LUTHER BURBANK 
of warriors with every hand against it, needs no 
such care. Every one of the fifty or more wart-like 
eyes on its every slab is competent to throw out 
a root, a fruit, or another slab—whichever the 
occasion seems to warrant. 
Lay a cactus slab on hard ground, unscratched 
by a hoe, and the eyes of its under side will throw 
long yellow roots downward, while the eyes on 
the upper side await their opportunity, once the 
slab is rooted, to throw their other slabs and their 
blossoms upward. 
As the tiny buds grow from the eyes, it is 
impossible by sight or microscopic examination to 
determine which will be roots, which will be 
fruits, or which will be other slabs. It is as though 
the cactus, inured by hardship and prepared for 
any emergency, waiis until the very last possible 
moment to settle upon the best-suited means of 
reproduction—as though the bud, having started, 
becomes a root if it finds encouragement for roots, 
or a fruit if seed seems desirable, or an upward 
slab if this can be supported. 
Nor does its attempt at reproduction require 
much encouragement. Fifty young cactus slabs 
laid on a burlap-covered wooden shelf four feet 
above ground were found to have thrown long 
roots down through the burlap and through the 
cracks of the boards within a few days. 
[24] 
