They circle the plaza four times, each stamping mightily upon the cover of the sipapu as they pass the Kisa.  Surely, the spirits of the underworld are thus made aware of the presence of the Snake Brotherhood engaged in the traditional ritual.  Incidentally, this Snake Dance is carried on in the underworld on a known date in December, and at that time the Hopi Snake men set up their altar and let the spirits know that they are aware of their ceremony and in sympathy with them.

[Illustration:  Figure 10.—­Snake Priests in Front of Kisa.

—­Courtesy Arizona State Museum.]

Now the procession lines up facing the Antelope priests in front of the Kisa, (See Figure 10), and the rattles of both lines of priests begin a low whirr not unlike the rattle of snakes.  All is perfectly rhythmic and the Snake priests, with locked fingers, sway back and forth to the music, bodies as well as feet keeping time, while the Antelopes mark time with a rhythmic shuffle.  At last they break into a low chant, which increases in volume, and rising and falling goes on interminably.

At last there is a pause and the Snake priests form into groups of three, a carrier, an attendant, and a gatherer.

Each group waits its turn before the Kisa.  The carrier kneels and receives a snake from the passer, who (with the snake bag) sits concealed within the Kisa.  As he rises, the carrier places his snake between his lips or teeth, usually holding it well toward the neck, but often enough near the middle, so that its head may sometimes move across the man’s face or eyes and hair, a really harrowing sight.  The attendant, sometimes called the hugger, places his left arm across the shoulder of the first dancer and walks beside and a step behind him, using his feather wand or snake whip to distract the attention of the snake. (See Figure 11.) Just behind this pair walks their gatherer, who is alertly ready to pick up the dropped snake, when it has been carried four times around the dance circle; sometimes it is dropped sooner.

The dance step of this first pair is a rhythmic energetic movement, almost a stamping, with the carrier dancing with closed eyes.  The gatherer merely walks behind, and is an alertly busy man.  The writer has seen as many as five snakes on the ground at once, some of them coiling and rattling, others darting into the surrounding crowd with lightning rapidity, but never has she seen one escape the gatherer, and just once has she seen a snake come near to making its escape.  This was during the ceremony at Hotavilla last summer (1932); the spectators had crowded rather close to the circle, and several front rows sat on the ground, in order that the dozens of rows back of them might see over their heads.  As for the writer, she sat on a neighboring housetop, well out of the way of rattlers, red racers, rabbit snakes, and even the harmless but fearsome-looking bull snake from 3 to 5 feet long.  Often the snake starts