The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Complete

M >> Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) >> The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Complete


"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 sees 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--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 ashore.

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 outrun 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 awhile 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 plum 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 a-going 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 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 't's in his right mind 's a
goin' 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! THAT'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 every thing 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 any body 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 African 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
daytime; 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 gets 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 a 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.




CHAPTER XLII.

THE old man was uptown 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 bulldog tied to the door in the daytime; 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
a-nigh 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 until daylight this
morning; and I never see a nigger that was a better nuss or faithfuller,
and yet he was risking 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 sick-room 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 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 lightning-rod, and dig the hole
into the cabin, and made 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 for the 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 neck-deep 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!