Dwindle Daniels at the moment was meshed in the net of official business.

To pa.s.s the time the Wildcat got fraternal with a languid brunet known as the Spindlin' Spider. The Spider's loose anatomy was draped with a complicated checked suit.

"Pardner, whah at kin a boy git a slug ob gin?"

"Cuba, mebbe. Gin comes high 'round heah, I knowed one drink to cost a boy ninety days."

"Ninety days, ninety dollars. Sometimes ol' square face gin sho' is worth it."

"Does yo' crave licker ten dollars' worth, sometimes dey's a white mule hitched in de back room."

The Wildcat pulled off a diplomatic b.o.n.e.r. He displayed his thousand dollar roll and peeled therefrom a ten-dollar bill.

"Whah at kin I trade dis frog skin fo' a ra'r o' licker?"

Internally the Spindln' Spider suddenly awakened. He showed no outward sign of the agitation which the sight of the money had inspired, but for half an hour he played heavy politics, and thereafter, in a company of half a dozen hard-boiled c.r.a.p shooters, the Wildcat began to pay for the indiscreet display of his cash.

"Leave dis Pullman boy take a r'ar at de clickers."

"'At's me. Hand me dem bones. C.O.D.--come on, dice! Field han's, rally round. Shoots fifty dollars. Shower down, brothers. Eagle bones, see kin you fly. Bam! I reads seven. I lets it lay. Shoots a hund'ed dollars! Fade me crazy, folks, fade me! Bam! I reads six--four. Slow death. Resurrection dice, an' I reads four--six."

The Wildcat hauled down part of his winnings.

"Shoots a hundred dollahs. Shower down, brothers. Spark in de powdeh!

Both barrels. Right an' left. Bam! An' dey reads 'leven. Mowin' money.

Us does a cash business. I lets it lay. Shower down yo' money!"

The Spindlin' Spider faced the Wildcat. "Boy, you donates."

"Don't sa.s.s me. Headed home wid feathers in yo' teeth. Telegraph dice, click fo' de coin. Bam!"

The Spider exercised his privilege of grabbing the dice before they had stopped rolling. As far as the Wildcat's naked eye could see, the same dice were rolled back at him, but as a matter of fact the Wildcat's dice nestled close against the epidermis of the Spindlin' Spider's right palm.

The dice that had been returned were festooned with misfortune. The Wildcat had overlooked a bet. He curried the gallopers to blood heat in his magenta palm. "Houn' dog headed home wid rabbit hair in yo' teeth!

Turkey dice, gobble dat coin. Bam!--How come!"

An ace-deuce bloomed in the garden of chance.

The Spindlin' Spider faced the Wildcat. "Loses nuthin' but yo' money, boy. Roll 'em."

The Wildcat clipped his roll for another hundred. "Shoots a hund'ed.

Shower down, fiel' han's! Dice hammer, drive de gold spike! Ten-o-see!

An' I reads ace-dooce. How come I miss?"

The Spider repeated his comforting reminder: "Loses nuthin' but yo'

money, brother. Roll 'em."

The Wildcat pared another stratum from his dwindling roll. "Shoots a hund'ed dollars. Gra.s.s cuttehs, reap dem greens! Fade me an' die poor.

Bam! An' I reads--ace-dooce! Doggone, how come I set fire to de Chris'mus tree?"

"Ca'm yo'se'f." The Spindlin' brother dished out a little advice as he picked up his winnings. "What fo' you talk so much? You must think dis is a peace conflooence. Roll 'em."

Starting in the sunshine of Lady Luck's smile, the Wildcat cleared the hurdles of financial ruin and rambled into the stretch soggy with a cloudburst of hard luck. He staked his last pair of ten dollar bills on a throw whose momentum carried him to the cleaners.

The Spindlin' Spider urged him to lay further contributions on the altar of chance.

"I'se done. How come? Neveh seed such a hog for money. I'se cleaned now an' hung on de line. All I craves is five minutes wid Lady Luck, so I kin beat dat woman to death."

Thereafter for half an hour the Wildcat flopped dejected and inert in a chair in the lobby of the ramshackle hotel.

He tried vainly to borrow lunch money from the victorious Spindlin'

Spider. "Ain't puttin' out nuthin' today." The Spider exhibited a heart of flint.

"Dem train robbehs sho' kain't learn yo' nuthin'." The Wildcat subsided in his chair. "Wish't ol' Cap'n Jack was here. Wish't dat doggone mascot goat hadn't lost me."

The lobby of the hotel was warm, and presently the pain of the Wildcat's financial bruises dissolved in the heated air. "Anyhow, I don't botheh work, work don't botheh me. I lost my money when de bones read three--

"I eats when I kin git it, I sleeps mos' all de time.

I don' give a doggone If de sun don't neveh shine."

The Wildcat's head dropped forward, and presently he was doing the best he could to sleep for ever.

CHAPTER XII

The Wildcat's siesta was interrupted by a rumbling voice which emanated from a chesty policeman who was engaged in dishing out a little earnest advice to the proprietor of the hotel. The officer raised his voice for the benefit of the brunet a.s.semblage.

"Trouble is trouble. If yez have business on th' street, attind to ut, but save th' loafin' f'r another day. Wid all thim I.W.W. bugs, this nigrah parade tonight is apt to flash into a race riot. If it does, th'

chief ain't goin' to stan' no foolin'. The guns'll begin barkin' worse than a Chinee New Year. Don't look for no trouble an' you won't find it. You boys ain't much in favour in this town right now, an' wan false move in tonight's parade might make a stampede out of it, wid all th'

dark complexions in town three jumps ahead of some red-hot buckshot."

The Wildcat shrivelled up in his chair. The policeman's warning made him homesick. He resolved to stick close to the home plate. "Ah don't crave no paradin' roun' whah at white folks is. Dese uppity yaller n.i.g.g.ahs sho' heads fo' trouble when dey starts speakin' white folks'

talk. Wish't ol' Cap'n Jack was here. He'd sho' learn 'em, did dey start sumpin'. Like as not ol' Cap'n Jack tear down a lamp post an'

beat de parade ovah de head wid it. Parades is all right fo'

crematizin' ceremonies. All right fo' de Ahmy boys. All right fo'

funerals an' lodges. Outside o' dat dey's dangerous. Me, Ah sees kin I sleep me some mo'."

His slumbers were again interrupted by the entrance of the porter whose acquaintance he had made en route from The Dalles to Portland.

"Boy, howdy."

The Wildcat sat up and blinked a pair of heavy lids over his bulging eyes. "Doggone if it ain't mah ol' fish podneh. Sho's glad to meet up wid you. How is you?"

"Tol'able, 'ceptin' I's rushed. Us got to work dis fish business fast.

I don't git me no lay-over. Ol' Pullman boy's done switched me to de midnight run fo' San F'mcisco on de train what leaves at one o'clock in de mawnin'. Dat's why I ain't change' my unifawm. How is you? Did de man give you de money fo' de train robbeh letter?"