The shaman prayed to the Morning Star, presented to him the ears of corn that were to be used as seed, and asked him to make them useful for planting.  The gods know best how to fructify the grains, since all the corn belongs to them.  “And as for this man,” he added, speaking of me, “you all knew him before he started from his own country.  To us he seems to be good, but you alone know his heart.  You give him the god’s eye he asked for.”

A little after dark the singer for the occasion began to play a prelude on the musical bow, which the Coras always glue to the gourd, uniting the two parts to form one instrument.  The gourd was placed over a small excavation in the ground to increase its resonance.  The singer invoked the Morning Star to come with his brothers, the other stars, to bring with them their pipes and plumes, and arrive dancing with the rain-clouds that emanate from their pipes as they smoke.  The Morning Star was also asked to invite the seven principal Taquats to come with their plumes and pipes.

The Coras-dance like the Tepehuanes and the Aztecs, but with quicker steps, and every time they pass the altar the dancers turn twice sharply toward it.  At regular intervals the old woman and the little girl danced, the former smoking a pipe.  The little girl had parrot feathers tied to her forehead and a bunch of plumes from the bluejay stood up from the back of her head.  In the middle of the night she danced five circuits, carrying a good-sized drinking-gourd containing water from a near-by brook, which originates in the sacred lagoon.

The shaman sang well, but the dancing lacked animation, and but few took part in it.  When the little girl began to dance with her grandmother, I seated myself on a small ledge not far from the musician.  Immediately the shaman stopped playing and the dancing ceased.  In an almost harsh voice, and greatly excited, he called to me, “Come and sit here, sir!” He was evidently very anxious to get me away from the ledge, and offered me a much better seat on one of the stones placed for the principal men.  I had inadvertently sat on a Taquat!  This sacred rock of the dancing-place had a natural hollow, which the Indians think is his votive bowl, and into which they put pinole and other food.  “Never,” my friend told me next day, “had anyone sat there before.”

Later in the evening, when there was a pause in the performance, I noticed that all the men, with the singing shaman, gathered in a corner of the dancing-place, seating themselves on the ground.  They were discussing what they should do in regard to the skulls I had asked for.  One of the principal men told them that a dream last night had advised him not to deny the “Senor” anything he asked for, as he had to have a “head” and would not go without one.  “You are daft, and he comes here knowing a good deal,” the dream had said.

They all became alarmed, especially the man who had steadily opposed their complying with my request, and they agreed that it was better to give the white man what he wanted.  The gobernador even raised the question whether it would not be best to let me have the skulls early next morning, together with the other things I was to get; or, if not then, at what other time?  My shaman friend diplomatically proposed that I should set the time for this.