For a while, with every disappearing dollar, the Wildcat mentally showered the absent Honey Tone with epithets picked up during overstressed moments of an active life. Then to the Temp'rary Soopreem Leader's mind there came a faint resolve to try the ultimate arrow of his pack in an effort to reclaim his melting money. "De clickers!" At the conclusion of his misery he made an announcement covering the programme of an attempt to defeat the evil which had run him down. He stood up on the chair where he had been sitting. "Brethren, befo' us gits too deep into de evenin' us devotes a social hour to Lady Luck. Count off into squads, dig deep in yo' raiment fo' ammunition an' de clickin' weapons, den for'd march--into de battle whah de top sides means vick'ry o' else de grave-diggin' squad! Afteh de squad leadehs decides who is de bes' man, as yo' Soopreem Leadeh I claims de priv'lege o' meetin' de victors on de clickin' fiel' of battle. Dat's all. Git faded an' shoot fas'." A battle royal. Thereafter for half an hour the air was thick with prayer. Presently most of the four thousand had been prayed into the hands of half a dozen squad leaders. Then the Wildcat spoke. "Winners! Lady Luck sho' smiled down on you. Now your Soopreem Leadeh makes 'at woman laff at you. Stan' by me, Lily!" The mascot goat bleated her message of encouragement. Spectators rallied around. Out of his left shoe the Wildcat hauled his personal weapons. On the floor before him he cast the last fragment of his four-thousand-dollar roll. In the narrow circle of victors exploded his point-blank challenge. "Shoots a hund'ed! Shower down. Ah craves action! "You neveh kin tell till de gallopers stop Whut de numbehs reads dat lays on top. Comin' out a top side seven or 'leven Is Wilecat talk fo' a payday heaven. Seven's a winner when it shows up fust, But afteh yo' point a seven means bust. Comin' out fust wid a dooce, twelve, o' trey Is jes' like throwin' yo' money away, 'Cept you keeps de dice an' stahts once mo' By layin' yo' money on de gam'lin' flo'. Suppose you releases a fo', six, eight, You tries yo' bes' to duplicate. De same hol's true fo' a five, nine, ten, But a seven's boun' to git you now an' then. As I said befo' does a seven come fust Befo' you makes yo' point, it means you's bust." In fifteen minutes six ex-victors had joined the circle of innocent bystanders and were hunting for phrases to explain to themselves just how it happened. The Wildcat, stowing away the incoming money with his left hand, swept his victorious right high above his head. In his moist palm nestled his pussonal dice. "I lets it lay. Shoots it all!" "Ain't got dat much." The last man was suffering from reduced circumstances. "How much is you? Shoots de fifty! I'se faded. Gallopers, stan' by me! Stay soopreem. Bam! An' I reads, six-ace. Deppity--you's done!"