red "lucky" for a gambler. Though not superstitious, I
believed in this luck of mine, and this is probably the reason that it
held good for so long. If of late various things, chiefly the mining
depression, have made my fortunes all to the bad, I am no man to whine
at the inevitable. I can take my ipecac along with the next man!

There were few men in the old days in Phoenix, or, indeed, the entire
Territory, who did not drink liquor, and lots of it. In fact, it may be
said that the entire fabric of the Territory was constructed on liquor.
The pioneers were most of them whiskey fiends, as were the gamblers.
By this I am not defending the liquor traffic. I have sold more liquor
than any man in Arizona over the bar in my life-time, but I voted dry at
the last election and I adhere to the belief that a whiskey-less Arizona
will be the best for our children and our children's children.

[Illustration: THE OLD WARD HOMESTEAD, WHERE CADY KEPT STORE DURING THE
BUILDING OF THE SANTA FE RAILROAD]

During my residence in Phoenix Darrel Dupper, the man who had christened
the town, became one of my best friends. He kept the post and trading
store at Desert Station, at which place was the only water to be found
between Phoenix and Wickenburg, if I remember correctly. The station
made him wealthy. Dupper was originally Count Du Perre, and came of a
noted aristocratic French family. His forefathers were, I believe,
prominent in the court of Louis XIV. When a young man he committed some
foolhardy act in France and was banished by his people, who sent him a
monthly remittance on condition that he get as far away from his home as
he could, and stay there. To fulfill the terms of this agreement Du
Perre came to Arizona among the early pioneers and soon proved that he
had the stuff of a real man in him. He learned English and Americanized
his name to Dupper. He engaged in various enterprises and finally
started Desert Station, where he made his fortune.

He was a curious character as he became older. Sometimes he would stay
away from Phoenix for several months and then one day he would appear
with a few thousand dollars, more or less, spend every cent of it in
treating the boys in my house and "blow back" home again generally in my
debt. He used to sing La Marseillaise--it was the only song he knew--and
after the first few drinks would solemnly mount a table, sing a few
verses of the magnificent revolutionary song, call on me to do likew