by Mark Twain
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."
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sp; 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 'uzmo
s' 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'."
