"Met up wid a Spindlin' boy what hit me wid some C.O.D. dice. Cleaned me."
"Sho' ha'd luck. You sho' got action. Neveh min', I'se got 'nuff to start de fish business wid. Dey's a parade tonight, and us cleans up big, sellin' fish to de parade niggers."
The pair launched into the working details of their fried fish business.
"Wilecat, I got me some rubbah boots. Us hires a wagon and rambles over to de C'lumbia River. We loads up on smelt fish an' rambles back. We fries de fish in de back end ob ol' wagon on a oil stove."
"Whah at's de oil stove? Whah at's de wagon?"
"Us rents de wagon from a livery stable boy I knows, fo' four bits. I knows where us kin git a oil stove f'm a boy on Front Street. Temporary, that is. Oil stoves comes high now."
"Le's go."
"Wait 'til I gits my rubbah boots."
The porter reappeared from his room wearing a pair of knee-length rubber boots.
"Sho' is de biggest boots I ever seed," the Wildcat commented.