oney Tone's
mate to souse the black mood of her mourning in the whitewash of
jealousy. "'Spect he might be married up again--mebbe. 'At boy gits
'gaged wheheveh 'at he goes."

"Is he rampagin' roun' I makes two widows stid of one does I ketch him.
Cleah outen heah!"

Honey Tone's vindictive mate craved solitude in which to enjoy the
misery of her ambition for revenge.

The Wildcat cleared out, taking with him a substantial segment of corn
bread and two hot slices of ham. "Does Honey Tone live th'oo whut de
female 'ception committee g'wine to git ready fo' him I gives him mah
Craw de Gare an' all de woun' stripes whut is."

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."

The Wildcat reclined on a pile of hickory stove-wood and went to sleep.
Sleeping was his long suit. At ten o'clock that night he woke up.

"Sho' is late. Front do' de barber shop be locked, but de back do'
ain't." The Wildcat threaded the dark streets which led to Willie
Webster's barber shop. The shave-and-haircut part of the Webster
establishment served but to camouflage the darker industries which had
their being in a room contiguous to the one where shaves were a nickel
and haircuts fifteen cents, including musk.

At the back door of the barber shop the Wildcat hesitated for a moment
in an effort to recall the secret knock which gained admittance in the
days before the war. This element of the ritual finally came to him,
and on the rough panels of the door sounded three quick raps followed
by two at more deliberate intervals.

"I gits it 'fused up wid de time I wuz outeh guard to de Lodge ob
Colored Damons. 'At knock wuz fo' an' th'ee. Fish club knock wuz two
an' two. 'Membehs dat. Dat's how de animals come off de Ark, time ob de
flood."

The door opened an inch, and the slot of light from within was
interrupted by a rolling eyeball which surmounted a pair of questioning
liver-coloured lips. "Who dat?"

"Wildcat--Vitus Marsden." The door opened quickly, and the Wildca