It's, as I
says, a drink, an' it tastes like glucose an' looks like yeast. It
comes from a plant, what the Mexicans calls 'maguey,' an' Peets
calls a 'aloe.' The pulque gatherers scoops out the blossom of the
maguey while it's a bud. They leaves the place hollow; what wood-
choppers back in Tennessee, when I'm a colt, deescribes as
'bucketin' the stump.' This yere hollow fills up with oozin' sap,
an' the Mexican dips out two gallons a day an keeps it up for a
month. That's straight, sixty gallons from one maguey before ever it
quits an' refooses to further turn the game. That's pulque, an' when
them Greasers gathers it, they puts it into a pigskin-skinned
complete, the pig is; them pulduc receptacles is made of the entire
bark of the anamile. When the pulque's inside, they packs it, back
down an' hung by all four laigs to the saddle, a pigskin on each
side of the burro. It's gathered the evenin' previous, an' brought
into camp in the night so as to keep it cool.
"When I'm a child, an' before ever I connects myse'f with the cow
trade, if thar's a weddin', we-all has what the folks calls a
'infare,' an' I can remember a old lady from the No'th who
contreebutes to these yere festivals a drink she calls 'sprooce
beer.
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