HUCKLEBERRY FINN

By Mark Twain

Part 1. 

NOTICE

PERSONS attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted;persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; personsattempting to find a plot in it will be shot. 

BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR, Per G. G. , Chief of Ordnance. 

EXPLANATORY

IN this book a number of dialects are used, to wit: the Missouri negrodialect; the extremest form of the backwoods Southwestern dialect; theordinary "Pike County" dialect; and four modified varieties of this last. The shadings have not been done in a haphazard fashion, or by guesswork;but painstakingly, and with the trustworthy guidance and support ofpersonal familiarity with these several forms of speech. 

I make this explanation for the reason that without it many readers wouldsuppose that all these characters were trying to talk alike and notsucceeding. 

THE AUTHOR. 

HUCKLEBERRY FINN

Scene: The Mississippi Valley Time: Forty to fifty years ago

CHAPTER I. 

YOU don't know about me without you have read a book by the name of TheAdventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain't no matter. That book was madeby Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things whichhe stretched, but mainly he told the truth. That is nothing. I neverseen anybody but lied one time or another, without it was Aunt Polly, orthe widow, or maybe Mary. Aunt Polly--Tom's Aunt Polly, she is--andMary, and the Widow Douglas is all told about in that book, which ismostly a true book, with some stretchers, as I said before. 

Now the way that the book winds up is this: Tom and me found the moneythat the robbers hid in the cave, and it made us rich. We got sixthousand dollars apiece--all gold. It was an awful sight of money whenit was piled up. Well, Judge Thatcher he took it and put it out atinterest, and it fetched us a dollar a day apiece all the year round--more than a body could tell what to do with. The Widow Douglas she tookme for her son, and allowed she would sivilize me; but it was roughliving in the house all the time, considering how dismal regular anddecent the widow was in all her ways; and so when I couldn't stand it nolonger I lit out. I got into my old rags and my sugar-hogshead again, and was free and satisfied. But Tom Sawyer he hunted me up and said hewas going to start a band of robbers, and I might join if I would go backto the widow and be respectable. So I went back. 

The widow she cried over me, and called me a poor lost lamb, and shecalled me a lot of other names, too, but she never meant no harm by it. She put me in them new clothes again, and I couldn't do nothing but sweatand sweat, and feel all cramped up. Well, then, the old thing commencedagain. The widow rung a bell for supper, and you had to come to time. When you got to the table you couldn't go right to eating, but you had towait for the widow to tuck down her head and grumble a little over thevictuals, though there warn't really anything the matter with them, --thatis, nothing only everything was cooked by itself. In a barrel of oddsand ends it is different; things get mixed up, and the juice kind ofswaps around, and the things go better. 

After supper she got out her book and learned me about Moses and theBulrushers, and I was in a sweat to find out all about him; but by and byshe let it out that Moses had been dead a considerable long time; so thenI didn't care no more about him, because I don't take no stock in deadpeople. 

Pretty soon I wanted to smoke, and asked the widow to let me. But shewouldn't. She said it was a mean practice and wasn't clean, and I musttry to not do it any more. That is just the way with some people. Theyget down on a thing when they don't know nothing about it. Here she wasa-bothering about Moses, which was no kin to her, and no use to anybody, being gone, you see, yet finding a power of fault with me for doing athing that had some good in it. And she took snuff, too; of course thatwas all right, because she done it herself. 

Her sister, Miss Watson, a tolerable slim old maid, with goggles on, had just come to live with her, and took a set at me now with aspelling-book. She worked me middling hard for about an hour, and thenthe widow made her ease up. I couldn't stood it much longer. Then foran hour it was deadly dull, and I was fidgety. Miss Watson would say, "Don't put your feet up there, Huckleberry;" and "Don't scrunch up likethat, Huckleberry--set up straight;" and pretty soon she would say, "Don't gap and stretch like that, Huckleberry--why don't you try tobehave?" Then she told me all about the bad place, and I said I wished Iwas there. She got mad then, but I didn't mean no harm. All I wanted wasto go somewheres; all I wanted was a change, I warn't particular. Shesaid it was wicked to say what I said; said she wouldn't say it for thewhole world; she was going to live so as to go to the good place. Well, I couldn't see no advantage in going where she was going, so I made up mymind I wouldn't try for it. But I never said so, because it would onlymake trouble, and wouldn't do no good. 

Now she had got a start, and she went on and told me all about the goodplace. She said all a body would have to do there was to go around allday long with a harp and sing, forever and ever. So I didn't think muchof it. But I never said so. I asked her if she reckoned Tom Sawyer wouldgo there, and she said not by a considerable sight. I was glad aboutthat, because I wanted him and me to be together. 

Miss Watson she kept pecking at me, and it got tiresome and lonesome. Byand by they fetched the niggers in and had prayers, and then everybodywas off to bed. I went up to my room with a piece of candle, and put iton the table. Then I set down in a chair by the window and tried tothink of something cheerful, but it warn't no use. I felt so lonesome Imost wished I was dead. The stars were shining, and the leaves rustledin the woods ever so mournful; and I heard an owl, away off, who-whooingabout somebody that was dead, and a whippowill and a dog crying aboutsomebody that was going to die; and the wind was trying to whispersomething to me, and I couldn't make out what it was, and so it made thecold shivers run over me. Then away out in the woods I heard that kind ofa sound that a ghost makes when it wants to tell about something that'son its mind and can't make itself understood, and so can't rest easy inits grave, and has to go about that way every night grieving. I got sodown-hearted and scared I did wish I had some company. Pretty soon aspider went crawling up my shoulder, and I flipped it off and it lit inthe candle; and before I could budge it was all shriveled up. I didn'tneed anybody to tell me that that was an awful bad sign and would fetchme some bad luck, so I was scared and most shook the clothes off of me. I got up and turned around in my tracks three times and crossed my breastevery time; and then I tied up a little lock of my hair with a thread tokeep witches away. But I hadn't no confidence. You do that when you'velost a horseshoe that you've found, instead of nailing it up over thedoor, but I hadn't ever heard anybody say it was any way to keep off badluck when you'd killed a spider. 

I set down again, a-shaking all over, and got out my pipe for a smoke;for the house was all as still as death now, and so the widow wouldn'tknow. Well, after a long time I heard the clock away off in the town goboom--boom--boom--twelve licks; and all still again--stiller than ever. Pretty soon I heard a twig snap down in the dark amongst the trees--something was a stirring. I set still and listened. Directly I couldjust barely hear a "me-yow! me-yow!" down there. That was good! Says I, "me-yow! me-yow!" as soft as I could, and then I put out the light andscrambled out of the window on to the shed. Then I slipped down to theground and crawled in among the trees, and, sure enough, there was TomSawyer waiting for me. 

CHAPTER II. 

WE went tiptoeing along a path amongst the trees back towards the end ofthe widow's garden, stooping down so as the branches wouldn't scrape ourheads. When we was passing by the kitchen I fell over a root and made anoise. We scrouched down and laid still. Miss Watson's big nigger, named Jim, was setting in the kitchen door; we could see him prettyclear, because there was a light behind him. He got up and stretched hisneck out about a minute, listening. Then he says:

"Who dah?"

He listened some more; then he come tiptoeing down and stood rightbetween us; we could a touched him, nearly. Well, likely it was minutesand minutes that there warn't a sound, and we all there so closetogether. There was a place on my ankle that got to itching, but Idasn't scratch it; and then my ear begun to itch; and next my back, rightbetween my shoulders. Seemed like I'd die if I couldn't scratch. Well, I've noticed that thing plenty times since. If you are with the quality, or at a funeral, or trying to go to sleep when you ain't sleepy--if youare anywheres where it won't do for you to scratch, why you will itch allover in upwards of a thousand places. Pretty soon Jim says:

"Say, who is you? Whar is you? Dog my cats ef I didn' hear sumf'n. Well, I know what I's gwyne to do: I's gwyne to set down here and listentell I hears it agin. "

So he set down on the ground betwixt me and Tom. He leaned his back upagainst a tree, and stretched his legs out till one of them most touchedone of mine. My nose begun to itch. It itched till the tears come intomy eyes. But I dasn't scratch. Then it begun to itch on the inside. Next I got to itching underneath. I didn't know how I was going to setstill. This miserableness went on as much as six or seven minutes; but itseemed a sight longer than that. I was itching in eleven differentplaces now. I reckoned I couldn't stand it more'n a minute longer, but Iset my teeth hard and got ready to try. Just then Jim begun to breatheheavy; next he begun to snore--and then I was pretty soon comfortableagain. 

Tom he made a sign to me--kind of a little noise with his mouth--and wewent creeping away on our hands and knees. When we was ten foot off Tomwhispered to me, and wanted to tie Jim to the tree for fun. But I saidno; he might wake and make a disturbance, and then they'd find out Iwarn't in. Then Tom said he hadn't got candles enough, and he would slipin the kitchen and get some more. I didn't want him to try. I said Jimmight wake up and come. But Tom wanted to resk it; so we slid in thereand got three candles, and Tom laid five cents on the table for pay. Then we got out, and I was in a sweat to get away; but nothing would doTom but he must crawl to where Jim was, on his hands and knees, and playsomething on him. I waited, and it seemed a good while, everything wasso still and lonesome. 

As soon as Tom was back we cut along the path, around the garden fence, and by and by fetched up on the steep top of the hill the other side ofthe house. Tom said he slipped Jim's hat off of his head and hung it ona limb right over him, and Jim stirred a little, but he didn't wake. Afterwards Jim said the witches be witched him and put him in a trance, and rode him all over the State, and then set him under the trees again, and hung his hat on a limb to show who done it. And next time Jim toldit he said they rode him down to New Orleans; and, after that, every timehe told it he spread it more and more, till by and by he said they rodehim all over the world, and tired him most to death, and his back was allover saddle-boils. Jim was monstrous proud about it, and he got so hewouldn't hardly notice the other niggers. Niggers would come miles tohear Jim tell about it, and he was more looked up to than any nigger inthat country. Strange niggers would stand with their mouths open andlook him all over, same as if he was a wonder. Niggers is always talkingabout witches in the dark by the kitchen fire; but whenever one wastalking and letting on to know all about such things, Jim would happen inand say, "Hm! What you know 'bout witches?" and that nigger was corkedup and had to take a back seat. Jim always kept that five-center pieceround his neck with a string, and said it was a charm the devil give tohim with his own hands, and told him he could cure anybody with it andfetch witches whenever he wanted to just by saying something to it; buthe never told what it was he said to it. Niggers would come from allaround there and give Jim anything they had, just for a sight of thatfive-center piece; but they wouldn't touch it, because the devil had hadhis hands on it. Jim was most ruined for a servant, because he got stuckup on account of having seen the devil and been rode by witches. 

Well, when Tom and me got to the edge of the hilltop we looked away downinto the village and could see three or four lights twinkling, wherethere was sick folks, maybe; and the stars over us was sparkling ever sofine; and down by the village was the river, a whole mile broad, andawful still and grand. We went down the hill and found Jo Harper and BenRogers, and two or three more of the boys, hid in the old tanyard. So weunhitched a skiff and pulled down the river two mile and a half, to thebig scar on the hillside, and went ashore. 

We went to a clump of bushes, and Tom made everybody swear to keep thesecret, and then showed them a hole in the hill, right in the thickestpart of the bushes. Then we lit the candles, and crawled in on our handsand knees. We went about two hundred yards, and then the cave opened up. Tom poked about amongst the passages, and pretty soon ducked under a wallwhere you wouldn't a noticed that there was a hole. We went along anarrow place and got into a kind of room, all damp and sweaty and cold, and there we stopped. Tom says:

"Now, we'll start this band of robbers and call it Tom Sawyer's Gang. Everybody that wants to join has got to take an oath, and write his namein blood. "

Everybody was willing. So Tom got out a sheet of paper that he had wrotethe oath on, and read it. It swore every boy to stick to the band, andnever tell any of the secrets; and if anybody done anything to any boy inthe band, whichever boy was ordered to kill that person and his familymust do it, and he mustn't eat and he mustn't sleep till he had killedthem and hacked a cross in their breasts, which was the sign of the band. And nobody that didn't belong to the band could use that mark, and if hedid he must be sued; and if he done it again he must be killed. And ifanybody that belonged to the band told the secrets, he must have histhroat cut, and then have his carcass burnt up and the ashes scatteredall around, and his name blotted off of the list with blood and nevermentioned again by the gang, but have a curse put on it and be forgotforever. 

Everybody said it was a real beautiful oath, and asked Tom if he got itout of his own head. He said, some of it, but the rest was out ofpirate-books and robber-books, and every gang that was high-toned had it. 

Some thought it would be good to kill the FAMILIES of boys that told thesecrets. Tom said it was a good idea, so he took a pencil and wrote itin. Then Ben Rogers says:

"Here's Huck Finn, he hain't got no family; what you going to do 'bouthim?"

"Well, hain't he got a father?" says Tom Sawyer. 

"Yes, he's got a father, but you can't never find him these days. Heused to lay drunk with the hogs in the tanyard, but he hain't been seenin these parts for a year or more. "

They talked it over, and they was going to rule me out, because they saidevery boy must have a family or somebody to kill, or else it wouldn't befair and square for the others. Well, nobody could think of anything todo--everybody was stumped, and set still. I was most ready to cry; butall at once I thought of a way, and so I offered them Miss Watson--theycould kill her. Everybody said:

"Oh, she'll do. That's all right. Huck can come in. "

Then they all stuck a pin in their fingers to get blood to sign with, andI made my mark on the paper. 

"Now, " says Ben Rogers, "what's the line of business of this Gang?"

"Nothing only robbery and murder, " Tom said. 

"But who are we going to rob?--houses, or cattle, or--"

"Stuff! stealing cattle and such things ain't robbery; it's burglary, "says Tom Sawyer. "We ain't burglars. That ain't no sort of style. Weare highwaymen. We stop stages and carriages on the road, with masks on, and kill the people and take their watches and money. "

"Must we always kill the people?"

"Oh, certainly. It's best. Some authorities think different, but mostlyit's considered best to kill them--except some that you bring to the cavehere, and keep them till they're ransomed. "

"Ransomed? What's that?"

"I don't know. But that's what they do. I've seen it in books; and soof course that's what we've got to do. "

"But how can we do it if we don't know what it is?"

"Why, blame it all, we've GOT to do it. Don't I tell you it's in thebooks? Do you want to go to doing different from what's in the books, and get things all muddled up?"

"Oh, that's all very fine to SAY, Tom Sawyer, but how in the nation arethese fellows going to be ransomed if we don't know how to do it to them?--that's the thing I want to get at. Now, what do you reckon it is?"

"Well, I don't know. But per'aps if we keep them till they're ransomed, it means that we keep them till they're dead. "

"Now, that's something LIKE. That'll answer. Why couldn't you said thatbefore? We'll keep them till they're ransomed to death; and a bothersomelot they'll be, too--eating up everything, and always trying to getloose. "

"How you talk, Ben Rogers. How can they get loose when there's a guardover them, ready to shoot them down if they move a peg?"

"A guard! Well, that IS good. So somebody's got to set up all night andnever get any sleep, just so as to watch them. I think that'sfoolishness. Why can't a body take a club and ransom them as soon as theyget here?"

"Because it ain't in the books so--that's why. Now, Ben Rogers, do youwant to do things regular, or don't you?--that's the idea. Don't youreckon that the people that made the books knows what's the correct thingto do? Do you reckon YOU can learn 'em anything? Not by a good deal. No, sir, we'll just go on and ransom them in the regular way. "

"All right. I don't mind; but I say it's a fool way, anyhow. Say, do wekill the women, too?"

"Well, Ben Rogers, if I was as ignorant as you I wouldn't let on. Killthe women? No; nobody ever saw anything in the books like that. Youfetch them to the cave, and you're always as polite as pie to them; andby and by they fall in love with you, and never want to go home anymore. "

"Well, if that's the way I'm agreed, but I don't take no stock in it. Mighty soon we'll have the cave so cluttered up with women, and fellowswaiting to be ransomed, that there won't be no place for the robbers. But go ahead, I ain't got nothing to say. "

Little Tommy Barnes was asleep now, and when they waked him up he wasscared, and cried, and said he wanted to go home to his ma, and didn'twant to be a robber any more. 

So they all made fun of him, and called him cry-baby, and that made himmad, and he said he would go straight and tell all the secrets. But Tomgive him five cents to keep quiet, and said we would all go home and meetnext week, and rob somebody and kill some people. 

Ben Rogers said he couldn't get out much, only Sundays, and so he wantedto begin next Sunday; but all the boys said it would be wicked to do iton Sunday, and that settled the thing. They agreed to get together andfix a day as soon as they could, and then we elected Tom Sawyer firstcaptain and Jo Harper second captain of the Gang, and so started home. 

I clumb up the shed and crept into my window just before day wasbreaking. My new clothes was all greased up and clayey, and I wasdog-tired. 

CHAPTER III. 

WELL, I got a good going-over in the morning from old Miss Watson onaccount of my clothes; but the widow she didn't scold, but only cleanedoff the grease and clay, and looked so sorry that I thought I wouldbehave awhile if I could. Then Miss Watson she took me in the closet andprayed, but nothing come of it. She told me to pray every day, andwhatever I asked for I would get it. But it warn't so. I tried it. Once I got a fish-line, but no hooks. It warn't any good to me withouthooks. I tried for the hooks three or four times, but somehow I couldn'tmake it work. By and by, one day, I asked Miss Watson to try for me, butshe said I was a fool. She never told me why, and I couldn't make it outno way. 

I set down one time back in the woods, and had a long think about it. Isays to myself, if a body can get anything they pray for, why don'tDeacon Winn get back the money he lost on pork? Why can't the widow getback her silver snuffbox that was stole? Why can't Miss Watson fat up?No, says I to my self, there ain't nothing in it. I went and told thewidow about it, and she said the thing a body could get by praying for itwas "spiritual gifts. " This was too many for me, but she told me whatshe meant--I must help other people, and do everything I could for otherpeople, and look out for them all the time, and never think about myself. This was including Miss Watson, as I took it. I went out in the woodsand turned it over in my mind a long time, but I couldn't see noadvantage about it--except for the other people; so at last I reckoned Iwouldn't worry about it any more, but just let it go. Sometimes thewidow would take me one side and talk about Providence in a way to make abody's mouth water; but maybe next day Miss Watson would take hold andknock it all down again. I judged I could see that there was twoProvidences, and a poor chap would stand considerable show with thewidow's Providence, but if Miss Watson's got him there warn't no help forhim any more. I thought it all out, and reckoned I would belong to thewidow's if he wanted me, though I couldn't make out how he was a-going tobe any better off then than what he was before, seeing I was so ignorant, and so kind of low-down and ornery. 

Pap he hadn't been seen for more than a year, and that was comfortablefor me; I didn't want to see him no more. He used to always whale mewhen he was sober and could get his hands on me; though I used to take tothe woods most of the time when he was around. Well, about this time hewas found in the river drownded, about twelve mile above town, so peoplesaid. They judged it was him, anyway; said this drownded man was justhis size, and was ragged, and had uncommon long hair, which was all likepap; but they couldn't make nothing out of the face, because it had beenin the water so long it warn't much like a face at all. They said he wasfloating on his back in the water. They took him and buried him on thebank. But I warn't comfortable long, because I happened to think ofsomething. I knowed mighty well that a drownded man don't float on hisback, but on his face. So I knowed, then, that this warn't pap, but awoman dressed up in a man's clothes. So I was uncomfortable again. Ijudged the old man would turn up again by and by, though I wished hewouldn't. 

We played robber now and then about a month, and then I resigned. Allthe boys did. We hadn't robbed nobody, hadn't killed any people, butonly just pretended. We used to hop out of the woods and go chargingdown on hog-drivers and women in carts taking garden stuff to market, butwe never hived any of them. Tom Sawyer called the hogs "ingots, " and hecalled the turnips and stuff "julery, " and we would go to the cave andpowwow over what we had done, and how many people we had killed andmarked. But I couldn't see no profit in it. One time Tom sent a boy torun about town with a blazing stick, which he called a slogan (which wasthe sign for the Gang to get together), and then he said he had gotsecret news by his spies that next day a whole parcel of Spanishmerchants and rich A-rabs was going to camp in Cave Hollow with twohundred elephants, and six hundred camels, and over a thousand "sumter"mules, all loaded down with di'monds, and they didn't have only a guardof four hundred soldiers, and so we would lay in ambuscade, as he calledit, and kill the lot and scoop the things. He said we must slick up ourswords and guns, and get ready. He never could go after even aturnip-cart but he must have the swords and guns all scoured up for it, though they was only lath and broomsticks, and you might scour at themtill you rotted, and then they warn't worth a mouthful of ashes more thanwhat they was before. I didn't believe we could lick such a crowd ofSpaniards and A-rabs, but I wanted to see the camels and elephants, so Iwas on hand next day, Saturday, in the ambuscade; and when we got theword we rushed out of the woods and down the hill. But there warn't noSpaniards and A-rabs, and there warn't no camels nor no elephants. Itwarn't anything but a Sunday-school picnic, and only a primer-class atthat. We busted it up, and chased the children up the hollow; but wenever got anything but some doughnuts and jam, though Ben Rogers got arag doll, and Jo Harper got a hymn-book and a tract; and then the teachercharged in, and made us drop everything and cut. I didn't see nodi'monds, and I told Tom Sawyer so. He said there was loads of themthere, anyway; and he said there was A-rabs there, too, and elephants andthings. I said, why couldn't we see them, then? He said if I warn't soignorant, but had read a book called Don Quixote, I would know withoutasking. He said it was all done by enchantment. He said there washundreds of soldiers there, and elephants and treasure, and so on, but wehad enemies which he called magicians; and they had turned the wholething into an infant Sunday-school, just out of spite. I said, allright; then the thing for us to do was to go for the magicians. TomSawyer said I was a numskull. 

"Why, " said he, "a magician could call up a lot of genies, and they wouldhash you up like nothing before you could say Jack Robinson. They are astall as a tree and as big around as a church. "

"Well, " I says, "s'pose we got some genies to help US--can't we lick theother crowd then?"

"How you going to get them?"

"I don't know. How do THEY get them?"

"Why, they rub an old tin lamp or an iron ring, and then the genies cometearing in, with the thunder and lightning a-ripping around and the smokea-rolling, and everything they're told to do they up and do it. Theydon't think nothing of pulling a shot-tower up by the roots, and beltinga Sunday-school superintendent over the head with it--or any other man. "

"Who makes them tear around so?"

"Why, whoever rubs the lamp or the ring. They belong to whoever rubs thelamp or the ring, and they've got to do whatever he says. If he tellsthem to build a palace forty miles long out of di'monds, and fill it fullof chewing-gum, or whatever you want, and fetch an emperor's daughterfrom China for you to marry, they've got to do it--and they've got to doit before sun-up next morning, too. And more: they've got to waltz thatpalace around over the country wherever you want it, you understand. "

"Well, " says I, "I think they are a pack of flat-heads for not keepingthe palace themselves 'stead of fooling them away like that. And what'smore--if I was one of them I would see a man in Jericho before I woulddrop my business and come to him for the rubbing of an old tin lamp. "

"How you talk, Huck Finn. Why, you'd HAVE to come when he rubbed it, whether you wanted to or not. "

"What! and I as high as a tree and as big as a church? All right, then;I WOULD come; but I lay I'd make that man climb the highest tree therewas in the country. "

"Shucks, it ain't no use to talk to you, Huck Finn. You don't seem toknow anything, somehow--perfect saphead. "

I thought all this over for two or three days, and then I reckoned Iwould see if there was anything in it. I got an old tin lamp and an ironring, and went out in the woods and rubbed and rubbed till I sweat likean Injun, calculating to build a palace and sell it; but it warn't nouse, none of the genies come. So then I judged that all that stuff wasonly just one of Tom Sawyer's lies. I reckoned he believed in the A-rabsand the elephants, but as for me I think different. It had all the marksof a Sunday-school. 

CHAPTER IV. 

WELL, three or four months run along, and it was well into the winternow. I had been to school most all the time and could spell and read andwrite just a little, and could say the multiplication table up to sixtimes seven is thirty-five, and I don't reckon I could ever get anyfurther than that if I was to live forever. I don't take no stock inmathematics, anyway. 

At first I hated the school, but by and by I got so I could stand it. Whenever I got uncommon tired I played hookey, and the hiding I got nextday done me good and cheered me up. So the longer I went to school theeasier it got to be. I was getting sort of used to the widow's ways, too, and they warn't so raspy on me. Living in a house and sleeping in abed pulled on me pretty tight mostly, but before the cold weather I usedto slide out and sleep in the woods sometimes, and so that was a rest tome. I liked the old ways best, but I was getting so I liked the newones, too, a little bit. The widow said I was coming along slow but sure, and doing very satisfactory. She said she warn't ashamed of me. 

One morning I happened to turn over the salt-cellar at breakfast. Ireached for some of it as quick as I could to throw over my left shoulderand keep off the bad luck, but Miss Watson was in ahead of me, andcrossed me off. She says, "Take your hands away, Huckleberry; what a messyou are always making!" The widow put in a good word for me, but thatwarn't going to keep off the bad luck, I knowed that well enough. Istarted out, after breakfast, feeling worried and shaky, and wonderingwhere it was going to fall on me, and what it was going to be. There isways to keep off some kinds of bad luck, but this wasn't one of themkind; so I never tried to do anything, but just poked along low-spiritedand on the watch-out. 

I went down to the front garden and clumb over the stile where you gothrough the high board fence. There was an inch of new snow on theground, and I seen somebody's tracks. They had come up from the quarryand stood around the stile a while, and then went on around the gardenfence. It was funny they hadn't come in, after standing around so. Icouldn't make it out. It was very curious, somehow. I was going tofollow around, but I stooped down to look at the tracks first. I didn'tnotice anything at first, but next I did. There was a cross in the leftboot-heel made with big nails, to keep off the devil. 

I was up in a second and shinning down the hill. I looked over myshoulder every now and then, but I didn't see nobody. I was at JudgeThatcher's as quick as I could get there. He said:

"Why, my boy, you are all out of breath. Did you come for yourinterest?"

"No, sir, " I says; "is there some for me?"

"Oh, yes, a half-yearly is in last night--over a hundred and fiftydollars. Quite a fortune for you. You had better let me invest it alongwith your six thousand, because if you take it you'll spend it. "

"No, sir, " I says, "I don't want to spend it. I don't want it at all--nor the six thousand, nuther. I want you to take it; I want to give itto you--the six thousand and all. "

He looked surprised. He couldn't seem to make it out. He says:

"Why, what can you mean, my boy?"

I says, "Don't you ask me no questions about it, please. You'll take it--won't you?"

He says:

"Well, I'm puzzled. Is something the matter?"

"Please take it, " says I, "and don't ask me nothing--then I won't have totell no lies. "

He studied a while, and then he says:

"Oho-o! I think I see. You want to SELL all your property to me--notgive it. That's the correct idea. "

Then he wrote something on a paper and read it over, and says:

"There; you see it says 'for a consideration. ' That means I have boughtit of you and paid you for it. Here's a dollar for you. Now you signit. "

So I signed it, and left. 

Miss Watson's nigger, Jim, had a hair-ball as big as your fist, which hadbeen took out of the fourth stomach of an ox, and he used to do magicwith it. He said there was a spirit inside of it, and it knowedeverything. So I went to him that night and told him pap was here again, for I found his tracks in the snow. What I wanted to know was, what hewas going to do, and was he going to stay? Jim got out his hair-ball andsaid something over it, and then he held it up and dropped it on thefloor. It fell pretty solid, and only rolled about an inch. Jim triedit again, and then another time, and it acted just the same. Jim gotdown on his knees, and put his ear against it and listened. But itwarn't no use; he said it wouldn't talk. He said sometimes it wouldn'ttalk without money. I told him I had an old slick counterfeit quarterthat warn't no good because the brass showed through the silver a little, and it wouldn't pass nohow, even if the brass didn't show, because it wasso slick it felt greasy, and so that would tell on it every time. (Ireckoned I wouldn't say nothing about the dollar I got from the judge. ) Isaid it was pretty bad money, but maybe the hair-ball would take it, because maybe it wouldn't know the difference. Jim smelt it and bit itand rubbed it, and said he would manage so the hair-ball would think itwas good. He said he would split open a raw Irish potato and stick thequarter in between and keep it there all night, and next morning youcouldn't see no brass, and it wouldn't feel greasy no more, and soanybody in town would take it in a minute, let alone a hair-ball. Well, I knowed a potato would do that before, but I had forgot it. 

Jim put the quarter under the hair-ball, and got down and listened again. This time he said the hair-ball was all right. He said it would tell mywhole fortune if I wanted it to. I says, go on. So the hair-ball talkedto Jim, and Jim told it to me. He says:

"Yo' ole father doan' know yit what he's a-gwyne to do. Sometimes hespec he'll go 'way, en den agin he spec he'll stay. De bes' way is tores' easy en let de ole man take his own way. Dey's two angels hoverin'roun' 'bout him. One uv 'em is white en shiny, en t'other one is black. De white one gits him to go right a little while, den de black one sailin en bust it all up. A body can't tell yit which one gwyne to fetch himat de las'. But you is all right. You gwyne to have considable troublein yo' life, en considable joy. Sometimes you gwyne to git hurt, ensometimes you gwyne to git sick; but every time you's gwyne to git wellagin. Dey's two gals flyin' 'bout you in yo' life. One uv 'em's lighten t'other one is dark. One is rich en t'other is po'. You's gwyne tomarry de po' one fust en de rich one by en by. You wants to keep 'wayfum de water as much as you kin, en don't run no resk, 'kase it's down inde bills dat you's gwyne to git hung. "

When I lit my candle and went up to my room that night there sat pap--hisown self!

CHAPTER V. 

I HAD shut the door to. Then I turned around and there he was. I usedto be scared of him all the time, he tanned me so much. I reckoned I wasscared now, too; but in a minute I see I was mistaken--that is, after thefirst jolt, as you may say, when my breath sort of hitched, he being sounexpected; but right away after I see I warn't scared of him worthbothring about. 

He was most fifty, and he looked it. His hair was long and tangled andgreasy, and hung down, and you could see his eyes shining through like hewas behind vines. It was all black, no gray; so was his long, mixed-upwhiskers. There warn't no color in his face, where his face showed; itwas white; not like another man's white, but a white to make a body sick, a white to make a body's flesh crawl--a tree-toad white, a fish-bellywhite. As for his clothes--just rags, that was all. He had one ankleresting on t'other knee; the boot on that foot was busted, and two of histoes stuck through, and he worked them now and then. His hat was layingon the floor--an old black slouch with the top caved in, like a lid. 

I stood a-looking at him; he set there a-looking at me, with his chairtilted back a little. I set the candle down. I noticed the window wasup; so he had clumb in by the shed. He kept a-looking me all over. Byand by he says:

"Starchy clothes--very. You think you're a good deal of a big-bug, DON'Tyou?"

"Maybe I am, maybe I ain't, " I says. 

"Don't you give me none o' your lip, " says he. "You've put onconsiderable many frills since I been away. I'll take you down a pegbefore I get done with you. You're educated, too, they say--can read andwrite. You think you're better'n your father, now, don't you, because hecan't? I'LL take it out of you. Who told you you might meddle with suchhifalut'n foolishness, hey?--who told you you could?"

"The widow. She told me. "

"The widow, hey?--and who told the widow she could put in her shovelabout a thing that ain't none of her business?"

"Nobody never told her. "

"Well, I'll learn her how to meddle. And looky here--you drop thatschool, you hear? I'll learn people to bring up a boy to put on airsover his own father and let on to be better'n what HE is. You lemmecatch you fooling around that school again, you hear? Your mothercouldn't read, and she couldn't write, nuther, before she died. None ofthe family couldn't before THEY died. I can't; and here you'rea-swelling yourself up like this. I ain't the man to stand it--you hear?Say, lemme hear you read. "

I took up a book and begun something about General Washington and thewars. When I'd read about a half a minute, he fetched the book a whackwith his hand and knocked it across the house. He says:

"It's so. You can do it. I had my doubts when you told me. Now lookyhere; you stop that putting on frills. I won't have it. I'll lay foryou, my smarty; and if I catch you about that school I'll tan you good. First you know you'll get religion, too. I never see such a son. "

He took up a little blue and yaller picture of some cows and a boy, andsays:

"What's this?"

"It's something they give me for learning my lessons good. "

He tore it up, and says:

"I'll give you something better--I'll give you a cowhide. "

He set there a-mumbling and a-growling a minute, and then he says:

"AIN'T you a sweet-scented dandy, though? A bed; and bedclothes; and alook'n'-glass; and a piece of carpet on the floor--and your own fathergot to sleep with the hogs in the tanyard. I never see such a son. Ibet I'll take some o' these frills out o' you before I'm done with you. Why, there ain't no end to your airs--they say you're rich. Hey?--how'sthat?"

"They lie--that's how. "

"Looky here--mind how you talk to me; I'm a-standing about all I canstand now--so don't gimme no sass. I've been in town two days, and Ihain't heard nothing but about you bein' rich. I heard about it awaydown the river, too. That's why I come. You git me that moneyto-morrow--I want it. "

"I hain't got no money. "

"It's a lie. Judge Thatcher's got it. You git it. I want it. "

"I hain't got no money, I tell you. You ask Judge Thatcher; he'll tellyou the same. "

"All right. I'll ask him; and I'll make him pungle, too, or I'll knowthe reason why. Say, how much you got in your pocket? I want it. "

"I hain't got only a dollar, and I want that to--"

"It don't make no difference what you want it for--you just shell itout. "

He took it and bit it to see if it was good, and then he said he wasgoing down town to get some whisky; said he hadn't had a drink all day. When he had got out on the shed he put his head in again, and cussed mefor putting on frills and trying to be better than him; and when Ireckoned he was gone he come back and put his head in again, and told meto mind about that school, because he was going to lay for me and lick meif I didn't drop that. 

Next day he was drunk, and he went to Judge Thatcher's and bullyraggedhim, and tried to make him give up the money; but he couldn't, and thenhe swore he'd make the law force him. 

The judge and the widow went to law to get the court to take me away fromhim and let one of them be my guardian; but it was a new judge that hadjust come, and he didn't know the old man; so he said courts mustn'tinterfere and separate families if they could help it; said he'd druthernot take a child away from its father. So Judge Thatcher and the widowhad to quit on the business. 

That pleased the old man till he couldn't rest. He said he'd cowhide metill I was black and blue if I didn't raise some money for him. Iborrowed three dollars from Judge Thatcher, and pap took it and gotdrunk, and went a-blowing around and cussing and whooping and carryingon; and he kept it up all over town, with a tin pan, till most midnight;then they jailed him, and next day they had him before court, and jailedhim again for a week. But he said HE was satisfied; said he was boss ofhis son, and he'd make it warm for HIM. 

When he got out the new judge said he was a-going to make a man of him. So he took him to his own house, and dressed him up clean and nice, andhad him to breakfast and dinner and supper with the family, and was justold pie to him, so to speak. And after supper he talked to him abouttemperance and such things till the old man cried, and said he'd been afool, and fooled away his life; but now he was a-going to turn over a newleaf and be a man nobody wouldn't be ashamed of, and he hoped the judgewould help him and not look down on him. The judge said he could hug himfor them words; so he cried, and his wife she cried again; pap said he'dbeen a man that had always been misunderstood before, and the judge saidhe believed it. The old man said that what a man wanted that was downwas sympathy, and the judge said it was so; so they cried again. Andwhen it was bedtime the old man rose up and held out his hand, and says:

"Look at it, gentlemen and ladies all; take a-hold of it; shake it. There's a hand that was the hand of a hog; but it ain't so no more; it'sthe hand of a man that's started in on a new life, and'll die beforehe'll go back. You mark them words--don't forget I said them. It's aclean hand now; shake it--don't be afeard. "

So they shook it, one after the other, all around, and cried. Thejudge's wife she kissed it. Then the old man he signed a pledge--madehis mark. The judge said it was the holiest time on record, or somethinglike that. Then they tucked the old man into a beautiful room, which wasthe spare room, and in the night some time he got powerful thirsty andclumb out on to the porch-roof and slid down a stanchion and traded hisnew coat for a jug of forty-rod, and clumb back again and had a good oldtime; and towards daylight he crawled out again, drunk as a fiddler, androlled off the porch and broke his left arm in two places, and was mostfroze to death when somebody found him after sun-up. And when they cometo look at that spare room they had to take soundings before they couldnavigate it. 

The judge he felt kind of sore. He said he reckoned a body could reformthe old man with a shotgun, maybe, but he didn't know no other way.