In preparation for the festival a gigantic heap of dry wood is gathered from the desert.

At the appointed moment the great pile of inflammable brush is lighted and in a few moments the whole of it is ablaze.

Storms of sparks fly 100 feet or more into the air, and ashes fall about like a shower of snow.

The ceremony always takes place at night and the effect of it is both weird and impressive.
"Just when the fire is raging at its hottest a whistle is heard from the outer darkness and a dozen warriors, lithe and lean, dressed simply in narrow white breech-cloths and moccasins and daubed with white earth so as to look like so many living statues, come bounding through the entrance to the corral that incloses the flaming heap.

Yelping like wolves, they move slowly toward the fire, bearing aloft slender wands tipped with balls of eagle-down.