From The San Francisco Call November 11, 1900

There are stirring times in the towns when the hunt begins. I came by a Navajo hogan one day when the head of the household was getting ready. "My blanket— the new one!" he shouted to his wife. She was breaking sticks several yards away, and she discreetly didn't hear. She broke sticks faster. "My blanket!" he roared. She broke sticks still faster and leaned back over them and saw only the sticks.He walked slowly to her and kicked her. She made no remark, but went on breaking sticks. He kicked her again, and it took three times more to make an impression. Then she rolled over and looked as if she had become a good Indian at last. "Answer!" he said, and then he saw that she was past answering, and he kicked! her for that, too. He muttered all the way back to the hogan and when he got there he explained the case, between Navajo oaths.

"She should weave five large blankets within the year," he said. "When I go on the hunt I wear one and sell the others to traders or ranchers. To-morrow we start, and I must have the five blankets. She has not finished the fifth, that Is why she would not answer when I asked for it. I have kicked her each day for the last month in order to hurry her, and still It is undone. I go now to kick her again.

 One blanket is a good three months work for the average squaw. It Is evident that this Navajo had a high esteem for his wife's abilities. The three neighboring tribes also wear Navajo blankets on their hunts. Each man puts on In the first place as many American clothes as he can beg, borrow or steal, and atop of all these he wraps the blanket with Its gorgeous central diamond striding his back.- His hat, if he has one, is some white man's cast-off, sometimes ornamented with an eagle's feather. When the next day came I saw the huntsmen off- Near the entrance of the village they were gathered around their horses and their squaws were gathered around them. "He's a great man," one of them said,pointing to her husband. He looked, a giant on his horse, and his blanket was splendid.

Hunting game is not the only object of the animal trip. There are ranches where old clothes may be begged or brought in trade and Indian eyes are always alert for such chances. The meat is Jerked from day to day while they travel. Most of the turkey and rabbits are disposed of at ranches, the larger are kept for winter. The men live simply while they are hunting: tortillas are easily made and their ingredients easily carried and prairie dogs are frequent. An Indian is the only animal except a coyote that I ever caw eat a prairie dog. Indians are poor shots, but they are more foxy than a white man and that is where in their success lies. They know their aim Isn't good, so they Improve it by crossing sticks for a pun rest. They are ever weary of crawling, and so they sneak for miles after a victim that we would probably frighten away by chasing it openly. Occasionally the whole band of hunters starts at the head of a canyon and makes a drive. The antelope has a small enough chance then. Turkeys can be driven up a hill they will run hard all the way, but they won't fly back, except on rare occasions, and this the hunters count on.

The next step is to choose tracks and separate. Sometimes there is a squabble over the choice and they must settle matters. Usually they camp for only a night at a time. Sometimes they build a fire for one meal and move on as soon as it is over. All the time their sight and hearing and all the other senses that only an Indian has are strained for sign of antelope or deer or Jack rabbit or wild turkey. The silver tip and black bear is left sacredly alone; It Is part of the Indians religion to leave bears unharmed, very likely because it Is a safe thins for an Indian to do so. They have a way of fixing their religion to suit circumstances. There Is one custom of these people that we might better follow.

When white men hunt they camp beside water—always beside it so that it will be handy to them. While they stay there no animal approaches and very likely they return to town empty handed and take home game bought in the sneak-hours of the morning when markets are opening. Indians know better. They find water, then pitch camp a mile away after they have filled several kegs which are easily rolled to camp. They sleep cozy, fortunately knowing that their trap is set. In the morning they stay to the water and find all kinds of tracks - the delicate pointed hoof marks of the deer and antelope, the three-pointed sign if the turkey, the round print of the rabbit, all of these sometimes broken by the heavier tread of the bear or blurred
past recognition by its rollings.