第 7 页

a-going to find out who it is that's here on the island with me; I'll

find 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 then

let 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 poked

along 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 little

ripply, cool breeze begun to blow, and that was as good as saying the

night was about done. I give her a turn with the paddle and brung her

nose to shore; then I got my gun and slipped out and into the edge of the

woods. I sat down there on a log, and looked out through the leaves. I

see 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 knowed

the day was coming. So I took my gun and slipped off towards where I had

run across that camp fire, stopping every minute or two to listen. But I

hadn't no luck somehow; I couldn't seem to find the place. But by and

by, sure enough, I catched a glimpse of fire away through the trees. I

went for it, cautious and slow. By and by I was close enough to have a

look, 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. I

set there behind a clump of bushes in about six foot of him, and kept my

eyes on him steady. It was getting gray daylight now. Pretty soon he

gapped and stretched himself and hove off the blanket, and it was Miss

Watson'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 alwuz

liked dead people, en done all I could for 'em. You go en git in de

river agin, whah you b'longs, en doan' do nuffn to Ole Jim, 'at 'uz awluz

yo' fren'."

Well, I warn't long making him understand I warn't dead. I was ever so

glad to see Jim. I warn't lonesome now. I told him I warn't afraid of

HIM telling the people where I was. I talked along, but he only set

there 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 sich

truck? But you got a gun, hain't you? Den we kin git sumfn better den

strawbries."

"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 de

islan'?"

"Since the night I got killed."

"No! W'y, what has you lived on? But you got a gun. Oh, yes, you got a

gun. 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 a

grassy 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 was

set back considerable, because he reckoned it was all done with

witchcraft. I catched a good big catfish, too, and Jim cleaned him with

his 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. Then

when we had got pretty well stuffed, we laid off and lazied. By and by

Jim says:

"But looky here, Huck, who wuz it dat 'uz killed in dat shanty ef it

warn't you?"

Then I told him the whole thing, and he said it was smart. He said Tom

Sawyer 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 he

says:

"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, I

will. People would call me a low-down Abolitionist and despise me for

keeping 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 about

it."

"Well, you see, it 'uz dis way. Ole missus--dat's Miss Watson--she pecks

on me all de time, en treats me pooty rough, but she awluz said she

wouldn' sell me down to Orleans. But I noticed dey wuz a nigger trader

roun' de place considable lately, en I begin to git oneasy. Well, one

night I creeps to de do' pooty late, en de do' warn't quite shet, en I

hear old missus tell de widder she gwyne to sell me down to Orleans, but

she 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 to

git her to say she wouldn' do it, but I never waited to hear de res'. I

lit 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 de

ole 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 nine

every skift dat went 'long wuz talkin' 'bout how yo' pap come over to de

town en say you's killed. Dese las' skifts wuz full o' ladies en genlmen

a-goin' over for to see de place. Sometimes dey'd pull up at de sho' en

take 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't

no mo' now.

"I laid dah under de shavin's all day. I 'uz hungry, but I warn't

afeard; bekase I knowed ole missus en de widder wuz goin' to start to de

camp-meet'n' right arter breakfas' en be gone all day, en dey knows I

goes off wid de cattle 'bout daylight, so dey wouldn' 'spec to see me

roun' 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 holiday

soon as de ole folks 'uz out'n de way.

"Well, when it come dark I tuck out up de river road, en went 'bout two

mile er more to whah dey warn't no houses. I'd made up my mine 'bout

what 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 dat

skift, you see, en dey'd know 'bout whah I'd lan' on de yuther side, en

whah 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' a

log 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 de

current tell de raff come along. Den I swum to de stern uv it en tuck

a-holt. It clouded up en 'uz pooty dark for a little while. So I clumb

up 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 de

river, en den I'd slip in jis b'fo' daylight en swim asho', en take to

de 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 to

wait, so I slid overboard en struck out fer de islan'. Well, I had a

notion I could lan' mos' anywhers, but I couldn't--bank too bluff. I 'uz

mos' to de foot er de islan' b'fo' I found' a good place. I went into de

woods en jedged I wouldn' fool wid raffs no mo', long as dey move de

lantern roun' so. I had my pipe en a plug er dog-leg, en some matches in

my 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't

you get mud-turkles?"

"How you gwyne to git 'm? You can't slip up on um en grab um; en how's a

body gwyne to hit um wid a rock? How could a body do it in de night? En

I 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, of

course. Did you hear 'em shooting the cannon?"

"Oh, yes. I knowed dey was arter you. I see um go by heah--watched um

thoo 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 when

young chickens flew that way, and so he reckoned it was the same way when

young birds done it. I was going to catch some of them, but Jim wouldn't

let 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 would

die, and he did.

And Jim said you mustn't count the things you are going to cook for

dinner, because that would bring bad luck. The same if you shook the

table-cloth after sundown. And he said if a man owned a beehive and that

man died, the bees must be told about it before sun-up next morning, or

else the bees would all weaken down and quit work and die. Jim said bees

wouldn't sting idiots; but I didn't believe that, because I had tried

them lots of times myself, and they wouldn't sting me.

I had heard about some of these things before, but not all of them. Jim

knowed all kinds of signs. He said he knowed most everything. I said it

looked to me like all the signs was about bad luck, and so I asked him if

there warn't any good-luck signs. He says:

"Mighty few--an' DEY ain't no use to a body. What you want to know when

good luck's a-comin' for? Want to keep it off?" And he said: "Ef you's

got hairy arms en a hairy breas', it's a sign dat you's agwyne to be

rich. 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 git

discourage' en kill yo'sef 'f you didn' know by de sign dat you gwyne to

be 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 foteen

dollars, 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 I

ain' gwyne to resk no mo' money in stock. De cow up 'n' died on my

han'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 hide

en 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 dey

didn't have much. I wuz de on'y one dat had much. So I stuck out for

mo' 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 he

says dey warn't business 'nough for two banks, so he say I could put in

my 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 right

off en keep things a-movin'. Dey wuz a nigger name' Bob, dat had ketched

a wood-flat, en his marster didn' know it; en I bought it off'n him en

told him to take de thirty-five dollars when de en' er de year come; but

somebody stole de wood-flat dat night, en nex day de one-laigged nigger

say 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 to

give it to a nigger name' Balum--Balum's Ass dey call him for short; he's

one er dem chuckleheads, you know. But he's lucky, dey say, en I see I