The Wildcat reached for his letter. "Gimme back dat letter. No boy f'm Alabam' is safe wid a money letter."
"How come?"
"Wust cleanin' I ever got in a' cube ruckus come off a Bummin'ham boy."
"Money come, money go. What you gonna' do when you gits yo' thousan' dollahs?"
"Fish business. I aims to start me a fried fish wagon in Poteland. Figgah out de profits. Heah's de ol' rivah dusty wid smelt fish. Heah's de Poteland niggahs cravin' to 'sorb fish mawnin', night, an' noon. I gits me some fryin' pans an' I cooks me up some fresh fish every day. Dey don't cost me nuthin'. I collects two bits a panful. 'At runs into big money."
Dwindle Daniels did some fast financial thinking.
"How does you aim to cook fish an' ketch 'em bofe, wid de Columbia river six miles f'm Poteland?"
The Wildcat hadn't thought of this detail. He made his associate a proposition.
"Dwindle, s'pose you 'filiates with me. Us ketches de fust wagon-load; den I fries fish an' collects de money whilst you ketches mo' fish."
"De fust day 'at's all right. Second day I's treasurer."