Atlanta tri-weekly journal. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1920-19??, 1923-11-08
FLOWING GOLD
BY REX BEACH
CHAPTER XIX
4 Bold, Bad Man

| n petzing at best, but a meal could be
endured with less discomfort by night
| than by day, for at such times most of the
| flies were the ceilings. The restaurant
/ Gray entered was about what he had ex-
pected; along one side ran a quick order
counter at which were seated several custom
ets; across from it was an Oilcloth-covered
table, perfectly bare except for a revolving
centerpiece-One of those revolving whrli-
gigs fitted with a glass salt and pepper shak-
| er, toothpick holder an unpleasant oil
bottle, and a cruet intended for vinegar.
Here, facing an elderly man In a kid gray
felt hat, Gray seated himself.
| When a departing customer left the door
open, the elderly diner grumbled bitterly at
! the draught and draped his oYercoat over his
bent shoulders.
| Most of the counter customers had drifted
out when, without warning, the screen door
! banged loudly open and Gray looked up from
his plate to see his recent acquaintance of
the gambling table approaching. He lurched
directly up to the table and stared across at
Gray.
slapped my face, didn't you?" he cried,
after a menacng moment.
II did, indeed" the speaker nodded pleas
antly.
YOU amt going to slap 1t again. You
amt going to slap anybody's-"
What makes you think I won't?" Gray
became aware as he spoke that his elderly
neighbor had raised to the intruder a counte-
nance SEdHlp6u WIN a peculiar expression or
incredulity, almost anger, at the inter
ruption.
That which occurred next came unexpect-
eddy. The stranger whipped out from his
coat revolver, at the same time voicing
profane answer TO the challenge.
AS Calvin Gray rose to his feet it was with
flash of mingled anger and impotence.
This quarrel was so utterly senseess it
served little purpose.
my friend" he cried, sharply eff you
don't put up that gun, one of us will go to a
hospital 49,.
BY way of rousing his savagery the fellow
uttered below, then, like warrior shifting
his shield with his spear before the charge
he swung his heavy weapon, smashing at one
blow that silver-plated merry go-round with
its cluster of bottles.
A shower of toothpicks fragments of
glass, spatter of oil and vinegar covered
the old man in the end chair, and he rose
with a cry that drew a swift glance from
the desperate.
Gray was upon the point Of launching him
self over the table when he witnessed a pecu-
liar transformation in his assaiIant : The
mans expression altered with almost comic
suddenness, he lowered his weapon and took
a backward step. Gray, too, had cause for
aStonlShment for the elderly man was NOV
ing slowly toward the disturber, his overcoat.
meanwhile, hanging loosely from his left
shoulder, like mantle
.1haC ne mad been recognized was plain, for
the armed man cried, agitatedly: Look out,
Tom! don't want any truck with YOU"
The deliberate advance continued: in q
marsh voice Tom answered: 1T don't allow
anybody to interfere with me when I'm eat
ing! For every step he shuffIed forward the
man before him fell back a CORRESPONDING
distance.
Again the newcomer rasEed out warning.
ana Gray, too, added his voice, saying: Leave
MIN to me- old man. This is nv ouarrelr"
AS he spoke he moved around the end of the
table but the mantled figure halted him with
an 1mperious jerk of the head Without in tho
least dlyert1ng his steady gaze, Tom snapped:
Hands off, stranger! I won't have YOU
putin in, either. I don't allow anybody to
interfere with me when I'm eating"
Brief as had been the whole episode. already
passersby had halted, staring faces were glued
TO the front windows Of the cafe Well thew
might stare at those two tense figures. one
advancing, the other retreating, as if to the
measures of some show dance. 4
But the tempo changed abruptly. The des
perados back brought up against the swing
ing kitchen door; it gave to his weight and
decision was born of that instant: With CIV
ne Hung himself backward, the spring door
snapped to and swallowed him up with the
speed OF a camera shutter; then followed the
sound of his heavy rushing footsteps.
He'll" exclaimed the old man. 4 had his
buttons counted" With the words he let fall
MS oVercoat, and there, beneath it, Gray be-
held what he had more than half suspected
what indeed was ample cause for the quarrel
some strangers apprehension. Held close to
the owners body was what in the inelegant
Jargon of the west is known as a "dog leg"
The weapon, frontier Colts Of heavy caliber.
was full cooked under the old mans thumb:
the hand holding it was as steady as the bIaz-
ing eyes above.