"The critics said so; who are they?"
"The newspaper representatives who come to the theater to find fault," I answered.
"Oh, that's it, eh? I didn't see what any of 'em said, and it wouldn't make any difference if I had. I've been a pilot on this river mighty nigh ever since I was a boy, and if I don't know what a real gambler is, I'd like for some man to point one out to me."
"I am really delighted to meet you, for surely your opinion is worth a great deal."
"Don't know about that," he replied, "but I know what a gambler is. Why, I set all the way through your show. Fellow wanted me to go out with him, but I wouldn't. And right by me set Senator Giles Talcom, of Mississippi. I live in Bolanyo, his town. It's improved mightily in the last twenty-five years. Got a new city hall, and some Dutchmen from the north are talking about starting a brewery. Now, Talcom is a smart man and he liked your show; said he was sorry you are to skip Bolanyo on your way up the river. As soon as I git a bite to eat I'm going up to take the wheel. Wouldn't you like to sit in the pilot house?"
Glad to accept the invitation of one who had the insight to recognize an artistic delineation of character, and the graciousness to declare it, I went with him to the pilot house. He took the wheel from a man who, I thought, did not look upon me kindly, and continued to talk, while with an intentness that traced a frown upon his brow he estimated the strength of the current, or the depth of the water on a shoal. The river was low; the winter had been comparatively dry; the early spring thaw had spent its force, and there was as yet no premonitory swell of the great summer rise. The morning was sunless and soft, and far away a dragon-shaped mist lay low upon the land, a giant's nightmare, fading in the pale light of a reluctant day.
"The old river's dead," said the pilot, with the reverberations of a knell in the tone of his voice. "Look at that thing fluttering along over there, where the Lee and the Natchez used to plow. No, sir, the old Mississippi ain't much better than a sewer now. But she was a roarer back yonder in my time, I tell you. Ah, Lord, some great men have piloted palaces along here."
"Whom do you regard as the greatest?" I inquired, expecting to hear him pronounce a name well known to the stage and to literature.
"Well, of course there's a difference of opinion among them that don't know, but with them that do know there never was a pilot that could hold a candle to old Lige Patton."
"I don't believe I ever heard of him," I replied.