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mind’s eye, Walker again experienced the annual Hopi Snake Dance at his village.
    He saw a long, double line of Hopi Snake Priests dancing almost side by side in the village plaza. Each dancer was dressed in a knee-length, dark brown, leather kilt with a black snake painted around the bottom. Thick, white, woven sashes were tied around the priests’ waists. From the back of each sash hung a red fox pelt. The priests’ bare chests were painted reddish-brown and were hung heavy with turquoise jewelry. White eagle feathers tied in their long, black hair fluttered in the air. With each of the dancers’ steps, Walker heard the unforgettable clacking sound of the tortoise shell rattles tied to the back of each dancer’s right knee.
    Walker narrowed his mental picture to a single pair of dancers in the snakelike line. The priests’ faces were painted brown with white lightning flashes down their cheeks. A cold shiver shook Walker’s body as he visualized a live rattlesnake held firmly but gently in the mouth of one of the dancers. The poisonous snake was held just below its flat head, with its eyes flattened against the priest’s painted cheek.
    Walker tried to focus his memory on the snake priest’s partner, the teaser. The teaser danced slightly behind and to the right of the priest holding the snake. The teaser’s left arm came around the other dancer’s right shoulder holding him tightly. In the teaser’s right hand was a carved branch about a foot long. White-tipped eagle feathers were tied to the end of it. Holding the snake whip close to the snake’s head, the teaser stroked, distracted, and mesmerized the snake with the movement of the sacred eagle feathers. Walker knew that only the teaser’s harmonious thoughts and skill with the whip kept both dancers from being bitten by the deadly snake.
    Hearing Tag’s heavy footsteps, Walker’s mind snapped back to the present. He turned to see the bahana running down the trail toward him. In one swift motion, he moved away from the ledge and put his index finger to his lips.
    Tag’s mouth closed before any sound could escape. His big feet stopped short, jerking his tall body forward.
    With his right index finger still against his lips, Walker motioned with his left hand for him to come. With short, quick steps, Tag moved up next to him. He pointed over the trail’s edge to the girl below.
    Tag’s face grew pale. He whispered, “What are we going to do?”
    â€œHow good a shot are you with a rock?” asked Walker, sliding his backpack off, opening it.
    â€œYou have got to be kidding!” Tag exclaimed, turning to look at Walker.
    Walker pulled out the prayer stick and started to unwrap it. “Once we get close enough, I’ll use the paho to distract the . . .”
    â€œHey, wait just a minute,” interrupted Tag, in a harsh whisper. His eyes were like bowling balls. “I’ve heard about how you Hopis dance with live rattlesnakes in your mouths as a religious thing. But remember, I’m just a dumb white kid!”
    â€œThe eagle is the snake’s mortal enemy; its feathers have special power over it.” Walker laid the paho on the ground at his feet. He buckled the backpack closed. “Once the snake is mesmerized by the movement of the feathers, you just smash it with a rock,” Walker instructed. Then flashing a grin, he added, “A big one, please.”
    He put his backpack on, picked up the paho in his right hand and started down the trail. He could hear Tag mumbling, “ ‘Just smash it with a rock,’ he says.”
    A minute later, he heard Tag huffing behind him on the trail. Walker glanced back over his shoulder. The bahana was lugging a football-sized rock.
    The trail went around a large boulder, then turned sharply down toward where the girl stood. Walker stopped on the trail about ten feet above the girl to wait for the