"Whuf! Ah missed de pneumonia, Backslid, but Ah sho' feels acrobatic.

How come de lady lose de bottle?"

"She done got careless when de spirits come. You better th'o 'at gla.s.sware away now an' git ready fo' tellin' de boss how you craves a porter's job."

Half an hour later, leading his mascot goat and closely convoyed by the Backslid Baptist, the Wildcat walked down the platform in the dark trainshed of the station in Chicago. Throughout the long ride down Prairie Avenue to the habitation of the forger from whom the recommending letters were to be obtained the Wildcat's woolly bean spun with the momentum which he had drained from the bottle abandoned by the careless lady in Lower 6.

An hour later, armed with five ironclad letters, he returned along the route, arriving finally at the portals of the office building on West Adams Street wherein Pullman porters are created from select brunet humanity.

Presently, across a wide desk he confronted Authority. A kindly gentleman questioned him, and to the questions he replied with an a.s.sortment of impromptu lies whose range and ingenuity busted every previous record for careless language.

Ten minutes later he was a hired man.

"C'm on heah. 'At's all." The Backslid Baptist at his elbow sensed the successful conclusion of the interview.

"You mean Ah's a porter?" the bewildered Wildcat asked when the pair had gained the street level.

"Ah'll say you is."

"An' all de tips I gits is mine to keep?"

"Dey is previdin' you gits outen yo' trance an' takes yo' cah on de 4:10."

"Hot dam, Lily! C'm on heah. Us weahs a blue coat all de time an' don't do nuthin' but spend de money whut de white folks showers down."

"You betteh make arrangements at some livery stable to p'vide board an'

room fo' Lily whilst you is A.W.O.L."

"How come? Whah at I goes de goat goes."

"Not on de Pullman run. Ah dead-heads you once, an' de goat lak to ruined eve'ybody in de cah. No suh! Kain't run no trains an' no mascot at de same time. De rule book leaves out goats, but does you lug Lily wid you, yo' fust run sho' is yo' last."

The Wildcat faced the moment of a great decision. "Den dey won't be no fust trip. Cm on heah, Lily. Much 'bliged, Baptis'. Me an' Lily looks fo' a job whah at dey ain't no rules again' mascots."

The Wildcat headed south along Michigan Avenue, and in a little while he and Lily were adrift in a sea of humanity.

The Backslid Baptist grunted his disgust and went about his own affairs.

CHAPTER VIII

At midnight the Wildcat and Lily pitched their lonely camp behind a billboard in South Chicago.

"Sho' craves mah rations. You done n.o.ble wid de gra.s.s, Lily, but Ah kain't eat gra.s.s. Seems lak you kin nutrify yo'se'f wid whuteveh vittles is laying 'round."

In the dawn the Wildcat realized that his appet.i.te had sprung up like a mushroom over night.

"Wisht us wuz back wid ol' Cap'n Jack in Memphis, whah at de ham-tree blooms th'ee times a day."

At noon his stomach was the residence of a hunger panic. With his mascot trailing behind him, he headed toward the heart of the city.

"Doggone 'at c.r.a.p-shootin' hound. How come he clean me to mah last nickel, Ah don' know. Lady Luck, whah at is you?"

An instant later, wearing a policeman's uniform and speaking a wild Irish language, Lady Luck descended upon the Wildcat. The Michigan Avenue traffic cop abandoned his post long enough to pounce upon his prey.

"What th' h.e.l.l do yez mean prowlin' round th' Loop in broad daylight wid ivery man on th' force goin' crazy lookin' f'r yez? Come along wid me."

Ten minutes later, with the echoes of the patrol gong still ringing in his ears, the Wildcat and Lily were hazed through the black portals of an unfriendly looking police station. They faced the desk sergeant.

"Boy, is your name Vitus Marsden?"

"Cap'n, yessuh. Folks gin'ally calls me Wilecat."

The desk sergeant busied himself with the telephone at his elbow. Two minutes later he turned to the Wildcat.

"Sit on that bench over there," he said.

The Wildcat sat down, and a black cloud of surmise floated across his immediate horizon.

"Lily, Ah 'spect us is 'rested mebbe on 'count ob dem pants you et offen de man in old 'partment B. Mebbe I'se took fo' 'sorbin' dem Acrobatic Spirits whut Backslid consecrated to me. Mebbe de lady wid de green chicken whut you et de feathers off ob done craved revenge. Mebbe de ol' Pullman car man aims to make you work out de price of 'at laundry you et in de linen closet."

The Wildcat had no difficulty finding a dozen good reasons for his present embarra.s.sment. He addressed a police officer near by.

"Cap'n suh, whut fo' is me an' Lily sequestered heah in de jail?"

Before the policeman could answer, the march of events made reply.

Through the swinging doors of the station filed a dozen strange looking men. These men wore baggy red trousers, and on each man's head was the red fez which marked him as being a Potent n.o.ble of the Mysterious Mecca.

They descended upon the Wildcat. "Come on here, boy. Bring that goat.

You and the mascot are due out on our special train twenty minutes from now. Here's your orders from the Pullman Company. You're on the payroll, and so is the mascot goat."

"Cap'n, suh, you means me an' Lily is headed west wid de red fezant gen'men?"

"That's it."

"Hot dam! Lily, 'tenshun! Lady Luck, how come I doubt you?"

CHAPTER IX

The Wildcat expanded in the sunlight of Lady Luck's smile.

"Lady Luck, how come I doubt you? Police folks, good-bye. Lily, 'tenshun! Come on heah. Us is a Pullman poteh. Ah craves mah rest. Le's go."