the matter.  In the early morning of St. Jerome’s day, a black-robed Indian makes a recitation from the top of the pueblo to the assembled multitude below.  In the plaza stands a pine tree pole, fifty feet in height, and from a cross-piece at top dangles a live sheep, with legs tied together and back down.  Besides the sheep, a garland of such fruits and vegetables as the valley produces, together with a basket of bread and grain, hang from the pole.  The bell in the little adobe chapel sounds and a few of the Indians go in to mass.

A curious service follows.  A rubicund Mexican priest is the celebrant, while two old Mexicans in modern dress, and a Pueblo Indian in a red blanket, are acolytes.  When the host is elevated, an Indian at the door beats a villainous drum and four musket shots are discharged.  After the services are concluded, a procession is formed and marches to the race track, which is three hundred yards in length.  The runners have prepared themselves in the estufas, or underground council chambers, and soon appear.  There are fifty of them, and all are naked except a breech-clout, and are painted no two alike.  Fifty other runners to contest with these, arrive from the other pueblo.  They form in line on either side of the course, and a slow, graceful dance ensues.  All at once three hundred mad young Mexicans rush through the throng on their wild ponies, the leader swinging by the neck the gallo or cock.  Then the races begin, two runners from each side darting down the track cheered by their companions.  No sooner do they reach the goal than two others start off, and thus for two hours, until the sum of victories gained by individuals entitles one party or the other to claim success.  The race decided, the runners range themselves in two facing lines, and, preceded by the drum, begin a slow zig-zag march.

Excitement now runs riot.  The dancers chant weird songs, break the ranks and vie with each other in their antics and peculiarities.  A rush is made upon the crowd of spectators through whom the participants in the orgies force their way, regardless of consequences.  The women, who hitherto have taken but little part in the excitement, now come forward and throw cakes and rolls of bread from the pueblo terraces.  Everybody rushes after these prizes in a headlong manner, and the confusion becomes still greater.

An adjournment is then taken for dinner, and in the afternoon, six gorgeously painted and hideously decorated clowns come forward and go through a series of antics calculated to disgust rather than amuse the spectator.  The unfortunate sheep, which is still hanging to the pole, is finally thrown to the ground after several attempts have been made to climb the pole.  The fruits and products are seized by the clowns, who rush off with them, and every one connected with the tribe seem to be highly satisfied with the outcome of the day’s proceedings, and the culmination of the spectacle.