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 "r..\C}{ INIiIVmi AI. SI'KriMKN IS \ IIIMVN iMicrMKNT ' 
 
 THE MAKING OF A XA\ A.lo HLAMvKT. 
 
 By Geok(;k J[. I'Ki'i'Ki; 
 
 IlI.USTKATKI) riiiiM I'IKITuCKAPHS. 
 
 D?:LIGATE in texture, ex(iuisite in de- 
 sign, wonderful in cunstruction, the 
 textiles of the ancient leruvians 
 stand alone in the arts of the New World, 
 and are foni])aral)le with any of the archaic 
 loom-work of the ( )rient. lUit the old Peru- 
 vians, thouf^h past-masters in the art of 
 weaving, were not alone in their vocation. 
 The old Xahuas, the Mayas, and other trihes 
 of Mexico and Central America, well knew 
 the possibilities of the loom, and from the 
 evidence at hand we are safe in sayinjj that 
 the i)rehistoric sedentary people of our own 
 Southwest were also textile-makers of no 
 small merit. Ikit of their descendants we 
 cannot say as much, for the modern I'uehlo 
 Indians weave only the most simjilc form of 
 blankets. 
 
 While the Pueblo })eoiile lived in j»eace in 
 a land of comparative ])lenty, their sesthetic 
 arts improved ; but when the bands of 
 Apaches and Navajos swept down upon 
 them there came a change, and a deca- 
 dence began which was increased by the 
 Spanish conquest and afterward by the suc- 
 cessive inroads of white adventurers ami 
 settlers. The Navajos were hunters who 
 levied tribute upon their agricultural neigh- 
 
 bors, and when later the Spaniards ajtpeared 
 and brought new game, these nomads helped 
 them.selves most freely, especially to the 
 sheej). The Navajo seemed naturally adajited 
 to the life of a herdsman, and the horse at 
 once became his friend and ally, while tlu' 
 increasing Hocks of sheej», at first stolen 
 for food, were can*d for by the .squaws. 
 Now, when the Navajo saw the wonderful 
 trappings of I'oronado's army, he was, no 
 doubt, impressed by the fabrics worn by 
 the soldiers and the blankets in which thi-y 
 slejit at night, and began to realize th«' full 
 imi)ort of the work already known to him. 
 At all ('Vents, he conceived a desire to 
 weave, and this he did, utilizing native im- 
 plements and foreign material. The loom- 
 sticks he either borrowed or copied from 
 the Pueblos, and then by ravelling a ver>' 
 hard-twist Sjianish cloth, known as *' va- 
 yeta," he rewove it and made the " Serape 
 .\avaho" of the old traders and explorers. 
 It seems quite evident that the Navajo.^ 
 learned their art from the Pueblos, but 
 from the evidence obtainable they did not 
 put their knowledge to any use until after 
 I he con(}uest ; then a great many years must 
 have elapsed before the next step was taken, 
 
34 
 
 KVERVIIODV^S AIAdAZINE 
 
 and the wool from tho sheop made to take 
 the place of the hiujh-priced material from 
 which they obtained tlieir woof. Once be- 
 gun, however, it ])resented unlimited ])ossi- 
 bilities, and the (juick-witted nomad seemed 
 to grasj) the situation. He worked ar- 
 duously, and though he appro])riated the 
 Spaniard's sheep, the only tools that he bor- 
 rowed from him were the shears and wool- 
 cards. With the old primitive distaff and 
 Pueblo loom he spun links of wool, forming 
 a chain of such exceeding length that, when 
 Ins country was absorbed by our great 
 Union, it reached the seat of government, 
 and thousands of sheep were added to his 
 flocks through the generosity of his foster 
 fathers. This assistance was well directed, 
 and the result is self-evident, for there are 
 few who have not seen or at least heard of 
 a Navajo blanket. 
 
 I>ut how many realize the amount of labor 
 involved in prejjaring the crude wool as it 
 is taken from the sheep, and converting it 
 into a twine that is thin enough and strong 
 enough for the warp-strands of their work ? 
 Who but the initiated, in looking upon their 
 beautiful designs, are impressed with the 
 
 fact that they are viewing an evidence of 
 individuality ? It is not machine work, 
 where each thread is counted by a comi)li- 
 cated mechanism, and where each design is 
 mathematically perfect ; the forms and fig- 
 ures are evolved while the work is in prog- 
 ress, and drawn in their entirety upon the 
 kaleidoscopic mirror of the mind alone. If 
 it is new to you, my reader, you would, no 
 doubt, like to see the squaw as she labors 
 faithfully from the initial stages of the 
 work until it is ready to adorn her own 
 hogan or be sold to a neighboring Pueblo or 
 trader. Let us journey, then, westward to 
 a broad ancient waterway in northwestern 
 New Mexico, known as Chaco Caiion, and 
 find there the Navajo at home; not on the 
 reservation set apart for him by the authori- 
 ties in Washington, but in one of the graz- 
 ing areas that he has preempted for the 
 immediate needs of his hungry flocks. 
 
 We have not far to go to see the blanket- 
 makers, for some of the older ones are 
 usually near camp; not begging, but ear- 
 nestly hoping that they will be invited to 
 partake of what is left after the meal — a 
 cup of coffee at least, which is to them not 
 
 HEK WKINKLKU, TlME-WuKN, ELEMENT-SCAKKEL) FACE BEAKS MUTE EVIDENCE TO THE YEARS OF WORK THAT 
 
 SHE HAS SEEN." 
 
TlIK .MAK'IN(i OK A NA\ A.lo Ki.AMv'K'P 
 
 85 
 
 <!^<^j^y'^ 
 
 •.>f^^ 
 
 iw ', . ^^^•.«:r■w:r. »■-* <•"- \,M < 
 
 V(:%^:^^ 
 
 
 Tin: iiooAX, III; iim.-i;, i;i;nki: m,!,"! 'm-.- -,- - \ n w tkm ■. imh tiik 
 
 CIRCLE. THE TOP IS CUVKKKD WITH BKl SH ilR A HI.ANKKT, itlT UhTKN . 
 . . . F0RX5S THE BACK PART OF THE HOUSE." 
 
 ;i;iirMi X' 
 
 AN AKR«»Vi>-Bk..NCU 
 
 merely ti luxury, but as essential as the so- 
 called * ' staff of life. ' ' One of these old vet- 
 eran weavers is shown in the illustration, and 
 her wrinkled, time-worn, element-scarred 
 face bears mute evidence to the years of 
 work that she has scm. Practically all of 
 the blankets are made by the squaws, both 
 old and younj^, the few men who do the 
 squaw's work makinj^ the exception that 
 proves the rule. The squaw cares for the 
 sheep, which are moved in large flocks from 
 l)asture to pasture, and <]:reat foresi{Tht must 
 be exercised in ])reparin<; for the futuro 
 needs of their charp^es, both in the way of 
 new pastures and also in regard to a suffi- 
 
 cient supj)ly of watt'r. The s<juaw also 
 shears the sheep, and carries the wool 
 to camp; thoujjh the latter i)art of the 
 work sometimes falls to the lot of a burro 
 or a pony. The summer camp is placi»d in 
 the most convenient i)lace, and the hogan, 
 or house, genorally consists of a few trees 
 driven into the j^round to form a .'Semicircle. 
 The top is covered with bnish or a blanket, 
 but often, as in the accompanying picture. 
 an arroyo-bench is .^selected, a part of which 
 forms the back part of the house. In these 
 rough shelters the blanket work is carried on. 
 In the jirejiaratory stages of the work 
 the first operation is the shearing of the 
 
,16 
 
 KVKKYBODY'S MAGAZINE 
 
 "WHEN THE WORK or HYKIXC IS CuMPLI'TKH, THE \V()OI. IS I'l'LLKIl AI'AIIT ANli I'LACED UN THE WOOL-CARDS 
 . . . WITH THESE CARDS THE WOOL IS PREPARED FOR THE SPINDLES." 
 
 sheep. The animal is caught, thrown upon 
 its side and hog-tied ; that is, the four legs 
 are crossed and bound securely with a piece 
 of wool-rope, and then, with an occasional 
 bleat of protest, the sheep is relieved of its 
 coat. The great shearing-time is in the 
 spring and fall, but sheep are sometimes 
 sheared during the summer months. 
 
 Occasionally the fleece is taken off in one 
 large piece, as shown in the illustration on 
 page 87, and the rough parts and ends are 
 removed and put aside for the coarser saddle- 
 pads, experience having taught them that it is 
 not policy to utilize the second-grade mate- 
 rial in the construction of a good blanket. 
 The white wool is not clean, as a rule, and 
 does not stand out as it should when com- 
 bined with black and other dark colors. The 
 scarcity of water and the absence of sheeji- 
 dips are, of course, responsible for this state 
 of aff^airs; nevertheless w^e have succeeded 
 in inducing a few of the squaws to wash the 
 wool, both black and white, and the portion 
 that is to be dyed as well as that which is 
 to be utilized in the natural state. When 
 washed the wool is placed on the grease- 
 wood bushes to dry, after which it is ready 
 for the dyeing process. 
 
 Most of the Navajo sheep are white, but 
 l^lack ones are not uncommon. This gives 
 the Indian two natural contrasts in color, 
 with numerous shades of black and brown, 
 while the wool of some sheep assumes al- 
 most- a blue color. Occasionally all of these 
 products are used in their natural state, but 
 the white wool is the only one that is used 
 to any extent without being dyed. The 
 black wool is never a jet black ; it has a 
 red tinge, and is seldom used without being 
 treated with " El-gee' -ba-toh," their na- 
 tive black dye, or the now prevalent aniline 
 dye of the trader. 
 
 The native dyes of the Navajos are few. 
 The only one they were using in their wool- 
 work when I first saw them, in 1896, was 
 l)lack, and even this was fast being replaced 
 by the dyes from stores. There is a yellow- 
 green dye that is used occasionally ; it is 
 made from the flowering tops of the rabbit- 
 weed (Bigelovia gravcolcns). After the 
 flower-stalks have boiled for several hours 
 a native alum is added, the use of the lat- 
 ter being that of a mordant. It gives a 
 variety of shades, and is really a good dye 
 for wool-work. Their native red dye is still 
 used for moccasins and buckskin in general, 
 
'I'lII': MAKIX(i oi' A \A^'A.r() iilaxkkt 
 
 87 
 
 but owinp; to tlie pale n-d color, the result 
 when it is applied to wool, it is seldom used 
 for that purjjose. The preparation of the 
 lilack dye recpiires both time and labor, 
 l-'irst the leaves and twi<i;s of the aromatic 
 sumac {liliiis (troiiKiticd) are boili'd for six 
 hours, while the sipiaw <,n'in(is ferru^nmius 
 ochre and bui;ns it in an open fryin«i^-pan. 
 When the ochre has chanjjjed to a red i)ow- 
 der, pinon-gum is added and stirred con- 
 stantly until it carbonizes and forms with 
 the ochre a black ])owder, which is added 
 to the liquid, thereliy forming a permanent 
 dye. It is, as Dr. Washinfj^ton Matthew 
 says, a regular ink, " the tannic acid of 
 the sumac combining with the sesquioxide 
 (if iron in the roasted ochre, the whole en- 
 liched by the carbon of the calcined gum." 
 This licpiid is used in dyeing buckskin, 
 leather, and textiles, as well as the natural 
 wool. Some of the old vayeta blankets have 
 a very dark blue design, but this coloring 
 material was not native, being the indigo 
 that the Spaniards introduced, and which 
 the Navajos have retained throughout the 
 historic period. I have been told that they 
 
 liad, originally, a biu.- dy.- of their own, but 
 I could find no one wIkj knew how it was 
 made, liowevt-r, though we hav<! only two 
 jiurcly primitive wool-dyt-s known to the 
 l)rescnt blanket-makers, the variants of the 
 yt'llow-green dye airord tht-m a number of 
 ditfcrent shades, ranging fn^m a canary- 
 yellow to an olive-gretm. 
 
 When the work of dyeing is cr)m|»leted, 
 the W(jol is pulled apart and place<l on the 
 wool-cards. These *' cards " are of .Vmeri- 
 can manufacture. They are thin rectangu- 
 lar pieces of wood with handles, one side 
 being covered with a strip of leather con- 
 taining tine wire teeth. With these cards 
 the wool is prepared for the spindles. In 
 the process the fibres are made to lie in the 
 same general direction, so that the finished 
 l)iece is of uniform thickness, and forms a 
 strip about four inches wide and seven 
 inches in length. This strip is taken by 
 the sijuaw and wound U|)on a distaff of 
 ])rimitive form — this first jirocess of spin- 
 ning being a lengthening and twisting of the 
 wool. The illustratinn on jiage oS shows 
 this. The distaff used l>y the Xavajos is 
 
 ^jitiA^ 
 
 OCCASIONALLY THli FLKKCK IS TAKKN iih'F IN ONK LAKc;K rihXK, . . . AM> THK KUL'GU PAKTS AND t.M'; 
 ARE REMOVED AND PUT ASIDE FOR THE COARSER SADDLE-PAiKs." 
 
38 
 
 EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE 
 
 THE FIBRES ARE MADE TO LIE IN THE SAME GENERAL DIRECTION, SO THAT THE FINISHED PIECE IS OF 
 UNIFORM THICKNESS, AND FORMS A STRIP ABOUT FOUR INCHES WIDE AND SEVEN INCHES IN LENGTH. THIS 
 STRIP IS TAKEN BY THE SQUAW AND WOUND UPON A DISTAFF OF PRIMITIVE FORM — THIS FIRST PROCESS 
 OF SPINNING BEING A LENGTHENING AND TWISTING OF THE WOOL." 
 
 practically the same as that used by the 
 ancient Pueblo people, the only diiference 
 being in the size and shai)e of the whorl, the 
 one shown in the accompanying jjhotograph 
 being a flat circular piece, whereas most 
 of the old ones were thicker and much 
 smaller. The i»ositi()n in which the distaff 
 is held and the manner of manipulation 
 vary in different tribes. While the Motjuis 
 roll the distaff along the leg, using the flat- 
 tened fingers and j)art of the palm, and the 
 Peruvians twirl their thin needle-like pieces 
 into the air and deftly catch them as they 
 return, the Navajos rest the u])per part 
 of the imjilement against the leg, and re- 
 volve it with a twirling motion of the thumb 
 and fingers, the lower end resting on the 
 ground. Put among all tribes where the 
 primitive form of sjjinning is retained the 
 work is long and tedious. 
 
 The second step in the spinning is the un- 
 winding and twisting of the loose strand, 
 which leaves it in an almost hopeless mass 
 of kinks and snarls, but in the third step 
 these are all straightened out when the 
 skein is returned to the distaff; it has now 
 
 become more like a fluffy cord than when it 
 was lying in a heap. Many times must the 
 patient squaw wind and unwind, stretch and 
 twist, ere she may put it aside as the fin- 
 ished woof -strand. Even then the spinning 
 has but begun ; another lot must be worked 
 in the same way, and even more carefully 
 than the first, for when the woof-size is 
 reached the work is only half done. At 
 this point great care must be exerted to 
 keep the strand uniform ; for it is to be the 
 warp, or framework, on which the blanket is 
 to be built. Harder and tighter she twists 
 it until, after long hours of toil, she produces 
 a strong, kinky, bristling twine whose little 
 filaments will hold the woof-strands in a 
 vise-like grip as the weaving progresses. 
 
 After the spinning process two small 
 trees, or poles, are obtained, and to these 
 the blanket-sticks are tied, usually with na- 
 tive wool-rope. These sticks are generally 
 old ones that have been used for years, and 
 the squaws become so attached to them that 
 when a bargain is being made for a loom 
 it is very difiicult to persuade a blanket- 
 maker to part with this particular part of 
 
'I'lIK MAKINC (»l" A \\\ A.li» l;l, ANKK.'I' 
 
 her outfit. After the loom-sticks arc ail- 
 justed, and the loom is placed in a horizoiilal 
 position, the sticks are wound with a ratln-r 
 coarse wool-cord, and through each l<»o|i 
 is passed a twisted cord, which is to form 
 the ends of the tinishi'd l)lanket. Tlu' warp- 
 strand is next strun*^ from pole to jtole (as 
 shown on this pajjre) across the rectan^adar 
 space, the lot)p at either end passini,^ throu;^h 
 a twist of the cord already mentioned, whiih 
 lies along the inner side of the pole. When 
 enough warp has been strung a twisted 
 wool-cord is stretched near the outer conl 
 at either side, and the loom is then raised 
 to a perpendicular position and set uj) in the 
 hogan. The uprights are tirmly imbedded 
 in the ground, and the loom is then appar- 
 ently ready for work ; but there is one other 
 essential that shows the ingenuity of the 
 Indian, for evidently realizing that the mere 
 matter of tying the lower loom-sticks to 
 the uprights would not insure rigidity, since 
 the work would tend to loosen the knots 
 and the warp-strands would be more or less 
 loose as a result, she proceeded to dig di- 
 rectly under the loom-sticks three holes 
 large enough and deep enough to receive 
 
 heavy stones. These holes were pla<<*<l at 
 either end and under the mi«ldle of the 
 lower loom-pole, while to the stoneH 8UM- 
 peiKbMl in the holes conirt from thewe etidK 
 Were fastened, thereby keeping the warp- 
 strands uidformly taut, ami leaving the 
 liiom ready in every way for the Idanket^ 
 work, as shown on page |(>. 
 
 Th(! skeleton has now been made, the 
 framework upon which the blanket is to Ik; 
 Imilt. 
 
 The s(|uaw must next consider what kind 
 of a blanket is to be made, for upon her 
 decision will depend the arrangement of the 
 heaMs, which are shown in the lower part 
 of the jticture. These healds are made by 
 knotting a cord about a long twig, each loop 
 of which encloses a warp-strand. The heald 
 is nuide in such a way that it may be readily 
 moved, its work being the .separation of 
 the strands. In simple, .solid color-work one 
 or more slender twigs are used in connection 
 with the heald, one of which may be .seen 
 below and another above it in the |tlate. 
 
 The tirst and most essential tool to be 
 used is the batten, or IJay-heck-kin-klish', 
 with which the squaw separates the warp- 
 
 Al'TEK THK SHNMNG I'KUCK; 
 
 . . nil. UAKl'-STKAM' l.> NKXT 
 ACROSS THE RECTANGULAR SPACE.' 
 
 STKl Ni-. KlUlM inl.l. lu VuLL 
 
40 
 
 EYERYTX) DY'S MAGAZINE 
 
 strands for the passage of the shuttle and 
 pounds dowTi the woof-strands when they 
 have been phiced in position. Generally it 
 is a piece of scrub-oak, three feet long, 
 three inches wide, and half an inch thick, 
 boat-shajted at the ends, with thin edges. 
 The manner in which this tool is handled, 
 
 THE LOOM HEADY IN EVERY WAV FOR THE liEANKET \V()i;K 
 
 or rathfr the energy with which it is iist'd, 
 regulates, to a great degree, the hanlness, 
 ixnci therefore the tirnmess of the blanket. 
 When a hard, line blanket is to be made, 
 the warp-strands are closely strung, and 
 the woof ])asHed through and })ulled taut 
 before it is pounded into place by the re- 
 ])eated blows of the batten. On the other 
 hand, when a saddk'-f)ad or other loosely 
 woven blanket is to be made, the wool is 
 
 j)assed through loosely and pressed into place 
 with a little implement called a ' ' Pay ttsoy, ' ' 
 a combination of a comb and an awl, the 
 awl serving to loosen any part that may 
 prove to be uneven after the irregular dis- 
 tribution of the loosely spun woof. The 
 wool is then i)atted gently with the batten 
 to equalize the irregular- 
 ities and prepare an even 
 surface for the next cross- 
 section. 
 
 As most of the Navajo 
 blankets are a combina- 
 tion of designs, there is 
 very little use for a shut- 
 tle, hence there is no spe- 
 cialized form of this imple- 
 ment. When solid color- 
 work is to be done a twig 
 of greasewood serves the 
 ]»urpose admirably. The 
 wool is wound back and 
 forth as a boy winds kite- 
 cord, and only enough to 
 finish the solid portion in 
 course of construction at 
 the time. As the bulk 
 of the work is in the form 
 of designs, the wool for 
 each figure is made into a 
 little ball, or, should the 
 design be a small one, the 
 wool-strand is allowed to 
 liang from its position, as 
 shown on page 41. The 
 number of these pendent 
 strands depends, of 
 course, upon the number 
 of designs on a given level 
 and the numl)er of colors 
 that are being used in 
 each figure, but occasion- 
 ally as many as twenty or 
 thirty strands may be 
 seen, and at such times 
 the swiftness with which 
 the numerous pieces are 
 manipulated is really marvellous. For de- 
 termining the length of the different fig- 
 ufcs in the more simple designs, the 
 s([uaw sometimes ties a cord around the 
 warp-strands that are to be included ; 
 the accomi)anying plate shows this in 
 three places. As each marginal woof- 
 strand is added it is passed through a twist 
 in the side cords before mentioned. 1 say 
 marginal strand, for very often from five 
 
TIIK MAKINC <)|' A N\\ \.l<> I'.I.ANKKr 
 
 41 
 
 to a dozon strands will l)i' hiiili \\\> on one 
 side before the other side is worked, so one 
 may readily see that a unifonn line is nnt 
 always maintained. Work of this kind, al- 
 thou}>;h eausinjr a very notieeahle ditrerencc 
 between handwork and ineehaiiieal rit^nin-s. 
 detracts from the a'stlietic aiipearaiicr of 
 the hnished ])rodiict; and. 
 as it seems to l)e attriluit- 
 able to nothinfj U'ss than 
 sheer laziness on the j)art 
 of the S(iuaw, it is beinjjj 
 di-scoura^i^ed by those who 
 are interested in tlie de- 
 velopment of the art of 
 the Navajos. 
 
 In makinij a blanket, 
 the squaw always sits, 
 buildinj^ up the designs as 
 far as she can reach ; she 
 then removes the lower 
 loom-pole and forms a roll 
 of the finished part of tlu' 
 blanket. The loom-pole 
 is then fastened to the 
 face of the blanket at a 
 point just below the upj)er 
 line of the woof. Here a 
 fold is made, and throu<j;h 
 the double section thus 
 formed the coarse wool- 
 cord is sewed, each stitch 
 of which passes under the 
 cord of the loom-pole. 
 The whole blanket is now 
 lowered, the three stone 
 weights adjusted, and the 
 work is resumed. 
 
 In examining the work 
 of the Navajos, heavy 
 ridges are very often no- 
 ticeable, so that at times 
 it almost seems that two 
 sections have been sewed 
 together, but closer scru- 
 tiny shows that the ])iece 
 is entire. It requires years 
 of constant use to obliter- 
 ate these i>eculiar loom- 
 marks. When the blanket 
 is nearly completed very thin and nar- 
 row battens, or pounding sticks, are useil, 
 and the strands are finally jiressed into place 
 with long needles of wood which are used 
 in connection with the little comb. Can'- 
 fully the last strands are pounded home — no 
 shirking at this stage of the work. One by 
 
 ont' tht-y are wovt-n in and out until at last 
 no space remains, and tlu* lalKjfs of the 
 weaver are at an enij. 
 
 Thus the blanket is rolled and sewed and 
 the loom lowered; steji by step it is evolvi-^l 
 from the crudf wool, until at laHt it Htunds 
 before us a thing of beauty, tin* material a.s 
 
 Tin; wudi, IS WdiNU haik and koktii a- i;''. . . . 
 
 AS TIIK BULK OK THK WOKK IS IN TIIK KoUM (H lil--<li,.\.S . • . ."<HOtl,|i 
 THK liK.SRIN BK A .SMALL D.NK, THK W(J<JL-.STKA.\U IS ALIJ>WKIt n> HAN«; 
 KKoM ITS POSITION." 
 
 free from jiadding as the work wasat nni^ime 
 free from the influen<-e of civihV-ition. Hut 
 our prosaic natures fail to n-aliz"' that each 
 individual ."Specimen is a human d<K'ument. 
 
 In the rush and turmoil of our bu.'^y life 
 we do not think of the story that is woven 
 into those ever-changing strands, nor of the 
 
42 
 
 EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE 
 
 ONE OF THE MOST WONDERPTIL PIECES UF DESKiN 
 WORK THAT THE NAVAJOS HAVE EVER PRODUCED. 
 . . . THE DESIGNS AND THE GENERAL ENSEMBLE 
 ARE PRICELESS TO THE STUDENT, BUT TO COMPARE 
 THE STORE WOOF WITH THE PRIMITIVE FORM WOULD 
 BE A FARCE." 
 
 tales of woe and siiflPering that those bright 
 and gaudy colors have beheld. But could 
 that lifeless form be given speech, it could 
 tell of days of adverse fortune vi^hen the 
 sandstorms held mad revel, and the house- 
 hold goods were piled about it to keep it 
 clean, while its owner sought the friendly 
 shelter of a nc^ighboring rock. Or it might 
 speak of nights when all was dark, when 
 waters dashed in torrents through the roof- 
 less hogan, causing scpiaws to bare their 
 shoulders to the elements while their blan- 
 kets shielded it from harm. How many in- 
 stances of suffering might be cited — patient 
 cripples, weak and emaciated men and wom- 
 en, feeble with age and exj)osure, sul»sisting 
 • III corn and water, watching day by day the 
 progress of the blanket whose coni])letinn 
 will mean coffee and a few of the luxiiri(!s 
 that \v(^ would class as nin-essities! Then 
 the l)Ianket is finished and the journey to the 
 trading store begins. The squaw knows from 
 
 experience what she should receive for her 
 work, and therefore demands a certain 
 amount as her just dues. The trader, hard- 
 hearted and grasping, as a rule, takes 
 from his money-pouch perhaps one-half the 
 blanket's value in silver and throws it upon 
 the counter. The squaw realizes the injus- 
 tice of the act, but also knows full well that 
 there is but one alternative, and that is to 
 ride perhaps a score of miles to the next 
 store, and that, too, without the slightest 
 prospect of better treatment when she 
 reaches it. Then comes the thought of the 
 anxious ones at home, and she realizes how 
 great will be the disappointment if she re- 
 turns empty-handed. Long she ponders, 
 then conquering the ever-increasing anger 
 that threatens to gain the mastery over rea- 
 son, she takes the proffered coin. She is 
 able to buy but half the goods that she had 
 hoped to get, and the trader realizes from 
 one hundred to three hundred per cent, 
 on each article that she buys. 
 
 Thus it has been for many years, but I 
 am glad that I am able to say that a new 
 regime has begun which promises to give 
 the Navajo not only an honest equivalent 
 for his work, but also a helping hand in 
 each and all of the various ways that tend 
 to elevate and cause a betterment in his 
 physical and financial status. 
 
 On page 43 we have a reproduction of one 
 of the purely primitive blankets. It is a 
 small rug made entirely from natural native 
 products. In this form of blanket we have 
 the result of recent training. The wool 
 has been washed and the natural colors have 
 been utilized ; these consist of a black and 
 a yellow-brown, forming a design on a white 
 background. It not only does away with 
 the dyes of the white man, but the effect is 
 l)loasing to the eye, for the colors are very 
 soft and harmonize perfectly. The blanket 
 under consideration was made for the writer 
 (luring the summer of 18i)8, when the work 
 of the Hyde Exploring Expedition among 
 the Navajos, begun in 1896, was bearing- 
 fruit. But the reclaiming of the Indian's 
 art proved to be a task that necessitated 
 untiring labor with results hardly sufficient 
 to rei)ay one for the time and money ex- 
 jx'nded. Unforeseen obstacles were con- 
 stantly encountered. The Indian had l)eeii 
 moving in a certain groove for years, and 
 did not ai»i)reciate innovations that tended 
 to disru])t the work that had been brought 
 about by the traders. 
 
 BD 1.4 » 
 
TIIK MAKINC OF A N.WA.Io I'.I.AXKKT 
 
 43 
 
 One of the greatest evils with whicli we 
 had to cope was the use of white stoit- curil, 
 which was rajiidly rcphicin^ the iiativt- warji. 
 With the machine-made cord for thf warp 
 tile labor of Idanket work was j^reatly re- 
 duced, iiiankets could he made more rap- 
 iilly, and the trader seldom made a dilfer- 
 ence in the price of the tinislied artii'lr. 
 Then the hideous i)urples and i^reens weri' 
 introduced to swell the great list of alien 
 dyes. Some of the combinations conse- 
 quent upon this step affected even the apa- 
 thetic trader, to say nothing of the re- 
 tailers in the cities. Tliey were ohligeil to 
 refuse any and all blankets that contained 
 designs in 
 purple. Thus 
 public opin- 
 ion will tend 
 to crush an 
 evil when it 
 passes be- 
 yond the 
 bounds of 
 gesthetic en- 
 durance. 
 
 There is 
 another 
 grievance 
 that must be 
 laid at the 
 door of the 
 trader. Not 
 satisfied with 
 his innova- 
 tions of ani- 
 line colors 
 and animals 
 galoi'e, both 
 of which run 
 
 at will across the fields of blankets that 
 should not be profaned by such intrusions, 
 he gave the Indians yarn from the factories 
 that have made the city of (Jermantown 
 famous. At first he gave them warp, as 
 we have seen ; then, to make the jiroduct 
 still more modernized, he furnished them 
 with a ready-made woof. What an easy 
 time for the Indian — no shearing, no bother 
 at all with the crude wool, no tedious spin- 
 ning, no dyeing; nothing to do, in fact, but 
 the actual weaving! A saving of labor to 
 the Indian, 'tis true, but oh, how n.uch the 
 beauty and artistic merit of their work has 
 suffered! Where are the variants in color 
 values that give their dye work such a 
 
 IT IS A SMALL lUC MAUK KNTIKKLY KKUM NATIKAL NATI\ K FROI>i;<TS. 
 IN' THIS FORM OF HLANKKT \VK HAVK THK K^:.S^LT OF UKCKXT TKALN- 
 ING. THE WOOL HAS KKKN WASllKl) A.M> THK NATUKAL COI.OKS HAVE 
 BEEN UTILIZED ; THESE CONSIST OF A BLACK AND A YELLOW-BKOWN, 
 FORMING A DESIGN ON A WHITE BACKGROUND." 
 
 charm? Where i.s the rough, uneven sur- 
 face with its warmth of blended fibreH? 
 Where is that iiifXplainaiili' soiiH-thiiig that 
 draws us with an irrt'sistiblf desire to the 
 native work? .Ml have vanished, and we 
 beh(»ld in the (It-rmantown blanket a tfxtih- 
 not truly Indian, but merely an exhibition 
 of his ai)ilitie.s as a weaver. 
 
 The blanki't shown on page 42 is one 
 of the most wonderful i»i«'ces of design work 
 that the Navajos have ever priMJuced. The 
 ancient cloud terraces with the zigzag 
 lightidng and the esoteric design.s of the 
 jtriesthood have a (duirm and a value that 
 are immeasurable; itut how much more in- 
 teresting it 
 would have 
 been and how 
 much greater 
 the degree of 
 ethnic i ni - 
 jiortance had 
 they but 
 made it from 
 their native 
 wool, to say 
 nothing of 
 the pleasant 
 associations 
 of such a 
 work ! The 
 <lt'signs and 
 the general 
 ensemble are 
 priceless to 
 the student, 
 but to com- 
 par e the 
 store woof 
 with the 
 primitive form would be a farce. 
 
 If we care naught for the primitive work, 
 if the desire is to j)erfect the Indian's tex- 
 tile arts along the lines of modern thought, 
 then the sooner we introduce the jiroper 
 machinery the better. I'.ut (Jod forbid that 
 such a day shouM ever dawn. .May the sun 
 never rise upon the Navajo and behold him 
 in more modenuzed condition in his Itlanket 
 work than at the pre.sent time. On the 
 contrary, let us hope that the efforts that 
 are now on foot may grow to such propor- 
 tions that the modern influence may be swept 
 away completely, and primitive ideas and 
 jirimitive work be once more the dominant 
 factor in his weaung industries. 
 
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