ing that I now have at some expense put a
ballroom into my hotel at Patagonia, in which are held at times social
dances which most of the young folk of the county attend, the liquor
element being entirely absent, of course.[2]

Besides paying a heavy license for the privilege of selling liquor in my
Tucson dance hall, I was compelled every morning, in addition, to pay
over $5 as a license for the dance-hall and $1.50 collector's fees,
which, if not paid out every morning as regularly as clockwork, would
have threatened my business. I did not complain of this tax; it was a
fair one considering the volume of trade I did. But my patronage grew
and grew until there came a day when "Cady's Place," as it was known,
was making more money for its owner than any similar establishment in
Arizona. The saloon-keepers in Tucson became inordinately jealous and
determined to put an end to my "luck," as they called it. Accordingly,
nine months after I had opened my place these gentlemen used their
influence quietly with the Legislature and "jobbed" me. The license was
raised for dance halls at one bound to $25 per night. This was a
heavier tax than even my business would stand, so I set about at once
looking for somebody on whom to unload the property. I claim
originality, if not a particular observance of ethics, in doing this.

One day a man came along and, when he saw the crowd in the hall,
suggested that I sell him a share in the enterprise.

"No," I replied, "I'll not sell you a share; but, to tell you the truth,
I'm getting tired of this business, and want to get out of it for good.
I'll sell you the whole shooting-match, if you want to buy. Suppose you
stay tonight with my barkeep and see what kind of business I do."

He agreed and I put two hundred dollars in my pocket and started around
town. I spent that two hundred dollars to such good purpose that that
night the hall was crowded to the doors. The prospective purchaser
looked on with blinking eyes at the thought of the profits that must
accrue to the owner. Would he buy the place? Would he? Well, say--he was
so anxious to buy it that he wanted to pass over the cash when he saw me
counting up my takings in the small hours of the morning. The takings
were, I remember, $417. But I told him not to be in a hurry, to go home
and sleep over the proposition and come back the next day.

After he had gone the collector came around, took his $26.50 and
departed. On his heels came m