eh min', I'se got 'nuff to
start de fish business wid. Dey's a parade tonight, and us cleans up
big, sellin' fish to de parade niggers."

The pair launched into the working details of their fried fish
business.

"Wilecat, I got me some rubbah boots. Us hires a wagon and rambles over
to de C'lumbia River. We loads up on smelt fish an' rambles back. We
fries de fish in de back end ob ol' wagon on a oil stove."

"Whah at's de oil stove? Whah at's de wagon?"

"Us rents de wagon from a livery stable boy I knows, fo' four bits. I
knows where us kin git a oil stove f'm a boy on Front Street.
Temporary, that is. Oil stoves comes high now."

"Le's go."

"Wait 'til I gits my rubbah boots."

The porter reappeared from his room wearing a pair of knee-length
rubber boots.

"Sho' is de biggest boots I ever seed," the Wildcat commented.

The Wildcat held the door open until his companion had navigated the
channel with the brace of ponderous violins which festooned his feet
and trotted along towards the livery stable in cadence with the
tromping extremities of Dwindle Daniels.

"Sho' is de biggest foot caves I ever seed. Was you in de army yo'
could come from parade rest to 'tenshun without movin' dem boots."

At the livery stable Dwindle Daniels financed the rental of a light
wagon and a heavy-set mule. The Wildcat gathered up the reins. "Set
down fo' I starts," he advised. "Kain't tell about dese jug-heads."

The pair discovered presently that the mule's maker had omitted the
high gear from the animal's mechanism, and the six-mile trip was
accomplished at a four-mile gait. The mule was equally indifferent to
leather and language. "'Spec' mebbe he's delicate. Some is. Comin' back
I gits me a saplin' an' sees is he. No mule neveh konkered me yit."

They arrived presently at the bank of the fish-crowded Columbia River,
where the business of loading their wagon with smelt occupied them for
less than an hour.

"Neveh seed so many fish. Ol' river sho' is dusty wid fish. Did dese
fish have laigs a boy couldn' git down de road past 'em."

With the work of the moment completed, Dwindle Daniels obeyed some
instinct of neatness. He threaded his way out along an overhanging
piece of driftwood to the clear water of the river, wherein he proposed
to wash his hands.

The Wildcat watched him for a while and then broke into criticism. "How
come yo' so neat? Yo' acts like a barber shop boy, all de time cleanin'
up. Next thing you'