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Mark Twain[Samuel L.Clemens]THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINNTOM SAWYER’S COMRADE&&&&NOTICEPERSONSattempting to find a motive in this narra-ti persons attempting to find amoral i persons attempting tofind aplot in it will be shot.                 BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR                    Per G.G.Chief of Ordnance.&EXPLANATORYIN thisbook a number of dialects are usedto wit:theMi the extremest form of thebackwoodsS the ordinary &PikeCounty& and four modified varieties of thislast. Theshadings have not been done in a hap-hazardfa but painstakinglyand withthe trustworthy guidance and support ofpersonalfamiliarity with these several forms of speech.I makethis explanation for the reason that withoutit manyreaders would suppose that all these charactersweretrying to talk alike and not succeeding.                                     THE AUTHOR.&HUCKLEBERRYFINNScene: TheMississippi ValleyTime:Forty to fifty years ago&CHAPTERI.YOU don'tknow about me without you have read abook bythe name of The Adventures of TomSbut that ain't no matter. That book wasmade byMr. Mark Twainand he told the truthmainly.There was things which he stretchedbutmainly hetold the truth. That is nothing. I neverseenanybody but lied one time or anotherwithout itwas AuntPollyor the widowor maybe Mary. AuntPolly --Tom's Aunt Pollyshe is -- and Maryandthe WidowDouglas is all told about in that bookwhich ismostly a true bookwith some stretchersasI saidbefore.Now theway that the book winds up is this: Tomand mefound the money that the robbers hid in thecaveandit made us rich. We got six thousand dollarsapiece --all gold. It was an awful sight of moneywhen itwas piled up. WellJudge Thatcher he tookit and putit out at interestand it fetched us a dollara dayapiece all the year round -- more than a bodycould tellwhat to do with. The Widow Douglas shetook mefor her sonand allowed
but itwas rough living in the house all the timeconsideringhow dismal regular and decent the wid and so when I couldn't stand itno longerI lit out. I got into my old rags and mysugar-hogsheadagainand was free and satisfied. ButTom Sawyerhe hunted me up and said he was goingto start aband of robbersand I might join if I wouldgo back tothe widow and be respectable. So I wentback.The widowshe cried over meand called me a poorlost lamband she called me a lot of other namestoobutshe never meant no harm by it. She put mein themnew clothes againand I couldn't do nothingbut sweatand sweatand feel all cramped up. Wellthentheold thing commenced again. The widowrung abell for supperand you had to come to time.When yougot to the table you couldn't go right toeatingbut you had to wait for the widow to tuckdown herhead and grumble a little over the victualsthoughthere warn't really anything the matter withthem--that isnothing only everything was cookedby itself.In a barrel of odds and things getmixed upand the juice kind of swapsaroundand the things go better.Aftersupper she got out her book and learned meaboutMoses and the Bulrushersand I was in a sweatto f but by and by she let it outthat Moseshad been dead a co sothen Ididn't care no more about himbecause I don'ttake nostock in dead people.Prettysoon I wanted to smokeand asked the widowto let me.But she wouldn't. She said it was a meanpracticeand wasn't cleanand I must try to not do itany more.That is just the way with some people.They getdown on a thing when they don't knownothingabout it. Here she was a-bothering aboutMoseswhich was no kin to herand no use to any-bodybeing goneyou seeyet finding a power offault withme for doing a thing that had some good init. A of course that was allrightbecause she done it herself.HersisterMiss Watsona tolerable slim old maidwithgoggles onhad just come to live with herandtook a setat me now with a spelling-book. Sheworked memiddling hard for about an hourand thenthe widowmade her ease up. I couldn't stood itmuchlonger. Then for an hour it was deadly dulland I wasfidgety. Miss Watson would say&Don'tput yourfeet up thereH& and &Don'tscrunch uplike thatHuckleberry --&and prettysoon she would say&Don't gap and stretchlike thatHuckleberry -- why don't you try to be-have?&Then she told me all about the bad placeand I saidI wished I was there. She got mad thenbut Ididn't mean no harm. All I wantedall I wanted was a changeI warn'tparticular.She said it was wicked to say what Isaid shewouldn't say it she wasgoing tolive so as to go to the good place. WellIcouldn'tsee no advantage in going where she wasgoingsoI made up my mind I wouldn't try for it.But Inever said sobecause it would only maketroubleand wouldn't do no good.Now shehad got a startand she went on and toldme allabout the good place. She said all a bodywould haveto do there was to go around all day longwith aharp and singforever and ever. So I didn'tthink muchof it. But I never said so. I asked her ifshereckoned Tom Sawyer would go thereand shesaid notby a considerable sight. I was glad aboutthatbecause I wanted him and me to be together.MissWatson she kept pecking at meand it gottiresomeand lonesome. By and by they fetched theniggers inand had prayersand then everybody wasoff tobed. I went up to my room with a piece ofcandleand put it on the table. Then I set down in achair bythe window and tried to think of somethingcheerfulbut it warn't no use. I felt so lonesome Imostwished I was dead. The stars were shiningandthe leavesrustled in the wo andI heard anowlaway offwho-whooing about some-body thatwas deadand a whippowill and a dog cry-ing aboutsomebody t and thewind wastrying to whisper something to meand Icouldn'tmake out what it wasand so it made the coldshiversrun over me. Then away out in the woods Iheard thatkind of a sound that a ghost makes when itwants totell about something that's on its mind andcan't makeitself understoodand so can't rest easy inits graveand has to go about that way every nightgrieving.I got so down-hearted and scared I did wishI had somecompany. Pretty soon a spider wentcrawlingup my shoulderand I flipped it off an and before I could budge it was allshriveledup. I didn't need anybody to tell me thatthat wasan awful bad sign and would fetch me somebad luckso I was scared and most shook the clothesoff of me.I got up and turned around in my tracksthreetimes and crossed
andthen Itied up a little lock of my hair with a thread tokeepwitches away. But I hadn't no confidence.You dothat when you've lost a horseshoe that you'vefoundinstead of nailing it up over the doorbut Ihadn'tever heard anybody say it was any way to keepoff badluck when you'd killed a spider.I set downagaina-shaking all overand got o for the house was all as still asdeath nowand so the widow wouldn't know. Wellafter along time I heard the clock away off in thetown goboom -- boom -- boom -- andall stillagain -- stiller than ever. Pretty soon I hearda twigsnap down in the dark amongst the trees --somethingwas a stirring. I set still and listened.Directly Icould just barely hear a &me-yow! me-yow!&down there. That was good! Says I&me-yow!me-yow!& as soft as I couldand then I putout thelight and scrambled out of the window on tothe shed.Then I slipped down to the ground andcrawled inamong the treesandsure enoughtherewas TomSawyer waiting for me.&CHAPTERII.WE wenttiptoeing along a path amongst the treesbacktowards the end of the widow's gardenstoopingdown so as the branches wouldn't scrape ourheads.When we was passing by the kitchen I fellover aroot and made a noise. We scrouched downand laidstill. Miss Watson's big niggernamed Jimwassetting we could see himprettyclearbecause there was a light behind him.He got upand stretched his neck out about a minutelistening.Then he says:&Whodah?&H then he come tiptoeingdown andst we could a touchedhimnearly. Welllikely it was minutes and minutesthat therewarn't a soundand we all there so closetogether.There was a place on my ankle that got toitchingbut I dasn' and thenand next my backright between my shoul-ders.Seemed like I'd die if I couldn't scratch. WellI'venoticed that thing plenty times since. If you arewith thequalityor at a funeralor trying to go tosleep whenyou ain't sleepy -- if you are anywhereswhere itwon't do for you to scratchwhy you will itchall overin upwards of a thousand places. Pretty soonJim says:&Saywho is you? Whar is you? Dog my catsef I didn'hear sumf'n. WellI know what I's gwyneto do: I'sgwyne to set down here and listen tell Ihears itagin.&So he setdown on the ground betwixt me and Tom.He leanedhis back up against a treeand stretched hislegs outtill one of them most touched one of mine.My nosebegun to itch. It itched till the tears comeinto myeyes. But I dasn't scratch. Then it begunto itch onthe inside. Next I got to itching under-neath. Ididn't know how I was going to set still.Thismiserableness went on as much asbut it seemed a sight longer than that. Iwasitching in eleven different places now. I reckonedI couldn'tstand it more'n a minute longerbut I setmy teethhard and got ready to try. Just then Jimb next he begun to snore --and then Iwas pretty soon comfortable again.Tom hemade a sign to me -- kind of a little noisewith hismouth -- and we went creeping away on ourhands andknees. When we was ten foot off Tomwhisperedto meand wanted to tie Jim to the tree forfun. But I he might wake and make a dis-turbanceand then they'd find out I warn't in. ThenTom saidhe hadn't got candles enoughand he wouldslip inthe kitchen and get some more. I didn't wanthim totry. I said Jim might wake up and come.But T so we slid in there and gotthreecandlesand Tom laid five cents on the table forpay. Thenwe got outand I was i butnothing would do Tom but he must crawlto whereJim wason his hands and kneesand playsomethingon him. I waitedand it seemed a goodwhileeverything was so still and lonesome.As soon asTom was back we cut along the patharound thegarden fenceand by and by fetched up onthe steeptop of the hill the other side of the house.Tom saidhe slipped Jim's hat off of his head and hungit on alimb right over himand Jim stirred a littlebuthe didn'twake. Afterwards Jim said the witches be-witchedhim and put him in a tranceand rode him allover theStateand then set him under the trees againand hunghis hat on a limb to show who done it. Andnext timeJim told it he said they rode him down toNewO andafter thatevery time he told it hespread itmore and moretill by and by he said theyrode himall over the worldand tired him most todeathandhis back was all over saddle-boils. Jimwasmonstrous proud about itand he got so hewouldn'thardly notice the other niggers. Niggerswould comemiles to hear Jim tell about itand he wasmorelooked up to than any nigger in that country.Strangeniggers would stand with their mouths openand lookhim all oversame as if he was a wonder.Niggers isalways talking about witches in the da but whenever one was talking andletting onto know all about such thingsJim wouldhappen inand say&Hm! What you know 'boutwitches?&and that nigger was corked up and had totake aback seat. Jim always kept that five-centerpieceround his neck with a stringand said it was acharm thedevil give to him with his own handsandtold himhe could cure anybody with it and fetchwitcheswhenever he wanted to just by saying some- but he never told what it was he said to it.Niggerswould come from all around there and giveJimanything they hadjust for a sight of that five- but they wouldn't touch itbecause thedevil hadhad his hands on it. Jim was most ruinedfor aservantbecause he got stuck up on account ofhavingseen the devil and been rode by witches.WellwhenTom and me got to the edge of the hill-top welooked away down into the village and couldsee threeor four lights twinklingwhere ther and the stars over us was sand down by the village was the rivera wholemilebroadand awful still and grand. We went downthe hilland found Jo Harper and Ben Rogersandtwo orthree more of the boyshid in the old tanyard.So weunhitched a skiff and pulled down the river twomile and ahalfto the big scar on the hillsideandwentashore.We went toa clump of bushesand Tom madeeverybodyswear to keep the secretand then showedthem ahole in the hillright in the thickest part of thebushes.Then we lit the candlesand crawled in onour handsand knees. We went about two hundredyardsandthen the cave opened up. Tom pokedaboutamongst the passagesand pretty soon duckedunder awall where you wouldn't a noticed that therewas ahole. We went along a narrow place and gotinto akind of roomall damp and sweaty and coldand therewe stopped. Tom says:&Nowwe'll start this band of robbers and call itTomSawyer's Gang. Everybody that wants to joinhas got totake an oathand write his name in blood.&Everybodywas willing. So Tom got out a sheet ofpaper thathe had wrote the oath onand read it. Itsworeevery boy to stick to the bandand never t and if anybody done anything toany boy inthe bandwhichever boy was ordered tokill thatperson and his family must do itand hemustn'teat and he mustn't sleep till he had killed themand hackeda cross in their breastswhich was the signof theband. And nobody that didn't belong to theband coulduse that markand if h andif he done it again he must be killed. Andif anybodythat belonged to the band told the secretshe musthave his throat cutand then have his carcassburnt upand the ashes scattered all aroundand hisnameblotted off of the list with blood and never men-tionedagain by the gangbut have a curse put on itand beforgot forever.Everybodysaid it was a real beautiful oathandasked Tomif he got it out of his own head. He saidsome ofitbut the rest was out of pirate-books androbber-booksand every gang that was high-tonedhad it.Somethought it would be good to kill the FAMILIESof boysthat told the secrets. Tom said it was a goodideasohe took a pencil and wrote it in. Then BenRogerssays:&Here'sHuck Finnhe hain' whatyou goingto do 'bout him?&&Wellhain't he got a father?& says Tom Sawyer.&Yeshe's got a fatherbut you can't never findhim thesedays. He used to lay drunk with the hogsin thetanyardbut he hain't been seen in these partsfor a yearor more.&Theytalked it overand they was going to rule meoutbecause they said every boy must have a familyorsomebody to killor else it wouldn't be fair andsquare forthe others. Wellnobody could think ofanythingto do -- everybody was stumpedand setstill. Iw but all at once Ithought ofa wayand so I offered them Miss Watson-- theycould kill her. Everybody said:&Ohshe'll do. That's all right. Huck can comein.&Then theyall stuck a pin in their fingers to getblood tosign withand I made my mark on the paper.&Now&says Ben Rogers&what's the line of busi-ness ofthis Gang?&&Nothingonly robbery and murder& Tom said.&Butwho are we going to rob? -- housesor cattleor --&&Stuff!stealing cattle and such things ain't rob- it'sburglary& says Tom Sawyer. &We ain'tburglars.That ain't no sort of style. We are high-waymen. Westop stages and carriages on the roadwith masksonand kill the people and take theirwatchesand money.&&Mustwe always kill the people?&&Ohcertainly. It's best. Some authorities thinkdifferentbut mostly it's considered best to kill them --exceptsome that you bring to the cave hereand keepthem tillthey're ransomed.&&Ransomed?What's that?&&Idon't know. But that's what they do. I' and so of course that's what we'vegot todo.&&Buthow can we do it if we don't know what it is?&&Whyblame it allwe've GOT to do it. Don't I tellyou it'sin the books? Do you want to go to doingdifferentfrom what's in the booksand get things allmuddledup?&&Ohthat's all very fine to SAYTom Sawyerbuthow in thenation are these fellows going to be ran-somed ifwe don't know how to do it to them? -- that'sthe thingI want to get at. Nowwhat do you reckonit is?&&WellI don't know. But per'aps if we keep themtillthey're ransomedit means that we keep them tillthey'redead. &&Nowthat's something LIKE. That'll answer.Whycouldn't you said that before? We'll keep themtillthey' and a bothersome lotthey'llbetoo -- eating up everythingand alwaystrying toget loose.&&Howyou talkBen Rogers. How can they getloose whenthere's a guard over themready to shootthem downif they move a peg?&&Aguard! Wellthat IS good. So somebody'sgot to setup all night and never get any sleepjust soas towatch them. I think that's foolishness. Whycan't abody take a club and ransom them as soon asthey gethere?&&Becauseit ain't in the books so -- that's why.NowBenRogersdo you want to do things regularor don'tyou? -- that's the idea. Don't you reckonthat thepeople that made the books knows what's thecorrectthing to do? Do you reckon YOU can learn'emanything? Not by a good deal. Nosirwe'lljust go onand ransom them in the regular way.&&Allright. I don' but I say it's a foolwayanyhow. Saydo we kill the womentoo?&&WellBen Rogersif I was as ignorant as you Iwouldn'tlet on. Kill the women? No; nobody eversawanything in the books like that. You fetch themto thecaveand you're always as pand by andby they fall in love with youand neverwant to gohome any more.&&Wellif that's the way I'm agreedbut I don'ttake nostock in it. Mighty soon we'll have the cavesocluttered up with womenand fellows waiting to beransomedthat there won't be no place for the rob-bers. Butgo aheadI ain't got nothing to say.&LittleTommy Barnes was asleep nowand whenthey wakedhim up he was scaredand criedand saidhe wantedto go home to his maand didn't want tobe arobber any more.So theyall made fun of himand called him cry-babyandthat made him madand he said he wouldgostraight and tell all the secrets. But Tom give himfive centsto keep quietand said we would all go homeand meetnext weekand rob somebody and kill somepeople.Ben Rogerssaid he couldn't get out muchonlySundaysand so he wanted to begin next S butall theboys said it would be wicked to do it on Sundayand thatsettled the thing. They agreed to get to-gether andfix a day as soon as they couldand thenwe electedTom Sawyer first captain and Jo Harpersecondcaptain of the Gangand so started home.I clumb upthe shed and crept into my window justbefore daywas breaking. My new clothes was allgreased upand clayeyand I was dog-tired.&CHAPTERIII.WELLIgot a good going-over in the morningfrom oldMiss Watson on but the widow she didn't scoldbut onlycleanedoff the grease and clayand looked so sorrythat Ithought I would behave awhile if I could. ThenMissWatson she took me in the closet and prayedbutnothingcome of it. She told me to pray every dayandwhatever I asked for I would get it. But it warn'tso. Itried it. Once I got a fish-linebut no hooks.It warn'tany good to me without hooks. I tried forthe hooksthree or four timesbut somehow I couldn'tmake itwork. By and byone dayI asked MissWatson totry for mebut she said I was a fool. Shenever toldme whyand I couldn't make it out no way.I set downone time back in the woodsand had along thinkabout it. I says to myselfif a body cangetanything they pray forwhy don't Deacon Winnget backthe money he lost on pork? Why can't thewidow getback her silver snuffbox that was stole?Why can'tMiss Watson fat up? Nosays I to myselfthere ain't nothing in it. I went and told thewidowabout itand she said the thing a body couldget bypraying for it was &spiritual gifts.& This wastoo manyfor mebut she told me what she meant -- Imust helpother peopleand do everything I could forotherpeopleand look out for them all the timeandneverthink about myself. This was including MissWatsonasI took it. I went out in the woods andturned itover in my mind a long timebut I couldn'tsee noadvantage about it -- except for the other peo- so atlast I reckoned I wouldn't worry about itany morebut just let it go. Sometimes the widowwould takeme one side and talk about Providence in away tomake a body' but maybe nextday MissWatson would take hold and knock it alldownagain. I judged I could see that there was twoProvidencesand a poor chap would stand considerableshow withthe widow's Providencebut if Miss Wat-son's gothim there warn't no help for him any more.I thoughtit all outand reckoned I would belong tothewidow's if he wanted methough I couldn't makeout how hewas a-going to be any better off then thanwhat hewas beforeseeing I was so ignorantand sokind oflow-down and ornery.Pap hehadn't been seen for more than a yearandthat w I didn't want to see himno more.He used to always whale me when he wassober andcould though I usedto take tothe woods most of the time when he wasaround.Wellabout this time he was found in theriverdrowndedabout twelve mile above townsopeoplesaid. They jud saidthisdrownded man was just his sizeand was raggedand haduncommon long hairwhbut theycouldn't make nothing out of the facebe-cause ithad been in the water so long it warn't muchlike aface at all. They said he was floating on hisback inthe water. They took him and buried him onthe bank.But I warn't comfortable longbecause Ihappenedto think of something. I knowed mightywell thata drownded man don't float on his backbuton hisface. So I knowedthenthat this warn't papbut awoman dressed up in a man's clothes. So I wasuncomfortableagain. I judged the old man wouldturn upagain by and bythough I wished he wouldn't.We playedrobber now and then about a monthandthen Iresigned. All the boys did. We hadn't robbednobodyhadn't killed any peoplebut only just pre-tended. Weused to hop out of the woods and gochargingdown on hog-drivers and women in cartstakinggarden stuff to marketbut we never hived anyof them.Tom Sawyer called the hogs &ingots& andhe calledthe turnips and stuff &julery& and we wouldgo to thecave and powwow over what we had doneand howmany people we had killed and marked. ButI couldn'tsee no profit in it. One time Tom sent aboy to runabout town with a blazing stickwhich hecalled aslogan (which was the sign for the Gang togettogether)and then he said he had got secret newsby hisspies that next day a whole parcel of Spanishmerchantsand rich A-rabs was going to camp in CaveHollowwith two hundred elephantsand six hundredcamelsand over a thousand &sumter& mulesallloadeddown with di'mondsand they didn't have onlya guard offour hundred soldiersand so we would layinambuscadeas he called itand kill the lot andscoop thethings. He said we must slick up our swordsand gunsand get ready. He never could go aftereven aturnip-cart but he must have the swords andguns allscoured up for itthough they was only lathandbroomsticksand you might scour at them till yourottedand then they warn't worth a mouthful of ashesmore thanwhat they was before. I didn't believe wecould licksuch a crowd of Spaniards and A-rabsbutI wantedto see the camels and elephantsso I was onhand nextdaySatu and whenwe got theword we rushed out of the woods and downthe hill.But there warn't no Spaniards and A-rabsand therewarn't no camels nor no elephants. Itwarn'tanything but a Sunday-school picnicand onlyaprimer-class at that. We busted it upand chasedthech but we never got anythingbut somedoughnuts and jamthough Ben Rogers gota ragdolland Jo Harper got a hymn- andthen the teacher charged inand made usdropeverything and cut. I didn't see no di'mondsand I toldTom Sawyer so. He said there was loa and he said there was A-rabstheretooand elephants and things. I saidwhycouldn'twe see themthen? He said if I warn't soignorantbut had read a book called Don QuixoteIwould knowwithout asking. He said it was all donebyenchantment. He said there was hundreds ofsoldiersthereand elephants and treasureand so onbut we hadenemies which andthey hadturned the whole thing into an infant Sunday-schooljust out of spite. I then thething forus to do was to go for the magicians. TomSawyersaid I was a numskull.&Why&said he&a magician could call up a lotof geniesand they would hash you up like nothingbefore youcould say Jack Robinson. They are as tallas a treeand as big around as a church.&&Well&I says&s'pose we got some genies tohelp US --can't we lick the other crowd then?&&Howyou going to get them?&&Idon't know. How do THEY get them?&&Whythey rub an old tin lamp or an iron ringand thenthe genies come tearing inwith the thunderandlightning a-ripping around and the smoke a-rollingandeverything they're told to do they up and do it.They don'tthink nothing of pulling a shot-tower upby therootsand belting a Sunday-school superinten-dent overthe head with it -- or any other man.&&Whomakes them tear around so?&&Whywhoever rubs the lamp or the ring. Theybelong towhoever rubs the lamp or the ringandthey'vegot to do whatever he says. If he tells themto build apalace forty miles long out of di'mondsandfill itfull of chewing-gumor whatever you wantandfetch anemperor's daughter from China for you tomarrythey've got to do it -- and they've got to do itbeforesun-up next morningtoo. And more: they'vegot towaltz that palace around over the countrywhereveryou want ityou understand.&&Well&says I&I think they are a pack of flat-heads fornot keeping the palace themselves 'stead offoolingthem away like that. And what's more -- if Iwas one ofthem I would see a man in Jericho before Iwould dropmy business and come to him for the rub-bing of anold tin lamp.&&Howyou talkHuck Finn. Whyyou'd HAVE tocome whenhe rubbed itwhether you wanted to ornot.&&What!and I as high as a tree and as big as achurch?A I WOULD but I layI'd makethat man climb the highest tree there was inthecountry.&&Shucksit ain't no use to talk to youHuck Finn.You don'tseem to know anythingsomehow -- perfectsaphead.&I thoughtall this over for two or three daysandthen Ireckoned I would see if there was anything in it.I got anold tin lamp and an iron ringand went out inthe woodsand rubbed and rubbed till I sweat like anInjuncalculating to build
but itwarn't nousenone of the genies come. So then Ijudgedthat all that stuff was only just one of TomSawyer'slies. I reckoned he believed in the A-rabsand theelephantsbut as for me I think different. Ithad allthe marks of a Sunday-school.&CHAPTERIV.WELLthree or four months run alongand it waswell intothe winter now. I had been to schoolmost allthe time and could spell and read and writejust alittleand could say the multiplication table upto sixtimes seven is thirty-fiveand I don't reckon Icould everget any further than that if I was to liveforever. Idon't take no stock in mathematicsany-way.At first Ihated the schoolbut by and by I got so Icouldstand it. Whenever I got uncommon tired Iplayedhookeyand the hiding I got next day done megood andcheered me up. So the longer I went toschool theeasier it got to be. I was getting sort ofused tothe widow's waystooand they warn't soraspy onme. Living in a house and sleeping in a bedpulled onme pretty tight mostlybut before the coldweather Iused to slide out and sleep in the woodssometimesand so that was a rest to me. I liked theold waysbestbut I was getting so I liked the newonestooa little bit. The widow said I was comingalong slowbut sureand doing very satisfactory. Shesaid shewarn't ashamed of me.Onemorning I happened to turn over the salt-cellaratbreakfast. I reached for some of it as quick as Icould tothrow over my left shoulder and keep off thebad luckbut Miss Watson was in ahead of meandcrossed meoff. She says&Take your hands awayHwhat a mess you are always making!&The widowput in a good word for mebut that warn'tgoing tokeep off the bad luckI knowed that wellenough. Istarted outafter breakfastfeeling worriedand shakyand wondering where it was going to fallon meandwhat it was going to be. There is ways tokeep offsome kinds of bad luckbut this wasn' so I never tried to do anythingbut justpokedalong low-spirited and on the watch-out.I wentdown to the front garden and clumb over thestilewhere you go through the high board fence.There wasan inch of new snow on the groundand Iseensomebody's tracks. They had come up from thequarry andstood around the stile a whileand thenwent onaround the garden fence. It was funny theyhadn'tcome inafter standing around so. I couldn'tmake itout. It was very curioussomehow. I wasgoing tofollow aroundbut I stooped down to look atthe tracksfirst. I didn't notice anything at firstbutnext Idid. There was a cross in the left boot-heelmade withbig nailsto keep off the devil.I was upin a second and shinning down the hill. Ilookedover my shoulder every now and thenbut Ididn't seenobody. I was at Judge Thatcher's as quickas I couldget there. He said:&Whymy boyyou are all out of breath. Didyou comefor your interest?&&Nosir& I &is there some for me?&&Ohyesa half-yearly is in last night -- over ahundredand fifty dollars. Quite a fortune for you.You hadbetter let me invest it along with your sixthousandbecause if you take it you'll spend it.&&Nosir& I says&I don't want to spend it. Idon't wantit at all -- nor the six thousandnuther.I I want to give it to you -- thesixthousand and all.&He lookedsurprised. He couldn't seem to makeit out. Hesays:&Whywhat can you meanmy boy?&I says&Don't you ask me no questions about itplease.You'll take it -- won't you?&He says:&WellI'm puzzled. Is something the matter?&&Pleasetake it& says I&and don't ask me noth-ing --then I won't have to tell no lies.&He studieda whileand then he says:&Oho-o!I think I see. You want to SELL all yourpropertyto me -- not give it. That's the correctidea.&Then hewrote something on a paper and read itoverandsays:&Tyou see it says 'for a consideration.' Thatmeans Ihave bought it of you and paid you for it.Here's adollar for you. Now you sign it.&So Isigned itand left.MissWatson's niggerJimhad a hair-ball as big asyour fistwhich had been took out of the fourthstomach ofan oxand he used to do magic with it.He saidthere was a spirit inside of itand it knowedeverything.So I went to him that night and told himpap washere againfor I found his tracks in the snow.What Iwanted to know waswhat he was going to doand was hegoing to stay? Jim got out his hair-balland saidsomething over itand then he held it up anddropped iton the floor. It fell pretty solidand onlyrolledabout an inch. Jim tried it againand thenanothertimeand it acted just the same. Jim gotdown onhis kneesand put his ear against it andlistened.But it warn' he said it wouldn'ttalk. Hesaid sometimes it wouldn't talk withoutmoney. Itold him I had an old slick counterfeitquarterthat warn't no good because the brass showedthroughthe silver a littleand it wouldn't pass nohoweven ifthe brass didn't showbecause it was so slickit feltgreasyand so that would tell on it every time.(Ireckoned I wouldn't say nothing about the dollar Igot fromthe judge.) I said it was pretty bad moneybut maybethe hair-ball would take itbecause maybeitwouldn't know the difference. Jim smelt it and bitit andrubbed itand said he would manage so thehair-ballwould think it was good. He said he wouldsplit opena raw Irish potato and stick the quarter inbetweenand keep it there all nightand next morningyoucouldn't see no brassand it wouldn't feel greasyno moreand so anybody in town would take it in aminutelet alone a hair-ball. WellI knowed a potatowould dothat beforebut I had forgot it.Jim putthe quarter under the hair-balland gotdown andlistened again. This time he said the hair-ball wasall right. He said it would tell my wholefortune ifI wanted it to. I saysgo on. So the hair-balltalked to Jimand Jim told it to me. He says:&Yo'ole father doan' know yit what he's a-gwyneto do.Sometimes he spec he'll go 'wayen den aginhe speche'll stay. De bes' way is to res' easy en letde ole mantake his own way. Dey's two angelshoverin'roun' 'bout him. One uv 'em is white enshinyent'other one is black. De white one gits himto goright a little whileden de black one sail in enbust itall up. A body can't tell yit which one gwyneto fetchhim at de las'. But you is all right. Yougwyne tohave considable trouble in yo' lifeen con-sidablejoy. Sometimes you gwyne to git hurtensometimesy but every time you'sgwyne togit well agin. Dey's two gals flyin' 'boutyou in yo'life. One uv 'em's light en t'other one isdark. Oneis rich en t'other is po'. You's gwyne tomarry depo' one fust en de rich one by en by. Youwants tokeep 'way fum de water as much as you kinen don'trun no resk'kase it's down in de bills datyou'sgwyne to git hung.&When I litmy candle and went up to my room thatnightthere sat pap -- his own self!&CHAPTERV.I HAD shutthe door to. Then I turned around.and therehe was. I used to be scared of him allthe timehe tanned me so much. I reckoned I but in a minute I see I was mistaken-- thatisafter the first joltas you may saywhenmy breathsort of hitchedhebut rightaway after I see I warn't scared of him worthbothringabout.He wasmost fiftyand he looked it. His hair waslong andtangled and greasyand hung downand youcould seehis eyes shining through like he was behindvines. It so was his longmixed-upwhiskers. There warn't no color in his face not like anotherman'swhitebut a white to make a body sicka whiteto make abody's flesh crawl -- a tree-toad whiteafish-bellywhite. As for his clothes -- just ragsthatwas all.He had one ankle resting on t'the booton that foot was bustedand two of his toesstuckthroughand he worked them now and then.His hatwas laying on the floor -- an old black slouchwith thetop caved inlike a lid.I stooda- he set there a-looking atmewithhis chair tilted back a little. I set the candledown. Inotic so he had clumbin by theshed. He kept a-looking me all over. Byand by hesays:&Starchyclothes -- very. You think you're a gooddeal of abig-bugDON'T you?&&MaybeI ammaybe I ain't& I says.&Don'tyou give me none o' your lip& says he.&You'veput on considerable many frills since I beenaway. I'lltake you down a peg before I get donewith you.You're educatedtoothey say -- can readand write.You think you're better'n your fathernowdon'tyoubecause he can't? I'LL take it out ofyou. Whotold you you might meddle with suchhifalut'nfoolishnesshey? -- who told you you could?&&Thewidow. She told me.&&Thewidowhey? -- and who told the widow shecould putin her shovel about a thing that ain't none ofherbusiness?&&Nobodynever told her.&&WellI'll learn her how to meddle. And lookyhere --you drop that schoolyou hear? I'll learnpeople tobring up a boy to put on airs over his ownfather andlet on to be better'n what HE is. You lemmecatch youfooling around that school againyou hear?Yourmother couldn't readand she couldn't writenutherbefore she died. None of the family couldn'tbeforeTHEY died. I can't; and here you're a-swellingyourselfup like this. I ain't the man to stand it --you hear?Saylemme hear you read.&I took upa book and begun something about Gen-eralWashington and the wars. When I'd read abouta half aminutehe fetched the book a whack with hishand andknocked it across the house. He says:&It'sso. You can do it. I had my doubts whenyou toldme. N you stop that puttingon frills.I won't have it. I'lland if I catch you about that school I'll tanyou good.First you know you'll get religiontoo. Inever seesuch a son.He took upa little blue and yaller picture of somecows and aboyand says:&What'sthis?&&It'ssomething they give me for learning mylessonsgood.&He tore itupand says:&I'llgive you something better -- I'll give you acowhide.He setthere a-mumbling and a-growling a minuteand thenhe says:&AIN'Tyou a sweet-scented dandythough? A and a look'n'- and a pieceof carpeton the floor -- and your own father got tosleep withthe hogs in the tanyard. I never see such ason. I betI'll take some o' these frills out o' youbefore I'mdone with you. Whythere ain't no end toyour airs-- they say you're rich. Hey? -- how's that?&&Theylie -- that's how.&&Lookyhere -- min I'm a-standingabout all I can stand now -- so don't gimmeno sass.I've been in town two daysand I hain'theardnothing but about you bein' rich. I heardabout itaway down the rivertoo. That's why Icome. Yougit me that money to-morrow -- I wantit.&&Ihain't got no money.&&It'sa lie. Judge Thatcher's got it. You git it.I wantit.&&Ihain't got no moneyI tell you. You ask JudgeThe'll tell you the same.&&Allright. I' and I'll make him pungletooorI'll know the reason why. Sayhow muchyou got inyour pocket? I want it.&&Ihain't got only a dollarand I want that to --&&Itdon't make no difference what you want it for-- youjust shell it out.&He took itand bit it to see if it was goodand thenhe said hewas going down towsaid hehadn't had a drink all day. When he had gotout on theshed he put his head in againand cussedme forputting on frills and trying
andwhen I reckoned he was gone he come backand puthis head in againand told me to mind aboutthatschoolbecause he was going to lay for me andlick me ifI didn't drop that.Next dayhe was drunkand he went to JudgeThatcher'sand bullyragged himand tried to make but he couldn'tand then heswore he'dmake the law force him.The judgeand the widow went to law to get thecourt totake me away from him and let one
but it was a new judge that had justcomeandhe didn' so he saidcourtsmustn't interfere and separate families said he'd druther not take a child awayfrom itsfather. So Judge Thatcher and the widowhad toquit on the business.Thatpleased the old man till he couldn't rest. Hesaid he'dcowhide me till I was black and blue if Ididn'traise some money for him. I borrowed threedollarsfrom Judge Thatcherand pap took it and gotdrunkandwent a-blowing around and cussing andwho and he kept it up all overtownwitha tin p then theyjailedhimand next day they had him before courtand jailedhim again for a week. But he said HEsaid he was boss of his sonand he'd makeit warmfor HIM.When hegot out the new judge said he was a-goingto make aman of him. So he took him to hisown houseand dressed him up clean and niceandhad him tobreakfast and dinner and supper with thefamilyand was just old pie to himso to speak. Andaftersupper he talked to him about temperance andsuchthings till the old man criedand said he'd been afooland but now he was a-goingto turnover a new leaf and be a man nobody wouldn'tbe ashamedofand he hoped the judge would helphim andnot look down on him. The judge said hecould h so he criedand hi pap said he'd been a man that hadalwaysbeen misunderstood beforeand the judge saidhebelieved it. The old man said that what a manwantedthat was down was sympathyand th so they cried again. And when it wasbedtimethe old man rose up and held out his handand says:&Lookat itgent take a-shake it. There's a hand that
butit ain' it's the hand of a manthat'sstarted in on a new lifeand'll die before he'llgo back.You mark them words -- don't forget I saidthem. It' shake it -- don't beafeard.&So theyshook itone after the otherall aroundandcried. Thejudge's wife she kissed it. Then the oldman hesigned a pledge -- made his mark. The judgesaid itwas the holiest time on recordor somethinglike that.Then they tucked the old man into a beauti-ful roomwhich was the spare roomand in the nightsome timehe got powerful thirsty and clumb out on totheporch-roof and slid down a stanchion and traded hisnew coatfor a jug of forty-rodand clumb back againan and towards daylight hecrawledout againdrunk as a fiddlerand rolled offthe porchand broke his left arm in two placesandwas mostfroze to death when somebody found himaftersun-up. And when they come to look at thatspare roomthey had to take soundings before theycouldnavigate it.The judgehe felt kind of sore. He said he reckoneda bodycould reform the old man with a shotgunmaybebuthe didn't know no other way.&CHAPTERVI.WELLpretty soon the old man was up and aroundagainandthen he went for Judge Thatcher inthe courtsto make him give up that moneyand hewent formetoofor not stopping school. He catchedme acouple of times and thrashed mebut I went toschooljust the sameand dodged him or outrun himmost ofthe time. I didn't want to go to school muchbeforebut I reckoned I'd go now to spite pap. Thatlaw trialwas a slow business -- appeared like theywarn'tever going
so every nowand thenI'd borrow two or three dollars off of thejudge forhimto keep from getting a cowhiding.Every timehe go and everytime hegot drunk he raised C andevery timehe raised Cain he got jailed. He was justsuited --this kind of thing was right in his line.He got tohanging around the widow's too muchand so shetold him at last that if he didn't quit usingaroundthere she would make trouble for him. WellWASN'T hemad? He said he would show who wasHuckFinn's boss. So he watched out for me one dayin thespringand catched meand took me up theriverabout three mile in a skiffand crossed over totheIllinois shore where it was woody and there warn'tno housesbut an old log hut in a place where thetimber wasso thick you couldn't find it if you didn'tknow whereit was.He kept mewith him all the timeand I never got achance torun off. We lived in that old cabinand healwayslocked the door and put the key under his headnights. Hehad a gun which he had stoleI reckonand wefished and huntedand that was what we livedon. Everylittle while he locked me in and went downto thestorethree milesto the ferryand traded fishand gamefor whiskyand fetched it home and gotdrunk andhad a good timeand licked me. Thewidow shefound out where I was by and byand shesent a manover to t but papdrove himoff with the gunand it warn't long afterthat tillI was used to being where I wasand likedit -- allbut the cowhide part.It waskind of lazy and jollylaying off comfortableall daysmoking and fishingand no books nor study.Two monthsor more run alongand my clothes got tobe allrags and dirtand I didn't see how I'd ever gotto like itso well at the widow'swhere you had towashandeat on a plateand comb upand go to bedand get upregularand be forever bothering over abookandhave old Miss Watson pecking at you all thetime. Ididn't want to go back no more. I hadstoppedcussingbecause the widow didn' butnow I tookto it again because pap hadn't no objec-tions. Itwas pretty good times up in the woodstheretake it all around.But by andby pap got too handy with his hick'ryand Icouldn't stand it. I was all over welts. He gotto goingaway so muchtooand locking me in. Oncehe lockedme in and was gone three days. It wasdreadfullonesome. I judged he had got drownedand Iwasn't ever going to get out any more. I wasscared. Imade up my mind I would fix up some wayto leavethere. I had tried to get out of that cabinmany atimebut I couldn't find no way. Therewarn't awindow to it big enough for a dog to getthrough. Icouldn' it was toonarrow.The door was thicksolid oak slabs. Papwas prettycareful not to leave a knife or anything inthe c I reckon I had huntedthe placeover as muc wellIwas mostall the time at itbecause it was about theonly wayto put in the time. But this time I f I found an old rusty wood- it was laid in between a rafterand theclapboards of the roof. I greased it up andwent towork. There was an old horse-blanket nailedagainstthe logs at the far end of the cabin behind thetabletokeep the wind from blowing through thechinks andputting the candle out. I got under thetable andraised the blanketand went to work to sawa sectionof the big bottom log out -- big enough tolet methrough. Wellit was a good long jobbut Iwasgetting towards the end of it when I heard pap'sgun in thewoods. I got rid of the signs of my workanddropped the blanket and hid my sawand prettysoon papcome in.Pap warn'tin a good humor -- so he was his naturalself. Hesaid he was down townand everything wasgoingwrong. His lawyer said he reckoned he wouldwin hislawsuit and get the money if they ever go but then there was ways to put itoff a longtimeand Judge Thatcher knowed how to doit And hesaid people allowed there'd be anothertrial toget me away from him and give me to thewidow formy guardianand they guessed it would winthis time.This shook me up considerablebecause Ididn'twant to go back to the widow's any more andbe socramped up and sivilizedas they called it.Then theold man got to cussingand cussed every-thing andeverybody he could think ofand then cussedthem allover again to make sure he hadn't skippedanyandafter that he polished off with a kind of ageneralcuss all roundincluding a considerable parcelof peoplewhich he didn't know the names ofand socalledthem what's-his-name when he got to themandwent rightalong with his cussing.He said hewould like to see the widow get me.He said hewould watch outand if they tried to comeany suchgame on him he knowed of a place six orseven mileoff to stow me inwhere they might hunttill theydropped and they couldn't find me. Thatmade mepretty uneasy againbI reckonedI wouldn't stay on hand till he got thatchance.The oldman made me go to the skiff and fetch thethings hehad got. There was a fifty-pound sack ofcorn mealand a side of baconammunitionand afour-gallonjug of whiskyand an old book and twonewspapersfor waddingbesides some tow. I totedup a loadand went back and set down on the bow ofthe skiffto rest. I thought it all overand I reckonedI wouldwalk off with the gun and some linesand taketo thewoods when I run away. I guessed I wouldn'tstay inone placebut just tramp right across thecountrymostly night timesand hunt and fish to keepaliveandso get so far away that the old man nor thewidowcouldn't ever find me any more. I judged Iwould sawout and leave that night if pap got drunkenoughand I reckoned he would. I got so full of itI didn'tnotice how long I was staying till the old manholleredand asked me whether I was asleep ordrownded.I got thethings all up to the cabinand then it wasaboutdark. While I was cooking supper the old mantook aswig or two and got sort of warmed upandwent toripping again. He had been drunk over intownandlaid in the gutter all nightand he was asight tolook at. A body would a thought he wasAdam -- hewas just all mud. Whenever his liquorbegun towork he most always went for the govment.his timehe says:&Callthis a govment! whyjust look at it and seewhat it'slike. Here's the law a-standing ready to takea man'sson away from him -- a man's own sonwhichhe has hadall the trouble and all the anxiety and alltheexpense of raising. Yesjust as that man has gotthat sonraised at lastand ready to go to work andbegin todo suthin' for HIM and give him a restthe lawup andgoes for him. And they call THAT govment!That ain'tallnuther. The law backs that old JudgeThatcherup and helps him to keep me out o' myproperty.Here's what the law does: The law takes aman worthsix thousand dollars and up'ardsand jamshim intoan old trap of a cabin like thisand lets himgo roundin clothes that ain't fitten for a hog. Theycall thatgovment! A man can't get his rights in agovmentlike this. Sometimes I've a mighty notion tojust leavethe country for good and all. Yesand ITOLD ' I told old Thatcher so to his face. Lotsof 'emheard meand can tell what I said. Says Ifor twocents I'd leave the blamed country and nevercomea-near it agin. Them's the very words. I sayslook at myhat -- if you call it a hat -- but the lidraises upand the rest of it goes down till it's belowmy chinand then it ain't rightly a hat at allbut morelike myhead was shoved up through a jint o' stove-pipe. Lookat itsays I -- such a hat for me to wear-- one ofthe wealthiest men in this town if I could gitmy rights.&Ohyesthis is a wonderful govmentwonderful.Whylookyhere. There was a free nigger there fromOhio -- amulattermost as white as a white man. Hehad thewhitest shirt on you ever seet and there ain't a man in that town that'sgot asfine cl and he had a goldwatch andchainand a silver-headed cane -- the awful-est oldgray-headed nabob in the State. And what doyou think?They said he was a p'fessor in a collegeand couldtalk all kinds of languagesand knowedeverything.And that ain't the wust. They said hecould VOTEwhen he was at home. Wellthat let meout.Thinks Iwhat is the country a-coming to? Itwas'lection dayand I was just about to go and votemyself ifI warn't to but whenthey toldme there was a State in this country wherethey'd letthat nigger voteI drawed out. I says I'llnever voteagin. Them's the very words I and the country may rot for all me --I'll nevervote agin as long as I live. And to see thecool wayof that nigger -- whyhe wouldn't a give methe roadif I hadn't shoved him out o' the way. Isays tothe peoplewhy ain't this nigger put up atauctionand sold? -- that's what I want to know. Andwhat doyou reckon they said? Whythey said hecouldn'tbe sold till he'd been in the State six monthsand hehadn't been there that long yet. Therenow --that's aspecimen. They call that a govment that can'tsell afree nigger till he's been in the State six months.Here's agovment that calls itself a govmentand letson to be agovmentand thinks it is a govmentandyet's gotto set stock-still for six whole months beforeit cantake a hold of a prowlingthievinginfernalwhite-shirtedfree niggerand --&Pap wasagoing on so he never noticed where hisold limberlegs was taking him toso he went head overheels overthe tub of salt pork and barked both shinsand therest of his speech was all the hottest kind oflanguage-- mostly hove at the nigger and the gov-mentthough he give the tub sometooall alonghere andthere. He hopped around the cabin con-siderablefirst on one leg and then on the otherhold-ing firstone shin and then the other oneand at last helet outwith his left foot all of a sudden and fetchedthe tub arattling kick. But it warn't good judgmentbecausethat was the boot that had a couple of his toesleakingout of so now he raised ahowl thatfairly made a body's hair raiseand down hewent inthe dirtand rolled thand thecussing he done then laid over anything hehad everdone previous. He said so his own self after-wards. Hehad heard old Sowberry Hagan in hisbest daysand he said but Ireckonthat was sort of piling it onmaybe.Aftersupper pap took the jugand said he hadenoughwhisky there for two drunks and one deliriumtremens.That was always his word. I judged hewould beblind drunk in about an hourand then Iwouldsteal the keyor saw myself outone or t'other.He drankand drankand tumbled down on
but luck didn't run my way. Hedidn't gosound asleepbut was uneasy. He groanedand moanedand thrashed around this way and that fora longtime. At last I got so sleepy I couldn't keepmy eyesopen all I could doand so before I knowedwhat I wasabout I was sound asleepand the candleburning.I don'tknow how long I was asleepbut all of asuddenthere was an awful scream and I was up.There waspap looking wildand skipping around everywhich wayand yelling about snakes. He said theywas and then he would give ajump andscreamand say one had bit him on thecheek --but I couldn't see no snakes. He startedand runround and round the cabinhollering &Takehim off!take him off! he's biting me on the neck!&I neversee a man look so wild in the eyes. Prettysoon hewas all fagged outathen herolled over and over wonderful fastkickingthingsevery which wayand striking and grabbing atthe airwith his handsand screaming and saying therewas devilsa-hold of him. He wore out by and byand laidstill a whilemoaning. Then he laid stillerand didn'tmake a sound. I could hear the owls andthe wolvesaway off in the woodsand it seemed terri-ble still.He was laying over by the corner. By andby heraised up part way and listenedwith his headto oneside. He saysvery low:&Tramp-- tramp -- that' tramp-- tramp-- they' but Iwon't go.Ohthey're here! don't touch me -- don't!hands off-- they' let go. Ohlet a poor devilalone!&Then hewent down on all fours and crawled offbeggingthem to let him aloneand he rolled himselfup in hisblanket and wallowed in under the old pinetablestill a- and then he went to crying. Icould hearhim through the blanket.By and byhe rolled out and jumped up on his feetlookingwildand he see me and went for me. Hechased meround and round the place with a clasp-knifecalling me the Angel of Deathand saying hewould killmeand then I couldn't come for him nomore. Ibeggedand told him I was only H buthe laughedSUCH a screechy laughand roared andcussedand kept on chasing me up. Once when Iturnedshort and dodged under his arm he made agrab andgot me by the jacket between my shouldersand Ithought I but I slid out of the jacketquick aslightningand saved myself. Pretty soon hewas alltired outand dropped down with his backagainstthe doorand said he would rest a minute andthen killme. He put his knife under himand saidhe wouldsleep and get strongand then he would seewho waswho.So hedozed off pretty soon. By and by I got theoldsplit-bottom chair and clumb up as easy as I couldnot tomake any noiseand got down the gun. Islippedthe ramrod down it to make sure it was loadedthen Ilaid it across the turnip barrelpointingtowardspapand set down behind it to wait for him tostir. Andhow slow and still the time did drag along.&CHAPTERVII.RGIT up!What you 'bout?&I openedmy eyes and looked aroundtryingto makeout where I was. It was after sun-upand Ihad beensound asleep. Pap was standing over melookingsourQand sicktoo. He says:&Whatyou doin' with this gun?&I judgedhe didn't know nothing about what he hadbeendoingso I says:&Somebodytried to get inso I was laying forhim.&&Whydidn't you roust me out?&&WellI tried tobut I couldn't; I couldn't budgeyou.&&Wellall right. Don't stand there palavering alldaybutout with you and see if there's a fish on thelines forbreakfast. I'll be along in a minute.&Heunlocked the doorand I cleared out up theriver-bank.I noticed some pieces of limbs and suchthingsfloating downand
so Iknowed theriver had begun to rise. I reckoned Iwould havegreat times now if I was over at the town.The Junerise used to b becauseas soon asthat rise begins here comes cordwood float-ing downand pieces of log rafts -- sometimes so all you have to do is to catch themand sellthem to the wood-yards and the sawmill.I wentalong up the bank with one eye out for papandt'other one out for what the rise might fetchalong.Wellall at onc just abeautytooabout thirteen or fourteen foot longridinghigh like a duck. I shot head-first off of thebank likea frogclothes and all onand struck out forthe canoe.I just expected there'd be somebody lay-ing downin itbecause people often done that to foolfolksandwhen a chap had pulled a skiff out most toit they'draise up and laugh at him. But it warn't sothis time.It was a drift-canoe sure enoughand Iclumb inand paddled her ashore. Thinks Ithe oldman willbe glad when he sees this -- she's worth tendollars.But when I got to shore pap wasn't in sightyetandas I was running her into a little creek like agullyallhung over with vines and willowsI struckanotheridea: I judged I'd hide her goodand then'stead oftaking to the woods when I run offI'd godown theriver about fifty mile and camp in one placefor goodand not have such a rough time tramping onfoot.It waspretty close to the shantyand I thought Iheard theold man but I andthen I out and looked around a bunch ofwillowsand there was the old man down the patha piecejust drawing a bead on a bird with his gun. Sohe hadn'tseen anything.When hegot along I was hard at it taking up a&trot&line. He abused me a littbut I toldhim I fell in the riverand that was whatmade me solong. I knowed he would see I was wetand thenhe would be asking questions. We got fivecatfishoff the lines and went home.While welaid off after breakfast to sleep upboth ofus beingabout wore outI got to thinking that if I couldfix upsome way to keep pap and the widow from tryingto followmeit would be a certainer thing than trust-ing toluck to get far enough off
youseeall kinds of things might happen. WellI didn'tsee no way for a whilebut by and by papraised upa minute to drink another barrel of waterand hesays:&Anothertime a man comes a-prowling round hereyou roustme outyou hear? That man warn't herefor nogood. I'd a shot him. Next time you roustme outyou hear?&Then hedropped down and butwhat hehad been saying give me the very idea Iwanted. Isays to myselfI can fix it now so nobodywon'tthink of following me.Abouttwelve o'clock we turned out and went alongup thebank. The river was coming up pretty fastand lotsof driftwood going by on the rise. By andby alongcomes part of a log raft -- nine logs fasttogether.We went out with the skiff and towed itashore.Then we had dinner. Anybody but papwould awaited and seen the day throughso
but that warn't pap's style. Ninelogs wa he must shove rightover totown and sell. So he locked me in and tookthe skiffand started off towing the raft about half-pastthree. I judged he wouldn't come back thatnight. Iwaited till I reckoned hethen I out with my sawand went to work onthat logagain. Before he was t'other side of the riverI him and his raft was just aspeck onthe water away off yonder.I took thesack of corn meal and took it to wherethe canoewas hidand shoved the vines and branch then I done the same
then the whisky-jug. I took all thecoffee andsugar there wasan I I took
Itook adipper and a tin cupand my old saw and twoblanketsand the skillet and the coffee-pot. I tookfish-linesand matches and other things -- everythingthat wasworth a cent. I cleaned out the place. Iwanted anaxebut there wasn't anyonly the one outat thewoodpileand I knowed why I was going to leavethat. Ifetched out the gunand now I was done.I had worethe ground a good deal crawling out ofthe holeand dragging out so many things. So Ifixed thatas good as I could from the outside byscatteringdust on the placewhich covered up thesmoothnessand the sawdust. Then I fixed the pieceof logback into its placeand put two rocks under itand oneagainst it to hold it therefor it was bent upat thatplace and didn't quite touch ground. If youstood fouror five foot away and didn't know it wassawedyouwouldn' and besidesthiswas theback of the cabinand it warn't likely anybodywould gofooling around there.It was allgrass clear to the canoeso I hadn't left atrack. Ifollowed around to see. I stood on thebank andlooked out over the river. All safe. So Itook thegun and went up a piece into the woodsandwashunting around for some birds when I hogssoon went wild in them bottoms after theyhad gotaway from the prairie farms. I shot this fel-low andtook him into camp.I took theaxe and smashed in the door. I beat itand hackedit considerable a-doing it. I fetched thepig inand took him back nearly to the table andhackedinto his throat with the axeand laid him downo I say ground because it wasground --hard packedand no boards. Wellnext Itook anold sack and put a lot of big rocks in it -- all Icould drag-- and I started it from the pigand draggedit to thedoor and through the woods down to the riverand dumpedit inand down it sunkout of sight.You couldeasy see that something had been draggedover theground. I did wish Tom SI knowedhe would take an interest in this kind ofbusinessand throw in the fancy touches. Nobodycouldspread himself like Tom Sawyer in such a thingas that.WelllastI pulled out some of my hairand bloodedthe axegoodand stuck it on the back sideand slungthe axe inthe corner. Then I took up the pig and heldhim to mybreast with my jacket (so he couldn't drip)till I gota good piece below the house and thendumped himinto the river. Now I thought of some-thingelse. So I went and got the bag of mealand my oldsaw out of the canoeand fetchedthem tothe house. I took the bag to where itused tostandand ripped a hole in the bottom of itwith thesawfor there warn't no knives and forks onthe place-- pap done everything with his clasp-knifeabout thecooking. Then I carried the sack about ahundredyards across the grass and through the willowseast ofthe houseto a shallow lake that was five milewide andfull of rushes -- and ducks tooyou mightsayinthe season. There was a slough or a creekleadingout of it on the other side that went miles awayI don'tknow wherebut it didn't go to the river. Themealsifted out and made a little track all the way tothe lake.I dropped pap's whetstone there tooso asto looklike it had been done by accident. Then I tiedup the ripin the meal sack with a stringso it wouldn'tleak nomoreand took it and my saw to the canoeagain.I so I dropped the canoedown theriver under some willows that hung over thebankandwaited for the moon to rise. I then I took a bite to eatand by and by laiddown inthe canoe to smoke a pipe and lay out a plan.I says tomyselfthey'll follow the track of that sack-ful ofrocks to the shore and then drag the river forme. Andthey'll follow that meal track to the lakeand gobrowsing down the creek that leads out of it tofind therobbers that killed me and took the things.They won'tever hunt the river for anything but mydeadcarcass. They'll soon get tired of thatandwon'tbother no more about me. A I canstopanywhere I want to. Jackson's Island I know that island pretty wellandnobodyever comes there. And then I can paddleover totown nightsand slink around and pick upthings Iwant. Jackson's Island's the place.I waspretty tiredand the first thing I knowed Iwasasleep. When I woke up I didn't know where Iwas for aminute. I set up and looked arounda littlescared.Then I remembered. The river looked milesand milesacross. The moon was so bright I could acountedthe drift logs that went a-slipping alongblackand stillhundreds of yards out from shore. Every-thing wasdead quietand it looked lateand SMELTlate. Youknow what I mean -- I don't know thewords toput it in.I took agood gap and a stretchand was just goingto unhitchand start when I heard a sound away overthe water.I listened. Pretty soon I made it out. Itwas thatdull kind of a regular sound that comes fromoarsworking in rowlocks when it's a still night. Ipeeped outthrough the willow branchesand there itwas -- askiffaway across the water. I couldn't tellhow manywas in it. It kept a-comingand when itwasabreast of me I see there warn't but one man in it.Think's Imaybe it's papthough I warn't expectinghim. Hedropped below me with the currentandby and byhe came a-swinging up shore in the easywaterandhe went by so close I could a reached outthe gunand touched him. Wellit WAS papsureenough --and sobertooby the way he laid his oars.I didn'tlose no time. The next minute I was a-spinningdown stream soft but quick in the shade ofthe bank.I made two mile and a halfand thenstruck outa quarter of a mile or more towards themiddle ofthe riverbecause pretty soon I would bepassingthe ferry landingand people might see meand hailme. I got out amongst the driftwoodandthen laiddown in the bottom of the canoe and let herfloat. Ilaid thereand had a good rest and a smokeout of mypipelooki not acloud init. The sky looks ever so deep when you laydown onyour b I never knowedit before.And how far a body can hear on the watersuchnights! I heard people talking at the ferry land-ing. Iheard what they saidtoo -- every word of it.One mansaid it was getting towards the long days andthe shortnights now. T'other one said THIS warn'tone of theshort oneshe reckoned -- and then theylaughedand he said it over againathen they waked up another fellow and toldhimandlaughedbut he didn' he ripped outsomethingbriskand said let him alone. The firstfellowsaid he 'lowed to tell it to his old woman -- shewouldthin but he said thatwarn'tnothing to some things he had said in his time.I heardone man say it was nearly three o'clockandhe hopeddaylight wouldn't wait more than about aweeklonger. After that the talk got further andfurtherawayand I couldn't make o butI could hear the mumbleand now and thena laughtoobut it seemed a long ways off.I was awaybelow the ferry now. I rose upandthere wasJackson's Islandabout two mile and a halfdownstreamheavy timbered and standing up out ofthe middleof the riverbig and dark and solidlike asteamboatwithout any lights. There warn't any signsof the barat the head -- it was all under water now.It didn'ttake me long to get there. I shot past thehead at aripping ratethe current was so swiftandthen I gotinto the dead water and landed on the sidetowardsthe Illinois shore. I run the canoe into a deepdent inthe bank that I I had to partthe will and when I made fastnobodycould a seen the canoe from the outside.I went upand set down on a log at the head of theislandand looked out on the big river and the blackdriftwoodand away over to the townthree mileawaywhere there was three or four lights twinkling.Amonstrous big lumber-raft was about a mile upstreamcoming along downwith a lantern in themiddle ofit. I watched it come creeping downandwhen itwas most abreast of where I stood I heard aman say&Stern oarsthere! heave her head to stab-board!&I heard that just as plain as if the man wasby myside.There wasa little so I steppedinto thewoodsand laid down for a nap before break-fast.&CHAPTERVIII.THE sunwas up so high when I waked that I judgedit wasafter eight o'clock. I laid there in thegrass andthe cool shade thinking about thingsandfeelingrested and ruther comfortable and satisfied. Icould seethe sun out at one or two holesbut mostlyit was bigtrees all aboutand gloomy in there amongstthem.There was freckled places on the ground wherethe lightsifted down through the leavesand thefreckledplaces swapped about a littleshowing therewas alittle breeze up there. A couple of squirrels seton a limband jabbered at me very friendly.I waspowerful lazy and comfortable -- didn't wantto get upand cook breakfast. WellI was dozing offagain whenI thinks I hears a deep sound of &boom!&away upthe river. I rouses upand rests o pretty soon I hears it again. I hoppedupandwent and looked out at a hole in the leavesand I seea bunch of smoke laying on the water a longways up --about abreast the ferry. And there wastheferryboat full of people floating along down. Iknowedwhat was the matter