"Car, howdy. Lily, git aboa'd."
"Slip out and get me a box of cigars before we leave."
A Potent Noble shoved a banknote at the Wildcat.
"Cap'n, yessuh. Would you mind tyin' Lily on de front vegetable ob de car till I gits back?"
Twelve minutes later, carrying in his hand a box of cigars, the Wildcat's second entrance was blocked by a ticket chopper who had a square jaw and a sense of duty.
"Where's your ticket?"
"Ain't got no ticket. I's de poteh wid de Mysterious Mecca gen'men. Le' me by."
"Don't try to pull none o' that stuff around me."
"Man, leave me by!"
Armed with the conviction of authority and clad in a parade-leading Prince Albert whose brass buttons reassured him, the Wildcat violated one of the first principles of his life, which was never to oppose a white man. He slid past the ticket chopper, ducked into the gate, and boarded the train wherein rolled the Mazeppa. He caught a tourist Pullman three cars apart from the rolling residence of the Mysterious Mecca delegation and landed breathless in the open vestibule.