the opening, he would rest for a moment, with his body just half out, while he scanned the horizon to see where the enemy was. That was the supreme moment for both rat and Apache, and, with scarcely any percentage of errors worth mentioning, the Apache was nearly always successful. He would quickly and powerfully draw the stick towards him and break the back of the poor rodent, and in another second have it dangling from his belt. One gash of the knife would eviscerate the little animal, and then it was thrown upon a bed of hot coals, which speedily burned off all the hair and cooked it as well.
The above completed the list of meats of which use was made, unless we include the horses, cows, oxen, donkeys, sheep, and mules driven off from Mexicans and Americans, which were all eaten as great delicacies. Some few of the meats prepared by the Apache cooks are palatable, and I especially remember their method of baking a deer's head surrounded and covered by hot embers. They roast a side of venison to perfection over a bed of embers, and broil liver and steak in a savory manner; but their bonne bouche, when they can get it, is an unborn fawn, which they believe to be far more delicious than mule meat.
The mainstay of the Apache larder was always the mescal, or agave—the American aloe—a species of the so-called century plant. This was cut down by the squaws and baked in "mescal-pits," made for all the world like a clam-bake. There would be first laid down a course of stones, then one of wet grass, if procurable, then the mescal, then another covering of grass, and lastly one of earth. All over Arizona old " mescal-pits" are to be found, as the plant was always cooked as close as possible to the spot where it was cut, thus saving the women unnecessary labor.
Three days are required to bake mescal properly, and, when done, it has a taste very much like that of old-fashioned molasses candy, although its first effects are those of all the aloe family. The central stalk is the best portion, as the broad, thorny leaves, although yielding a sweet mass, are so filled with filament that it is impossible to chew them, and they must be sucked.
The fruit of the Spanish bayonet, when dried, has a very pleasant taste, not unlike that of a fig. It can also be eaten in the raw or pulpy state, but will then, so the Apaches tell me, often bring on fever.
