"Not on de Pullman run. Ah dead-heads you once, an' de goat lak to ruined eve'ybody in de cah. No suh! Kain't run no trains an' no mascot at de same time. De rule book leaves out goats, but does you lug Lily wid you, yo' fust run sho' is yo' last." The Wildcat faced the moment of a great decision. "Den dey won't be no fust trip. Cm on heah, Lily. Much 'bliged, Baptis'. Me an' Lily looks fo' a job whah at dey ain't no rules again' mascots." The Wildcat headed south along Michigan Avenue, and in a little while he and Lily were adrift in a sea of humanity. The Backslid Baptist grunted his disgust and went about his own affairs. CHAPTER VIII At midnight the Wildcat and Lily pitched their lonely camp behind a billboard in South Chicago. "Sho' craves mah rations. You done noble wid de grass, Lily, but Ah kain't eat grass. Seems lak you kin nutrify yo'se'f wid whuteveh vittles is laying 'round." In the dawn the Wildcat realized that his appetite had sprung up like a mushroom over night. "Wisht us wuz back wid ol' Cap'n Jack in Memphis, whah at de ham-tree blooms th'ee times a day." At noon his stomach was the residence of a hunger panic. With his mascot trailing behind him, he headed toward the heart of the city. "Doggone 'at crap-shootin' hound. How come he clean me to mah last nickel, Ah don' know. Lady Luck, whah at is you?" An instant later, wearing a policeman's uniform and speaking a wild Irish language, Lady Luck descended upon the Wildcat. The Michigan Avenue traffic cop abandoned his post long enough to pounce upon his prey. "What th' hell do yez mean prowlin' round th' Loop in broad daylight wid ivery man on th' force goin' crazy lookin' f'r yez? Come along wid me." Ten minutes later, with the echoes of the patrol gong still ringing in his ears, the Wildcat and Lily were hazed through the black portals of an unfriendly looking police station. They faced the desk sergeant. "Boy, is your name Vitus Marsden?" "Cap'n, yessuh. Folks gin'ally calls me Wilecat." The desk sergeant busied himself with the telephone at his elbow. Two minutes later he turned to the Wildcat. "Sit on that bench over there," he said. The Wildcat sat down, and a black cloud of surmise floated across his immediate horizon. "Lily, Ah 'spect us is 'rested mebbe on 'count ob dem pants you et offen de man in old 'partment B. Mebbe I'se took fo' 'sorbin' dem Acrobatic Spirits whut Backslid consecrated to me. Mebbe de lady wid de green chicken whut you et de feathers off ob done craved revenge. Mebbe de ol' Pullman car man aims to make you work out de price of 'at laundry you et in de linen closet." The Wildcat had no difficulty finding a dozen good reasons for his present embarrassment. He addressed a police officer near by. "Cap'n suh, whut fo' is me an' Lily sequestered heah in de jail?"