The Wildcat drove to the livery stable. The Mud Turtle, seated beside him, spent the time en route to the place in scraping the mud from his southern hemisphere.

At the livery stable he removed his ponderous rubber boots and sloshed his feet with a hose. He paid the rent for the mule and wagon. "Heah's fo' bits mo'. Take dat oil stove back to dat sto' by de riveh," he directed.

Carrying the boots in his hand, he walked beside the Wildcat toward the ramshackle hotel below Burnside Street.

In the cold night a summary of the day's misfortunes settled heavily on the marching pair. "Sho' turned out rough," the Mud Turtle remarked.

The Wildcat sought a smile in the frown which had gathered on Lady Luck's features.

"Sho' might been worse. S'posin' you'd been drowned in de riveh. S'posin' dat policeman had took me to jail. S'posin' I'd a had two thousan' dollars 'stid o' one when 'at boy cleaned me. Naw, suh! Us is half lucky. Wish't I could meet up wid 'at boy now an' give him a ride wid a pair o' taper bones like de Backslid Baptis' used to make."

The Mud Turtle looked sideways at the Wildcat. "Boy, you an' me is podnehs. Confidential, I tells you does you crave taper bones I has me a pair."

"Is you? Lemme see, Mud Turtle, lemme see!"

The porter fished around in an inside pocket of his soggy uniform and produced a pair of green dice.

"Heah dey is. I dassn't use 'em. Ain't learned de thumb twist yit, an' dey sho' means trouble is you ketched workin' 'em."

"Gimme dem bones, boy. I craves trouble wid dat Spindlin' niggah what cleaned me. Gimme ten dollahs. Pray to Lady Luck to have dat boy waitin' at de hotel. By rights 'at's my money. Does I meet up wid dat boy I sho' cleans him rough!"

The Mud Turtle handed the dice and ten-dollar bill to the Wildcat. "Lady Luck don't have to do nuthin'. That boy nevah is anywhere else 'cept at de hotel. Does you start sumpin' finish quick! It's midnight now, an' 'at San F'mcisco train pulls out at one o'clock."

The Wildcat paid no heed to his companion's words. He was engaged in twisting the dice in the nervous fingers of his right hand.

"Dey feels right! Dey sho' feels right! Boy, de thumb twist come to me befo' I was nine yeahs old. When I was fo'teen mah uncle Gabe learnt me neveh to dooce, trey, or twelve. Wid dese bones an' yo' ten-dollah bill, when I gits th'oo wid 'at nigger he won't have no mo' money than a frog has feathers."

The pair entered the hotel.

The Mud Turtle went directly to his room, wherein he began the difficult business of oozing his number twelve feet into a pair of number ten shoes.

The Wildcat sought the Spindlin' Spider in whose web he had sacrificed his thousand dollars earlier in the day.

He found his man leaning against a pool table in a room adjoining the lobby of the hotel.

"Howdy, boy." The honeyed accents of gentle forgiveness dripped from the Wildcat's quiet salutation.

The Spindlin' Spider looked at him. "Howdy. How is you?"

"Me? I's noble--an' bustin' wid a cravin' fo' revenge." The Wildcat raised his voice. "Shoots ten dollahs!"

Under the flat nose of the Spindlin' Spider he waved the ten-dollar bill which he had borrowed from the Mud Turtle.

The Spider produced a roll of bills and peeled a ten spot therefrom. "Roll 'em! You an' me both craves action."

The Wildcat had hooked his fish.

He twisted the green taper dice in a handful of fingers whose tips bulged with a fine technique that had distilled from years of study and practice.

Here on the green cloth of the pool table was his field of battle.

Before him lay his entire capital, matched by an equal amount from the Spindlin' Spider's roll.

"I's a Wildcat for revenge, an' I's on my prowl! Pay-day dice, speak mah name! Bam! Five and a dooce. I lets it lay. Shower down!"

The Spindlin' Spider covered his bet.

"Gallopers, stay lame on seven. Train robber babies, fo'ty dollars in de sack. I reads six-five! Rally roun', boys. Shoots fo'ty dollars. Fade me, boy. Bugle dice, blow de cash call. Harvest babies, pick yo' cotton! Bam! An' I reads fo' trey!"

The Wildcat stowed away a trio of ten-dollar bills as an insurance policy against accident.

"Shoots fifty dollars!"

The Spindlin' Spider shaved five ten-dollar bills from his roll, "Roll 'em," he said.

The Wildcat lifted his brace of tapered cubes high above his head.

"Honey-bee babies, git yo' stinger hot. Shotgun dice, spout yo' lead. Key cu............