Dis papah

"Dis papah?"
The Wildcat looked sideways at the check. "Whah at does I git de hard jinglin' money?"
"Any bank. Sign your name on the back of that check and any bank will cash it."
"Cap'n, suh, I ain't nevah learned to write. Kin you all help me wid dis papah?"
The clerk signed the Wildcat's name and underneath the signature the Wildcat made his mark.
"Stick here a minute and I'll get the money for you."
The clerk departed and returned presently with two thick packages of ten dollar bills.
"Money, howdy doo! 'At's more cash den I seed since payday in Bo'deaux."
Twenty minutes later the Wildcat languished in the lobby of a ramshackle hotel below Burnside Street, where he had a meeting date with his fish partner.
Dwindle Daniels at the moment was meshed in the net of official business.
To pass the time the Wildcat got fraternal with a languid brunet known as the Spindlin' Spider. The Spider's loose anatomy was draped with a complicated checked suit.
"Pardner, whah at kin a boy git a slug ob gin?"
"Cuba, mebbe. Gin comes high 'round heah, I knowed one drink to cost a boy ninety days."
"Ninety days,Designer Handbags, ninety dollars. Sometimes ol' square face gin sho' is worth it."
"Does yo' crave licker ten dollars' worth, sometimes dey's a white mule hitched in de back room."
The Wildcat pulled off a diplomatic boner. He displayed his thousand dollar roll and peeled therefrom a ten-dollar bill.
"Whah at kin I trade dis frog skin fo' a ra'r o' licker?"
Internally the Spindln' Spider suddenly awakened. He showed no outward sign of the agitation which the sight of the money had inspired, but for half an hour he played heavy politics, and thereafter, in a company of half a dozen hard-boiled crap shooters, the Wildcat began to pay for the indiscreet display of his cash.
"Leave dis Pullman boy take a r'ar at de clickers."
"'At's me. Hand me dem bones. C.O.D.--come on, dice! Field han's, rally round. Shoots fifty dollars. Shower down, brothers. Eagle bones, see kin you fly. Bam! I reads seven. I lets it lay. Shoots a hund'ed dollars! Fade me crazy, folks,Fake Designer Handbags, fade me! Bam! I reads six--four. Slow death. Resurrection dice,fake uggs boots, an' I reads four--six."
The Wildcat hauled down part of his winnings.
"Shoots a hundred dollahs. Shower down, brothers,ugg bailey button triplet 1873 boots. Spark in de powdeh! Both barrels. Right an' left. Bam! An' dey reads 'leven. Mowin' money. Us does a cash business. I lets it lay. Shower down yo' money!"
The Spindlin' Spider faced the Wildcat. "Boy, you donates."
"Don't sass me. Headed home wid feathers in yo' teeth. Telegraph dice, click fo' de coin. Bam!"
The Spider exercised his privilege of grabbing the dice before they had stopped rolling. As far as the Wildcat's naked eye could see, the same dice were rolled back at him, but as a matter of fact the Wildcat's dice nestled close against the epidermis of the Spindlin' Spider's right palm.
The dice that had been returned were festooned with misfortune. The Wildcat had overlooked a bet. He curried the gallopers to blood heat in his magenta palm. "Houn' dog headed home wid rabbit hair in yo' teeth! Turkey dice, gobble dat coin. Bam!--How come!"