The Wildcat threw back his head and addressed the gathering in the barber shop. "Company, 'tenshun! All de niggahs in de room whut's gwine to jine de gran' parade, fall out de do' an' fall in!" He led the rush for the exit. Outdoors he repeated the announcement. "Gran' parade led by Honey Tone Boone. Followin' me an' Lily comes de brass ban'. Den comes de Sons ob Damon. Sons ob Damon wearin' de yellah belly ban's walks ahead. Followin' de Sons ob Damon, de Knights wid de Red Pants falls in. Parade marches fo' an' fo', ladies outside. Keep off de car tracks. Followin' de Knights wid de Red Pants comes de 'Filiated Toilers. "Cornet Club comes nex', 'ceptin' de big bass drum. Fetch dat bass drum oveh heah. Yo' marches by me." He turned to a group of human beings whose sole common characteristic was their colour and the colour of the sashes which were tied about them. "Whut outfit is you boys?" "Us is de Committee ob Culled Democrats." "How come they let you out ob jail? Fall in behin' de lunch wagon. 'At's whah you gin'lly is." The drum-bamming giant took his place opposite the Wildcat. The Wildcat turned to the Supreme Organizer of the Culled Militarriers of America. "Git abo'ad 'at steed, Honey Tone," he said. Honey Tone clambered on to the mule with the assistance of a pair of agile bystanders. The Wildcat closed his eyes and lifted his head high in the air. "Company, 'tenshun!" He turned to the drum-bammer opposite him. "Le-e-t's go!" "Bam!" The crash inside the bass drum found a deafening echo in a blare of exploding horns and cornets. Lily shied close beside her master. Honey Tone's mule drooped a languid ear over a bulging eyeball as if to shut out a vision of impending disaster, and then, at the second note from the bass drum, the mule leaped into a wild gallop. Before the marchers had covered a hundred feet Honey Tone and his jug-head mount had passed the fire hall three blocks down the street. The parade marched steadily toward the ball park. Ten minutes later Honey Tone and the mule clattered past the parade. "Ol' mule sho' steers noble, but he kain't stop," the Wildcat announced to the drum-bammer opposite him. On Honey Tone's third visit the Wildcat called loudly to him. "Head 'at mule roun' nex' time an' back him in de ball park." The Supreme Organizer's reply was lost in a clatter of hoofs. 2. At the ball park the parade waited for the intermittent uplifter. As Honey Tone galloped past the head of the column he did a Brodie and landed breathless against the big bass drum. "Boom!" "Whuf!" he said. "Ketch dat mule!" The hero blood pulsed strong in the veins of the Knights with the Red Pants. They rallied to the rescue. The organization deployed, and presently the big night-braying mule was again delivered into Honey Tone's reluctant hands.