The Delight Makers | Page 2

daily routine, and
his method of performing the tasks before him was of the kind that
produced important results often at the expense of great suffering,
which on more than one occasion almost shut out his life.
Because not understood, The Delight Makers was not received at first
with enthusiastic favor. It seemed unlike the great student of technical
problems deliberately to write a book the layman might read with
interest and profit; but his object once comprehended, the volume was
received in the spirit in which the venture was initiated and for a long
while search for a copy has often been in vain.
Bandelier has come unto his own. More than one serious student of the
ethno-history of our Southwest has frankly declared that the basis of
future investigation of the kind that Bandelier inaugurated will always
be the writings of that eminent man. Had he been permitted to live and
labor, nothing would have given him greater satisfaction than the
knowledge that the people among whom he spent so many years are of
those who fully appreciate the breadth of his learning and who have

been instrumental in the creation, by proclamation of the President, of
the "Bandelier National Monument," for the purpose of preserving for
future generations some of the archæological remains he was the first to
observe and describe.
F. W. HODGE.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, WASHINGTON, D. C., September
25, 1916.
* * * * *
NOTE
A SPECIAL interest attaches to the illustrations, now first included in
this edition. Many of them are from photographs made by Chas. F.
Lummis in 1890, under the supervision of Bandelier, and with special
reference to "The Delight Makers," then being written. These two
friends were the first students to explore the Tyuonyi and its
neighborhood. In rain and shine, afoot, without blankets or overcoats,
with no more provision than a little atole (popcorn meal) and sweet
chocolate, they climbed the cliffs, threaded the cañons, slept in caves or
under trees, measured, mapped and photographed the ruins and
landscapes with a 40-pound camera, and laid the basis-notes for part of
Bandelier's monumental "Final Report" to the Archæological Institute
of America.
A few later photographs from the same hand show part of the
excavation done in the Tyuonyi by the School of American
Archæology--through whose loving and grateful efforts this cañon has
been set apart as a National Monument bearing the name of its
discoverer and chronicler,
ADOLF F. BANDELIER.
Thanks are due also to Hon. Frederick C. Hicks, M.C., for six very
interesting photographs of the Zuñis and their country.

* * * * *
IN MEMORY
One day of August, 1888, in the teeth of a particular New Mexico
sand-storm that whipped pebbles the size of a bean straight to your face,
a ruddy, bronzed, middle-aged man, dusty but unweary with his
sixty-mile tramp from Zuñi, walked into my solitary camp at Los
Alamitos. Within the afternoon I knew that here was the most
extraordinary mind I had met. There and then began the uncommon
friendship which lasted till his death, a quarter of a century later; and a
love and admiration which will be of my dearest memories so long as I
shall live. I was at first suspicious of the "pigeon-hole memory" which
could not only tell me some Queres word I was searching for, but add:
"Policárpio explained that to me in Cochití, November 23, 1881." But I
discovered that this classified memory was an integral part of this
extraordinary genius. The acid tests of life-long collaboration proved
not only this but the judicial poise, the marvelous insight and the
intellectual chastity of Bandelier's mind. I cannot conceive of anything
in the world which would have made him trim his sails as a historian or
a student for any advantage here or hereafter.
Aside from keen mutual interests of documentary and ethnologic study,
we came to know one another humanly by the hard proof of the
Frontier. Thousands of miles of wilderness and desert we trudged side
by side--camped, starved, shivered, learned and were Glad together.
Our joint pursuits in comfort at our homes (in Santa Fé and Isleta,
respectively) will always be memorable to me; but never so wonderful
as that companioning in the hardships of what was, in our day, the
really difficult fringe of the Southwest. There was not a decent road.
We had no endowment, no vehicles. Bandelier was once loaned a horse;
and after riding two miles, led it the rest of the thirty. So we went
always by foot; my big camera and glass plates in the knapsack on my
back, the heavy tripod under my arm; his aneroid, surveying
instruments, and satchel of the almost microscopic notes which he kept
fully and precisely every night by the camp-fire (even when