trees, the white mask?
Stewart Culin

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1
pueblo
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n.(美国西南部或墨西哥等)印第安人的村庄 | |
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2
possessed
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adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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3
lavish
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adj.无节制的;浪费的;vt.慷慨地给予,挥霍 | |
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4
decided
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adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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5
jovial
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adj.快乐的,好交际的 | |
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6
concealed
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a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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7
interval
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n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
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8
debonairly
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adj.(通常指男人)愉快而自信的 | |
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9
feat
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n.功绩;武艺,技艺;adj.灵巧的,漂亮的,合适的 | |
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10
sequestered
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adj.扣押的;隐退的;幽静的;偏僻的v.使隔绝,使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 );扣押 | |
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11
spoke
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n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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12
scanty
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adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
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13
obliterated
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v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 );涂去;擦掉;彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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14
shrine
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n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
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15
plumes
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羽毛( plume的名词复数 ); 羽毛饰; 羽毛状物; 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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16
spiny
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adj.多刺的,刺状的;n.多刺的东西 | |
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17
cactus
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n.仙人掌 | |
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18
descended
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a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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19
pinnacled
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小尖塔般耸立的,顶处的 | |
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20
missionary
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adj.教会的,传教(士)的;n.传教士 | |
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21
wraith
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n.幽灵;骨瘦如柴的人 | |
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22
bind
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vt.捆,包扎;装订;约束;使凝固;vi.变硬 | |
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23
hearty
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adj.热情友好的;衷心的;尽情的,纵情的 | |
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24
adobe
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n.泥砖,土坯,美国Adobe公司 | |
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25
entirely
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ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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26
plaza
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n.广场,市场 | |
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27
notched
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a.有凹口的,有缺口的 | |
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28
rattles
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(使)发出格格的响声, (使)作嘎嘎声( rattle的第三人称单数 ); 喋喋不休地说话; 迅速而嘎嘎作响地移动,堕下或走动; 使紧张,使恐惧 | |
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29
pointed
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adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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30
attire
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v.穿衣,装扮[同]array;n.衣着;盛装 | |
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31
rhythmic
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adj.有节奏的,有韵律的 | |
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32
unison
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n.步调一致,行动一致 | |
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33
behold
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v.看,注视,看到 | |
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34
erect
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n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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35
robust
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adj.强壮的,强健的,粗野的,需要体力的,浓的 | |
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36
fanfare
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n.喇叭;号角之声;v.热闹地宣布 | |
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37
gourd
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n.葫芦 | |
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38
butts
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笑柄( butt的名词复数 ); (武器或工具的)粗大的一端; 屁股; 烟蒂 | |
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39
boughs
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大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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40
tapering
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adj.尖端细的 | |
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41
resonant
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adj.(声音)洪亮的,共鸣的 | |
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42
daze
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v.(使)茫然,(使)发昏 | |
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