During the interval the patient had roused and Matt had wished to offer him a drink; there were several drinking bladders at hand.
The first one Matt picked up turned out to be charged with maple syrup, and so did the next and the next-the entire row, in fact. Then he found the one he wanted, lying on the couch. "I didn't think anything about it at the time- I was busy with the lieutenant. But this is what bothers me: He's been taking quite a lot of the syrup; you might say he's been living on nothing else. I opened the first can when we first took it to him, and I opened both the other cans myself, as needed-Th'wing couldn't cope with the can opener. So I know that the syrup was almost gone.
"Where did the rest of the syrup come from?"
"Why, I suppose the natives made it," answered Oscar. "It wouldn't be too hard to get sugar from some of the plants around here. There's a sort of grass somewhat like sugar cane, up near the Poles; they could find something of the sort."
"But, Oz, this was maple syrup!"
"Huh? It couldn't be. Your taster has gone haywire."
"It was maple, I tell you."
"Well, what if it was-mind you, I don't concede that you can get the true maple flavor this side of Vermont, but what difference does it make?"
"I think we've been overlooking a bet. You were talking about distilling alcohol; I'll bet the natives can supply alcohol in any quantities."
"Oh." Oscar thought about it. "You're probably right. They are clever about things like that-that gunk they use to jell mud and those solvents they cleaned the Tart with. Kitchen chemists."