He made for the back door. The other man at the reading table rose and followed him.
“Good night, Shaky. Drop me a post hole, sometime,” said Charlie.
The bullet-head man, now eating toast and shrimps, regarded See with a malicious sneer. See rummaged through the papers, selected a copy of The Black Range, and seated himself sidewise on the end of the billiard table; then laying the paper down he reached for the triangle and pyramided the pool balls.
The swinging door crashed inward before a vicious kick. Caney stalked in. His pitted face was black with rage. Weir followed. As the door swung to there was a glimpse of savage eager faces crowded beyond.
Caney glared across the billiard table.
“We’re not good enough for you to drink with, I reckon,” he croaked.
Charlie laid aside the triangle. The free lunch man laughed spitefully. “Aren’t you?” said Charlie, indifferently.
Caney raised his voice. “And I hear you been saying I was a gallows bird?”
Charlie See adjusted a ball at the corner of the pyramid. Then he gave to Caney a slow and speculative glance.
“Now that I take a good look at you—it seems probable, don’t it?”