"Goat, doggone you, whut fo' did you go A.W.O.L. an' git us bofe loose f'm dat railroad job? Heah us is wid only fo' bits, an' all yo' fault."
Lily admitted the charge in a plaintive bleat which softened the harsh language which her master was bellowing at his mascot in the din of Market Street. Presently the Wildcat forgot the acute misery of not having any hard work staring him in the face. "Us has fo' bits. 'Ats mo' money dan mos' folks has. Lily, us eats.
"I don't bother work, work don't bother me.
I'se fo' times as happy as a bumble bee.
Us eats when us kin git it, sleeps mos' all de time—"
At a lunch counter on Sutter Street much frequented by members of his race the Wildcat spread the fifty cents out over rations that made up in mass what they lacked in delicacy. Half way through the meal he slacked up enough to get talkative. The boy next to him at the lunch counter was confronted with enough food to hold him for a few minutes; and it was at this more fortunate individual that the Wildcat directed his remarks. "Podneh, whah at kin a boy locate a job of work in dis yere town?"
"Whah you f'm?"
"Me an' mah mascot hails f'm Memphis."
"How come you so fah f'm home?"
"Boy, whah at did you meet up wid so much wantin' to know?"