138 WITH THE FLOWERS AND TREES 



Aztec word Indians and Mexicans call various 

 species of Agave, which abound in the Southwest- 

 ern deserts. The California species grows on the 

 sun-scorched slopes of the sierra foothills that give 

 on the Colorado desert. It is a wild cousin of the 

 century plant of our gardens, and, like it, radiates 

 fat, olive-green leaves stiletto-pointed. For years 

 the plant's stock of energy is expended on the devel- 

 opment of these leaves a cheval-de-frise of protec- 

 tion to the secret it carries at its heart. Then some 

 day in early March a new impulse causes a bud as 

 big as your fist to push out from the center of the 

 foliage. If not disturbed, this bud would develop 

 in a few weeks into a tall stalk surmounted by a 

 panicle of white flowers, but long before this can 

 happen, the news of the budding has spread through- 

 out the Indian rancherias, and from all directions 

 come Indians men, women and children on foot 

 and on horseback and in wagons, to camp at the 

 mescal patches and make harvest of the swelling 

 lusciousness. At a certain stage of their develop- 

 ment, the buds are cut out and placed in pits previ- 

 ously lined with stones and made hot by great bon- 

 fires burned within them. The buds are then cov- 

 ered over with leaves, earth and more hot stones, 

 and left for several days to steam within. Upon 

 uncovering the pits, the mescal is found thoroughly 



