to excite general notice. The interview had jarred upon him in
only one respect--_viz_., in describing him as a "typical soldier
of fortune." No doubt the reporter had intended that phrase in the
kindest spirit; nevertheless, it implied a certain recklessness
and instability of character that did not completely harmonize
with Gray's inchoate, undeveloped banking projects. Bankers are
wary of anything that sounds adventurous--or they pretend to be.
As a matter of fact, Gray had learned enough that very day about
Texas bankers to convince him that most of them were good, game
gamblers, and that a large part of the dividends paid by most of
the local institutions of finance were derived from oil profits.
However, the newspaper story, as a whole, was such as to give him
the publicity he desired, and he was well content with it.

Its first results were prompt in coming. Even while the head
waiter was seating him, another diner arose and approached him
with a smile. Gray recognized the fellow instantly--one of that
vast army of casuals that march through every active man's life
and disappear down the avenues of forgetfulness.

After customary greetings had been exchanged, the newcomer,
Coverly by name, explained that he had read the _Post_ article not
five minutes before, and was delighted to learn how well the world
had used Gray. He was dining alone; with alacrity he accepted an
invitation to join his old friend, and straightway he launched
himself upon the current of reminiscence. In answer to Gray's
inquiry, he confessed modestly enough:

"Oh, I'm not in your class, old man. I'm no 'modern Gil Blas,' as
the paper calls you. No Wall Street money barons are eating out of