Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1892-05-20

station, an she gives IL out cola, she S
called Prescott-Mollie Prescott-an'
most likely she knows her name, an
knowed it a year ago."
AS Rosewood was historian of known
petulance, no one cared to challenge
either his facts or conclusions; so the
real name of 1.-The Cactus" was accepted
by the Cinnabar public as Prescott.
''The Cactus was personabIe lady,
comely and round; and her advent in
to Cinnabar society had caused some
thing of futter. Her mission was to
cook, and in the fulflment of her des-
tiny she presided over the range at the
o. K. Hotel. Being publicly hailed as
THE Cactus" seemed in no wise to de-
press her, and it is possible she even felt
a secret glow over an epithet which was
meant by the critical taste that awarded
it to illustrate those thOrns in her nature
which repealed and held in check the
male of Cinnabar.
Women wear jewelry in Cinnabar, and
on her first coming "The Cactus" had
many admirers. Every man in camp
loved her the moment she stepped from
the Tucson stage six months before.
From the term ''e7ery man." however,
a careful writer would except Rosewood
jim. That obdurate scientist, given as
he was to the inner workings of faro as
a philosophy, had no time for such q soft
and dulcet affair as love. Another thing,
Rosewood had scruples Of honor born Of
his business.
''Life behind a deadlock is mighty
sight too fantastic" quoth the thought
full Rosewood, ''for a family. 1t does
we'll enough for ingle-footers, which it
don't make much difference with, when
player pulls his six-shooter an sends
'em shOutin' home to heaven some abrupt.
But there amt no room for woman
with a man who turns cards as a pur-
soOt."
AS time went on, the score of lovers
who sighed on the daily trail of "The
Cactus dWiudled down to two. The
rest gave out dispirited.
''I'm clean strain enough" said Bill
Tut, in apolegetic desert ption of his
failure to persevere, "but / knows when
I've got through. I'll play a game to a
finish, but when it's down to the turn
an my last chips gone over to the
dealer, why shoves my chair back an
quits. An it's about that Away of an
concernin' my love for this yere Cactus
girl. I jest cant get her none, an that
settles it. l now drors out an gives my
seat to some one else"
'"That''s whatever" said a parsonage
known as Texas Joe, who was an inter-
ested listener to the defeated Mr.. Tut,
can you can gamble Pm with you on
them views. loves The Cactus my
se'f to a frightful degree, an thar's times
I Jest goes about whinin' for her; but
yerc awhile back I come projectin' around
her kitchen, an 'bingp comes a skillet
at my head, an that let's me out. You
bet don't pursoo them explorations
round her no more. I don't want to get
my rope onto no woman who is that cal
lous as to heave kitchen bric-a-brac at a
heart that's pantin' for her."
Two lovers still knelt at the shrine Of
"The Cactus" These were hailed by
men of Cinnabar respectively as Rice
Brown and Riley Brooks. A descrip-
ton Of one would have been a portrait
of the other. They were young, good
looking, Of the breezy Southwestern
type, tanned as to face, and 1.-the and
Timber as black snakes as to person.
These still held the affections of "The
Cactus" in siege and demanded capitula-
ton. That estimable virgin paid 40
heed to their court, nor the comment of
Unlocking Cinnabar. She pursued her
path in life even and unmoved. She
compounded her daily bread, compiled
her daily fapjacks, and broiled her daily
beefsteak ~ that simple and ingenious
process, popular in the Southwest, of
burning It ou the griddles Of her range.