CH_40
CHAPTER FORTY
-
We was feeling pretty good, after breakfast, and took my canoe and
went over the river a fishing, with a lunch, and had a good time,
and took a look at the raft and found her all right, and got home late
to supper, and found them in such a sweat and worry they didn't know
which end they was standing on, and made us go right off to bed the
minute we was done supper, and wouldn't tell us what the trouble
was, and never let on a word about the new letter, but didn't need to,
because we knowed as much about it as anybody did, and as soon as we
was half up stairs and her back was turned, we slid for the cellar
cubboard and loaded up a good lunch and took it up to our room and
went to bed, and got up about half-past eleven, and Tom put on Aunt
Sally's dress that he stole and was going to start with the lunch, but
says:
"Where's the butter?"
"I laid out a hunk of it," I says, "on a piece of corn-pone."
"Well, you left it laid out, then- it ain't here."
"We can get along without it," I says.
"We can get along with it, too," he says; "just you slide down
cellar and fetch it. And then mosey right down the lightning-rod and
come along. I'll go and stuff the straw into Jim's clothes to
represent his mother in disguise, and be ready to ba like a sheep
and shove soon as you get there."
So out he went, and down cellar went I. The hunk of butter, big as a
person's fist, was where I had left it, so I took up the slab of
corn-pone with it on, and blowed out my light, and started up
stairs, very stealthy, and got up to the main floor all right, but
here comes Aunt Sally with a candle, and I clapped the truck in my
hat, and clapped my hat on my head, and the next second she see me;
and she says:
"You been down cellar?"
"Yes'm."
"What you been doing down there?"
"Noth'n."
"Noth'n!"
"No'm."
"Well, then, what possessed you to go down there, this time of
night?"
"I don't know'm."
"You don't know? Don't answer me that way, Tom, I want to know
what you been doing down there."
"I hain't been doing a single thing, Aunt Sally, I hope to
gracious if I have."
I reckoned she'd let me go, now, and as a generl thing she would;
but I spose there was so many strange things going on she was just
in a sweat about every little thing that warn't yard-stick straight;
so she says, very decided:
"You just march into that setting-room and stay there till I come.
You been up to something you no business to, and I lay I'll find out
what it is before I'm done with you."
So she went away as I opened the door and walked into the
setting-room. My, but there was a crowd there! Fifteen farmers, and
every one of them had a gun. I was most powerful sick, and slunk to
a chair and set down. They was setting around, some of them talking
a little, in a low voice, and all of them fidgety and uneasy, but
trying to look like they warn't; but I knowed they was, because they
was always taking off their hats, and putting them on, and
scratching their heads, and changing their seats, and fumbling with
their buttons. I warn't easy myself, but I didn't take my hat off, all
the same.
I did wish Aunt Sally would come, and get done with me, and lick me,
if she wanted to, and let me get away and tell Tom how we'd overdone
this thing, and what a thundering hornet's nest we'd got ourselves
into, so we could stop fooling around, straight off, and clear out
with Jim before these rips got out of patience and come for us.
At last she come, and begun to ask me questions, but I couldn't
answer them straight, I didn't know which end of me was up; because
these men was in such a fidget now, that some was wanting to start
right now and lay for them desperadoes, and saying it warn't but a few
minutes to midnight; and others was trying to get them to hold on
and wait for the sheep-signal; and here was aunty pegging away at
the questions, and me a shaking all over and ready to sink down in
my tracks I was that scared; and the place getting hotter and
hotter, and the butter beginning to melt and run down my neck and
behind my ears; and pretty soon, when one of them says, "I'm for going
and getting in the cabin first, and right now, and catching them
when they come," I most dropped; and a streak of butter come a
trickling down my forehead, and Aunt Sally she see it, and turns white
as a sheet, and says:
"For the land's sake what is the matter with the child!- he's got
the brain fever as shore as you're born, and they're oozing out!"
And everybody runs to see, and she snatches off my hat, and out
comes the bread, and what was left of the butter, and she grabbed
me, and hugged me, and says:
"Oh, what a turn you give me! and how glad and grateful I am it
ain't no worse; for luck's against us, and it never rains but it
pours, and when I see that truck I thought we'd lost you, for I knowed
by the color and all, it was just like your brains would be if-
Dear, dear, whyd'nt you tell me that was what you'd been down there
for, I wouldn't a cared. Now cler out to bed, and don't lemme see no
more of you till morning!"
I was up stairs in a second, and down the lightning-rod in another
one, and shinning through the dark for the lean-to. I couldn't
hardly get my words out, I was so anxious; but I told Tom as quick
as I could, we must jump for it, now, and not a minute to lose- the
house full of men, yonder, with guns!
His eyes just blazed; and he says:
"No!- is that so? Ain't it bully! Why, Huck, if it was to do over
again, I bet I could fetch two hundred! If we could put it off till-"
"Hurry! hurry!" I says. "Where's Jim?"
"Right at your elbow; if you reach out your arm you can touch him.
He's dressed, and everything's ready. Now we'll slide out and give the
sheep-signal."
But then we heard the tramp of men, coming to the door, and heard
them begin to fumble with the padlock; and heard a man say:
"I told you we'd be too soon; they haven't come- the door is locked.
Here, I'll lock some of you into the cabin and you lay for in the dark
and kill when they come; and the rest scatter around a piece, and
listen if you can hear 'em coming."
So in they come, but couldn't see us in the dark, and most trod on
us whilst we was hustling to get under the bed. But we got under all
right, and out through the hole, swift but soft- Jim first, me next,
and Tom last, which was according to Tom's orders. Now we was in the
lean-to, and heard trampings close by outside. So we crept to the
door, and Tom stopped us there and put his eye to the crack, but
couldn't make out nothing, it was so dark; and whispered and said he
would listen for the steps to get further, and when he nudged us Jim
must glide out first, and him last. So he set his ear to the crack and
listened, and listened, and listened, and the steps a scraping around,
out there, all the time; and at last he nudged us, and we slid out,
and stooped down, not breathing, and not making the least noise, and
slipped stealthy towards the fence, in Injun file, and got to it,
all right, and me and Jim over it; but Tom's britches catched fast
on a splinter on the top rail, and then he heard the steps coming,
so he had to pull loose, which snapped the splinter and made a
noise; and as he dropped in our tracks and started, somebody sings
out:
"Who's that? Answer, or I'll shoot!"
But we didn't answer; we just unfurled our heels and shoved. Then
there was a rush, and a bang, bang, bang! and the bullets fairly
whizzed around us! We heard them sing out:
"Here they are! They've broke for the river! after 'em, boys! And
turn loose the dogs!"
So here they come, full tilt. We could hear them, because they
wore boots, and yelled, but we didn't wear no boots, and didn't
yell. We was in the path to the mill; and when they got pretty close
onto us, we dodged into the bush and let them go by, and then
dropped in behind them. They'd had all the dogs shut up, so they
wouldn't scare off the robbers; but by this time somebody had let them
loose, and here they come, making pow-wow enough for a million; but
they was our dogs; so we stopped in our tracks till they catched up;
and when they see it warn't nobody but us, and no excitement to
offer them, they only just said howdy, and tore right ahead towards
the shouting and clattering; and then we up steam again and whizzed
along after them till we was nearly to the mill, and then struck up
through the bush to where my canoe was tied, and hopped in and
pulled for dear life towards the middle of the river, but didn't
make no more noise than we was obleeged to. Then we struck out, easy
and comfortable, for the island where my raft was; and we could hear
them yelling and barking at each other all up and down the bank,
till we was so far away the sounds got dim and died out. And when we
stepped onto the raft, I says:
"Now, old Jim, you're a free man again, and I bet you won't ever
be a slave no more."
"En a mighty good job it wuz, too, Huck. It 'uz planned beautiful,
en it 'uz done beautiful; en dey ain't nobody kin git up a plan
dat's mo' mixed-up en splendid den what dat one wuz."
We was all as glad as we could be, but Tom was the gladdest of
all, because he had a bullet in the calf of his leg.
When me and Jim heard that, we didn't feel so brash as what we did
before. It was hurting him considerble, and bleeding; so we laid him
in the wigwam and tore up one of the duke's shirts for to bandage him,
but he says:
"Gimme the rags, I can do it myself. Don't stop, now; don't fool
around here, and the evasion booming along so handsome; man the
sweeps, and set her loose! Boys, we done it elegant!- 'deed we did.
I wish we'd a had the handling of Louis XVI, there wouldn't a been
no 'Son of Saint Louis, ascend to heaven!' wrote down in his
biography: no, sir, we'd a whooped him over the border-that's what
we'd a done with him- and done it just as slick as nothing at all,
too. Man the sweeps- man the sweeps!"
But me and Jim was consulting- and thinking. And after we'd
thought a minute, I says:
"Say it, Jim."
So he says:
"Well, den, dis is de way it look to me, Huck. Ef it wuz him dat 'uz
bein' sot free, en one er de boys wuz to git shot, would he say, 'Go
on en save me, nemmine 'bout a doctor f'r to save dis one? Is dat like
Mars Tom Sawyer? Would he say dat? You bet he wouldn't! Well, den,
is Jim gwyne to say it? No, sah- I doan' budge a step out'n dis place,
'dout a doctor; not if it's forty year!"
I knowed he was white inside, and I reckoned he'd say what he did
say- so it was all right, now, and I told Tom I was agoing for a
doctor. He raised considerble row about it, but me and Jim stuck to it
and wouldn't budge; so he was for crawling out and setting the raft
loose himself; but we wouldn't let him. Then he give us a piece of his
mind- but it didn't do no good.
So when he see me getting the canoe ready, he says:
"Well, then, if you're bound to go, I'll tell you the way to do,
when you get to the village. Shut the door, and blindfold the doctor
tight and fast, and make him swear to be silent as the grave, and
put a purse full of gold in his hand, and then take and lead him all
around the back alleys and everywheres, in the dark, and then fetch
him here in the canoe, in a roundabout way amongst the islands, and
search him and take his chalk away from him, and don't give it back to
him till you get him back to the village, or else he will chalk this
raft so he can find it again. It's the way they all do."
So I said I would, and left, and Jim was to hide in the woods when
he see the doctor coming, till he was gone again.
CH_41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
-
The doctor was an old man; a very nice, kind-looking old man, when I
got him up. I told him me and my brother was over on Spanish Island
hunting, yesterday afternoon, and camped on a piece of a raft we
found, and about midnight he must a kicked his gun in his dreams,
for it went off and shot him in the leg, and we wanted him to go
over there and fix it and not say nothing about it, nor let anybody
know, because we wanted to come home this evening, and surprise the
folks.
"Who is your folks?" he says.
"The Phelpses, down yonder."
"Oh," he says. And after a minute, he says: "How'd you say he got
shot?"
"He had a dream," I says, "and it shot him."
"Singular dream," he says.
So he lit up his lantern, and got his saddle-bags, and we started.
But when he see the canoe, he didn't like the look of her- said she
was big enough for one, but didn't look pretty safe for two. I says:
"Oh, you needn't be afeard, sir, she carried the three of us, easy
enough."
"What three?"
"Why me and Sid, and- and- the guns; that's what I mean."
"Oh," he says.
But he put his foot on the gunnel, and rocked her; and shook his
head, and said he reckoned he'd look around for a bigger one. But they
was all locked and chained; so he took my canoe, and said for me to
wait till he come back, or I could hunt around further, or maybe I
better go down home and get them ready for the surprise, if I wanted
to. But I said I didn't; so I told him just how to find the raft,
and then he started.
I struck an idea, pretty soon. I says to myself, spos'n he can't fix
that leg just in three shakes of a sheep's tail, as the saying is?
spos'n it takes him three or four days? What are we going to do?-
lay around there till he lets the cat out of the bag? No, sir, I
know what I'll do. I'll wait, and when he comes back, if he says
he's got to go any more, I'll get down there, too, if I swim; and
we'll take and tie him, and keep him, and shove out down the river;
and when Tom's done with him, we'll give him what it's worth, or all
we got, and then let him get shore.
So then I crept into a lumber pile to get some sleep; and next
time I waked up the sun was away up over my head! I shot out and
went for the doctor's house, but they told me he'd gone away in the
night, some time or other, and warn't back yet. Well, thinks I, that
looks powerful bad for Tom, and I'll dig out for the island, right
off. So away I shoved, and turned the corner, and nearly rammed my
head into Uncle Silas's stomach! He says:
"Why, Tom! Where you been, all this time, you rascal?"
"I hain't been nowheres," I says, "only just hunting for the runaway
nigger- me and Sid."
"Why, where ever did you go?" he says. "Your aunt's been mighty
uneasy."
"She needn't," I says, "because we was all right. We followed the
men and the dogs, but they out-run us, and we lost them; but we
thought we heard them on the water, so we got a canoe and took out
after them, and crossed over but couldn't find nothing of them; so
we cruised along up-shore till we got kind of tired and beat out;
and tied up the canoe and went to sleep, and never waked up till about
an hour ago, then we paddled over here to hear the news, and Sid's
at the post-office to see what he can hear, and I'm a branching out to
get something to eat for us, and then we're going home."
So then we went to the post-office to get "Sid"; but just as I
suspicioned, he warn't there; so the old man he got a letter out of
the office, and we waited a while longer but Sid didn't come; so the
old man said come along, let Sid foot it home, or canoe-it, when he
got done fooling around- but we would ride. I couldn't get him to
let me stay and wait for Sid; and he said there warn't no use in it,
and I must come along, and let Aunt Sally see we was all right.
When we got home, Aunt Sally was that glad to see me she laughed and
cried both, and hugged me, and give me one of them lickings of hern
that don't amount to shucks, and said she'd serve Sid the same when he
come.
And the place was plumb full of farmers and farmers' wives, to
dinner; and such another clack a body never heard. Old Mrs.
Hotchkiss was the worst; her tongue was agoing all the time. She says:
"Well, Sister Phelps, I've ransacked that-air cabin over an' I
b'lieve the nigger was crazy. I says so to Sister Damrell- didn't I,
Sister Damrell- s'I, he's crazy, s'I- them's the very words I said.
You all hearn me: he's crazy, s'I; everything shows it, s'I. Look at
that-air grindstone, s'I; want to tell me't any cretur 'ts in his
right mind's agoin' to scrabble all them crazy things onto a
grindstone, s'I? Here sich'n sich a person busted his heart; 'n'
here so 'n' so pegged along for thirty-seven year, 'n' all that-
natcherl son o' Louis somebody, 'n' sich everlast'n rubbage. He's
plumb crazy, s'I; it's what I says in the fust place, it's what I says
in the middle, 'n' it's what I says last 'n' all the time- the
nigger's crazy- crazy's Nebokoodneezer, s'I."
"An' look at that-air ladder made out'n rags, Sister Hotchkiss,"
says old Mrs. Damrell, "what in the name o' goodness could he ever
want of-"
"The very words I was a-sayin' no longer ago th'n this minute to
Sister Utterback, 'n' she'll tell you so herself. Sh-she, look at
that-air rag ladder, sh-she; 'n' s'I, yes, look at it, s'I- what could
he a wanted of it, s'I. Sh-she, Sister Hotchkiss, sh-she-"
"But how in the nation'd they ever git that grindstone in there,
anyway? 'n' who dug that-air hole? 'n' who-"
"My very words, Brer Penrod! I was a-sayin'- pass that air sasser o'
m'lasses, won't ye?- I was a-sayin' to Sister Dunlap, jist this
minute, how did they git that grindstone in there, s'I. Without
help, mind you- 'thout help! Thar's wher' 'tis. Don't tell me, s'I;
there wuz help, s'I; 'n' ther' wuz a plenty help, too, s'I; ther's ben
a dozen a-helpin' that nigger, 'n' I lay I'd skin every last nigger on
this place, but I'd find out who done it, s'I; 'n' moreover, s'I-"
"A dozen says you!- forty couldn't a done everything that's been
done. Look at them case-knife saws and things, how tedious they've
been made; look at that bed-leg sawed off with 'm, a week's work for
six men; look at that nigger made out'n straw on the bed; and look
at-"
"You may well say it, Brer Hightower! It's jist as I was a-sayin' to
Brer Phelps, his own self. S'e, what do you think of it, Sister
Hotchkiss, s'e? think o' what, Brer Phelps, s'I? think o' that bed-leg
sawed off that a way, s'e? think of it, s'I? I lay it never sawed
itself off, s'I- somebody sawed it, s'I; that's my opinion, take it or
leave it, it mayn't be no'count, s'I, but sich as 't is, it's my
opinion, s'I, 'n' if anybody k'n start a better one, s'I, let him do
it, s'I, that's all. I says to Sister Dunlap, s'I-"
"Why, dog my cats, they must a ben a house-full o' niggers in
there every night for four weeks, to a done all that work, Sister
Phelps. Look at that shirt- every last inch of it kivered over with
secret Africa writ'n done with blood! Must a ben a raft uv 'm at it
right along, all the time, amost. Why, I'd give two dollars to have it
read to me; 'n' as for the niggers that wrote it, I 'low I'd take
'n' lash 'm t'll-"
"People to help him, Brother Marples! Well, I reckon you'd think so,
if you'd a been in this house for a while back. Why, they've stole
everything they could lay their hands on- and we a watching, all the
time, mind you. They stole that shirt right off o' the line! and as
for that sheet they made the rag ladder out of ther' ain't no
telling how many times they didn't steal that; and flour, and candles,
and candlesticks, and spoons, and the old warming-pan, and most a
thousand things that I disremember, now, and my new calico dress;
and me, and Silas, and my Sid and Tom on the constant watch day and
night, as I was a telling you, and not a one of us could catch hide
nor hair, nor sight nor sound of them; and here at the last minute, lo
and behold you, they slides right in under our noses, and fools us,
and not only fools us but the Injun Territory robbers too, and
actuly gets away with that nigger, safe and sound, and that with
sixteen men and twenty-two dogs right on their very heels at that very
time! I tell you, it just bangs anything I ever heard of. Why, sperits
couldn't a done better, and been no smarter. And I reckon they must
a been sperits- because, you know our dogs, and ther' ain't no better;
well, them dogs never even got on the track of 'm once! You explain
that to me, if you can!- any of you!"
"Well, it does beat-"
"Laws alive, I never-"
"So help me, I wouldn't a be-"
"House thieves as well as-"
"Goodnessgracioussakes, I'd a ben afeard to live in sich a-"
"'Fraid to live!- why, I was that scared I dasn't hardly go to
bed, or get up, or lay down, or set down, Sister Ridgeway. Why, they'd
steal the very- why, goodness sakes, you can guess what kind of a
fluster I was in by the time midnight come, last night. I hope to
gracious if I warn't afraid they'd steal some o' the family! I was
just to that pass, I didn't have no reasoning faculties no more. It
looks foolish enough, now, in the day-time; but I says to myself,
there's my two poor boys asleep, 'way up stairs in that lonesome room,
and I declare to goodness I was that uneasy 't I crep' up there and
locked 'em in! I did. And anybody would. Because, you know, when you
get scared, that way, and it keeps running on, and getting worse and
worse, all the time, and your wits get to addling, and you get to
doing all sorts o' wild things, and by-and-by you think to yourself,
spos'n I was a boy, and was away up there, and the door ain't
locked, and you-" She stopped, looking kind of wondering, and then she
turned her head around slow, and when her eye lit on me- I got up
and took a walk.
Says I to myself, I can explain better how we come to not be in that
room this morning, if I go out to one side and study over it a little.
So I done it. But I dasn't go fur, or she'd a sent for me. And when it
was late in the day, the people all went, and then I come in and
told her the noise and shooting waked up me and "Sid," and the door
was locked, and we wanted to see the fun, so we went down the
lightning-rod, and both of us got hurt a little, and we didn't never
want to try that no more. And then I went on and told her all what I
told Uncle Silas before; and then she said she'd forgive us, and maybe
it was all right enough anyway, and about what a body might expect
of boys, for all boys was a pretty harum-scarum lot, as fur as she
could see; and so, as long as no harm hadn't come of it, she judged
she better put in her time being grateful we was alive and well and
she had us still, stead of fretting over what was past and done. So
then she kissed me, and patted me on the head, and dropped into a kind
of brown study; and pretty soon jumps up, and says:
"Why, lawsamercy, it's most night, and Sid not come yet! What has
become of that boy?"
I see my chance; so I skips up and says:
"I'll run right up to town and get him," I says.
"No you won't," she says. "You'll stay right wher'you are; one's
enough to be lost at a time. If he ain't here to supper, your uncle'll
go."
Well, he warn't there to supper; so right after supper uncle went.
He come back about ten, a little bit uneasy; hadn't run across Tom's
track. Aunt Sally was a good deal uneasy; but Uncle Silas he said
there warn't no occasion to be- boys will be boys, he said, and you'll
see this one turn up in the morning, all sound and right. So she had
to be satisfied. But she said she'd set up for him a while, anyway,
and keep a light burning, so he could see it.
And then when I went up to bed she come up with me and fetched her
candle, and tucked me in, and mothered me so good I felt mean, and
like I couldn't look her in the face; and she set down on the bed
and talked with me a long time, and said what a splendid boy Sid
was, and didn't seem to want to ever stop talking about him; and
kept asking me every now and then, if I reckoned he could a got
lost, or hurt, or maybe drownded, and might be laying at this
minute, somewheres, suffering or dead, and she not by him to help him,
and so the tears would drip down, silent, and I would tell her that
Sid was all right, and would be home in the morning, sure; and she
would squeeze my hand, or maybe kiss me, and tell me to say it
again, and keep on saying it, because it done her good, and she was in
so much trouble. And when she was going away, she looked down in my
eyes, so steady and gentle, and says:
"The door ain't going to be locked, Tom; and there's the window
and the rod; but you'll be good, won't you? And you won't go? For my
sake."
Laws knows I wanted to go, bad enough, to see about Tom, and was all
intending to go; but after that, I wouldn't a went, not for kingdoms.
But she was on my mind, and Tom was on my mind; so I slept very
restless. And twice I went down the rod, away in the night, and
slipped around front, and see her setting there by her candle in the
window with her eyes towards the road and the tears in them; and I
wished I could do something for her, but I couldn't, only to swear
that I wouldn't never do nothing to grieve her any more. And the third
time, I waked up at dawn, and slid down, and she was there yet, and
her candle was most out, and her old gray head was resting on her
hand, and she was asleep.
CH_42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
-
The old man was up town again, before breakfast, but couldn't get no
track of Tom; and both of them set at the table, thinking, and not
saying nothing, and looking mournful, and their coffee getting cold,
and not eating anything. And by-and-by the old man says:
"Did I give you the letter?"
"What letter?"
"The one I got yesterday out of the post-office."
"No, you didn't give me no letter."
"Well, I must a forgot it."
So he rummaged his pockets, and then went off somewheres where he
had laid it down, and fetched it, and give it to her. She says:
"Why, it's from St. Petersburg-it's from Sis."
I allowed another walk would do me good; but I couldn't stir. But
before she could break it open, she dropped it and run- for she see
something. And so did I. It was Tom Sawyer on a mattress; and that old
doctor; and Jim, in her calico dress, with his hands tied behind
him; and a lot of people. I hid the letter behind the first thing that
come handy, and rushed. She flung herself at Tom, crying, and says:
"Oh, he's dead, he's dead, I know he's dead!"
And Tom he turned his head a little, and muttered something or
other, which showed he warn't in his right mind; then she flung up her
hands, and says:
"He's alive, thank God! And that's enough!" and she snatched a
kiss of him, and flew for the house to get the bed ready, and
scattering orders right and left at the niggers and everybody else, as
fast as her tongue could go, every jump of the way.
I followed the men to see what they was going to do with Jim; and
the old doctor and Uncle Silas followed after Tom into the house.
The men was very huffy, and some of them wanted to hang Jim, for an
example to all the other niggers around there, so they wouldn't be
trying to run away, like Jim done, and making such a raft of
trouble, and keeping a whole family scared most to death for days
and nights. But the others said, don't do it, it wouldn't answer at
all, he ain't our nigger, and his owner would turn up and make us
pay for him, sure. So that cooled them down a little, because the
people that's always the most anxious for to hang a nigger that hain't
done just right, is always the very ones that ain't the most anxious
to pay for him when they've got their satisfaction out of him.
They cussed Jim considerble, though, and give him a cuff or two,
side the head, once in a while, but Jim never said nothing, and he
never let on to know me, and they took him to the same cabin, and
put his own clothes on him, and chained him again, and not to no
bed-leg, this time, but to a big staple drove into the bottom log, and
chained his hands, too, and both legs, and said he warn't to have
nothing but bread and water to eat, after this, till his owner come or
he was sold at auction, because he didn't come in a certain length
of time, and filled up our hole, and said a couple of farmers with
guns must stand watch around about the cabin every night, and a
bull-dog tied to the door in the day-time; and about this time they
was through with the job and was tapering off with a kind of generl
good-bye cussing, and then the old doctor comes and takes a look,
and says:
"Don't be no rougher on him than you're obleeged to, because he
ain't a bad nigger. When I got to where I found the boy, I see I
couldn't cut the bullet out without some help, and he warn't in no
condition for me to leave, to go and get help; and he got a little
worse and a little worse, and after a long time he went out of his
head, and wouldn't let me come anigh him, any more, and said if I
chalked his raft he'd kill me, and no end of wild foolishness like
that, and I see I couldn't do anything at all with him; so I says, I
got to have help, somehow; and the minute I says it, out crawls this
nigger from somewheres, and says he'll help, and he done it, too,
and done it very well. Of course I judged he must be a runaway nigger,
and there I was! and there I had to stick, right straight along all
the rest of the day, and all night. It was a fix, I tell you! I had
a couple of patients with the chills, and of course, I'd of liked to
run up to town and see them, but I dasn't, because the nigger might
get away, and then I'd be to blame; and yet never a skiff come close
enough for me to hail. So there I had to stick, plumb till daylight
this morning; and I never see a nigger that was a better nuss or
faithfuller, and yet he was resking his freedom to do it, and was
all tired out, too, and I see plain enough he'd been worked main hard,
lately. I liked the nigger for that; I tell you, gentlemen, a nigger
like that is worth a thousand dollars- and kind treatment, too. I
had everything I needed, and the boy was doing as well there as he
would a done at home- better, maybe, because it was so quiet; but
there I was, with both of 'm on my hands; and there I had to stick,
till about dawn this morning; then some men in a skiff come by, and as
good luck would have it, the nigger was setting by the pallet with his
head propped on his knees, sound asleep; so I motioned them in, quiet,
and they slipped up on him and grabbed him and tied him before he
knowed what he was about, and we never had no trouble. And the boy
being in a kind of a flighty sleep, too, we muffled the oars and
hitched the raft on, and towed her over very nice and quiet, and the
nigger never made the least row nor said a word, from the start. He
ain't no bad nigger, gentlemen; that's what I think about him."
Somebody says:
"Well, it sounds very good, doctor, I'm obleeged to say."
Then the others softened up a little, too, and I was mighty thankful
to that old doctor for doing Jim that good turn; and I was glad it was
according to my judgment of him, too; because I thought he had a
good heart in him and was a good man, the first time I see him. Then
they all agreed that Jim had acted very well, and was deserving to
have some notice took of it, and reward. So every one of them
promised, right out and hearty, that they wouldn't cuss him no more.
Then they come out and locked him up. I hoped they was going to
say he could have one or two of the chains took off, because they
was rotten heavy, or could have meat and greens with his bread and
water, but they didn't think of it, and I reckoned it warn't best
for me to mix in, but I judged I'd get the doctor's yarn to Aunt
Sally, somehow or other, as soon as I'd got through the breakers
that was laying just ahead of me. Explanations, I mean, of how I
forgot to mention about Sid being shot, when I was telling how him and
me put in that dratted night paddling around hunting the runaway
nigger.
But I had plenty time. Aunt Sally she stuck to the sickroom all
day and all night; and every time I see Uncle Silas mooning around,
I dodged him.
Next morning I heard Tom was a good deal better, and they said
Aunt Sally was gone to get a nap. So I slips to the sick-room, and
if I found him awake I reckoned we could put up a yarn for the
family that would wash. But he was sleeping, and sleeping very
peaceful, too; and pale, not fire-faced the way he was when he come.
So I set down and laid for him to wake. In about a half an hour,
Aunt Sally comes gliding in, and there I was, up a stump again! She
motioned me to be still, and set down by me, and begun to whisper, and
said we could all be joyful now, because all the symptoms was first
rate, and he'd been sleeping like that for ever so long, and looking
better and peacefuller all the time, and ten to one he'd wake up in
his right mind.
So we set there watching, and by-and-by he stirs a bit, and opened
his eyes very natural, and takes a look, and says:
"Hello, why I'm at home! How's that? Where's the raft?"
"It's all right," I says.
"And Jim?"
"The same," I says, but couldn't say it pretty brash. But he never
noticed, but says:
"Good! Splendid! Now we're all right and safe! Did you tell Aunty?"
I was going to say yes; but she chipped in and says:
"About what, Sid?"
"Why, about the way the whole thing was done."
"What whole thing?"
"Why, the whole thing. There ain't but one; how we set the runaway
nigger free- me and Tom."
"Good land! Set the run- What is the child talking about! Dear,
dear, out of his head again!"
"No, I ain't out of my HEAD; I know all what I'm talking about. We
did set him free- me and Tom. We laid out to do it, and we done it.
And we done it elegant, too." He'd got a start, and she never
checked him up, just set and stared and stared, and let him clip
along, and I see it warn't no use for me to put in. "Why, Aunty, it
cost us a power of work- weeks of it- hours and hours, every night,
whilst you was all asleep. And we had to steal candles, and the sheet,
and the shirt, and your dress, and spoons, and tin plates, and
case-knives, and the warming-pan, and the grindstone, and flour, and
just no end of things, and you can't think what work it was to make
the saws, and pens, and inscriptions, and one thing or another, and
you can't think half the fun it was. And we had to make up the
pictures of coffins and things, and nonnamous letters from the
robbers, and get up and down the lightningrod, and dig the hole into
the cabin, and make the rope-ladder and send it in cooked up in a pie,
and send in spoons and things to work with, in your apron pocket-"
"Mercy sakes!"
-and load up the cabin with rats and snakes and so on, for company
for Jim; and then you kept Tom here so long with the butter in his hat
that you come near spiling the whole business, because the men come
before we was out of the cabin, and we had to rush, and they heard
us and let drive at us, and I got my share, and we dodged out of the
path and let them go by, and when the dogs come they warn't interested
in us, but went for the most noise, and we got our canoe, and made our
raft, and was all safe, and Jim was a free man, and we done it all
by ourselves, and wasn't it bully, Aunty!"
"Well, I never heard the likes of it in all my born days! So it
was you, you little rapscallions, that's been making all this trouble,
and turned everybody's wits clean inside out and scared us all most to
death. I've as good a notion as ever I had in my life, to take it
out o' you this very minute. To think, here I've been, night after
night, a- you just get well once, you young scamp, and I lay I'll
tan the Old Harry out o' both o' ye!"
But Tom, he was so proud and joyful, he just couldn't hold in, and
his tongue just went it- she a-chipping in, and spitting fire all
along, and both of them going it at once, like a cat-convention; and
she says:
"Well, you get all the enjoyment you can out of it now, for mind I
tell you if I catch you meddling with him again-"
"Meddling with who?" Tom says, dropping his smile and looking
surprised.
"With who? Why, the runaway nigger, of course. Who'd you reckon?"
Tom looks at me very grave, and says:
"Tom, didn't you just tell me he was all right? Hasn't he got away?"
"Him?" says Aunt Sally; "the runaway nigger? 'Deed he hasn't.
They've got him back, safe and sound, and he's in that cabin again, on
bread and water, and loaded down with chains, till he's claimed or
sold!"
Tom rose square up in bed, with his eye hot, and his nostrils
opening and shutting like gills, and sings out to me:
"They hain't no right to shut him up! Shove!- and don't you lose a
minute. Turn him loose! he ain't no slave; he's as free as any
cretur that walks this earth!"
"What does the child mean?"
"I mean every word I say, Aunt Sally, and if somebody don't go, I'll
go. I've knowed him all his life, and so has Tom, there. Old Miss
Watson died two months ago, and she was ashamed she ever was going
to sell him down the river, and said so; and she set him free in her
will."
"Then what on earth did you want to set him free for, seeing he
was already free?"
"Well that is a question, I must say; and just like women! Why, I
wanted the adventure of it; and I'd a waded neckdeep in blood to-
goodness alive, Aunt Polly!"
If she warn't standing right there, just inside the door, looking as
sweet and contented as an angel half-full of pie, I wish I may never!
Aunt Sally jumped for her, and most hugged the head off of her,
and cried over her, and I found a good enough place for me under the
bed, for it was getting pretty sultry for us, seemed to me. And I
peeped out, and in a little while Tom's Aunt Polly shook herself loose
and stood there looking across at Tom over her spectacles- kind of
grinding him into the earth, you know. And then she says:
"Yes, you better turn y'r head away- I would if I was you, Tom."
"Oh, deary me!" says Aunt Sally; "is he changed so? Why, that
ain't Tom, it's Sid; Tom's- Tom's- why, where is Tom? He was here a
minute ago."
"You mean where's Huck Finn- that's what you mean! I reckon I hain't
raised such a scamp as my Tom all these years, not to know him when
I see him. That would be a pretty howdy-do. Come out from under that
bed, Huck Finn."
So I done it. But not feeling brash.
Aunt Sally she was one of the mixed-upest looking persons I ever
see; except one, and that was Uncle Silas, when he come in, and they
told it all to him. It kind of made him drunk, as you may say, and
he didn't know nothing at all the rest of the day, and preached a
prayer-meeting sermon that night that give him a rattling
ruputation, because the oldest man in the world couldn't a
understood it. So Tom's Aunt Polly, she told all about who I was,
and what; and I had to up and trill how I was in such a tight place
when Mrs. Phelps took me for Tom Sawyer- she chipped in and says, "Oh,
go on and call me Aunt Sally, I'm used to it, now, and 'taint no
need to change"- that when Aunt Sally took me for Tom Sawyer, I had to
stand it- there warn't no other way, and I knowed he wouldn't mind,
because it would be nuts for him, being a mystery, and he'd make an
adventure out of it and be perfectly satisfied. And so it turned
out, and he let on to be Sid, and made things as soft as he could
for me.
And his Aunt Polly she said Tom was right about old Miss Watson
setting Jim free in her will; and so, sure enough, Tom Sawyer had gone
and took all that trouble and bother to set a free nigger free! and
I couldn't ever understand, before, until that minute and that talk,
how he could help a body set a nigger free, with his bringing-up.
Well, Aunt Polly she said that when Aunt Sally wrote to her that Tom
and Sid had come, all right and safe, she says to herself:
"Look at that, now! I might have expected it, letting him go off
that way without anybody to watch him. So now I got to go and trapse
all the way down the river, eleven hundred mile, and find out what
that creetur's up to, this time; as long as I couldn't seem to get any
answer out of you about it."
"Why, I never heard nothing from you," says Aunt Sally.
"Well, I wonder! Why, I wrote to you twice, to ask you what you
could mean by Sid being here."
"Well, I never got 'em, Sis."
Aunt Polly, she turns around slow and severe, and says:
"You, Tom!"
"Well- what?" he says, kind of pettish.
"Don't you what me, you impudent thing- hand out them letters."
"What letters?"
"Them letters. I be bound, if I have to take aholt of you I'll-"
"They're in the trunk. There, now. And they're just the same as they
was when I got them out of the office. I hain't looked into them, I
hain't touched them. But I knowed they'd make trouble, and I thought
if you warn't in no hurry, I'd-"
"Well, you do need skinning, there ain't no mistake about it. And
I wrote another one to tell you I was coming; and I spose he-"
"No, it come yesterday; I hain't read it yet, but it's all right,
I've got that one."
I wanted to offer to bet two dollars she hadn't, but I reckoned
maybe it was just as safe to not to. So I never said nothing.
CH_THE_LAST
CHAPTER THE LAST
-
The first time I catched Tom, private, I asked him what was his
idea, time of the evasion?- what it was he'd planned to do if the
evasion worked all right and he managed to set a nigger free that
was already free before? And he said, what he had planned in his head,
from the start, if we got Jim out all safe, was for us to run him down
the river, on the raft, and have adventures plumb to the mouth of
the river, and then tell him about his being free, and take him back
up home on a steamboat, in style, and pay him for his lost time, and
write word ahead and get out all the niggers around, and have them
waltz him into town with a torchlight procession and a brass band, and
then he would be a hero, and so would we. But I reckened it was
about as well the way it was.
We had Jim out of the chains in no time, and when Aunt Polly and
Uncle Silas and Aunt Sally found out how good he helped the doctor
nurse Tom, they made a heap of fuss over him, and fixed him up
prime, and give him all he wanted to eat, and a good time, and nothing
to do. And we had him up to the sick-room; and had a high talk; and
Tom give Jim forty dollars for being prisoner for us so patient, and
doing it up so good, and Jim was pleased most to death, and busted
out, and says:
"Dah, now, Huck, what I tell you?- what I tell you up dah on Jackson
islan'? I tole you I got a hairy breas', en what's de sign un it; en I
tole you I ben rich wunst, en gwineter to be rich agin; en it's come
true; en heah she is! Dab, now! doan' talk to me- signs is signs, mine
I tell you; en I knowed jis' 's well 'at I 'uz gwineter be rich agin
as I's a stannin heah dis minute!"
And then Tom he talked along, and talked along, and says, le's all
three slide out of here, one of these nights, and get an outfit, and
go for howling adventures amongst the Injuns, over in the Territory,
for a couple of weeks or two; and I says, all right, that suits me,
but I ain't got no money for to buy the outfit, and I reckon I
couldn't get none from home, because it's likely pap's been back
before now, and got it all away from Judge Thatcher and drunk it up.
"No, he hain't," Tom says; "it's all there, yet- six thousand
dollars and more; and your pap hain't ever been back since. Hadn't
when I come away, anyhow."
Jim says, kind of solemn:
"He ain't a comin' back no mo', Huck."
I says:
"Why, Jim?"
"Nemmine why, Huck- but he ain't comin' back no mo'."
But I kept at him; so at last he says:
"Doan' you 'member de house dat was float'n down de river, en dey
wuz a man in dah, kivered up, en I went in en unkivered him and didn't
let you come in? Well, den, you k'n git yo' money when you wants it;
kase dat wuz him."
Tom's most well, now, and got his bullet around his neck on a
watch-guard for a watch, and is always seeing what time it is, and
so there ain't nothing more to write about, and I am rotten glad of
it, because if I'd a knowed what a trouble it was to make a book I
wouldn't a tackled it and ain't agoing to no more. But I reckon I
got to light out for the Territory ahead of the rest, because Aunt
Sally she's going to adopt me and sivilize me and I can't stand it.
I been there before.
THE END. YOURS TRULY, HUCK FINN
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