Hugh Wiley

“ The Wildcat made another futile leap at the hatch coaming, just in time to catch the impact of the wheat sack and its jingling contents.
"How come?"
Then he twisted away from there and groaned a groan in which rumbled the anguished accents of horror. In the dim light he saw Mr. Skooglund's face festooned completely by floundering salmon. Fear froze him.
"Salmon wid a man's face. I sho' is crazy."
Then to his ears from the deck of the fish wheel came the diverting tones of a voice which he had heard before. "The fat bad actor!"
"The fat bad actor!" ”

“ For the next five blocks, running something less than a mile a minute, the uplifter's brain functioned with the cunning which enables the fragrant fox to overcome the handicap with which nature has equipped him, when the hounds begin the cross country obesity cure. During this time a plan had flowered in Honey Tone's brain whereby victory might be snatched from what had looked like a total loss of all the blood that would run out of where a razor had nestled. ”

“ The Wildcat's invitation and the smell of the frying smelt won the field against the doctrines of the defeated agitator. A minute later the fish wagon was ringed about with a hundred brunet fish eaters. The riot had evaporated. Here was the end of the trail.
Serious thinking gave place to heavy eating. Crazy ideas no longer tormented heads whose owners' object in life was to eat more fried smelt than the men next to them. ”

“ A little apart from him Running Bear opened the services with a yell which echoed like a chorus from the inferno.
The Wildcat gave up hope.
"They sho' got me. What dey is I don' know. Lemme go, boys."
The smoke from a dozen fires lifted in the clearing. Staggering in from half a dozen paths came as many painted warriors, each bearing on his back a salmon nearly as long as its red-skinned carrier.
Running Bear abandoned the vernacular for a moment and dropped into English.
"The Gods of the waters have sent the salmon. The black man can feast with his red brothers." ”

“ In San Francisco the days were warm, and Lily the mascot goat had returned to her master's side.
The Wildcat was playing even in the matter of daily rations. Trailing along in the wake of a pair of the golf-playing Nobles of the Mysterious Mecca at the Lincoln Park Golf course provided a cash surplus which enabled the Wildcat to discard his winter-weight Prince Albert and to adorn his person with a retiring suit of clothes three shades lighter than a sunburned pumpkin and embellished with six-inch checks. Life wasn't so bad. Ol' railroad sleepin' car was probably doin' all right. ”

“ The Wildcat's brain could surround the eighty-dollar part, but the four-thousand end was something not yet real. He stowed the check in his pocket with the fragment of the treasury roll of the Temple of Luck.
On Saturday, unable to restrain his anxiety to see what so much money looked like, he persuaded the pier foreman to send the clerk to the bank to get the check cashed. The cash was handed to the Wildcat. He stowed it away in various pockets of the yaller suit. "Ol' money sticks out like a stole chicken. Neveh did see so much money." ”

“ In spite of his fish-distended anatomy, the Wildcat shrivelled to boy's size.
Running Bear emitted several mouthfuls of language.
"Naw suh, not me." The Wildcat denied everything. "I ain't only a field han'. Lemme by, boy. Whah at's yo' pants? How come you runnin' around nekked?"
"Waugh!"
Six Indians seized the Wildcat, and a moment later he was seated in the stern of a twenty-foot skiff, which presently embarked upon the surface of the Columbia. Beside the Wildcat sat Running Bear, speaking a fluent mixture of Flathead and Chinook. ”

“ Ignorance cursed the individual with work, but it left him free of the higher responsibilities and the more acute penalties of transgressions, and just then Honey Tone wished devoutly that he was a field hand. ”

“ While the Wildcat was doing his best to forget the cares that nominally infested his official day as porter on the Blue Fezant special car, sidetracked in San Francisco, Honey Tone Boone, the brunet uplifteh, languished in the Memphis jail.
There were two sides to every jail. To the Wildcat, the loser in the law's game generally occupied the inside. Honey Tone was different. The inside of a jail for Honey Tone was often a place of sanctuary from which the occupant might sneer serenely at the disappointed female perils who gnashed their teeth outside the bars. ”

“ Action followed the Wildcat's words, and presently the two golf balls then in use were marked with a pattern of black dots running from the gentle ace to the belligerent six spot. Thereafter the two Potent Nobles had reason to wonder at the sudden industry exhibited by their caddies, who leaped after each ball almost before the club had touched it.
"Bam! Look at that boy go, Jim! I wish we could get caddies like that in Chicago; the lazy devils never would go after a ball. These fellows are bears." ”

“ The Wildcat retreated to the safety of the tapestry curtain which hung in the doorway. There for a little while he conducted an innocent bystander business, which presently ended in disaster. Up to the moment, the Mud Turtle had been silent, but now from his throat came a yelp which drowned the rattle of the train.
The Wildcat sought to calm him down. "How come? Boy, git tame. You'll wake de white folks in dis car an' dey'll massacre you. Shut up befo' dey gits you." ”

“ Immediately thereafter he and the Wildcat set out to overtake the dining car chef, whom they had seen leaving the terminal. The Wildcat edged up beside the rabbi. "Boy," he said, "how 'bout some licker? Me an' the Mud Turtle here craves to git baptized wid a couple o' slugs o' gin. Is de gin included in de rabbi business?"
The chef looked at the Wildcat. "Us rabbis handles some gin, but it sho' comes high."
"Boy, us aims to pay high. You ain't talkin' to no busted steamboat niggahs. Us ain't fiel' han's. Me an' my podneh got money; all we craves is gin." ”

“ The Backslid Baptist grunted his reply.
The Wildcat raked down all of his winnings except a five-dollar bill. "Shoots five dollahs. Shower down. Windy talk don't shake no possums loose. Come an' git me on de top limb. Shoots five dollahs. Dynamite dice, bust de ol' safe do'. Ah craves action. Shoots ten dollahs. Fifty dollahs."
"How much you got?" A cinnamon-coloured Crœsus in the group spoke softly into the clamour.
The Wildcat turned to him. "Shoots a hund'ed does you crave speed. Shoots five hund'ed dollahs." ”

“ About his waist was the equator part of a Sam Brown belt, and from it dangled a Civil War cavalry sabre whose scabbard had suffered two coats of gilt paint, not quite dry. He retained his ordinary street shoes; life was a battle, and you never could tell when the bugles of fate might blow recall. ”

“ The Wildcat spoke lowly to the Mud Turtle. "Golf hunting? What's dis heah golfs? Neveh seed one pussonally."
"Boy, don't you know what golfs is? Sumpin' like a dog, only smaller. Born wild. Dey gin'ally gits wilder when dey grows up."
"How big does dey git?"
"Dog size—some bigger, sometimes."
"Neveh seed none in Memphis."
"Dey's tame down dere; out heah dey grows wild. Some parts, de wild golfs run 'roun' so thick a man hardly kin plough his fiel', 'thout carryin' six or eight shotguns on de plow. Dis country was 'fested wid golfs till de Indians got heah." ”

“ The Wildcat fumbled around with some oversized words, and then the real object of his speech came to him. "Dese niggers means twenty dollahs apiece—on de dock." He launched into a wild description of the New World African Colony. He pictured a life of ease in which each charter member of the colony who believed in heaven would be reluctant to trade heaven for a stevedore's career. He added the time phrase which was the essence of the whole affair. "You meets me heah tomorr' mawnin' at six o'clock. Ah leads you to de boat whah you sees how fas' kin' you git de freight aboa'd. ”

“ In the woodshed back of Captain Jack's house the mascot Lily patiently awaited her proprietor.
"Blaa!" she said in greeting when the Wildcat appeared.
"Whut yo' mean? How come you always craves nutriment?" the Wildcat demanded. "Heah." He gave the goat a fragment of corn bread. "Whuf! de ol' cawn pone sho' is fillin'. I sleeps me now fo' a little while. Den I goes downtown an' says Howdy to de boys. Lily, lay off dat hat! Eat de ham grease offen it does yo' crave to, but ca'm yo' se'f when yo' gits to de hat part." ”

“ Shoots two hundred dollars. De gin dice makes de big boy sick. Fade me, ol' mule-lip. What fo' is yo' mouth draggin'?"
A look of doubt began to travel across the Spindlin' Spider's features, but the moral pressure of the crowd about him forced him into the slaughter house. He counted two hundred dollars from his roll and laid it beside the Wildcat's stake.
The Wildcat breathed the hot breath of hope upon the twin cubes in his hand. "Lady dice, git lovely. Snake babies, coil 'roun' de coin. Grub cubes, 'semble yo' rations! ”

“ He calmed down sufficiently to choke some language out of his vocal organs.
"Yo' sho' looks neat now. Ain't seed such a ruckus since de flood hit Memphis. I knowed dem was hoodoo boots. Bam! Down yo' goes like a ol' hell diver. Mawnin'! Up yo' comes like a ol' mud turtle. Git in de wagon, Mud Turtle. On de way home you dries out. Leave dat mud git dry befo' you tries to brush it off."
Dwindle Daniels spent an hour on the way home in hatching himself out of a shell of mud.
"Neveh min', ol' Mud Turtle," the Wildcat comforted. "Us cleans up big money when us sells dese fish tonight." ”

“ Does us see another rabbi walkin' down de main street us better take de alley fo' he sees us. Dem rabbi boys is just like a ticket to de po' house. Dem ginagogue gin rabbis is de wust of all."
At eleven o'clock the pair landed at the ferry building in San Francisco. As a precaution against lunch money, they saved the change from Mud Turtle's half dollar and walked towards the centre of the town.
They landed finally in Union Square.
The Wildcat flopped down on the grass, and the Mud Turtle joined him. "Mud Turtle, what's dat big house oveh there?" He pointed at the St. Francis Hotel. ”

“ Chances is he starts de rabbi business soon as he gits his apron off. I depends on him fo' gin. I's jined up wid de chu'ch when I was sixteen, but now I aims to git backslid back enough to take de road what leads into dis rabbi place. You goes in an' takes off yo' hat, an' as quick as you gits baptized, the ol' preacheh says, 'Boys, what'll it be?' I says, 'Make mine gin.' Ol' Mud Turtle say, 'Make mine gin.' We says 'at 'bout six times, an' away us goes lookin' fo' Lily. At's better'n any business talk you'se talkin'."
"I'll say so, Wilecat—fo'get de business. Us has money, anyhow. ”

“ Every time dey shoots 'at ball, s'posin' you an' me shoots ten cents?"
"How come, Wilecat? You knows us cain't monkey wid dis huntin' game."
"I don't mean monkey wid de huntin'," the Wildcat returned. "Is you got a lead pencil? 'Sposin' us marks de li'l white balls wid de dice freckles an' reads 'em when dey drops. Fust you take one time, den I takes anotheh. Us plays some mountain dominoes. Got to do sumpin', else us goes to sleep. Den like as not some ragin' golf sneak up an' eat yo' innards fo' you has a chance to wake up. Le's try shootin' some sevens at de scenery." ”

“ I's due out on de Fliah fo' Chicago at two-fo'ty. Any time yo' craves a ramble on de cushions, roun' me up. Ah stakes yo' to a white coat an' yo' is aced in as mah helpeh. Pullman service is crammed wid dead-head helpehs now de Guv'ment's runnin' de lines. An' Boy—once us 'rives at Chicago de gran' ruckus begins!"
"Backslid, 'at sho' sounds noble. Some day me an' Lily sho' make a trip wid you."
The Wildcat and his former associate were interrupted by Honey Tone Boone. "Wilecat, you's de Supreem Arrangeh, ain't you? Roun' up de humans. Fawm de parade. Us starts." ”

“ Here's de ocean an' here's San F'mcisco bay crowded wid fish. 'Spose us gits a wagon an' some hooks fo' ketchin' fish an' comes home eve'y day wid a wagon load."
"Don' say fish to me, boy! All de bad luck I'se had lately come f'm fish. See kin you talk 'bout some good-luck business does yo' crave to. Ah ain't got oveh mah fish luck yit."
"How 'bout de boot-leggin' business, Wilecat? Dey sho' is big money in dat."
"Nobody to sell to no mo'. Eve'ybody's boot-leggin' now. You steps up to a man on de street an' says 'How 'bout it?' an' he thinks you's tryin' to buy. Eve'ybody's boot-leggin'! ”

“ On the street the Wildcat set the course toward Twelfth Street. His companion pounded along as best he could for a while and then voiced a protest. "What for is you got such a hot foot?"
"Come on heah, ol' Mud Turtle. I craves to meet up wid dat Lily goat befo' any mo' calamity ketches up wid me."
"Whah you spec' to fin' dat doggone goat?"
"San F'mcisco some place. Ah tol' you once. De Blue Fezant boys went to San F'mcisco on de train, an' de las' I seed ob Lily she was penned up along wid 'bout nine ob dem boys. 'At goat's in San F'mcisco." ”

“ The pier foreman ran his eye over the crowd without answering. He disappeared into the office, where he spoke quickly to his clerk. "Cut all the labour-grabbers off the payroll. Call 'em in. Here's more men than I've seen in a year."
Outside there began the brief business of distributing the new supply of much-needed labour. This accomplished, the Wildcat came in for his share of attention. "We can use another gang like this. Can you get 'em by tomorrow?"
"Cap'n, suh, Ah gits fo' times dis many does you crave 'em. ”

“ The Wildcat returned to the smoking room. "Boy in de 'partment room whut gobbles lak a turkey says, 'Press de clo'es, boy, an' heah's a dollah.' Dollah, how is you? Sho' is easy money."
"English boy. Dey's de clo'es-pressin'est folks in de world, 'ceptin' actors."
"Whah at does I git dese fixed up?"
"No place. Hang de coat up. Sprinkle de pants wid wateh an' lay 'em undeh a pile ob sheets in de linen closet. By mornin' dey's pressed. You charges anotheh dollah."
"Sho' is easy money." The Wildcat hung the Britisher's coat and vest in the smoking room. ”

“ Mebbe when I comes back heah nex' time us starts some business. Not now. Naw, suh—not me!"
"Wilecat, some business ain't so bad. All you does is set dere an' take in de money."
"All you does is set dere, you mean, an' listen' to some triflin' niggah wantin' groceries or mebbe wantin' to eat whilst you supplies free grub, does you run a restaurant. Dem boys what buys easy never is got money. Naw, suh, I don't want no business, Mud Turtle. All I want is Lady Luck an' mah mascot goat."
The Mud Turtle continued his business dream without paying much attention to the Wildcat's arguments. ”

“ The Wildcat picked up Captain Jack's bed-roll from the floor beside the lunch counter in the Memphis station. He accumulated Lily from where the travelworn mascot goat was tethered to an adjoining stool. Together they walked from the lunch room in which he had sought refreshment after an arduous ride from San Francisco to Memphis.
"Come on heah, Lily. Ol' Cap'n Jack an' de lady done went home in a takes-a-grab. Boy takes a grab at yo' money, an' if deys any lef', you gives it to a policeman fo' arrestin' him. Us rides a 'spress wagon." ”

“ Honey Tone Boone, the uplifter, trailed along with the policeman.
The Wildcat, with his mascot goat close beside him in the shadows of the entrance to the ball park, witnessed the consummation of his plans. "Ah'll say I's de Supreem Gran' Arrangeh!" he exulted. "Grandes' 'rangeh whut is! Eve'ything sho' is 'ranged noble."
He tied a leading-string around the mascot's neck. "Come on heah, Lily. Us fades befo' Honey Tone busts loose f'm de jail. Us rides de Fliah to Chicago wid ol'Backslid. He's mah fren'. Le's go!"
CHAPTER IV
"Memphis, let me miss you! ”

“ I been clear from downtown out to de Presidio whah at dey keeps de ahmy boys an' de gin'rals. I seed 'at town befo'."
The Mud Turtle grunted. "You ain't seed nuthin'. 'At town's ten times 'at big. Was Lily fo' years ol' when you started lookin' she'd be eight hund'ed fo' you foun' her, 'less you had luck."
"Does I fin' her I gits all de luck I needs. Us wins bofe ways, 'cause all de bad luck I could git wouldn't be no worse'n what us has now. I'se plum busted. How is you?" ”

“ The Sheriff's office at The Dalles was a comfortable place wherein to wait for the thousand-dollar reward which Lady Luck had showered down on her prodigal protégé.
Half asleep, the Wildcat mumbled to a buzzing fly. "'At's it. Tryin' to bust yo' brains out on de window glass. 'At's how come you ain't got none. Cravin' to git loose all de time. S'pose you git loose? Whah at would you go? Some ol' spidah'd git you de fust mile. Ca'm yo'se'f. Heah you is in de sunshine an' all warmed up. You jess like folks—neveh knows when you's lucky." ”

“ Lily, 'tenshun! Come on heah. Us is a Pullman poteh. Ah craves mah rest. Le's go."
Surrounded by an escort of Potent Nobles of the Mysterious Mecca, the Wildcat marched from the portals of the Chicago police station, headed for a west-bound train wherein he aimed to do the best he could in the rôle of porter for his carload of nobles. ”

“ The Wildcat threw back his head and addressed the gathering in the barber shop. "Company, 'tenshun! All de niggahs in de room whut's gwine to jine de gran' parade, fall out de do' an' fall in!" He led the rush for the exit. Outdoors he repeated the announcement. "Gran' parade led by Honey Tone Boone. Followin' me an' Lily comes de brass ban'. Den comes de Sons ob Damon. Sons ob Damon wearin' de yellah belly ban's walks ahead. Followin' de Sons ob Damon, de Knights wid de Red Pants falls in. Parade marches fo' an' fo', ladies outside. ”

“ Dangling from his fingers and carried in his arms were a dozen pairs of shoes.
He threw the shoes down on the end seat in the smoking room. "Start to work on de shoes, Wilecat. Don' do nothin' to de new shoes—much—an' hit de ol' ones light. De middle-grade shoes gits a good shinin'. Folks whut weahs middle-grade shoes is ol'-time travellers an' gin'ally comes up strong wid de income tax fo' us boys."
The bell in the passageway sounded its summons.
"Doggone! See who dat is."
The apprenticed Wildcat read the indicator. "Ain't no numbeh. ”