When we were there, great stacks of corn-husks were to be seen in almost every yard; these were placed on floorings, raised by posts some distance above the ground to keep them from animals.  A long ladder usually leaned against one side of the stack and a light cross of sticks stuck into the top of the stack kept off evil influences.  Sometimes this cross was cut in relief on the smooth, carefully trimmed end of the stack itself.  More striking than these stacks, and quite characteristic of the Otomi country, were the queer corn-bins or granaries called by the Aztec name cincalote.  They rose in all directions like great square columns.  The floor of boards was slightly raised from the ground by stones, and measured some 4 or 5 feet on a side; from its corners rose 4 poles, sometimes to the height of 20 feet; these were connected at the top and held firm by ropes.  The sides of the bin were built up of a cobwork of slender staves laid horizontally.  The vertical bin thus formed was filled with ears of corn roofed about with a light thatch or shingled roof.  Later in the season, as the corn was taken from these bins, the sides would have been removed piecemeal to keep progress with the diminishing hoard.  When the time of planting should be near, the whole structure but the floor and upright poles would have disappeared.

Next to maize the chief culture among the Otomis is maguey.  This forms division lines between the corn-fields and the village yards, and is sometimes, though not commonly here, planted in fields.  The maguey is an agave very close to the century-plant.  Manifold are its uses, but to the Otomi its value is chiefly in two directions.  It furnishes ixtli fibre for ayates, and it yields pulque.  For a dozen years the maguey plant stores away starchy food in its long, thick, sharp-pointed leaves.  It is the intended nourishment for a great shaft of flowers.  Finally, the flower-bud forms amid the cluster of leaves.  Left to itself the plant now sends all its reserve of food into this bud, and the great flower-stalk shoots upward at the rate of several inches daily; then the great pyramid of flowers develops.  But man interferes.  The flower-bud is cut out, and a neat, deep cup is fashioned amid the bases of the cluster of leaves.  The sap which should produce that wonderful growth is poured into this cup.  The pulque gatherer, with his long gourd collecting-tube, and skin carrying-bottle, goes from plant to plant and gathers the agua miel—­honey-water.  Fermented, it becomes the whitish, dirty, ropy, sour-tasting, bad-smelling stuff so dear to the indians.  And the Otomi are fond of pulque.  We were compelled to do our work in the mornings; in the afternoons everyone was drunk and limp and useless in the operator’s hands.