126 IDLE DAYS IN PATAGONIA 



My own attempts at chewing maken have, so 

 far, proved signal failures. Somehow the gum 

 invariably spreads itself in a thin coat over the 

 interior of my mouth, covering the palate like a 

 sticking-plaster and enclosing the teeth in a stub- 

 born rubber case. Nothing will serve to remove 

 it when it comes to this pass but raw suet, vigor- 

 ously chewed for half an hour, with occasional 

 sips of cold water to harden the delightful mix- 

 ture and induce it to come away. The culmina- 

 tion of the mess is when the gum spreads over 

 the lips and becomes entangled in the hairs that 

 overshadow them ; and when the closed mouth has 

 to be carefully opened with the fingers, until these 

 also become sticky and hold together firmly as if 

 united by a membrane. All this comes about 

 through the neglect of a simple precaution, and 

 never happens to the accomplished masticator, 

 who is to the manner born. When the gum is 

 still fresh occasionally it loses the quality of stiff- 

 ness artificially imparted to it, and suddenly, with- 

 out rhyme or reason, retransforms itself into the 

 raw material as it came from the tree. The adept, 

 knowing by certain indications when this is about 

 to happen, takes a mouthful of cold water at the 

 critical moment, and so averts a result so dis- 

 couraging to the novice. Maken-chewing is a 

 habit common to everybody throughout the entire 

 territory of Patagonia, and for this reason I have 

 described the delightful practice at some length. 



When disinclined for gum-chewing I ramble for 



