第 17 页

last Bud seen it warn't any use, so he stopped and faced around so as to

have the bullet holes in front, you know, and the old man he rode up and

shot him down. But he didn't git much chance to enjoy his luck, for

inside of a week our folks laid HIM out."

"I reckon that old man was a coward, Buck."

"I reckon he WARN'T a coward. Not by a blame' sight. There ain't a

coward amongst them Shepherdsons--not a one. And there ain't no cowards

amongst the Grangerfords either. Why, that old man kep' up his end in a

fight one day for half an hour against three Grangerfords, and come out

winner. They was all a-horseback; he lit off of his horse and got behind

a little woodpile, and kep' his horse before him to stop the bullets; but

the Grangerfords stayed on their horses and capered around the old man,

and peppered away at him, and he peppered away at them. Him and his

horse both went home pretty leaky and crippled, but the Grangerfords had

to be FETCHED home--and one of 'em was dead, and another died the next

day. No, sir; if a body's out hunting for cowards he don't want to fool

away any time amongst them Shepherdsons, becuz they don't breed any of

that KIND."

Next Sunday we all went to church, about three mile, everybody

a-horseback. The men took their guns along, so did Buck, and kept them

between their knees or stood them handy against the wall. The

Shepherdsons done the same. It was pretty ornery preaching--all about

brotherly love, and such-like tiresomeness; but everybody said it was a

good sermon, and they all talked it over going home, and had such a

powerful lot to say about faith and good works and free grace and

preforeordestination, and I don't know what all, that it did seem to me

to be one of the roughest Sundays I had run across yet.

About an hour after dinner everybody was dozing around, some in their

chairs and some in their rooms, and it got to be pretty dull. Buck and a

dog was stretched out on the grass in the sun sound asleep. I went up to

our room, and judged I would take a nap myself. I found that sweet Miss

Sophia standing in her door, which was next to ours, and she took me in

her room and shut the door very soft, and asked me if I liked her, and I

said I did; and she asked me if I would do something for her and not tell

anybody, and I said I would. Then she said she'd forgot her Testament,

and left it in the seat at church between two other books, and would I

slip out quiet and go there and fetch it to her, and not say nothing to

nobody. I said I would. So I slid out and slipped off up the road, and

there warn't anybody at the church, except maybe a hog or two, for there

warn't any lock on the door, and hogs likes a puncheon floor in

summer-time because it's cool. If you notice, most folks don't go

to church only when they've got to; but a hog is different.

Says I to myself, something's up; it ain't natural for a girl to be in

such a sweat about a Testament. So I give it a shake, and out drops a

little piece of paper with "HALF-PAST TWO" wrote on it with a pencil. I

ransacked it, but couldn't find anything else. I couldn't make anything

out of that, so I put the paper in the book again, and when I got home

and upstairs there was Miss Sophia in her door waiting for me. She

pulled me in and shut the door; then she looked in the Testament till she

found the paper, and as soon as she read it she looked glad; and before a

body could think she grabbed me and give me a squeeze, and said I was the

best boy in the world, and not to tell anybody. She was mighty red in

the face for a minute, and her eyes lighted up, and it made her powerful

pretty. I was a good deal astonished, but when I got my breath I asked

her what the paper was about, and she asked me if I had read it, and I

said no, and she asked me if I could read writing, and I told her "no,

only coarse-hand," and then she said the paper warn't anything but a

book-mark to keep her place, and I might go and play now.

I went off down to the river, studying over this thing, and pretty soon I

noticed that my nigger was following along behind. When we was out of

sight of the house he looked back and around a second, and then comes

a-running, and says:

"Mars Jawge, if you'll come down into de swamp I'll show you a whole

stack o' water-moccasins."

Thinks I, that's mighty curious; he said that yesterday. He oughter know

a body don't love water-moccasins enough to go around hunting for them.

What is he up to, anyway? So I says:

"All right; trot ahead."

I followed a half a mile; then he struck out over the swamp, and waded

ankle deep as much as another half-mile. We come to a little flat piece

of land which was dry and very thick with trees and bushes and vines, and

he says:

"You shove right in dah jist a few steps, Mars Jawge; dah's whah dey is.

I's seed 'm befo'; I don't k'yer to see 'em no mo'."

Then he slopped right along and went away, and pretty soon the trees hid

him. I poked into the place a-ways and come to a little open patch as

big as a bedroom all hung around with vines, and found a man laying there

asleep--and, by jings, it was my old Jim!

I waked him up, and I reckoned it was going to be a grand surprise to him

to see me again, but it warn't. He nearly cried he was so glad, but he

warn't surprised. Said he swum along behind me that night, and heard me

yell every time, but dasn't answer, because he didn't want nobody to pick

HIM up and take him into slavery again. Says he:

"I got hurt a little, en couldn't swim fas', so I wuz a considable ways

behine you towards de las'; when you landed I reck'ned I could ketch up

wid you on de lan' 'dout havin' to shout at you, but when I see dat house

I begin to go slow. I 'uz off too fur to hear what dey say to you--I wuz

'fraid o' de dogs; but when it 'uz all quiet agin I knowed you's in de

house, so I struck out for de woods to wait for day. Early in de mawnin'

some er de niggers come along, gwyne to de fields, en dey tuk me en

showed me dis place, whah de dogs can't track me on accounts o' de water,

en dey brings me truck to eat every night, en tells me how you's a-gitt'n

along."

"Why didn't you tell my Jack to fetch me here sooner, Jim?"

"Well, 'twarn't no use to 'sturb you, Huck, tell we could do sumfn--but

we's all right now. I ben a-buyin' pots en pans en vittles, as I got a

chanst, en a-patchin' up de raf' nights when--"

"WHAT raft, Jim?"

"Our ole raf'."

"You mean to say our old raft warn't smashed all to flinders?"

"No, she warn't. She was tore up a good deal--one en' of her was; but

dey warn't no great harm done, on'y our traps was mos' all los'. Ef we

hadn' dive' so deep en swum so fur under water, en de night hadn' ben so

dark, en we warn't so sk'yerd, en ben sich punkin-heads, as de sayin' is,

we'd a seed de raf'. But it's jis' as well we didn't, 'kase now she's

all fixed up agin mos' as good as new, en we's got a new lot o' stuff, in

de place o' what 'uz los'."

"Why, how did you get hold of the raft again, Jim--did you catch her?"

"How I gwyne to ketch her en I out in de woods? No; some er de niggers

foun' her ketched on a snag along heah in de ben', en dey hid her in a

crick 'mongst de willows, en dey wuz so much jawin' 'bout which un 'um

she b'long to de mos' dat I come to heah 'bout it pooty soon, so I ups en

settles de trouble by tellin' 'um she don't b'long to none uv um, but to

you en me; en I ast 'm if dey gwyne to grab a young white genlman's

propaty, en git a hid'n for it? Den I gin 'm ten cents apiece, en dey

'uz mighty well satisfied, en wisht some mo' raf's 'ud come along en make

'm rich agin. Dey's mighty good to me, dese niggers is, en whatever I

wants 'm to do fur me I doan' have to ast 'm twice, honey. Dat Jack's a

good nigger, en pooty smart."

"Yes, he is. He ain't ever told me you was here; told me to come, and

he'd show me a lot of water-moccasins. If anything happens HE ain't

mixed up in it. He can say he never seen us together, and it 'll be the

truth."

I don't want to talk much about the next day. I reckon I'll cut it

pretty short. I waked up about dawn, and was a-going to turn over and go

to sleep again when I noticed how still it was--didn't seem to be anybody

stirring. That warn't usual. Next I noticed that Buck was up and gone.

Well, I gets up, a-wondering, and goes down stairs--nobody around;

everything as still as a mouse. Just the same outside. Thinks I, what

does it mean? Down by the wood-pile I comes across my Jack, and says:

"What's it all about?"

Says he:

"Don't you know, Mars Jawge?"

"No," says I, "I don't."

"Well, den, Miss Sophia's run off! 'deed she has. She run off in de

night some time--nobody don't know jis' when; run off to get married to

dat young Harney Shepherdson, you know--leastways, so dey 'spec. De

fambly foun' it out 'bout half an hour ago--maybe a little mo'--en' I

TELL you dey warn't no time los'. Sich another hurryin' up guns en

hosses YOU never see! De women folks has gone for to stir up de

relations, en ole Mars Saul en de boys tuck dey guns en rode up de river

road for to try to ketch dat young man en kill him 'fo' he kin git acrost

de river wid Miss Sophia. I reck'n dey's gwyne to be mighty rough

times."

"Buck went off 'thout waking me up."

"Well, I reck'n he DID! Dey warn't gwyne to mix you up in it. Mars Buck

he loaded up his gun en 'lowed he's gwyne to fetch home a Shepherdson or

bust. Well, dey'll be plenty un 'm dah, I reck'n, en you bet you he'll

fetch one ef he gits a chanst."

I took up the river road as hard as I could put. By and by I begin to

hear guns a good ways off. When I came in sight of the log store and the

woodpile where the steamboats lands I worked along under the trees and

brush till I got to a good place, and then I clumb up into the forks of a

cottonwood that was out of reach, and watched. There was a wood-rank

four foot high a little ways in front of the tree, and first I was going

to hide behind that; but maybe it was luckier I didn't.

There was four or five men cavorting around on their horses in the open

place before the log store, cussing and yelling, and trying to get at a

couple of young chaps that was behind the wood-rank alongside of the

steamboat landing; but they couldn't come it. Every time one of them

showed himself on the river side of the woodpile he got shot at. The two

boys was squatting back to back behind the pile, so they could watch both

ways.

By and by the men stopped cavorting around and yelling. They started

riding towards the store; then up gets one of the boys, draws a steady

bead over the wood-rank, and drops one of them out of his saddle. All

the men jumped off of their horses and grabbed the hurt one and started

to carry him to the store; and that minute the two boys started on the

run. They got half way to the tree I was in before the men noticed.

Then the men see them, and jumped on their horses and took out after

them. They gained on the boys, but it didn't do no good, the boys had

too good a start; they got to the woodpile that was in front of my tree,

and slipped in behind it, and so they had the bulge on the men again.

One of the boys was Buck, and the other was a slim young chap about

nineteen years old.

The men ripped around awhile, and then rode away. As soon as they was

out of sight I sung out to Buck and told him. He didn't know what to

make of my voice coming out of the tree at first. He was awful

surprised. He told me to watch out sharp and let him know when the men

come in sight again; said they was up to some devilment or other

--wouldn't be gone long. I wished I was out of that tree, but I dasn't

come down. Buck begun to cry and rip, and 'lowed that him and his cousin

Joe (that was the other young chap) would make up for this day yet. He

said his father and his two brothers was killed, and two or three of the

enemy. Said the Shepherdsons laid for them in ambush. Buck said his

father and brothers ought to waited for their relations--the Shepherdsons

was too strong for them. I asked him what was become of young Harney and

Miss Sophia. He said they'd got across the river and was safe. I was

glad of that; but the way Buck did take on because he didn't manage to

kill Harney that day he shot at him--I hain't ever heard anything like

it.

All of a sudden, bang! bang! bang! goes three or four guns--the men had

slipped around through the woods and come in from behind without their

horses! The boys jumped for the river--both of them hurt--and as they

swum down the current the men run along the bank shooting at them and

singing out, "Kill them, kill them!" It made me so sick I most fell out

of the tree. I ain't a-going to tell ALL that happened--it would make me

sick again if I was to do that. I wished I hadn't ever come ashore that

night to see such things. I ain't ever going to get shut of them--lots

of times I dream about them.

I stayed in the tree till it begun to get dark, afraid to come down.

Sometimes I heard guns away off in the woods; and twice I seen little

gangs of men gallop past the log store with guns; so I reckoned the