The Wildcat glanced about him. He saw several pairs of heavy lips curling in the bow of derision. He counted out a handful of greenbacks. "'At's two hund'ed," he said heavily. "Roll 'em." His neck itched. He sensed the impact of the axe. "How come I crazy?"
The rolling dice halted. The class in addition announced that four and three made seven.
"I mows de lettuce." Honey Tone picked up his winnings. "Shoots a hund'ed."
The Wildcat audited his capital. "Sixty's all I got."
The Wildcat took a deep breath and held on to it until he read on the clicking cubes the final message of disaster.
"Whuf! 'At's me." Honey Tone looked at his victim, and in the glance of triumph glowed the dull fire of accomplished revenge.
"Dem bones says who is de Konk'rin' Hero. Dey knows."
The Wildcat picked up the dice and looked them over carefully. "Dice, wuz clothes a nickel I'se nekked--an' you done it."
Honey Tone reached for the dice. "H