"Chu'ch is called Banded Brothehs ob de Loose Barrel Hoop. I rabbis fo' dem when I's in town. When I'se away dey's got another boy what does de rabbi work."
The chef turned to the assemblage. "Boys, meet up wid de Mud Turtle. I 'spec' some o' you all knows him. Dis heah other boy travels under de name ob de Wilecat."
A voice from a corner of the room bellered into the midst of the assemblage. "What'll it be, boys? Dis is on de Wilecat."
The Wildcat put on the financial brakes. "How come?"
"Dis heah's de initiation drink. Eve'ybody what joins de Banded Brothehs buys a drink fo' de congregation."
The Wildcat's eyes had become more accustomed to the darkness. "'Pears like I gits lifted fo' goin' on fo'ty drinks."
Presently half a dozen bottles were mingling around with the congregation, and the Wildcat's words to the Mud Turtle beside him were drowned in a chorus of gurgling throats. The gulping ceased. Out of an obscure corner of the room came the Auditor's tones. "Eighty-two dollars. Wilecat, pay me befo' de long green gits wilted."
The Wildcat was no piker, but the bill hit him pretty hard. "I's seen saloons you could buy complete fo' half de money," he remonstrated. He walked over to where a narrow square of light broke through the wall. He fished out a big roll of bills from which he proceeded to count ninety dollars. He replaced the money in his pocket. As he did so a yellow electric light flashed in another part of the room and burned steadily above a small table upon which was stretched a green cloth. A man beside the table called to the newcomer. "Wilecat, de pleasure part ob de entertainment now starts. Now you gits action."
"How come action? Action what wid?"
"Action wid de freckled bones what knows 'rithmetic."