"Lead me to de woods whah de luck trees grow, Han' me de axe when it's time to chop. Lead me kinda gentle,--git me started slow; When I gits to goin', watch de luck trees drop." While the Wildcat was doing his best to forget the cares that nominally infested his official day as porter on the Blue Fezant special car, sidetracked in San Francisco, Honey Tone Boone, the brunet uplifteh, languished in the Memphis jail. There were two sides to every jail. To the Wildcat, the loser in the law's game generally occupied the inside. Honey Tone was different. The inside of a jail for Honey Tone was often a place of sanctuary from which the occupant might sneer serenely at the disappointed female perils who gnashed their teeth outside the bars. In San Francisco the days were warm, and Lily the mascot goat had returned to her master's side. The Wildcat was playing even in the matter of daily rations. Trailing along in the wake of a pair of the golf-playing Nobles of the Mysterious Mecca at the Lincoln Park Golf course provided a cash surplus which enabled the Wildcat to discard his winter-weight Prince Albert and to adorn his person with a retiring suit of clothes three shades lighter than a sunburned pumpkin and embellished with six-inch checks. Life wasn't so bad. Ol' railroad sleepin' car was probably doin' all right. Reasonably sure that tomorrow would lug in new brands of trouble to pester a boy with, the Wildcat steered his somnolent mentality clear of the shoals of surmise and let tomorrow take care of itself. A boy never could tell about Lady Luck. Every time the Wildcat did something that clearly entitled him to free board in some permanent jail, like as not next day he would wake up all festooned with gold watches. Take a preacher's advice and head down the straight and narrow path, and the chances were that some deppity sherriff with a shotgun, or else a bear, would be waiting in the path right where the heaviest canebrakes discouraged detours. 2. "One man's pizen is anotheh man's meat,-- Mah troubles neveh botheh you. Hog needs wings like a snake needs feet: De question ain't why, but who."