1.
The following morning the Wildcat gorged himself on a ponderous
breakfast. "Sho' is noble ham. Yo' sho' is de grandes' cook whut is.
Wondeh how come ol' Honey Tone neveh 'spressed himse'f about yo'?"
"'At niggah neveh wuz home enough to git 'quainted."
The Wildcat looked sidewise at the cook. "Last night I meets up wid a
boy in de barber shop whut knows Honey Tone pussonal. He says 'at
triflin' uplifteh claims to bein' single--claims he neveh had no wife."
The culinary Amazon picked up a frying pan and brought it down on the
top of the range with a resounding bang. "He claims, does he? Wunst Ah
gits mah hooks in 'at nigger's head, all he claims is funeral
benefits!"
The Wildcat suggested that Honey Tone was probably far, far away and
established as the centre of another family circle. The cook reacted
nobly.
He waited until the avoirdupois cyclone had cooled off. Something in
the cook's energetic rage suggested the activities of the Wildcat's
former landlady, Cuspidora Lee, from whom he had occasionally borrowed
tobacco money. He determined to visit his former boarding house and
renew his financial relations.
"You has my sympathy bofe ways," he said to the cook. "Yo' is married
up wid a no-account triflin' yellow uplifteh. Is he wid you, you is
mis'able, an' is he A.W.O.L. yo' is twice 'at much. Wuz I you, when
you meets up wid him I'd bleed him by han'. But don' you grieve. Neveh
min'. Some day yo' meets up wid him.... Den yo' pays him back."
2.
The Wildcat left the kitchen. He carried a bouquet of cabbage leaves to
Lily, who was tethered at the woodshed door. "Eat heavy, Lily," he
commanded. "Yo' neveh got no reliable greens like dis when yo' wuz in
France." He hazed Lily into the woodshed and departed on his way to
visit Miss Cuspidora Lee. He found the Lee personage perspiring darkly
in the clouds of heat that billowed from a red-hot cookstove.
"Cuspido', I bids yo' mawin'," he said briefly.
Cuspidora Lee turned upon him. "Fo' de Lawd sake, you scared me! If it
ain't Vitus Marsden. Prodigal, come heah! Whah at is you been?" The
Wildcat was engulfed in an embrace which reminded him of the time he
had been buried under seven tons of fermented hay.
He came to the surface. "Cuspido', sho' is glad to see you. Whah at's
dem pussonal preserves you 'scribed 'bout in yo' letteh?"
"Sit down till I feeds yo'. Is you as hungry as you always wuz I reckon
you massacrees all de vittles in de house."
After the Wildcat had eaten within an inch of his life he sat back from
the table and took a deep breath. "Whuf! Stomach's gittin' so big mah
arms won' reach pas' it. Does it keep on mebbe Ah's 'bliged to turn
roun' an' eat backwa'ds. Sho' is noble rashuns. Noblest rashuns I eveh
et wuz heah."
He consumed an hour recounting his adventures in France for the benefit
of Cuspidora Lee. At the conclusion of the recital the Wildcat was
invited to make his abode in the Lee residence.
"Craves to, Cuspido', but Ah kain't. Ol' Cap'n Jack needs me. Wunst I
leaves ol' Cap'n, dat boy run wild an' Ah finds him out in San
F'mcisco. Ah'll be draggin' 'long now. Sees yo' in de gran'stan' at de
ball park during de Konk'rin' Heroes' Parade nex' Thursday."
"You sees me befo' dat. I's givin' a weegee pa'ty We'n'sday night, an'
I bids yo' welcome."
"How come weegee?"
"Ain't you know weegee--little boa'd whut points out is you or ain't
you an' how come in de pas', present, an' future?"
"Sho! How de boa'd know?"
"Spirits. Man whut sells de boa'ds runs de spirits."
"Is you tryin' to plague me?"
"You come heah Wensday night an' see is I."
The Wildcat returned to Captain Jack's residence. "Sho' is gran' to git
home," he reflected. "Parades, weegee pa'ties--fust thing I knows Ah'll
be claimed by de church sociables. Sho' beats France. Stays heah an'
works fo' ol' Cap'n Jack, eats me heavy, raises Lily, 'filiates at de
barber shop wid de boys. Sho' beats de A.E.F. wah bizness."
His daydreaming was interrupted by Captain Jack's commanding voice.
"Wildcat, come here."
"Cap'n, yessuh."
"I'm going away for three months," Captain Jack abruptly announced.
Then he added: "Keep your eye on things."
"Cap'n, yessuh. Goin' 'way!... When does us staht?"
"Us don't start. For once in my life I hope to go some place and come
back without being hounded by my Wildcat nigger."
"Cap'n, yessuh. Whut beats me is how yo' aims to git along widout me
takin' keer o' you. You neveh wuz no single thriveh."
"I'll get along without you. Go in and lock up the trunks."
"Mis' Cap'n Jack gwine wid you?"
"I'll say she is. Whither I goeth there shall she also go. Git those
trunks fixed up."
With the departure of the master of the house a cloud of melancholy
settled about the Wildcat which was not dispelled until suppertime.
3.
On Wednesday night the Wildcat soused himself with bay rum and musk.
About his neck, in lieu of a collar, he wrapped the spliced sleeves of
a discarded silk shirt whose cerise dyes had barred it from Captain
Jack's wardrobe. On his feet he wore a pair of patent leather violins
whose tight interiors had been plentifully massaged with axle grease.
He started out with his mascot. "C'm on heah, Lily--you stahts gittin'
social wid quality folks. How come dese shoes pinches all de time sho'
beats me. By rights I weahs twelves. Man whut sold dese shoes said dey
wuz fifteens--feels like sho' take bofe to make 'at much. But when dey
sees dis heah neckerchief dey won't notice de shoes."
Halfway to the weegee party he removed the shoes and carried them in
his hand to the portals of the Lee establishment. He sat down outside
the door of the ouija castle and put on his shoes. He tethered Lily at
the step and knocked at the door. A moment later he was being greeted
by twenty friends and half as many strangers.
"Befo' I turns down de lights," the hostess announced, "I wants you to
meet up wid Colonel Boone, one ob de culled heroes whut made de wah
safe fo' white folks. Colonel Boone, say howdy at Misteh Marsden."
The Wildcat and the uplifter again stood face to face. "Honey Tone, how
come Cuspido' calls you 'Colonel'?"
"By rights 'at's mah rank."
"By rights you is rank." The Wildcat turned to his brunette hostess.
"Ah knows dis Boone man. Met up wid him in France. How come he
projectin' roun' heah?"
Cuspidora was quick to sense a rift of jealousy in the social lute.
"He's aimin' to claim me fo' a weddin' mate."
She made haste to switch the deal.
"Blow out dat light, Sis' Mosby." She reached for a second coal oil
lamp and turned it down until the room was hardly light enough to
distinguish the black letters on the ouija board which lay on the
table. The uplifter deflected the impending embarrassment which might
develop from continued conversation with the Wildcat by functioning as
master of ceremonies.
"Rally roun'. Spirits is willin' if de flesh ain't weak. Wilecat,
fondle de weegee board an' take a ra'r at seein' whut de future holds."
"How come?"
"Dis corner says, 'Yes.' Dat corner says, 'No.' De little board slides
Yes or No, dependin' how de spirits answers whut yo' asks."
The cross-examination of Mr. Ouija and his talented aggregation of
spirits endured for an hour, during which time a number of interesting
facts concerning various members of the assemblage became public
property.
The Wildcat, returning from an enjoyed battle at the refreshment corner
of Cuspidora Lee's parlor, wedged his way into the group about the
ouija board and laid a heavy hand thereon. The memory of Cuspidora's
statement concerning her love affair with Honey Tone rankled within
him.
"Spirits," he said, "I axes yo' is I married?"
Ouija answered, "No."
"Is Honey Tone Boone married?"
The board became a battlefield. Presently the tight tendons of the
uplifter's hand showed grey against his skin, but without avail,
because the Wildcat's little finger lay tight against the perimeter of
the moving planchette. Impelled by the Wildcat's little finger the
implacable spirits hazed Weegee to the "Yes" corner of the board.
Honey Tone's defeated fingers relaxed. "Dat's de lyin'est board I eveh
see. How come yo' gits a lyin' weegee board, Mis' Lee?"
"Spirits neveh lies." The hostess defended her unseen assistants.
"Ain't no lyin' lef' to do afteh dese upliftehs gits th'oo," the
Wildcat commented.
A little later, apart from the other guests, the Wildcat asked
Cuspidora Lee a direct question. "O! Honey Tone been representin' he's
single?"
The Wildcat's brunette hostess hesitated. "Tol' me he neveh seed nobody
befo'," she admitted--"tol' me his love-eye neveh seed nobody 'ceptin'
me."
"All 'at boy's love-eye seed is de p'visions in yo' kitchen. Ah knows
him. Acts like de yelleh niggah whut he is--prancin' round uppity in
France--comes back heah callin' himself 'Colonel,' 'count he wore
oilcloth leggin's an' drunk coonyak whilst us boys wuz fightin' de
battle of Bo'deaux."
Cuspidora Lee listened with eager ears. "I runs him out now, the
flea-bit houn'," she finally announced.
"Ca'm yo'se'f. Don' git to brindlin'. Come out to de ball park tomorr'
at de parade an' you sees him leadin' us Culled Heroes."
Honey Tone Boone meanwhile had charmed a dozen of his male and female
auditors with Mister Ouija's spiritual assistance.
At eleven o'clock the coal oil lamps were again lighted and the guests
employed themselves in the pleasurable business of consuming such
refreshments as the Wildcat had overlooked. The evening ended with a
general announcement from the uplifter, in which he invited the
assemblage to be present on the following day at the parade of the
Konk'rin' Culled Heroes.
"As de Supreem Gran' Organizeh Ah bids yo' welcome," he concluded.
From the darkness outside came a sardonic echo. "Blaa!" Lily the mascot
had seen fit to accept the uplifter's invitation.
When the party broke up, the uplifter showed an inclination to linger
after the Wildcat made his departure, but presently he realized the
failure of his ambition.
"Come on heah, Honey Tone," the Wildcat invited. "I walks a ways wid
yo'."
Once along the dark street Honey Tone sought to review the ouija
performance. "What fo' wuz you shovin' weegee an' makin' de spirits say
'yes' when they craved to say 'no'?"
"How come shovin'? Spirits does de shovin'. Ol' weegee tells de truf'.
Yo' sho' is married, ain't yo'?"
"I tells you once I ain't. I tells you now I ain't, Don' say no mo'."
"When you talks 'at way you sho' sounds lak a Cunnel, Honey Tone."
The Wildcat switched the conversation to the details of the parade.
"Is all de 'rangements done?"
"'Rangements done, 'ceptin' de mule I rides."
"Ah'll git de mule. Whah at does I meet you?"
"Parade stahts at noon f'm Willie Webster's barbeh shop. Us marches
th'oo town an' hol's de gran' review at de ball park."
A little farther down the street the two halted. "Whah at does you
live, Honey Tone?" the Wildcat inquired.
Honey Tone did not see fit to reveal the location of his present
domicile. "Down de street a ways," he said.
The pair parted. "Don' fo'git mah parade-leadin' mule fo' tomorrow,"
Honey Tone admonished, "an' 'blige me by not referrin' no mo' to no
wife whut I ain't got."
"Ah'll 'blige him," the Wildcat mentally conceded. "Afteh tomorrow Ah
don't need to do no wife-referrin' 'bout Honey Tone."
The Wildcat went to sleep that night enjoying the details of a plan
wherein Honey Tone's radiant future was considerably overcast by the
clouds of retribution.