"Cap'n, yes, suh." The Wildcat hoped that the next time the policeman would aim straight at him. He turned to the crowd and renewed his pacifying propaganda. "Free fish! Come an' git it. Here you is, boys!" The Wildcat's invitation and the smell of the frying smelt won the field against the doctrines of the defeated agitator. A minute later the fish wagon was ringed about with a hundred brunet fish eaters. The riot had evaporated. Here was the end of the trail. Serious thinking gave place to heavy eating. Crazy ideas no longer tormented heads whose owners' object in life was to eat more fried smelt than the men next to them. The sergeant commanding the platoon of police sized up the situation. "Looks to me like the end of a perfect day." A brother officer addressed the sergeant. "Better take this rag-head in with us. How about it?" "Sure. Book him as a vag until we see who he is. Tell Jimmy to hold him on an A and B charge if any of them jail-breaking law sharks try to spring him." The Wildcat broke in with a little testimony. "Cap'n, suh, I knows dat boy. He bust loose from a travellin' jail on de train comin' from Chicago. The guv'ment men ketched him some place." The sergeant of police looked quickly at the officer whose fingers were closed about the chain attached to the handcuffs of the Hindoo's wrists. "Hear what this boy says? Maybe this rag-head is that agitatin' alien that got loose from the carload that landed here three days ago." "How about holdin' this fellow for a witness?" The officer nodded his head towards the Wildcat. The Sergeant debated for a moment, during which the Wildcat's freedom wavered in an unstable balance. Finally the Sergeant spoke, and with his words the Wildcat's liberty was assured. "We don't need him. We've got enough to hold this rag-head with--and the bull pen is crowded anyhow." The Wildcat got the drift of the crisis which had passed. "Cap'n, suh, I sho' is obliged to you. Me an' ol' Mud Turtle here aims to take our midnight run to San F'mcisco." The Mud Turtle, who was busy dealing out free fried smelt, paused long enough to crack a few segments of dried mud from his uniform. He hit himself on the chest, and another nickel-plated button in an area of blue cloth was revealed in the light of the street lamp. "Us sho' do," he confirmed. "Me an' dis Wilecat boy's Pullman men." A few minutes later the Wildcat augmented the disappearing supply of free fish with a little sound advice to his patrons.