Their
mysticism was the Canyon's mysticism. I tried to write it and I
couldn't, and I tried to paint it, and I couldn't. And then one day my
mother said to me, 'Diana, nobody can interpret Indian or Canyon
philosophy. Take your camera and let the naked truth tell the story!'"
Diana paused. "I'm not clever at talking. I'm afraid I've given you
no real idea of my purpose."
"One gets your purpose very clearly, when one recalls your Death and
the Navajo, for instance, eh, Huntingdon?"
"Yes, Mr. President!"
"I suppose the two leading Indian ethnologists are Arkwind and Sherman,
of the Smithsonian, are they not, Miss Allen?" asked the President.
"Oh, without doubt! And they have been very kind to me."
The President nodded. "They both tell me that your work is of
extraordinary value. They tell me that you have actually photographed
ceremonies so secret, so mystical, that they themselves had only heard
vaguely of their existence. And not only, they say, have you
photographed them, but you have produced works of art, pictures
'pregnant with celestial fire.'"
Diana's cheeks were a deep crimson. "Oh, I deserve so little credit,
after all!" she exclaimed. "I was born in the midst of these things.
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