iar ob de world. Sounds Democrat to
me. Don' make no difference, though--just so's I gits de job."

CHAPTER VII

Zing!

The owner of the red fez and the night-blooming hiccoughs craved
another pillow and a table. The Wildcat delivered the table and fixed
it into place. He returned to the linen closet to retrieve a pillow
case therefrom. When the door opened, Lily the mascot goat, tired of
the dark confines of her retreat, burst forth and galloped down the
aisle of the car.

The Wildcat abandoned his pillow case industry and spent the next two
minutes in rounding up his protege.

"You ramblin' wreck, come back heah befo' Ah makes a rug out ob yo'
skin."

He returned Lily to her jail and proceeded to deliver the second pillow
to the owner of the alcohol snorts. In common with the rest of the
occupants of the car, that individual voiced his curiosity concerning
the animated mascot.

"Son, who owns the goat?"

"Cap'n, suh, Ah owns him now, but some slaughter house man gwine to git
him 'less he ca'ms down."

"What'll you take for him?"

The Wildcat suddenly remembered his financial status. Hard money at the
moment made a strong appeal.

"Cap'n, suh, you means you craves to buy 'at goat?"

In the mind of the Potent Noble of the Mysterious Mecca had bloomed a
Great Idea, wherein the galloping Lily would provide entertainment in
carload lots for the Convention-bound brethren of the Conclave.

"Some days Ah'd sell 'at goat fo' a thin dime. Otheh days Ah'd give a
boy a hund'ed dollahs for killin' him."

"What'll you take for him cash down, f.o.b. Lower 7, car Mazeppa?"

The Wildcat studied for a moment, and then long months of association
clinched the tie which Lady Luck had woven between him and the prodigal
Lily.

"Cap'n, suh, Ah spec' Ah wouldn't sell 'at goat fo' mo'n a million
dollahs. Me an' Lily fit so many battles togetheh in France and on
boa'd de ol' iron boat comin' home 'at Ah kain't see no money big
enough to 'suage mah grief is we divo'ced. Bible says, 'Whither the
goat goes, me too.' 'Spec Ah kain't sell him."

The companion Noble across the table from the hiccoughing gentleman
offered a suggestion. "Round 'em both up for the trip. The Pullman
gang'll fix it for us."

"Good scheme, Jim. The old bean isn't any too clear this morning or I'd
thought of that myself." The owner of the red fezant turned to the
Wildcat.

"What's your name, son?"

"Dey named me Marsden, suh--Vitus Marsd