service as a Pullman porter's uniform.

He made his way to the railroad station and sat down at a point where a
splash of sunlight dived into a pool of heat which radiated from the
wall of the depot. For a little while his neck muscles held his head
erect, and then, with his drooping eyelids, his head fell forward.

His meandering tongue offered an irresistible invitation to the
mumbling fly which had escaped with the Wildcat from the Sheriff's
office. The fly enjoyed the viscous environment until he succeeded in
getting himself all squashed up in an instinctive gesture back of which
were the clutching fingers of the Wildcat's swinging hand.

"Fly, how come you so confidential? 'At's mah pussonal tongue. On yo'
way." The buzzer was batted into oblivion.

A moment later the roar of an incoming train sounded in the Wildcat's
ears. "Fly sho' was handy. Sho' did me a good turn wakin' me up. Mebbe
dey's got brains just like folks, else how come dey knows when it's
train time?"

He boarded the train and settled down in a seat in the smoking car.

A Pullman porter from the twelve-wheeled battleship on the aft end of
the train came forward and encountered the Wildcat. "Mawnin', boy; whah
at you bound?"

"Poteland."

"You a Poteland boy?"

The Wildcat indulged in a little autobiography. "Not me. I 'filiates
wid de Pullman company a long time back, conveyin' a westbound carload
of Potent Nobles ob de Mystic Mecca wid blue Fezants. Us got divo'ced
somewhere. Dey an' mah mascot goat gits drug to San F'mcisco. I gits
penned up wid a rag-head Hindoo boy an' some crazy folks in anotheh
train. I jines me in a ruckus wid train robbers. Den I busts loose, an'
some Indian boys starts in to barbecue me. I swims myself free an' de
ol' Sheriff gives me a thousan' dollahs fo' ketchin' 'em. Wish they'd
been a dozen."

"Boy, I seed so many liars I got so I b'lieves lies, but yo' sho'
strains me."

The Wildcat fished around in his parade-leading Prince Albert and
produced the evidence. "Read dis letter. See does I strain you."

The infidel read the letter. He looked at the Wildcat. "Is yo' name
Vitus Marsden?"

The Wildcat acknowledged his verbal label. "Folks gin'ally knows me as
Wilecat, 'count o' me bein' de mil'tary Wilecat ob de Fust Service
Battalion in France fo' so long."

The Pullman porter extended his hand. "Sho' glad to meet up wid you,
Mistah Marsden. Mah name's Daniels. Dey gin'ally calls me Dwindle."

"Proud t