Bixby

“ I'd rather be a pilot than anything else I've ever been in my life. How do you run Plum Point?
He met Bixby at New Orleans. Bixby was a captain now, on the splendid new Anchor Line steamer City of Baton Rouge, one of the last of the fine river boats. Clemens made the return trip to St. Louis with Bixby on the Baton Rouge—almost exactly twenty-five years from their first trip together. To Bixby it seemed wonderfully like those old days back in the fifties.
"Sam was making notes in his memorandum-book, just as he always did," said Bixby, long after, to the writer of this history. ”

“ Mr. Bixby's face took on a look of extreme cunning. He smiled broadly and poked Mr. Wetherell in an extremely sensitive portion of his ribs. On such occasions the nasal quality of Bijah's voice seemed to grow.
"You see?" he said.
"Know that little man, Gibbs, don't ye?" inquired Mr. Hartington.
"Airley Gibbs, hain't it? Runs a livery business daown to Rutgers, on Lovejoy's railroad," replied Mr. Bixby, promptly. "I know him. Knew old man Gibbs well's I do you. Mean cuss."
"This Airley's smart—wahn't quite smart enough, though. His bright idea come a little mite late. ”

“ Out in the yard the outhouse stood, a battleground of good and evil. Its coat of white paint gleamed in the sun, which still stood high as a result of timelessness. Its red roof was a challenge. To the young man, staring moodily, the crescent in the door seemed a mocking, lopsided smile.
On the roof stood a new and larger mounting, containing a new and larger cowbell, from which hung a new and heavier chain.
Once the young man looked upward, as if for guidance.
Once he sighed and shook his head, as if discouraged.
"One of us must win," he said finally.
"Always," the man in black nodded. ”

“ Bixby returned, made a trip or two, then left and transferred him again, this time to a man named Brown. Brown had a berth on the fine new steamer Pennsylvania, one of the handsomest boats on the river, and young Clemens had become a fine steersman, so it is not unlikely that both men at first were gratified by the arrangement. ”

“ Instantly the water swirled about me, and a head rose beside me; a dim face was close to mine—the face of a negro—the face of Tunk Bixby. But now it was inhuman; as expressionless and soulless as that of a catfish; the face of a being no longer human, and no longer mindful of its human origin.
Slimy, misshapen fingers gripped my throat, and I drove my knife into that sagging mouth. The features vanished in a wave of blood; mutely the thing sank out of sight, and I hauled myself up the bank, under the thick bushes.
Stark had run from his hut, a pistol in his hand. ”

“ All the eastern portion of Long Beach, including Bixby Park, that famous center of annual state picnics, came from the Alamitos, and it was John Bixby himself who bought and planted the trees that now shelter the multitudes and afford foci for the gathering of the wandering inhabitants from each and every Iowa county. (There were sixty thousand of them at the last picnic, I have been told.) ”

“ Nobody could expec’ me ter set an’ starve on that hillside till sech time ez the Fed’rals throw out thar line agin.”
“I wisht I hed my parole agin,” said Bixby, more moodily still.
Down the road before them suddenly [Pg 62] they saw a dust, and a steely glitter—not so strong a reflection, however, as marching infantry throws out. A squad of cavalry was approaching at a steady pace. Jack Bixby’s first idea was flight; this the condition of the jaded horse rendered impolitic. ”

“ Having little to distinguish them as soldiers, for the gray cloth uniform in many instances had given place to the butternut jeans, the habitual garb of the poorer classes of the country, they could be mistaken for citizens, peacefully pursuing some rustic vocation, and this impression Bixby sought to impose on every party who questioned them. He feared to meet the Federals, because of their paroles, which showed them to be prisoners and yet out of the lines, and he thought this broken pledge might subject them to the penalty of being strung up by the neck. ”

“ It was a trip taken none too soon. John Briggs, a gentle-hearted old man who sat by his fire and through one afternoon told me of the happy days along the river-front from the cave to Holliday's Hill, did not reach the end of the year. Horace Bixby, at eighty-one, was still young, and piloting a government snag-boat. Neither was Joseph Goodman old, by any means, but Jim Gillis was near his end, and Steve Gillis was an invalid, who said:
"Tell Sam I'm going to die pretty soon, but that I love him; that I've loved him all my life, and I'll love him till I die." ”

“ Ben and Buck were about twenty feet apart now, and Ben stopped.
His voice was tired when he said, "Any time, Buck."
"You're a hell of a sheriff," Buck sneered. "You're a no-good bastard."
"Cuss me out," Ben said. "Don't hurt me none. I'll be ready when you start talking with guns."
"I'm ready now, beanpole," Buck grinned. "You draw first, huh?"
"Think of his gun!" the professor said in a fierce whisper. "Try to grab it with your mind—break his aim—pull it away from him—you know it can be done! Think, think—"
Ben Randolph had never in anyone's knowledge drawn first against a man. ”

“ Of course, there’s a bare chance that some of them might have reached a desert island and still be alive. But that’s so unlikely that it might as well be put out of mind.”
“What’s become of Tom Bixby?” asked Teddy.
“He shipped on a Canadian sealer soon after he was here, and I haven’t seen or heard of him since.”
89“Is there any chance that he might have gone on a still hunt for the treasure?”
“Not Tom,” laughed Mr. Lee. “He didn’t have enough to go on. But he certainly was sore at the skipper for having called him away from Dick just when he did. ”

“ Then he heard me coming, and whirled away from the tree, his gun holstered, his hand held out in front of him like he must have imagined Hickock or somebody held it when he was ready to draw.
I stopped my horse about ten feet away and just stared at him. He looked real funny in his baggy old levis and dirty checkered shirt and that big gun low on his hip, and me knowing he couldn't handle it worth a damn.
"Who you trying to scare, Buck?" I said. I looked him up and down and snickered. "You look about as dangerous as a sheepherder's wife."
"And you're a son of a bitch," he said. ”

“ But that doesn't explain how Molly Bixby, whose mother came over in the Sarah Jane from Bristol, and who settled at Cohasset in 1690, turned up in Philadelphia in 1775 married to an officer in the English army. Then I am nearly distracted about Jabez Whicher. He was an intimate friend of Sir Harry Vane, and I don't see how I can ever get into the 'Descendants of Persons Who Were Acquainted With People Worth While' unless I can find out something about him."
"Are you sure there was such a man?"
"Of course I am. My mother was a [147] Whicher. ”

“ Percy replied.
Stella shook her head mournfully.
"No, you 're a spender or you 're not. Greengay has been broke three times, fired, down and out, black-listed. But he's always come back, and he always will. You will never be fired, but you 'll always be poor." She turned and looked back again before she went out.
Six months later Bixby came to young Oliver Remsen one afternoon and said he would like to have twenty dollars a week held out of his pay until his debt was cleared off. ”

“ BIXBY Executive Mansion,
Washington, Nov. 21, 1864.
To Mrs. Bixby, Boston, Mass.
Dear Madam: I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle. I feel how weak and fruitless must be any word of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering to you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the republic they died to save. ”

“ Young Remsen was troubled about Percy Bixby because he took no summer vacations—always asked for the two weeks' extra pay instead. Other men in the office had skipped a vacation now and then, but Percy had stuck to his desk for five years, had tottered to his stool through attacks of grippe and tonsilitis. He seemed to have grown fast to his ledger, and it was to this that Oliver objected. He liked his men to stay men, to look like men and live like men. ”

“ Ben said, and pressed her head against his shoulder again, "I go. If I want to relax with the men, I do it. If I want to just walk and breathe deep, I do it—keeping to the trees, o' course. If I want to just be with you, I do it. It's quiet. It's real quiet in our rag town. It's a world for old people. It's just the way we want it, to live like we want to live. ”

“ Buck laughed. "Why, hell, I reckon I got bigger ideas'n that, mister! Real big ideas. There's no man alive I can't beat with a gun! I'm going to take Billy the Kid ... Hickock ... all of them! I'm going to get myself a rep bigger'n all theirs put together. Why, when I walk into a saloon, they'll hand me likker. I walk into a bank, they'll give me the place. No lawman from Canada to Mexico will even stay in the same town with me! Hell, what could you give me, you goddam little dude?"
The professor shrugged. "Nothing that would satisfy you." ”

“ Stories of the old West were filled with bad men who lived by the speed of their gun hand. Well, meet Buck Tarrant, who could outdraw them all. His secret: he didn't even have to reach for his weapon....
oe Doolin's my name. Cowhand—work for old Farrel over at Lazy F beyond the Pass. Never had much of anything exciting happen to me—just punched cows and lit up on payday—until the day I happened to ride through the Pass on my way to town and saw young Buck Tarrant's draw. ”

“ He'd face a tree and go into a crouch, and I'd know he was pretending the tree was Billy the Kid or somebody, and then he'd slap leather—and his clumsy hand would wallop his gunbutt, he'd yank like hell, his old Peacemaker would come staggering out of his holster like a bear in heat, and finally he'd line on his target and plug it dead center. But the whole business took about a second and a half, and by the time he'd ever finished his fumbling in a real fight, Billy the Kid or Sheriff Ben Randolph over in town or even me, Joe Doolin, could have cut him in half. ”

“ He's prospered and she's dretful ambitious. She's bound and determined that Bixby Centre shall keep right up with Bangor and Portland.
"They've had these Author's Readin's in the cities lately, and the Winter Night Club's ben saving up money for one this two years, and they was determined to do it up in style, so they wrote to the author they'd decided on and told her they wa'n't goin' to spare expense, and she could have five dollars and railroad fare if she'd come and read, and she should stop with Mis' Stevens at the Upper Corner, the one who entertained Thomas B. Reed when he was here. ”

“ Half the law is too damned busy, and the other half's crooked—and we're in the middle. The redboys have run out of patience."
Hale nodded. "My own redboys are ready to go on the warpath. Okay. So Randy's the goat elect. So relax and starve him out."
"They want him tonight. We promised—"
"All right, go keep it. Hell, I didn't promise anything. Damned if I'll risk my neck to—"
"—promised to deliver," Weiss went on flatly, "because we had to. We're in a nut-cracker, Hale. The Lhrai priests are set to trigger another Green Spot unless they get Randy to play with. ”

“ Oh, I've drifted the canals and chilled some decks, but this was my first mark—"
Hale said, "I came in to try to help, Randy. If you'll walk out with me, it'll be easier all around."
Randy shook his head fiercely. "Lord, you don't want them to turn me over to the redboys, do you? The Lhrai priests can peel a man and keep him alive for days—"
Uncomfortably, Hale said, "I couldn't help you if I wanted to. They're waiting outside."
Randy took breath through his teeth. "Just stay here. Let me walk out. They won't blast, thinking it's you. Is your beetle anywhere near the temple?" ”

“ Mr. Kipps had a communication to be instantly dispatched; Mr. Corey needed a stenographer. The girls were all busy; they had too much to do already; they could not finish half the letters that had been given them. Well, how about Miss Sturgis? Could Miss Sturgis manage to get out just one more? It was so important. Yes, Miss Sturgis could,—of course she could; it might be late, but if the writer would remain to sign it, she’d manage to finish it somehow.
“You’re a fool,” Miss Bixby said to her one day sourly. “Nobody’s going to thank you for it; you [Pg 123] don’t get paid a cent more ”

“ I'd broken jaws for a lot less—I'm no runt, and I'm quick enough to hand back crap if some lands on me. But now I wasn't interested.
He saw I was mad, though, and stood waiting.
"You're fast enough, Buck," I said, "so I got no idea of trying you. You want to murder me, I guess I can't stop you—but I ain't drawing. No, sir, that's for sure." ”

“ Allenby granted.
Randolph said, "If this monkey doesn't let me go in another minute—"
The chief squeaked, eyes concerned.
"Stand still," Allenby ordered. "He's trying to warn you of some danger."
The chief pointed down the street again and, instead of squealing, revealed that there was another sound at his command. He said, "Whooooooosh!"
We all stared at the end of the street.
Nothing! Just the wide avenue between the houses, and the high sand dune down at the end of it, from which we had first looked upon the village. ”