HUCKLEBERRY FINN By Mark Twain Part 2. CHAPTER VI. WELL, pretty soon the old man was up and around again, and then he wentfor Judge Thatcher in the courts to make him give up that money, and hewent for me, too, for not stopping school. He catched me a couple oftimes and thrashed me, but I went to school just the same, and dodged himor outrun him most of the time. I didn't want to go to school muchbefore, but I reckoned I'd go now to spite pap. That law trial was aslow business--appeared like they warn't ever going to get started onit; so every now and then I'd borrow two or three dollars off of thejudge for him, to keep from getting a cowhiding. Every time he got moneyhe got drunk; and every time he got drunk he raised Cain around town; andevery time he raised Cain he got jailed. He was just suited--this kindof thing was right in his line. He got to hanging around the widow's too much and so she told him at lastthat if he didn't quit using around there she would make trouble for him. Well, WASN'T he mad? He said he would show who was Huck Finn's boss. Sohe watched out for me one day in the spring, and catched me, and took meup the river about three mile in a skiff, and crossed over to theIllinois shore where it was woody and there warn't no houses but an oldlog hut in a place where the timber was so thick you couldn't find it ifyou didn't know where it was. He kept me with him all the time, and I never got a chance to run off. We lived in that old cabin, and he always locked the door and put the keyunder his head nights. He had a gun which he had stole, I reckon, and wefished and hunted, and that was what we lived on. Every little while helocked me in and went down to the store, three miles, to the ferry, andtraded fish and game for whisky, and fetched it home and got drunk andhad a good time, and licked me. The widow she found out where I was byand by, and she sent a man over to try to get hold of me; but pap drovehim off with the gun, and it warn't long after that till I was used tobeing where I was, and liked it--all but the cowhide part. It was kind of lazy and jolly, laying off comfortable all day, smokingand fishing, and no books nor study. Two months or more run along, andmy clothes got to be all rags and dirt, and I didn't see how I'd ever gotto like it so well at the widow's, where you had to wash, and eat on aplate, and comb up, and go to bed and get up regular, and be foreverbothering over a book, and have old Miss Watson pecking at you all thetime. I didn't want to go back no more. I had stopped cussing, becausethe widow didn't like it; but now I took to it again because pap hadn'tno objections. It was pretty good times up in the woods there, take itall around. But by and by pap got too handy with his hick'ry, and I couldn't standit. I was all over welts. He got to going away so much, too, and lockingme in. Once he locked me in and was gone three days. It was dreadfullonesome. I judged he had got drowned, and I wasn't ever going to getout any more. I was scared. I made up my mind I would fix up some wayto leave there. I had tried to get out of that cabin many a time, but Icouldn't find no way. There warn't a window to it big enough for a dogto get through. I couldn't get up the chimbly; it was too narrow. Thedoor was thick, solid oak slabs. Pap was pretty careful not to leave aknife or anything in the cabin when he was away; I reckon I had huntedthe place over as much as a hundred times; well, I was most all the timeat it, because it was about the only way to put in the time. But thistime I found something at last; I found an old rusty wood-saw without anyhandle; it was laid in between a rafter and the clapboards of the roof. I greased it up and went to work. There was an old horse-blanket nailedagainst the logs at the far end of the cabin behind the table, to keepthe wind from blowing through the chinks and putting the candle out. Igot under the table and raised the blanket, and went to work to saw asection of the big bottom log out--big enough to let me through. Well, it was a good long job, but I was getting towards the end of it when Iheard pap's gun in the woods. I got rid of the signs of my work, anddropped the blanket and hid my saw, and pretty soon pap come in. Pap warn't in a good humor--so he was his natural self. He said he wasdown town, and everything was going wrong. His lawyer said he reckonedhe would win his lawsuit and get the money if they ever got started onthe trial; but then there was ways to put it off a long time, and JudgeThatcher knowed how to do it. And he said people allowed there'd beanother trial to get me away from him and give me to the widow for myguardian, and they guessed it would win this time. This shook me upconsiderable, because I didn't want to go back to the widow's any moreand be so cramped up and sivilized, as they called it. Then the old mangot to cussing, and cussed everything and everybody he could think of, and then cussed them all over again to make sure he hadn't skipped any, and after that he polished off with a kind of a general cuss all round, including a considerable parcel of people which he didn't know the namesof, and so called them what's-his-name when he got to them, and wentright along with his cussing. He said he would like to see the widow get me. He said he would watchout, and if they tried to come any such game on him he knowed of a placesix or seven mile off to stow me in, where they might hunt till theydropped and they couldn't find me. That made me pretty uneasy again, butonly for a minute; I reckoned I wouldn't stay on hand till he got thatchance. The old man made me go to the skiff and fetch the things he had got. There was a fifty-pound sack of corn meal, and a side of bacon, ammunition, and a four-gallon jug of whisky, and an old book and twonewspapers for wadding, besides some tow. I toted up a load, and wentback and set down on the bow of the skiff to rest. I thought it allover, and I reckoned I would walk off with the gun and some lines, andtake to the woods when I run away. I guessed I wouldn't stay in oneplace, but just tramp right across the country, mostly night times, andhunt and fish to keep alive, and so get so far away that the old man northe widow couldn't ever find me any more. I judged I would saw out andleave that night if pap got drunk enough, and I reckoned he would. I gotso full of it I didn't notice how long I was staying till the old manhollered and asked me whether I was asleep or drownded. I got the things all up to the cabin, and then it was about dark. WhileI was cooking supper the old man took a swig or two and got sort ofwarmed up, and went to ripping again. He had been drunk over in town, and laid in the gutter all night, and he was a sight to look at. A bodywould a thought he was Adam--he was just all mud. Whenever his liquorbegun to work he most always went for the govment, this time he says: "Call this a govment! why, just look at it and see what it's like. Here's the law a-standing ready to take a man's son away from him--aman's own son, which he has had all the trouble and all the anxiety andall the expense of raising. Yes, just as that man has got that sonraised at last, and ready to go to work and begin to do suthin' for HIMand give him a rest, the law up and goes for him. And they call THATgovment! That ain't all, nuther. The law backs that old Judge Thatcherup and helps him to keep me out o' my property. Here's what the lawdoes: The law takes a man worth six thousand dollars and up'ards, andjams him into an old trap of a cabin like this, and lets him go round inclothes that ain't fitten for a hog. They call that govment! A man can'tget his rights in a govment like this. Sometimes I've a mighty notion tojust leave the country for good and all. Yes, and I TOLD 'em so; I toldold Thatcher so to his face. Lots of 'em heard me, and can tell what Isaid. Says I, for two cents I'd leave the blamed country and never comea-near it agin. Them's the very words. I says look at my hat--if youcall it a hat--but the lid raises up and the rest of it goes down tillit's below my chin, and then it ain't rightly a hat at all, but more likemy head was shoved up through a jint o' stove-pipe. Look at it, says I--such a hat for me to wear--one of the wealthiest men in this town if Icould git my rights. "Oh, yes, this is a wonderful govment, wonderful. Why, looky here. There was a free nigger there from Ohio--a mulatter, most as white as awhite man. He had the whitest shirt on you ever see, too, and theshiniest hat; and there ain't a man in that town that's got as fineclothes as what he had; and he had a gold watch and chain, and asilver-headed cane--the awfulest old gray-headed nabob in the State. Andwhat do you think? They said he was a p'fessor in a college, and couldtalk all kinds of languages, and knowed everything. And that ain't thewust. They said he could VOTE when he was at home. Well, that let meout. Thinks I, what is the country a-coming to? It was 'lection day, andI was just about to go and vote myself if I warn't too drunk to getthere; but when they told me there was a State in this country wherethey'd let that nigger vote, I drawed out. I says I'll never vote agin. Them's the very words I said; they all heard me; and the country may rotfor all me --I'll never vote agin as long as I live. And to see the coolway of that nigger--why, he wouldn't a give me the road if I hadn'tshoved him out o' the way. I says to the people, why ain't this niggerput up at auction and sold?--that's what I want to know. And what do youreckon they said? Why, they said he couldn't be sold till he'd been inthe State six months, and he hadn't been there that long yet. There, now--that's a specimen. They call that a govment that can't sell a freenigger till he's been in the State six months. Here's a govment thatcalls itself a govment, and lets on to be a govment, and thinks it is agovment, and yet's got to set stock-still for six whole months before itcan take a hold of a prowling, thieving, infernal, white-shirted freenigger, and--" Pap was agoing on so he never noticed where his old limber legs wastaking him to, so he went head over heels over the tub of salt pork andbarked both shins, and the rest of his speech was all the hottest kind oflanguage--mostly hove at the nigger and the govment, though he give thetub some, too, all along, here and there. He hopped around the cabinconsiderable, first on one leg and then on the other, holding first oneshin and then the other one, and at last he let out with his left footall of a sudden and fetched the tub a rattling kick. But it warn't goodjudgment, because that was the boot that had a couple of his toes leakingout of the front end of it; so now he raised a howl that fairly made abody's hair raise, and down he went in the dirt, and rolled there, andheld his toes; and the cussing he done then laid over anything he hadever done previous. He said so his own self afterwards. He had heardold Sowberry Hagan in his best days, and he said it laid over him, too;but I reckon that was sort of piling it on, maybe. After supper pap took the jug, and said he had enough whisky there fortwo drunks and one delirium tremens. That was always his word. I judgedhe would be blind drunk in about an hour, and then I would steal the key, or saw myself out, one or t'other. He drank and drank, and tumbled downon his blankets by and by; but luck didn't run my way. He didn't gosound asleep, but was uneasy. He groaned and moaned and thrashed aroundthis way and that for a long time. At last I got so sleepy I couldn'tkeep my eyes open all I could do, and so before I knowed what I was aboutI was sound asleep, and the candle burning. I don't know how long I was asleep, but all of a sudden there was anawful scream and I was up. There was pap looking wild, and skippingaround every which way and yelling about snakes. He said they wascrawling up his legs; and then he would give a jump and scream, and sayone had bit him on the cheek--but I couldn't see no snakes. He startedand run round and round the cabin, hollering "Take him off! take him off!he's biting me on the neck!" I never see a man look so wild in the eyes. Pretty soon he was all fagged out, and fell down panting; then he rolledover and over wonderful fast, kicking things every which way, andstriking and grabbing at the air with his hands, and screaming and sayingthere was devils a-hold of him. He wore out by and by, and laid still awhile, moaning. Then he laid stiller, and didn't make a sound. I couldhear the owls and the wolves away off in the woods, and it seemedterrible still. He was laying over by the corner. By and by he raised uppart way and listened, with his head to one side. He says, very low: "Tramp--tramp--tramp; that's the dead; tramp--tramp--tramp; they'recoming after me; but I won't go. Oh, they're here! don't touch me--don't! hands off--they're cold; let go. Oh, let a poor devil alone!" Then he went down on all fours and crawled off, begging them to let himalone, and he rolled himself up in his blanket and wallowed in under theold pine table, still a-begging; and then he went to crying. I couldhear him through the blanket. By and by he rolled out and jumped up on his feet looking wild, and hesee me and went for me. He chased me round and round the place with aclasp-knife, calling me the Angel of Death, and saying he would kill me, and then I couldn't come for him no more. I begged, and told him I wasonly Huck; but he laughed SUCH a screechy laugh, and roared and cussed, and kept on chasing me up. Once when I turned short and dodged under hisarm he made a grab and got me by the jacket between my shoulders, and Ithought I was gone; but I slid out of the jacket quick as lightning, andsaved myself. Pretty soon he was all tired out, and dropped down with hisback against the door, and said he would rest a minute and then kill me. He put his knife under him, and said he would sleep and get strong, andthen he would see who was who. So he dozed off pretty soon. By and by I got the old split-bottom chairand clumb up as easy as I could, not to make any noise, and got down thegun. I slipped the ramrod down it to make sure it was loaded, then Ilaid it across the turnip barrel, pointing towards pap, and set downbehind it to wait for him to stir. And how slow and still the time diddrag along. CHAPTER VII. "GIT up! What you 'bout?" I opened my eyes and looked around, trying to make out where I was. Itwas after sun-up, and I had been sound asleep. Pap was standing over melooking sour and sick, too. He says: "What you doin' with this gun?" I judged he didn't know nothing about what he had been doing, so I says: "Somebody tried to get in, so I was laying for him. " "Why didn't you roust me out?" "Well, I tried to, but I couldn't; I couldn't budge you. " "Well, all right. Don't stand there palavering all day, but out with youand see if there's a fish on the lines for breakfast. I'll be along in aminute. " He unlocked the door, and I cleared out up the river-bank. I noticedsome pieces of limbs and such things floating down, and a sprinkling ofbark; so I knowed the river had begun to rise. I reckoned I would havegreat times now if I was over at the town. The June rise used to bealways luck for me; because as soon as that rise begins here comescordwood floating down, and pieces of log rafts--sometimes a dozen logstogether; so all you have to do is to catch them and sell them to thewood-yards and the sawmill. I went along up the bank with one eye out for pap and t'other one out forwhat the rise might fetch along. Well, all at once here comes a canoe;just a beauty, too, about thirteen or fourteen foot long, riding highlike a duck. I shot head-first off of the bank like a frog, clothes andall on, and struck out for the canoe. I just expected there'd besomebody laying down in it, because people often done that to fool folks, and when a chap had pulled a skiff out most to it they'd raise up andlaugh at him. But it warn't so this time. It was a drift-canoe sureenough, and I clumb in and paddled her ashore. Thinks I, the old manwill be glad when he sees this--she's worth ten dollars. But when Igot to shore pap wasn't in sight yet, and as I was running her into alittle creek like a gully, all hung over with vines and willows, I struckanother idea: I judged I'd hide her good, and then, 'stead of taking tothe woods when I run off, I'd go down the river about fifty mile and campin one place for good, and not have such a rough time tramping on foot. It was pretty close to the shanty, and I thought I heard the old mancoming all the time; but I got her hid; and then I out and looked arounda bunch of willows, and there was the old man down the path a piece justdrawing a bead on a bird with his gun. So he hadn't seen anything. When he got along I was hard at it taking up a "trot" line. He abused mea little for being so slow; but I told him I fell in the river, and thatwas what made me so long. I knowed he would see I was wet, and then hewould be asking questions. We got five catfish off the lines and wenthome. While we laid off after breakfast to sleep up, both of us being aboutwore out, I got to thinking that if I could fix up some way to keep papand the widow from trying to follow me, it would be a certainer thingthan trusting to luck to get far enough off before they missed me; yousee, all kinds of things might happen. Well, I didn't see no way for awhile, but by and by pap raised up a minute to drink another barrel ofwater, and he says: "Another time a man comes a-prowling round here you roust me out, youhear? That man warn't here for no good. I'd a shot him. Next time youroust me out, you hear?" Then he dropped down and went to sleep again; but what he had been sayinggive me the very idea I wanted. I says to myself, I can fix it now sonobody won't think of following me. About twelve o'clock we turned out and went along up the bank. The riverwas coming up pretty fast, and lots of driftwood going by on the rise. By and by along comes part of a log raft--nine logs fast together. Wewent out with the skiff and towed it ashore. Then we had dinner. Anybody but pap would a waited and seen the day through, so as to catchmore stuff; but that warn't pap's style. Nine logs was enough for onetime; he must shove right over to town and sell. So he locked me in andtook the skiff, and started off towing the raft about half-past three. Ijudged he wouldn't come back that night. I waited till I reckoned he hadgot a good start; then I out with my saw, and went to work on that logagain. Before he was t'other side of the river I was out of the hole;him and his raft was just a speck on the water away off yonder. I took the sack of corn meal and took it to where the canoe was hid, andshoved the vines and branches apart and put it in; then I done the samewith the side of bacon; then the whisky-jug. I took all the coffee andsugar there was, and all the ammunition; I took the wadding; I took thebucket and gourd; I took a dipper and a tin cup, and my old saw and twoblankets, and the skillet and the coffee-pot. I took fish-lines andmatches and other things--everything that was worth a cent. I cleanedout the place. I wanted an axe, but there wasn't any, only the one outat the woodpile, and I knowed why I was going to leave that. I fetchedout the gun, and now I was done. I had wore the ground a good deal crawling out of the hole and draggingout so many things. So I fixed that as good as I could from the outsideby scattering dust on the place, which covered up the smoothness and thesawdust. Then I fixed the piece of log back into its place, and put tworocks under it and one against it to hold it there, for it was bent up atthat place and didn't quite touch ground. If you stood four or five footaway and didn't know it was sawed, you wouldn't never notice it; andbesides, this was the back of the cabin, and it warn't likely anybodywould go fooling around there. It was all grass clear to the canoe, so I hadn't left a track. Ifollowed around to see. I stood on the bank and looked out over theriver. All safe. So I took the gun and went up a piece into the woods, and was hunting around for some birds when I see a wild pig; hogs soonwent wild in them bottoms after they had got away from the prairie farms. I shot this fellow and took him into camp. I took the axe and smashed in the door. I beat it and hacked itconsiderable a-doing it. I fetched the pig in, and took him back nearlyto the table and hacked into his throat with the axe, and laid him downon the ground to bleed; I say ground because it was ground--hard packed, and no boards. Well, next I took an old sack and put a lot of big rocksin it--all I could drag--and I started it from the pig, and dragged itto the door and through the woods down to the river and dumped it in, anddown it sunk, out of sight. You could easy see that something had beendragged over the ground. I did wish Tom Sawyer was there; I knowed hewould take an interest in this kind of business, and throw in the fancytouches. Nobody could spread himself like Tom Sawyer in such a thing asthat. Well, last I pulled out some of my hair, and blooded the axe good, andstuck it on the back side, and slung the axe in the corner. Then I tookup the pig and held him to my breast with my jacket (so he couldn't drip)till I got a good piece below the house and then dumped him into theriver. Now I thought of something else. So I went and got the bag ofmeal and my old saw out of the canoe, and fetched them to the house. Itook the bag to where it used to stand, and ripped a hole in the bottomof it with the saw, for there warn't no knives and forks on the place--pap done everything with his clasp-knife about the cooking. Then Icarried the sack about a hundred yards across the grass and through thewillows east of the house, to a shallow lake that was five mile wide andfull of rushes--and ducks too, you might say, in the season. There was aslough or a creek leading out of it on the other side that went milesaway, I don't know where, but it didn't go to the river. The meal siftedout and made a little track all the way to the lake. I dropped pap'swhetstone there too, so as to look like it had been done by accident. Then I tied up the rip in the meal sack with a string, so it wouldn'tleak no more, and took it and my saw to the canoe again. It was about dark now; so I dropped the canoe down the river under somewillows that hung over the bank, and waited for the moon to rise. I madefast to a willow; then I took a bite to eat, and by and by laid down inthe canoe to smoke a pipe and lay out a plan. I says to myself, they'llfollow the track of that sackful of rocks to the shore and then drag theriver for me. And they'll follow that meal track to the lake and gobrowsing down the creek that leads out of it to find the robbers thatkilled me and took the things. They won't ever hunt the river foranything but my dead carcass. They'll soon get tired of that, and won'tbother no more about me. All right; I can stop anywhere I want to. Jackson's Island is good enough for me; I know that island pretty well, and nobody ever comes there. And then I can paddle over to town nights, and slink around and pick up things I want. Jackson's Island's the place. I was pretty tired, and the first thing I knowed I was asleep. When Iwoke up I didn't know where I was for a minute. I set up and lookedaround, a little scared. Then I remembered. The river looked miles andmiles across. The moon was so bright I could a counted the drift logsthat went a-slipping along, black and still, hundreds of yards out fromshore. Everything was dead quiet, and it looked late, and SMELT late. You know what I mean--I don't know the words to put it in. I took a good gap and a stretch, and was just going to unhitch and startwhen I heard a sound away over the water. I listened. Pretty soon Imade it out. It was that dull kind of a regular sound that comes fromoars working in rowlocks when it's a still night. I peeped out throughthe willow branches, and there it was--a skiff, away across the water. Icouldn't tell how many was in it. It kept a-coming, and when it wasabreast of me I see there warn't but one man in it. Think's I, maybeit's pap, though I warn't expecting him. He dropped below me with thecurrent, and by and by he came a-swinging up shore in the easy water, andhe went by so close I could a reached out the gun and touched him. Well, it WAS pap, sure enough--and sober, too, by the way he laid his oars. I didn't lose no time. The next minute I was a-spinning down stream softbut quick in the shade of the bank. I made two mile and a half, and thenstruck out a quarter of a mile or more towards the middle of the river, because pretty soon I would be passing the ferry landing, and peoplemight see me and hail me. I got out amongst the driftwood, and then laiddown in the bottom of the canoe and let her float. I laid there, and hada good rest and a smoke out of my pipe, looking away into the sky; not acloud in it. The sky looks ever so deep when you lay down on your backin the moonshine; I never knowed it before. And how far a body can hearon the water such nights! I heard people talking at the ferry landing. I heard what they said, too--every word of it. One man said it wasgetting towards the long days and the short nights now. T'other one saidTHIS warn't one of the short ones, he reckoned--and then they laughed, and he said it over again, and they laughed again; then they waked upanother fellow and told him, and laughed, but he didn't laugh; he rippedout something brisk, and said let him alone. The first fellow said he'lowed to tell it to his old woman--she would think it was pretty good;but he said that warn't nothing to some things he had said in his time. I heard one man say it was nearly three o'clock, and he hoped daylightwouldn't wait more than about a week longer. After that the talk gotfurther and further away, and I couldn't make out the words any more; butI could hear the mumble, and now and then a laugh, too, but it seemed along ways off. I was away below the ferry now. I rose up, and there was Jackson'sIsland, about two mile and a half down stream, heavy timbered andstanding up out of the middle of the river, big and dark and solid, likea steamboat without any lights. There warn't any signs of the bar at thehead--it was all under water now. It didn't take me long to get there. I shot past the head at a rippingrate, the current was so swift, and then I got into the dead water andlanded on the side towards the Illinois shore. I run the canoe into adeep dent in the bank that I knowed about; I had to part the willowbranches to get in; and when I made fast nobody could a seen the canoefrom the outside. I went up and set down on a log at the head of the island, and looked outon the big river and the black driftwood and away over to the town, threemile away, where there was three or four lights twinkling. A monstrousbig lumber-raft was about a mile up stream, coming along down, with alantern in the middle of it. I watched it come creeping down, and whenit was most abreast of where I stood I heard a man say, "Stern oars, there! heave her head to stabboard!" I heard that just as plain as ifthe man was by my side. There was a little gray in the sky now; so I stepped into the woods, andlaid down for a nap before breakfast. CHAPTER VIII. THE sun was up so high when I waked that I judged it was after eighto'clock. I laid there in the grass and the cool shade thinking aboutthings, and feeling rested and ruther comfortable and satisfied. I couldsee the sun out at one or two holes, but mostly it was big trees allabout, and gloomy in there amongst them. There was freckled places onthe ground where the light sifted down through the leaves, and thefreckled places swapped about a little, showing there was a little breezeup there. A couple of squirrels set on a limb and jabbered at me veryfriendly. I was powerful lazy and comfortable--didn't want to get up and cookbreakfast. Well, I was dozing off again when I thinks I hears a deepsound of "boom!" away up the river. I rouses up, and rests on my elbowand listens; pretty soon I hears it again. I hopped up, and went andlooked out at a hole in the leaves, and I see a bunch of smoke laying onthe water a long ways up--about abreast the ferry. And there was theferryboat full of people floating along down. I knowed what was thematter now. "Boom!" I see the white smoke squirt out of the ferryboat'sside. You see, they was firing cannon over the water, trying to make mycarcass come to the top. I was pretty hungry, but it warn't going to do for me to start a fire, because they might see the smoke. So I set there and watched thecannon-smoke and listened to the boom. The river was a mile wide there, and it always looks pretty on a summer morning--so I was having a goodenough time seeing them hunt for my remainders if I only had a bite toeat. Well, then I happened to think how they always put quicksilver inloaves of bread and float them off, because they always go right to thedrownded carcass and stop there. So, says I, I'll keep a lookout, and ifany of them's floating around after me I'll give them a show. I changedto the Illinois edge of the island to see what luck I could have, and Iwarn't disappointed. A big double loaf come along, and I most got itwith a long stick, but my foot slipped and she floated out further. Ofcourse I was where the current set in the closest to the shore--I knowedenough for that. But by and by along comes another one, and this time Iwon. I took out the plug and shook out the little dab of quicksilver, and set my teeth in. It was "baker's bread"--what the quality eat; noneof your low-down corn-pone. I got a good place amongst the leaves, and set there on a log, munchingthe bread and watching the ferry-boat, and very well satisfied. And thensomething struck me. I says, now I reckon the widow or the parson orsomebody prayed that this bread would find me, and here it has gone anddone it. So there ain't no doubt but there is something in that thing--that is, there's something in it when a body like the widow or the parsonprays, but it don't work for me, and I reckon it don't work for only justthe right kind. I lit a pipe and had a good long smoke, and went on watching. Theferryboat was floating with the current, and I allowed I'd have a chanceto see who was aboard when she come along, because she would come inclose, where the bread did. When she'd got pretty well along downtowards me, I put out my pipe and went to where I fished out the bread, and laid down behind a log on the bank in a little open place. Where thelog forked I could peep through. By and by she come along, and she drifted in so close that they could arun out a plank and walked ashore. Most everybody was on the boat. Pap, and Judge Thatcher, and Bessie Thatcher, and Jo Harper, and Tom Sawyer, and his old Aunt Polly, and Sid and Mary, and plenty more. Everybody wastalking about the murder, but the captain broke in and says: "Look sharp, now; the current sets in the closest here, and maybe he'swashed ashore and got tangled amongst the brush at the water's edge. Ihope so, anyway. " "I didn't hope so. They all crowded up and leaned over the rails, nearlyin my face, and kept still, watching with all their might. I could seethem first-rate, but they couldn't see me. Then the captain sung out: "Stand away!" and the cannon let off such a blast right before me that itmade me deef with the noise and pretty near blind with the smoke, and Ijudged I was gone. If they'd a had some bullets in, I reckon they'd agot the corpse they was after. Well, I see I warn't hurt, thanks togoodness. The boat floated on and went out of sight around the shoulderof the island. I could hear the booming now and then, further andfurther off, and by and by, after an hour, I didn't hear it no more. Theisland was three mile long. I judged they had got to the foot, and wasgiving it up. But they didn't yet a while. They turned around the footof the island and started up the channel on the Missouri side, understeam, and booming once in a while as they went. I crossed over to thatside and watched them. When they got abreast the head of the island theyquit shooting and dropped over to the Missouri shore and went home to thetown. I knowed I was all right now. Nobody else would come a-hunting after me. I got my traps out of the canoe and made me a nice camp in the thickwoods. I made a kind of a tent out of my blankets to put my things underso the rain couldn't get at them. I catched a catfish and haggled himopen with my saw, and towards sundown I started my camp fire and hadsupper. Then I set out a line to catch some fish for breakfast. When it was dark I set by my camp fire smoking, and feeling pretty wellsatisfied; but by and by it got sort of lonesome, and so I went and seton the bank and listened to the current swashing along, and counted thestars and drift logs and rafts that come down, and then went to bed;there ain't no better way to put in time when you are lonesome; you can'tstay so, you soon get over it. And so for three days and nights. No difference--just the same thing. But the next day I went exploring around down through the island. I wasboss of it; it all belonged to me, so to say, and I wanted to know allabout it; but mainly I wanted to put in the time. I found plentystrawberries, ripe and prime; and green summer grapes, and greenrazberries; and the green blackberries was just beginning to show. Theywould all come handy by and by, I judged. Well, I went fooling along in the deep woods till I judged I warn't farfrom the foot of the island. I had my gun along, but I hadn't shotnothing; it was for protection; thought I would kill some game nigh home. About this time I mighty near stepped on a good-sized snake, and it wentsliding off through the grass and flowers, and I after it, trying to geta shot at it. I clipped along, and all of a sudden I bounded right on tothe ashes of a camp fire that was still smoking. My heart jumped up amongst my lungs. I never waited for to look further, but uncocked my gun and went sneaking back on my tiptoes as fast as everI could. Every now and then I stopped a second amongst the thick leavesand listened, but my breath come so hard I couldn't hear nothing else. Islunk along another piece further, then listened again; and so on, and soon. If I see a stump, I took it for a man; if I trod on a stick andbroke it, it made me feel like a person had cut one of my breaths in twoand I only got half, and the short half, too. When I got to camp I warn't feeling very brash, there warn't much sand inmy craw; but I says, this ain't no time to be fooling around. So I gotall my traps into my canoe again so as to have them out of sight, and Iput out the fire and scattered the ashes around to look like an old lastyear's camp, and then clumb a tree. I reckon I was up in the tree two hours; but I didn't see nothing, Ididn't hear nothing--I only THOUGHT I heard and seen as much as athousand things. Well, I couldn't stay up there forever; so at last Igot down, but I kept in the thick woods and on the lookout all the time. All I could get to eat was berries and what was left over from breakfast. By the time it was night I was pretty hungry. So when it was good anddark I slid out from shore before moonrise and paddled over to theIllinois bank--about a quarter of a mile. I went out in the woods andcooked a supper, and I had about made up my mind I would stay there allnight when I hear a PLUNKETY-PLUNK, PLUNKETY-PLUNK, and says to myself, horses coming; and next I hear people's voices. I got everything intothe canoe as quick as I could, and then went creeping through the woodsto see what I could find out. I hadn't got far when I hear a man say: "We better camp here if we can find a good place; the horses is aboutbeat out. Let's look around. " I didn't wait, but shoved out and paddled away easy. I tied up in theold place, and reckoned I would sleep in the canoe. I didn't sleep much. I couldn't, somehow, for thinking. And every timeI waked up I thought somebody had me by the neck. So the sleep didn't dome no good. By and by I says to myself, I can't live this way; I'ma-going to find out who it is that's here on the island with me; I'llfind it out or bust. Well, I felt better right off. So I took my paddle and slid out from shore just a step or two, and thenlet the canoe drop along down amongst the shadows. The moon was shining, and outside of the shadows it made it most as light as day. I pokedalong well on to an hour, everything still as rocks and sound asleep. Well, by this time I was most down to the foot of the island. A littleripply, cool breeze begun to blow, and that was as good as saying thenight was about done. I give her a turn with the paddle and brung hernose to shore; then I got my gun and slipped out and into the edge of thewoods. I sat down there on a log, and looked out through the leaves. Isee the moon go off watch, and the darkness begin to blanket the river. But in a little while I see a pale streak over the treetops, and knowedthe day was coming. So I took my gun and slipped off towards where I hadrun across that camp fire, stopping every minute or two to listen. But Ihadn't no luck somehow; I couldn't seem to find the place. But by andby, sure enough, I catched a glimpse of fire away through the trees. Iwent for it, cautious and slow. By and by I was close enough to have alook, and there laid a man on the ground. It most give me the fantods. He had a blanket around his head, and his head was nearly in the fire. Iset there behind a clump of bushes in about six foot of him, and kept myeyes on him steady. It was getting gray daylight now. Pretty soon hegapped and stretched himself and hove off the blanket, and it was MissWatson's Jim! I bet I was glad to see him. I says: "Hello, Jim!" and skipped out. He bounced up and stared at me wild. Then he drops down on his knees, and puts his hands together and says: "Doan' hurt me--don't! I hain't ever done no harm to a ghos'. I alwuzliked dead people, en done all I could for 'em. You go en git in deriver agin, whah you b'longs, en doan' do nuffn to Ole Jim, 'at 'uz awluzyo' fren'. " Well, I warn't long making him understand I warn't dead. I was ever soglad to see Jim. I warn't lonesome now. I told him I warn't afraid ofHIM telling the people where I was. I talked along, but he only setthere and looked at me; never said nothing. Then I says: "It's good daylight. Le's get breakfast. Make up your camp fire good. " "What's de use er makin' up de camp fire to cook strawbries en sichtruck? But you got a gun, hain't you? Den we kin git sumfn better denstrawbries. " "Strawberries and such truck, " I says. "Is that what you live on?" "I couldn' git nuffn else, " he says. "Why, how long you been on the island, Jim?" "I come heah de night arter you's killed. " "What, all that time?" "Yes--indeedy. " "And ain't you had nothing but that kind of rubbage to eat?" "No, sah--nuffn else. " "Well, you must be most starved, ain't you?" "I reck'n I could eat a hoss. I think I could. How long you ben on deislan'?" "Since the night I got killed. " "No! W'y, what has you lived on? But you got a gun. Oh, yes, you got agun. Dat's good. Now you kill sumfn en I'll make up de fire. " So we went over to where the canoe was, and while he built a fire in agrassy open place amongst the trees, I fetched meal and bacon and coffee, and coffee-pot and frying-pan, and sugar and tin cups, and the nigger wasset back considerable, because he reckoned it was all done withwitchcraft. I catched a good big catfish, too, and Jim cleaned him withhis knife, and fried him. When breakfast was ready we lolled on the grass and eat it smoking hot. Jim laid it in with all his might, for he was most about starved. Thenwhen we had got pretty well stuffed, we laid off and lazied. By and byJim says: "But looky here, Huck, who wuz it dat 'uz killed in dat shanty ef itwarn't you?" Then I told him the whole thing, and he said it was smart. He said TomSawyer couldn't get up no better plan than what I had. Then I says: "How do you come to be here, Jim, and how'd you get here?" He looked pretty uneasy, and didn't say nothing for a minute. Then hesays: "Maybe I better not tell. " "Why, Jim?" "Well, dey's reasons. But you wouldn' tell on me ef I uz to tell you, would you, Huck?" "Blamed if I would, Jim. " "Well, I b'lieve you, Huck. I--I RUN OFF. " "Jim!" "But mind, you said you wouldn' tell--you know you said you wouldn' tell, Huck. " "Well, I did. I said I wouldn't, and I'll stick to it. Honest INJUN, Iwill. People would call me a low-down Abolitionist and despise me forkeeping mum--but that don't make no difference. I ain't a-going to tell, and I ain't a-going back there, anyways. So, now, le's know all aboutit. " "Well, you see, it 'uz dis way. Ole missus--dat's Miss Watson--she peckson me all de time, en treats me pooty rough, but she awluz said shewouldn' sell me down to Orleans. But I noticed dey wuz a nigger traderroun' de place considable lately, en I begin to git oneasy. Well, onenight I creeps to de do' pooty late, en de do' warn't quite shet, en Ihear old missus tell de widder she gwyne to sell me down to Orleans, butshe didn' want to, but she could git eight hund'd dollars for me, en it'uz sich a big stack o' money she couldn' resis'. De widder she try togit her to say she wouldn' do it, but I never waited to hear de res'. Ilit out mighty quick, I tell you. "I tuck out en shin down de hill, en 'spec to steal a skift 'long de sho'som'ers 'bove de town, but dey wuz people a-stirring yit, so I hid in deole tumble-down cooper-shop on de bank to wait for everybody to go 'way. Well, I wuz dah all night. Dey wuz somebody roun' all de time. 'Long'bout six in de mawnin' skifts begin to go by, en 'bout eight er nineevery skift dat went 'long wuz talkin' 'bout how yo' pap come over to detown en say you's killed. Dese las' skifts wuz full o' ladies en genlmena-goin' over for to see de place. Sometimes dey'd pull up at de sho' entake a res' b'fo' dey started acrost, so by de talk I got to know all'bout de killin'. I 'uz powerful sorry you's killed, Huck, but I ain'tno mo' now. "I laid dah under de shavin's all day. I 'uz hungry, but I warn'tafeard; bekase I knowed ole missus en de widder wuz goin' to start to decamp-meet'n' right arter breakfas' en be gone all day, en dey knows Igoes off wid de cattle 'bout daylight, so dey wouldn' 'spec to see meroun' de place, en so dey wouldn' miss me tell arter dark in de evenin'. De yuther servants wouldn' miss me, kase dey'd shin out en take holidaysoon as de ole folks 'uz out'n de way. "Well, when it come dark I tuck out up de river road, en went 'bout twomile er more to whah dey warn't no houses. I'd made up my mine 'boutwhat I's agwyne to do. You see, ef I kep' on tryin' to git away afoot, de dogs 'ud track me; ef I stole a skift to cross over, dey'd miss datskift, you see, en dey'd know 'bout whah I'd lan' on de yuther side, enwhah to pick up my track. So I says, a raff is what I's arter; it doan'MAKE no track. "I see a light a-comin' roun' de p'int bymeby, so I wade' in en shove' alog ahead o' me en swum more'n half way acrost de river, en got in'mongst de drift-wood, en kep' my head down low, en kinder swum agin decurrent tell de raff come along. Den I swum to de stern uv it en tucka-holt. It clouded up en 'uz pooty dark for a little while. So I clumbup en laid down on de planks. De men 'uz all 'way yonder in de middle, whah de lantern wuz. De river wuz a-risin', en dey wuz a good current;so I reck'n'd 'at by fo' in de mawnin' I'd be twenty-five mile down deriver, en den I'd slip in jis b'fo' daylight en swim asho', en take tode woods on de Illinois side. "But I didn' have no luck. When we 'uz mos' down to de head er de islan'a man begin to come aft wid de lantern, I see it warn't no use fer towait, so I slid overboard en struck out fer de islan'. Well, I had anotion I could lan' mos' anywhers, but I couldn't--bank too bluff. I 'uzmos' to de foot er de islan' b'fo' I found' a good place. I went into dewoods en jedged I wouldn' fool wid raffs no mo', long as dey move delantern roun' so. I had my pipe en a plug er dog-leg, en some matches inmy cap, en dey warn't wet, so I 'uz all right. " "And so you ain't had no meat nor bread to eat all this time? Why didn'tyou get mud-turkles?" "How you gwyne to git 'm? You can't slip up on um en grab um; en how's abody gwyne to hit um wid a rock? How could a body do it in de night? EnI warn't gwyne to show mysef on de bank in de daytime. " "Well, that's so. You've had to keep in the woods all the time, ofcourse. Did you hear 'em shooting the cannon?" "Oh, yes. I knowed dey was arter you. I see um go by heah--watched umthoo de bushes. " Some young birds come along, flying a yard or two at a time and lighting. Jim said it was a sign it was going to rain. He said it was a sign whenyoung chickens flew that way, and so he reckoned it was the same way whenyoung birds done it. I was going to catch some of them, but Jim wouldn'tlet me. He said it was death. He said his father laid mighty sick once, and some of them catched a bird, and his old granny said his father woulddie, and he did. And Jim said you mustn't count the things you are going to cook fordinner, because that would bring bad luck. The same if you shook thetable-cloth after sundown. And he said if a man owned a beehive and thatman died, the bees must be told about it before sun-up next morning, orelse the bees would all weaken down and quit work and die. Jim said beeswouldn't sting idiots; but I didn't believe that, because I had triedthem lots of times myself, and they wouldn't sting me. I had heard about some of these things before, but not all of them. Jimknowed all kinds of signs. He said he knowed most everything. I said itlooked to me like all the signs was about bad luck, and so I asked him ifthere warn't any good-luck signs. He says: "Mighty few--an' DEY ain't no use to a body. What you want to know whengood luck's a-comin' for? Want to keep it off?" And he said: "Ef you'sgot hairy arms en a hairy breas', it's a sign dat you's agwyne to berich. Well, dey's some use in a sign like dat, 'kase it's so fur ahead. You see, maybe you's got to be po' a long time fust, en so you might gitdiscourage' en kill yo'sef 'f you didn' know by de sign dat you gwyne tobe rich bymeby. " "Have you got hairy arms and a hairy breast, Jim?" "What's de use to ax dat question? Don't you see I has?" "Well, are you rich?" "No, but I ben rich wunst, and gwyne to be rich agin. Wunst I had foteendollars, but I tuck to specalat'n', en got busted out. " "What did you speculate in, Jim?" "Well, fust I tackled stock. " "What kind of stock?" "Why, live stock--cattle, you know. I put ten dollars in a cow. But Iain' gwyne to resk no mo' money in stock. De cow up 'n' died on myhan's. " "So you lost the ten dollars. " "No, I didn't lose it all. I on'y los' 'bout nine of it. I sole de hideen taller for a dollar en ten cents. " "You had five dollars and ten cents left. Did you speculate any more?" "Yes. You know that one-laigged nigger dat b'longs to old Misto Bradish?Well, he sot up a bank, en say anybody dat put in a dollar would git fo'dollars mo' at de en' er de year. Well, all de niggers went in, but deydidn't have much. I wuz de on'y one dat had much. So I stuck out formo' dan fo' dollars, en I said 'f I didn' git it I'd start a bank mysef. Well, o' course dat nigger want' to keep me out er de business, bekase hesays dey warn't business 'nough for two banks, so he say I could put inmy five dollars en he pay me thirty-five at de en' er de year. "So I done it. Den I reck'n'd I'd inves' de thirty-five dollars rightoff en keep things a-movin'. Dey wuz a nigger name' Bob, dat had ketcheda wood-flat, en his marster didn' know it; en I bought it off'n him entold him to take de thirty-five dollars when de en' er de year come; butsomebody stole de wood-flat dat night, en nex day de one-laigged niggersay de bank's busted. So dey didn' none uv us git no money. " "What did you do with the ten cents, Jim?" "Well, I 'uz gwyne to spen' it, but I had a dream, en de dream tole me togive it to a nigger name' Balum--Balum's Ass dey call him for short; he'sone er dem chuckleheads, you know. But he's lucky, dey say, en I see Iwarn't lucky. De dream say let Balum inves' de ten cents en he'd make araise for me. Well, Balum he tuck de money, en when he wuz in church hehear de preacher say dat whoever give to de po' len' to de Lord, en boun'to git his money back a hund'd times. So Balum he tuck en give de tencents to de po', en laid low to see what wuz gwyne to come of it. " "Well, what did come of it, Jim?" "Nuffn never come of it. I couldn' manage to k'leck dat money no way; enBalum he couldn'. I ain' gwyne to len' no mo' money 'dout I see desecurity. Boun' to git yo' money back a hund'd times, de preacher says!Ef I could git de ten CENTS back, I'd call it squah, en be glad er dechanst. " "Well, it's all right anyway, Jim, long as you're going to be rich againsome time or other. " "Yes; en I's rich now, come to look at it. I owns mysef, en I's wutheight hund'd dollars. I wisht I had de money, I wouldn' want no mo'. " CHAPTER IX. I WANTED to go and look at a place right about the middle of the islandthat I'd found when I was exploring; so we started and soon got to it, because the island was only three miles long and a quarter of a milewide. This place was a tolerable long, steep hill or ridge about forty foothigh. We had a rough time getting to the top, the sides was so steep andthe bushes so thick. We tramped and clumb around all over it, and by andby found a good big cavern in the rock, most up to the top on the sidetowards Illinois. The cavern was as big as two or three rooms bunchedtogether, and Jim could stand up straight in it. It was cool in there. Jim was for putting our traps in there right away, but I said we didn'twant to be climbing up and down there all the time. Jim said if we had the canoe hid in a good place, and had all the trapsin the cavern, we could rush there if anybody was to come to the island, and they would never find us without dogs. And, besides, he said themlittle birds had said it was going to rain, and did I want the things toget wet? So we went back and got the canoe, and paddled up abreast the cavern, andlugged all the traps up there. Then we hunted up a place close by tohide the canoe in, amongst the thick willows. We took some fish off ofthe lines and set them again, and begun to get ready for dinner. The door of the cavern was big enough to roll a hogshead in, and on oneside of the door the floor stuck out a little bit, and was flat and agood place to build a fire on. So we built it there and cooked dinner. We spread the blankets inside for a carpet, and eat our dinner in there. We put all the other things handy at the back of the cavern. Pretty soonit darkened up, and begun to thunder and lighten; so the birds was rightabout it. Directly it begun to rain, and it rained like all fury, too, and I never see the wind blow so. It was one of these regular summerstorms. It would get so dark that it looked all blue-black outside, andlovely; and the rain would thrash along by so thick that the trees off alittle ways looked dim and spider-webby; and here would come a blast ofwind that would bend the trees down and turn up the pale underside of theleaves; and then a perfect ripper of a gust would follow along and setthe branches to tossing their arms as if they was just wild; and next, when it was just about the bluest and blackest--FST! it was as bright asglory, and you'd have a little glimpse of tree-tops a-plunging about awayoff yonder in the storm, hundreds of yards further than you could seebefore; dark as sin again in a second, and now you'd hear the thunder letgo with an awful crash, and then go rumbling, grumbling, tumbling, downthe sky towards the under side of the world, like rolling empty barrelsdown stairs--where it's long stairs and they bounce a good deal, youknow. "Jim, this is nice, " I says. "I wouldn't want to be nowhere else buthere. Pass me along another hunk of fish and some hot corn-bread. " "Well, you wouldn't a ben here 'f it hadn't a ben for Jim. You'd a bendown dah in de woods widout any dinner, en gittn' mos' drownded, too; datyou would, honey. Chickens knows when it's gwyne to rain, en so do debirds, chile. " The river went on raising and raising for ten or twelve days, till atlast it was over the banks. The water was three or four foot deep on theisland in the low places and on the Illinois bottom. On that side it wasa good many miles wide, but on the Missouri side it was the same olddistance across--a half a mile--because the Missouri shore was just awall of high bluffs. Daytimes we paddled all over the island in the canoe, It was mighty cooland shady in the deep woods, even if the sun was blazing outside. Wewent winding in and out amongst the trees, and sometimes the vines hungso thick we had to back away and go some other way. Well, on every oldbroken-down tree you could see rabbits and snakes and such things; andwhen the island had been overflowed a day or two they got so tame, onaccount of being hungry, that you could paddle right up and put your handon them if you wanted to; but not the snakes and turtles--they wouldslide off in the water. The ridge our cavern was in was full of them. We could a had pets enough if we'd wanted them. One night we catched a little section of a lumber raft--nice pine planks. It was twelve foot wide and about fifteen or sixteen foot long, and thetop stood above water six or seven inches--a solid, level floor. Wecould see saw-logs go by in the daylight sometimes, but we let them go;we didn't show ourselves in daylight. Another night when we was up at the head of the island, just beforedaylight, here comes a frame-house down, on the west side. She was atwo-story, and tilted over considerable. We paddled out and got aboard--clumb in at an upstairs window. But it was too dark to see yet, so wemade the canoe fast and set in her to wait for daylight. The light begun to come before we got to the foot of the island. Then welooked in at the window. We could make out a bed, and a table, and twoold chairs, and lots of things around about on the floor, and there wasclothes hanging against the wall. There was something laying on thefloor in the far corner that looked like a man. So Jim says: "Hello, you!" But it didn't budge. So I hollered again, and then Jim says: "De man ain't asleep--he's dead. You hold still--I'll go en see. " He went, and bent down and looked, and says: "It's a dead man. Yes, indeedy; naked, too. He's ben shot in de back. I reck'n he's ben dead two er three days. Come in, Huck, but doan' lookat his face--it's too gashly. " I didn't look at him at all. Jim throwed some old rags over him, but heneedn't done it; I didn't want to see him. There was heaps of old greasycards scattered around over the floor, and old whisky bottles, and acouple of masks made out of black cloth; and all over the walls was theignorantest kind of words and pictures made with charcoal. There was twoold dirty calico dresses, and a sun-bonnet, and some women's underclotheshanging against the wall, and some men's clothing, too. We put the lotinto the canoe--it might come good. There was a boy's old speckled strawhat on the floor; I took that, too. And there was a bottle that had hadmilk in it, and it had a rag stopper for a baby to suck. We would a tookthe bottle, but it was broke. There was a seedy old chest, and an oldhair trunk with the hinges broke. They stood open, but there warn'tnothing left in them that was any account. The way things was scatteredabout we reckoned the people left in a hurry, and warn't fixed so as tocarry off most of their stuff. We got an old tin lantern, and a butcher-knife without any handle, and abran-new Barlow knife worth two bits in any store, and a lot of tallowcandles, and a tin candlestick, and a gourd, and a tin cup, and a rattyold bedquilt off the bed, and a reticule with needles and pins andbeeswax and buttons and thread and all such truck in it, and a hatchetand some nails, and a fishline as thick as my little finger with somemonstrous hooks on it, and a roll of buckskin, and a leather dog-collar, and a horseshoe, and some vials of medicine that didn't have no label onthem; and just as we was leaving I found a tolerable good curry-comb, andJim he found a ratty old fiddle-bow, and a wooden leg. The straps wasbroke off of it, but, barring that, it was a good enough leg, though itwas too long for me and not long enough for Jim, and we couldn't find theother one, though we hunted all around. And so, take it all around, we made a good haul. When we was ready toshove off we was a quarter of a mile below the island, and it was prettybroad day; so I made Jim lay down in the canoe and cover up with thequilt, because if he set up people could tell he was a nigger a good waysoff. I paddled over to the Illinois shore, and drifted down most a halfa mile doing it. I crept up the dead water under the bank, and hadn't noaccidents and didn't see nobody. We got home all safe. CHAPTER X. AFTER breakfast I wanted to talk about the dead man and guess out how hecome to be killed, but Jim didn't want to. He said it would fetch badluck; and besides, he said, he might come and ha'nt us; he said a manthat warn't buried was more likely to go a-ha'nting around than one thatwas planted and comfortable. That sounded pretty reasonable, so I didn'tsay no more; but I couldn't keep from studying over it and wishing Iknowed who shot the man, and what they done it for. We rummaged the clothes we'd got, and found eight dollars in silver sewedup in the lining of an old blanket overcoat. Jim said he reckoned thepeople in that house stole the coat, because if they'd a knowed the moneywas there they wouldn't a left it. I said I reckoned they killed him, too; but Jim didn't want to talk about that. I says: "Now you think it's bad luck; but what did you say when I fetched in thesnake-skin that I found on the top of the ridge day before yesterday?You said it was the worst bad luck in the world to touch a snake-skinwith my hands. Well, here's your bad luck! We've raked in all thistruck and eight dollars besides. I wish we could have some bad luck likethis every day, Jim. " "Never you mind, honey, never you mind. Don't you git too peart. It'sa-comin'. Mind I tell you, it's a-comin'. " It did come, too. It was a Tuesday that we had that talk. Well, afterdinner Friday we was laying around in the grass at the upper end of theridge, and got out of tobacco. I went to the cavern to get some, andfound a rattlesnake in there. I killed him, and curled him up on thefoot of Jim's blanket, ever so natural, thinking there'd be some fun whenJim found him there. Well, by night I forgot all about the snake, andwhen Jim flung himself down on the blanket while I struck a light thesnake's mate was there, and bit him. He jumped up yelling, and the first thing the light showed was thevarmint curled up and ready for another spring. I laid him out in asecond with a stick, and Jim grabbed pap's whisky-jug and begun to pourit down. He was barefooted, and the snake bit him right on the heel. That allcomes of my being such a fool as to not remember that wherever you leavea dead snake its mate always comes there and curls around it. Jim toldme to chop off the snake's head and throw it away, and then skin the bodyand roast a piece of it. I done it, and he eat it and said it would helpcure him. He made me take off the rattles and tie them around his wrist, too. He said that that would help. Then I slid out quiet and throwedthe snakes clear away amongst the bushes; for I warn't going to let Jimfind out it was all my fault, not if I could help it. Jim sucked and sucked at the jug, and now and then he got out of his headand pitched around and yelled; but every time he come to himself he wentto sucking at the jug again. His foot swelled up pretty big, and so didhis leg; but by and by the drunk begun to come, and so I judged he wasall right; but I'd druther been bit with a snake than pap's whisky. Jim was laid up for four days and nights. Then the swelling was all goneand he was around again. I made up my mind I wouldn't ever take a-holtof a snake-skin again with my hands, now that I see what had come of it. Jim said he reckoned I would believe him next time. And he said thathandling a snake-skin was such awful bad luck that maybe we hadn't got tothe end of it yet. He said he druther see the new moon over his leftshoulder as much as a thousand times than take up a snake-skin in hishand. Well, I was getting to feel that way myself, though I've alwaysreckoned that looking at the new moon over your left shoulder is one ofthe carelessest and foolishest things a body can do. Old Hank Bunkerdone it once, and bragged about it; and in less than two years he gotdrunk and fell off of the shot-tower, and spread himself out so that hewas just a kind of a layer, as you may say; and they slid him edgewaysbetween two barn doors for a coffin, and buried him so, so they say, butI didn't see it. Pap told me. But anyway it all come of looking at themoon that way, like a fool. Well, the days went along, and the river went down between its banksagain; and about the first thing we done was to bait one of the big hookswith a skinned rabbit and set it and catch a catfish that was as big as aman, being six foot two inches long, and weighed over two hundred pounds. We couldn't handle him, of course; he would a flung us into Illinois. Wejust set there and watched him rip and tear around till he drownded. Wefound a brass button in his stomach and a round ball, and lots ofrubbage. We split the ball open with the hatchet, and there was a spoolin it. Jim said he'd had it there a long time, to coat it over so andmake a ball of it. It was as big a fish as was ever catched in theMississippi, I reckon. Jim said he hadn't ever seen a bigger one. Hewould a been worth a good deal over at the village. They peddle out sucha fish as that by the pound in the market-house there; everybody buyssome of him; his meat's as white as snow and makes a good fry. Next morning I said it was getting slow and dull, and I wanted to get astirring up some way. I said I reckoned I would slip over the river andfind out what was going on. Jim liked that notion; but he said I must goin the dark and look sharp. Then he studied it over and said, couldn't Iput on some of them old things and dress up like a girl? That was a goodnotion, too. So we shortened up one of the calico gowns, and I turned upmy trouser-legs to my knees and got into it. Jim hitched it behind withthe hooks, and it was a fair fit. I put on the sun-bonnet and tied itunder my chin, and then for a body to look in and see my face was likelooking down a joint of stove-pipe. Jim said nobody would know me, evenin the daytime, hardly. I practiced around all day to get the hang ofthe things, and by and by I could do pretty well in them, only Jim said Ididn't walk like a girl; and he said I must quit pulling up my gown toget at my britches-pocket. I took notice, and done better. I started up the Illinois shore in the canoe just after dark. I started across to the town from a little below the ferry-landing, andthe drift of the current fetched me in at the bottom of the town. I tiedup and started along the bank. There was a light burning in a littleshanty that hadn't been lived in for a long time, and I wondered who hadtook up quarters there. I slipped up and peeped in at the window. Therewas a woman about forty year old in there knitting by a candle that wason a pine table. I didn't know her face; she was a stranger, for youcouldn't start a face in that town that I didn't know. Now this waslucky, because I was weakening; I was getting afraid I had come; peoplemight know my voice and find me out. But if this woman had been in sucha little town two days she could tell me all I wanted to know; so Iknocked at the door, and made up my mind I wouldn't forget I was a girl.