But Don Crescencio remained with the Indians as their “secretary” (escribano), attending to whatever correspondence they had with the authorities, and gradually becoming their factotum and adviser.  As he was an honourable and straightforward man, his influence was all for their good.  To swell his meagre income, he carries on a small trade, going twice a year to Durango to replenish his stores; and so invaluable has he become to the Indians that they send, some men along with him to watch that he does not remain with the “neighbours.”  He has learned the language tolerably well, and has risen to such importance that the gobernador, as I saw myself, visited him every morning, asking his advice in every movement.

These Indians visited me all day long, accompanied by their wives and children, undauntedly seating themselves in front or outside of my tent.  In response to my expressed desire to see and buy articles made by them, they brought me, during my short stay here, girdles and ribbons of wool or cotton, as well as a great variety of bags of all sizes, knotted from twine of maguey fibre.

The people here do business on a basis entirely different from that of the “neighbours,” inasmuch as they have a fixed price for everything.  There is no bargaining with them; when they have once told the price of a thing (and it is always a high one), they adhere to it firmly, and as money is no object to them, they make trading rather difficult.  On my tours among the people, I found them hospitable.  They always asked me to come in and sit down, and they have good manners.

The one thing they strenuously objected to, and which they were deadly afraid of, was the camera, and it took Don Crescencio’s and my own combined efforts for five days to induce them to pose.  When at length they consented, they looked like criminals about to be executed.  They believed that by photographing a person I should be enabled to carry his soul off to eat it later, at my ease, if I chose.  They would die as soon as their pictures arrived in my country, or some other evil would result, anyhow.  The women disappeared like frightened quails, when I was about to perform the dreadful operation on the men.  However, most of them returned to see how their spouses stood the painful ordeal.  When I then asked for some women to pose, they ran away, in spite of the demonstrations of the men; only three sturdy ones with “great souls” remained and were “taken” after having been duly “shaken” with fears.

The Tepehuanes feel at home only in their ranches.  They clear land in the numerous little valleys of which their rugged country consists, and plant corn in places where no plough could ever be used.

They always have sufficient corn for their wants.  Their store-houses are square upright cribs of bamboo sticks held in place with withes on a framework of pine poles.  Sometimes they stand at considerable distances from the dwellings.  The floor is raised about a foot above the ground, and the entrance is made from the top.  The ears of corn can plainly be seen behind the bamboo sticks.  In March they are taken out and shelled, and the corn is put in home-made sacks and replaced in the store-houses.