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Page 18
"And thus reminiscing, we came back to New York."
There was a little silence broken only by the familiar roar of the
streets after Kansas Bill Bowers ceased talking.
"Did O'Connor ever go back?" I asked.
"He attained his heart's desire," said Bill. "Can you walk two blocks?
I'll show you."
He led me eastward and down a flight of stairs that was covered by a
curious-shaped glowing, pagoda-like structure. Signs and figures on the
tiled walls and supporting columns attested that we were in the Grand
Central station of the subway. Hundreds of people were on the midway
platform.
An uptown express dashed up and halted. It was crowded. There was a
rush for it by a still larger crowd.
Towering above every one there a magnificent, broad-shouldered, athletic
man leaped into the centre of the struggle. Men and women he seized in
either hand and hurled them like manikins toward the open gates of the
train.
Now and then some passenger with a shred of soul and self-respect left
to him turned to offer remonstrance; but the blue uniform on the
towering figure, the fierce and conquering glare of his eye and the
ready impact of his ham-like hands glued together the lips that would
have spoken complaint.
When the train was full, then he exhibited to all who might observe and
admire his irresistible genius as a ruler of men. With his knees, with
his elbows, with his shoulders, with his resistless feet he shoved,
crushed, slammed, heaved, kicked, flung, pounded the overplus of
passengers aboard. Then with the sounds of its wheels drowned by the
moans, shrieks, prayers, and curses of its unfortunate crew, the express
dashed away.
"That's him. Ain't he a wonder?" said Kansas Bill admiringly. "That
tropical country wasn't the place for him. I wish the distinguished
traveller, writer, war correspondent, and playright, Richmond Hobson
Davis, could see him now. O'Connor ought to be dramatized."
THE ATAVISM OF JOHN TOM LITTLE BEAR
[O. Henry thought this the best of the Jeff Peters stories, all the rest
of which are included in "The Gentle Grafter," except "Cupid a la Carte"
in the "Heart of the West." "The Atavism of John Tom Little Bear"
appeared in EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE for July, 1903.]
I saw a light in Jeff Peters's room over the Red Front Drug Store. I
hastened toward it, for I had not known that Jeff was in town. He is a
man of the Hadji breed, of a hundred occupations, with a story to tell
(when he will) of each one.
I found Jeff repacking his grip for a run down to Florida to look at an
orange grove for which he had traded, a month before, his mining claim
on the Yukon. He kicked me a chair, with the same old humorous, profound
smile on his seasoned countenance. It had been eight months since we had
met, but his greeting was such as men pass from day to day. Time is
Jeff's servant, and the continent is a big lot across which he cuts to
his many roads.
For a while we skirmished along the edges of unprofitable talk which
culminated in that unquiet problem of the Philippines.
"All them tropical races," said Jeff, "could be run out better with
their own jockeys up. The tropical man knows what he wants. All he wants
is a season ticket to the cock-fights and a pair of Western Union
climbers to go up the bread-fruit tree. The Anglo-Saxon man wants him to
learn to conjugate and wear suspenders. He'll be happiest in his own
way."
I was shocked.
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