A little farther down the street the two halted. "Whah at does you live, Honey Tone?" the Wildcat inquired.
Honey Tone did not see fit to reveal the location of his present domicile. "Down de street a ways," he said.
The pair parted. "Don' fo'git mah parade-leadin' mule fo' tomorrow," Honey Tone admonished, "an' 'blige me by not referrin' no mo' to no wife whut I ain't got."
"Ah'll 'blige him," the Wildcat mentally conceded. "Afteh tomorrow Ah don't need to do no wife-referrin' 'bout Honey Tone."
The Wildcat went to sleep that night enjoying the details of a plan wherein Honey Tone's radiant future was considerably overcast by the clouds of retribution.
CHAPTER III
1.
At breakfast on the following morning he repeated his invitation to Captain Jack's cook. "Ol' Cap'n an' de Lady bofe gone away. No need you stayin' roun' here all de time. Git to de gran'stan' early an' git a front seat. Mebbe you'll meet up wid one ob mah pussonal lady fren's—Cuspidora Lee, whut I boa'ded wid befo' de wah claimed me. Cuspido' said she g'wine to weah a big pink hat wid yaller feathers. 'At's how you knows her. You sees me an' mah mascot when us swings pas' de gran' stan'. Ah'll be follerin' de Supreem Leader. He be ridin' a mule."
The Wildcat spent the next half hour festooning his mascot goat with raiment appropriate for the grand march. Lily's O.D. service coat was brightened with a red tissue paper sash. The Wildcat sewed a turkey wing fan to the mascot's overseas cap and wired the gaudy combination securely in place between Lily's horns.
"Hot dam! I says you parades." For himself he borrowed a few things which lay here and there in the trunk room of Captain Jack's house. He stowed his own paraphernalia in a gunnysack. Leading Lily, he made his way to the neighbour's woodshed wherein was stabled the overgrown night-braying mule.