Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 27: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SUNDOWN CAFE, a glimmering fire beyond a filigree of pal- mettoes and vines. But a short while more and the body of Mate Grimpen would be heaved into the resting place its soul desired. A murder had been averted by the merest chance, but there was yet time for the devil to appear. Cora meanwhile joined her champion. ‘Tf that’s all you have to do to stretch a man,” she said proudly, “I want to ask you to do it again. It’s a sight for sore eyes. Old Herzog has let these drunk water-rats hang around here and run the place to suit theirselves. He ain’t got guts enough to be even impolite to ’em. Now that there sailor with the little woolen cap and the big red hands and ears—he's been hanging around here and picking fights with everyone for the last month. Never buys a drink. Dead loss to the house. None of his winnings ever gets back.” ‘He don’t drink, you say?” Al Boscoe asked in a loud voice. “ By cripes I'll make ‘im drink until he rolls on the decks. Vit make him drink so’s you can swab out the whole bloody saloon with him like he was a sponge.” He changed his voice, dropping it to that significant call, ‘‘ Hey, you!” The gambler turned. ‘ You over there with the black wool on your chest, button your shirt and give your order!” “Give an order for what?” the big boatman asked scratching the black hair on his tattooed chest, evidently puzzled at the barkeep’s objection to it. ‘Give your order. You're buying some- thing or gitting!” ‘Careful now there, mate,” one of the gamblers said to his companion. The Cuban sitting opposite the big boatman squirmed, turned about, looked at the bar- keep and bared his beautiful teeth in a friendly grin. He for one wanted to be on the right side. ‘What's your order?” Al Boscoe re- peated, coming from behind the bar. ‘‘ Drinks is bein’ served!” The boatman thought for a moment then broke out: *‘ Chile and beans!”’ This nonplused the barkeep and his face turned palpably to a red hot. “Of all the damned Mexican skunks to yar $17 ask me to serve—”’ he paused. He felt that he was not handling the situation with quite the equanimity it demanded. ‘‘I said name your drink,” he repeated with a pur- ring smoothness. ‘Chile and beans!” the other roared. Al Boscoe, without taking his eye off the luckless, beefy man seated there at the table, reached behind for the little olla which was kept heated on an oil stove. From this he ladled out a schooner of chile and beans, placed it on a platter and walked out across the flocr. Again the pigeons with a peculiar prescience of dis- aster fluttered out of his path. ‘* Here’s your drink, hombre,” he said. “That ain’t a drink; that’s somethin’ you eat. Where's a spoon?” Al Boscoe burst out into a terrific laugh and turned to Cora. ‘ Did you hear that, ma’am? He says this ain’t a drink. Of all the yellow-bellied, sheep-eyed kooks to say that I ain’t servin’ drinks?” The whole room joined in a roar, the Cuban laughing with contemptuous scorn at the luckless and crazy man seated opposite to him.! The sailor took the schooner and studied it. He was apparently perplexed. He put it to his lips and blew on it as one blows upon the rim of a schooner when it contains beer. ‘‘Go on, hombre!” Al Boscoe roared. “ You ordered it! You drink it!” The tidewater sailor looked at the schooner and at the fist of Al Boscoe. It was quite easy to decide just which could be disposed of more simply. He put the vlass to his lips and with a gesture of abandon and _ bewilderment, tossed the burning mass down his gullet. “Now do you admit I’m servin’ drinks?” Al Boscoe asked triumphantly. The boatman turned scarlet, his neck giving the appearance of swelling percept- ibly. No, he could not tell such a lie as that. Chile and beans was not a drink, even though he had proved it was. ‘“T said that there concoction weren’t liquor—-”’ ‘Then I’m just a plain ornery liar? Al Boscoe suggested With undisguised_bellig- erence. _ The third gambler—another mariner of COMIGD OOo! (©