"Smoke dis offsetteh," he said. Drifting along on a haze of conflicting aromas, the outfit arrived finally at the residence of Captain Jack. "Heah's de fifty cents," the Wildcat said to the express driver.
"Cost me dat to git de goat smell renovated off me. Wuth six bits."
"On yo' way. I'll six bits you! Quit whiffin' wid dat nose, befo' I busts yo' loose f'm it. On yo' way! C'm on, Lily."
The Wildcat spent the rest of the afternoon shuffling furniture around inside of Captain Jack's house. At four o'clock Captain Jack's wife arrived, convoying a perspiring three-hundred-pound trophy which she had been fortunate enough to capture.
"Yo' is de cook, is yo'?" the Wildcat said to the newly enthroned ruler of the kitchen.
The ebony Amazon looked at him. "Who is you?"
"I's champion ration battler ob de world. Wait till I gits back." The Wildcat returned presently with an armful of wood. "You claims you's a cook—well, woman, I lights de fiah. Den you sees kin yo'."
"Kin I what?"
"Fust yo' barbecues 'at ham hangin' theh. When Ah gits th'oo, half of it will be lef'. Whilst de ham's sizzlin' you th'ows enough cawn bread togetheh to fill de big pan. When Ah gits th'oo dey'll be half of it lef'. When de ham juice begins to git sunburned you makes some ham gravy. Ah spec' ham gravy's de fondest thing Ah is of. I says 'Howdy, ham gravy!' an' afteh me an' de vittles gits acquainted, mah appetite won't need grub no mo'n a fish needs shoes."
"Cut de ham." The Wildcat carved off five or six thick slices.