Huckleberry finn by Mark Twain

buckle to your paddle, and let's get along."

stroke or two, I says:

away when I want them to help me tow the raft ashore, and I can't do it

by myself."
"Well, that's infernal mean. Odd, too. Say, boy, what's the matter with

your father?"

now. One says:

now, and it'll be the better for you."

--Gentlemen, if you'll only pull ahead, and let me heave you the

headline, you won't have to come a-near the raft--please do."
"Set her back, John, set her back!" says one. They backed water. "Keep

away, boy--keep to looard. Confound it, I just expect the wind has

blowed it to us. Your pap's got the small-pox, and you know it precious

well. Why didn't you come out and say so? Do you want to spread it all

over?"
"Well," says I, a-blubbering, "I've told everybody before, and they just

went away and left us."

but we--well, hang it, we don't want the small-pox, you see. Look here,

I'll tell you what to do. Don't you try to land by yourself, or you'll

smash everything to pieces. You float along down about twenty miles, and

you'll come to a town on the left-hand side of the river. It will be

long after sun-up then, and when you ask for help you tell them your

folks are all down with chills and fever. Don't be a fool again, and let

people guess what is the matter. Now we're trying to do you a kindness;

so you just put twenty miles between us, that's a good boy. It wouldn't

do any good to land yonder where the light is--it's only a wood-yard.

Say, I reckon your father's poor, and I'm bound to say he's in pretty

hard luck. Here, I'll put a twenty-dollar gold piece on this board, and

you get it when it floats by. I feel mighty mean to leave you; but my

kingdom! it won't do to fool with small-pox, don't you see?"

board for me. Good-bye, boy; you do as Mr. Parker told you, and you'll

be all right."
"That's so, my boy--good-bye, good-bye. If you see any runaway niggers

you get help and nab them, and you can make some money by it."

can help it."

knowed very well I had done wrong, and I see it warn't no use for me to

try to learn to do right; a body that don't get STARTED right when he's

little ain't got no show--when the pinch comes there ain't nothing to

back him up and keep him to his work, and so he gets beat. Then I

thought a minute, and says to myself, hold on; s'pose you'd a done right

and give Jim up, would you felt better than what you do now? No, says I,

I'd feel bad--I'd feel just the same way I do now. Well, then, says I,

what's the use you learning to do right when it's troublesome to do right

and ain't no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same? I was

stuck. I couldn't answer that. So I reckoned I wouldn't bother no more

about it, but after this always do whichever come handiest at the time.

anywhere. I says:

him they were out of sight, so he come aboard. He says:

to shove for sho' if dey come aboard. Den I was gwyne to swim to de raf'

agin when dey was gone. But lawsy, how you did fool 'em, Huck! Dat WUZ

de smartes' dodge! I tell you, chile, I'spec it save' ole Jim--ole Jim

ain't going to forgit you for dat, honey."
Then we talked about the money. It was a pretty good raise--twenty

dollars apiece. Jim said we could take deck passage on a steamboat now,

and the money would last us as far as we wanted to go in the free States.

He said twenty mile more warn't far for the raft to go, but he wished we

was already there.
Towards daybreak we tied up, and Jim was mighty particular about hiding

the raft good. Then he worked all day fixing things in bundles, and

getting all ready to quit rafting.
That night about ten we hove in sight of the lights of a town away down

in a left-hand bend.

in the river with a skiff, setting a trot-line. I ranged up and says:

me for about a half a minute longer you'll get something you won't want."

mind, Cairo would be the next place, I reckoned.

was high ground, so I didn't go. No high ground about Cairo, Jim said.

I had forgot it. We laid up for the day on a towhead tolerable close to

the left-hand bank. I begun to suspicion something. So did Jim. I

says:
"Maybe we went by Cairo in the fog that night."
He says:
"Doan' le's talk about it, Huck. Po' niggers can't have no luck. I

awluz 'spected dat rattlesnake-skin warn't done wid its work."

eyes on it."

it."
When it was daylight, here was the clear Ohio water inshore, sure enough,

and outside was the old regular Muddy! So it was all up with Cairo.
We talked it all over. It wouldn't do to take to the shore; we couldn't

take the raft up the stream, of course. There warn't no way but to wait

for dark, and start back in the canoe and take the chances. So we slept

all day amongst the cottonwood thicket, so as to be fresh for the work,

and when we went back to the raft about dark the canoe was gone!
We didn't say a word for a good while. There warn't anything to say. We

both knowed well enough it was some more work of the rattlesnake-skin; so

what was the use to talk about it? It would only look like we was

finding fault, and that would be bound to fetch more bad luck--and keep

on fetching it, too, till we knowed enough to keep still.
By and by we talked about what we better do, and found there warn't no

way but just to go along down with the raft till we got a chance to buy a

canoe to go back in. We warn't going to borrow it when there warn't

anybody around, the way pap would do, for that might set people after us.

snake-skin, after all that that snake-skin done for us, will believe

it now if they read on and see what more it done for us.
The place to buy canoes is off of rafts laying up at shore. But we

didn't see no rafts laying up; so we went along during three hours and

more. Well, the night got gray and ruther thick, which is the next

meanest thing to fog. You can't tell the shape of the river, and you

can't see no distance. It got to be very late and still, and then along

comes a steamboat up the river. We lit the lantern, and judged she would

see it. Up-stream boats didn't generly come close to us; they go out and

follow the bars and hunt for easy water under the reefs; but nights like

this they bull right up the channel against the whole river.
We could hear her pounding along, but we didn't see her good till she was

close. She aimed right for us. Often they do that and try to see how

close they can come without touching; sometimes the wheel bites off a

sweep, and then the pilot sticks his head out and laughs, and thinks he's

mighty smart. Well, here she comes, and we said she was going to try and

shave us; but she didn't seem to be sheering off a bit. She was a big

one, and she was coming in a hurry, too, looking like a black cloud with

rows of glow-worms around it; but all of a sudden she bulged out, big and

scary, with a long row of wide-open furnace doors shining like red-hot

teeth, and her monstrous bows and guards hanging right over us. There

was a yell at us, and a jingling of bells to stop the engines, a powwow

of cussing, and whistling of steam--and as Jim went overboard on one side

and I on the other, she come smashing straight through the raft.
I dived--and I aimed to find the bottom, too, for a thirty-foot wheel had

got to go over me, and I wanted it to have plenty of room. I could

always stay under water a minute; this time I reckon I stayed under a

minute and a half. Then I bounced for the top in a hurry, for I was

nearly busting. I popped out to my armpits and blowed the water out of

my nose, and puffed a bit. Of course there was a booming current; and of

course that boat started her engines again ten seconds after she stopped

them, for they never cared much for raftsmen; so now she was churning

along up the river, out of sight in the thick weather, though I could

hear her.

grabbed a plank that touched me while I was "treading water," and struck

out for shore, shoving it ahead of me. But I made out to see that the

drift of the current was towards the left-hand shore, which meant that I

was in a crossing; so I changed off and went that way.
It was one of these long, slanting, two-mile crossings; so I was a good

long time in getting over. I made a safe landing, and clumb up the bank.

I couldn't see but a little ways, but I went poking along over rough

ground for a quarter of a mile or more, and then I run across a big

old-fashioned double log-house before I noticed it. I was going to rush

by and get away, but a lot of dogs jumped out and went to howling and

barking at me, and I knowed better than to move another peg.
CHAPTER XVII.
IN about a minute somebody spoke out of a window without putting his head

out, and says:

won't let me."

your name was?"

hurt you. But don't try to budge; stand right where you are. Rouse out

Bob and Tom, some of you, and fetch the guns. George Jackson, is there

anybody with you?"

The man sung out:

Put it on the floor behind the front door. Bob, if you and Tom are

ready, take your places."
"All ready."
"Now, George Jackson, do you know the Shepherdsons?"
"No, sir; I never heard of them."
"Well, that may be so, and it mayn't. Now, all ready. Step forward,

George Jackson. And mind, don't you hurry--come mighty slow. If there's

anybody with you, let him keep back--if he shows himself he'll be shot.

Come along now. Come slow; push the door open yourself--just enough to

squeeze in, d' you hear?"
I didn't hurry; I couldn't if I'd a wanted to. I took one slow step at a

time and there warn't a sound, only I thought I could hear my heart. The

dogs were as still as the humans, but they followed a little behind me.

When I got to the three log doorsteps I heard them unlocking and

unbarring and unbolting. I put my hand on the door and pushed it a

little and a little more till somebody said, "There, that's enough--put

your head in." I done it, but I judged they would take it off.
The candle was on the floor, and there they all was, looking at me, and

me at them, for about a quarter of a minute: Three big men with guns

pointed at me, which made me wince, I tell you; the oldest, gray and

about sixty, the other two thirty or more--all of them fine and handsome

--and the sweetest old gray-headed lady, and back of her two young women

which I couldn't see right well. The old gentleman says:

and bolted it, and told the young men to come in with their guns, and

they all went in a big parlor that had a new rag carpet on the floor, and

got together in a corner that was out of the range of the front windows

--there warn't none on the side. They held the candle, and took a good

look at me, and all said, "Why, HE ain't a Shepherdson--no, there ain't

any Shepherdson about him." Then the old man said he hoped I wouldn't

mind being searched for arms, because he didn't mean no harm by it--it

was only to make sure. So he didn't pry into my pockets, but only felt

outside with his hands, and said it was all right. He told me to make

myself easy and at home, and tell all about myself; but the old lady

says:
"Why, bless you, Saul, the poor thing's as wet as he can be; and don't

you reckon it may be he's hungry?"
"True for you, Rachel--I forgot."
So the old lady says:
"Betsy" (this was a nigger woman), "you fly around and get him something

to eat as quick as you can, poor thing; and one of you girls go and wake

up Buck and tell him--oh, here he is himself. Buck, take this little

stranger and get the wet clothes off from him and dress him up in some of

yours that's dry."
Buck looked about as old as me--thirteen or fourteen or along there,

though he was a little bigger than me. He hadn't on anything but a

shirt, and he was very frowzy-headed. He came in gaping and digging one

fist into his eyes, and he was dragging a gun along with the other one.

He says:
"Ain't they no Shepherdsons around?"
They said, no, 'twas a false alarm.
"Well," he says, "if they'd a ben some, I reckon I'd a got one."
They all laughed, and Bob says:
"Why, Buck, they might have scalped us all, you've been so slow in

coming."
"Well, nobody come after me, and it ain't right I'm always kept down; I

don't get no show."
"Never mind, Buck, my boy," says the old man, "you'll have show enough,

all in good time, don't you fret about that. Go 'long with you now, and

do as your mother told you."
When we got up-stairs to his room he got me a coarse shirt and a

roundabout and pants of his, and I put them on. While I was at it he

asked me what my name was, but before I could tell him he started to tell

me about a bluejay and a young rabbit he had catched in the woods day

before yesterday, and he asked me where Moses was when the candle went

out. I said I didn't know; I hadn't heard about it before, no way.

going to stay here? You got to stay always. We can just have booming

times--they don't have no school now. Do you own a dog? I've got a

dog--and he'll go in the river and bring out chips that you throw in. Do

you like to comb up Sundays, and all that kind of foolishness? You bet I

don't, but ma she makes me. Confound these ole britches! I reckon I'd

better put 'em on, but I'd ruther not, it's so warm. Are you all ready?

All right. Come along, old hoss."

had for me down there, and there ain't nothing better that ever I've come

across yet. Buck and his ma and all of them smoked cob pipes, except the

nigger woman, which was gone, and the two young women. They all smoked

and talked, and I eat and talked. The young women had quilts around

them, and their hair down their backs. They all asked me questions, and

I told them how pap and me and all the family was living on a little farm

down at the bottom of Arkansaw, and my sister Mary Ann run off and got

married and never was heard of no more, and Bill went to hunt them and he

warn't heard of no more, and Tom and Mort died, and then there warn't

nobody but just me and pap left, and he was just trimmed down to nothing,

on account of his troubles; so when he died I took what there was left,

because the farm didn't belong to us, and started up the river, deck

passage, and fell overboard; and that was how I come to be here. So they

said I could have a home there as long as I wanted it. Then it was most

daylight and everybody went to bed, and I went to bed with Buck, and when

I waked up in the morning, drat it all, I had forgot what my name was.

So I laid there about an hour trying to think, and when Buck waked up I

says:
"Can you spell, Buck?"
"Yes," he says.
"I bet you can't spell my name," says I.
"I bet you what you dare I can," says he.
"All right," says I, "go ahead."
"G-e-o-r-g-e J-a-x-o-n--there now," he says.
"Well," says I, "you done it, but I didn't think you could. It ain't no

slouch of a name to spell--right off without studying."

and so I wanted to be handy with it and rattle it off like I was used to

it.
It was a mighty nice family, and a mighty nice house, too. I hadn't seen

no house out in the country before that was so nice and had so much

style. It didn't have an iron latch on the front door, nor a wooden one

with a buckskin string, but a brass knob to turn, the same as houses in

town. There warn't no bed in the parlor, nor a sign of a bed; but heaps

of parlors in towns has beds in them. There was a big fireplace that was

bricked on the bottom, and the bricks was kept clean and red by pouring

water on them and scrubbing them with another brick; sometimes they wash

them over with red water-paint that they call Spanish-brown, same as they

do in town. They had big brass dog-irons that could hold up a saw-log.

There was a clock on the middle of the mantelpiece, with a picture of a

town painted on the bottom half of the glass front, and a round place in

the middle of it for the sun, and you could see the pendulum swinging

behind it. It was beautiful to hear that clock tick; and sometimes when

one of these peddlers had been along and scoured her up and got her in

good shape, she would start in and strike a hundred and fifty before she

got tuckered out. They wouldn't took any money for her.
Well, there was a big outlandish parrot on each side of the clock, made

out of something like chalk, and painted up gaudy. By one of the parrots

was a cat made of crockery, and a crockery dog by the other; and when you

pressed down on them they squeaked, but didn't open their mouths nor look

different nor interested. They squeaked through underneath. There was a

couple of big wild-turkey-wing fans spread out behind those things. On

the table in the middle of the room was a kind of a lovely crockery

basket that had apples and oranges and peaches and grapes piled up in it,

which was much redder and yellower and prettier than real ones is, but

they warn't real because you could see where pieces had got chipped off

and showed the white chalk, or whatever it was, underneath.
This table had a cover made out of beautiful oilcloth, with a red and

blue spread-eagle painted on it, and a painted border all around. It

come all the way from Philadelphia, they said. There was some books,

too, piled up perfectly exact, on each corner of the table. One was a

big family Bible full of pictures. One was Pilgrim's Progress, about a

man that left his family, it didn't say why. I read considerable in it

now and then. The statements was interesting, but tough. Another was

Friendship's Offering, full of beautiful stuff and poetry; but I didn't

read the poetry. Another was Henry Clay's Speeches, and another was Dr.

Gunn's Family Medicine, which told you all about what to do if a body was

sick or dead. There was a hymn book, and a lot of other books. And

there was nice split-bottom chairs, and perfectly sound, too--not bagged

down in the middle and busted, like an old basket.
They had pictures hung on the walls--mainly Washingtons and Lafayettes,

and battles, and Highland Marys, and one called "Signing the

Declaration." There was some that they called crayons, which one of the

daughters which was dead made her own self when she was only fifteen

years old. They was different from any pictures I ever see before

--blacker, mostly, than is common. One was a woman in a slim black dress,

belted small under the armpits, with bulges like a cabbage in the middle

of the sleeves, and a large black scoop-shovel bonnet with a black veil,

and white slim ankles crossed about with black tape, and very wee black

slippers, like a chisel, and she was leaning pensive on a tombstone on

her right elbow, under a weeping willow, and her other hand hanging down

her side holding a white handkerchief and a reticule, and underneath the

picture it said "Shall I Never See Thee More Alas." Another one was a

young lady with her hair all combed up straight to the top of her head,

and knotted there in front of a comb like a chair-back, and she was

crying into a handkerchief and had a dead bird laying on its back in her

other hand with its heels up, and underneath the picture it said "I Shall

Never Hear Thy Sweet Chirrup More Alas." There was one where a young

lady was at a window looking up at the moon, and tears running down her