The Tepehuanes are less phlegmatic and more impressionable and impulsive than the Tarahumares.  One woman laughed so much that she could not be photographed.  They are noisy and active, and in the fields they work merrily, chatting and laughing.  Even when peons of the Mexicans they are not so abject-looking as the Tarahumares, but retain their proud and independent manners.  They behave almost like men of the world in comparison with the unsophisticated Tarahumares.  In the eyes of some of the Tepehuane women I noticed a fire as bright as in those of Italians.

These Indians live in commodious log-cabins, with interlocked corners.  The roofs are gabled and often supported by piles of wood.  They are covered with shingles, over which are placed rows of stones to keep them in place.  The doors are furnished with jambs.

The Tepehuanes call themselves Odami, the meaning of which I could not find out.  By the Tarahumares they are called Saelo ("walking-stick” insects (phasmidae), in Mexican-Spanish campamoche).  The Tepehuane language is not melodious, being full of consonants, and hard like the people themselves.  They still speak it among themselves, though there are but few who do not understand Spanish.  The Mexicans frequently enter into marriage with them.

    So-(so-)da-gi u-ki-(ji-)ru tu-va-ni-mi. 
    (There is) water (i.e., tesvino) in the house; He is coming
    down (to us).

As to their religion they are far more reticent than the Tarahumares, and it is difficult to get information on this subject.  One reason for this is that they are afraid of being laughed at by the Mexicans.  They still keep up their dances and secret rites and their ceremonies, customs, and beliefs.  Although in many points they resemble the Tarahumares, in others fundamental differences exist, such as the complex observances of rules in regard to puberty, none of which have been found among the Tarahumares.

Ignorant Mexicans, who have but a faint idea as to who is president of their country, more than once have attributed land-grabbing intentions to my expedition.  With my three or four Mexicans and Indians and a dozen pack mules, I have been credited with designs of conquering Mexico for the Americans.  Even here in Nabogame a Mexican settler felt uneasy about his holdings and stirred the Indians up, saying that if they allowed “that man to photograph them, the Devil would carry off all of them, and it would be better to kill him.”  I was to meet the people on a Sunday, and in the morning I received this discouraging letter written by a Mexican for the Indian gobernador or “general,” who, to affirm or authenticate the letter, had put a cross, as his mark or signature, underneath his name: 

    Pueblo De Nabogame, January 29, 1893.

    Dear Mr. Picturemaker: 

Do me the favour not to come to the pueblo to photograph, which I know is your intention.  I believe the best for you to do is to go first to Baborigame, because, as far as this pueblo is concerned, I do not give permission.  Therefore, you will please decide not to pass this day in this pueblo photographing.

    Your obedient servant,