go for him. Jim didn't like the spiders, and the spiders didn't
like  Jim; and so they'd lay for him, and make it mighty warm for him. And
he  said  that  between  the  rats and the snakes and the grindstone there
warn't  no  room  in  bed  for  him,  skasely;  and when there was, a body
couldn't  sleep,  it  was  so  lively,  and it was always lively, he said,
because THEY never all slept at one time, but took turn about, so when the
snakes  was  asleep  the rats was on deck, and when the rats turned in the
snakes come on watch, so he always had one gang under him, in his way, and
t'other  gang  having  a  circus  over him, and if he got up to hunt a new
place  the  spiders would take a chance at him as he crossed over. He said
if he ever got out this time he wouldn't ever be a prisoner again, not for
a salary.
   Well,  by  the  end of three weeks everything was in pretty good shape.
The  shirt  was  sent  in early, in a pie, and every time a rat bit Jim he
would  get  up and write a little in his journal whilst the ink was fresh;
the  pens  was  made,  the  inscriptions  and  so on was all carved on the
grindstone;  the  bed-leg  was sawed in two, and we had et up the sawdust,
and  it  give us a most amazing stomach-ache. We reckoned we was all going
to  die,  but didn't. It was the most undigestible sawdust I ever see; and
Tom said the same. But as I was saying, we'd got all the work done now, at
last;  and we was all pretty much fagged out, too, but mainly Jim. The old
man  had  wrote  a couple of times to the plantation below Orleans to come
and  get  their  runaway  nigger,  but hadn't got no answer, because there
warn't no such plantation; so he allowed he would advertise Jim in the St.
Louis  and New Orleans papers; and when he mentioned the St. Louis ones it
give  me  the  cold  shivers,  and I see we hadn't no time to lose. So Tom
said, now for the nonnamous letters.
   "What's them?" I says.
   "Warnings  to  the people that something is up. Sometimes it's done one
way,  sometimes  another.  But  there's always somebody spying around that
gives  notice  to the governor of the castle. When Louis XVI. was going to
light  out  of  the Tooleries a servantgirl done it. It's a very good way,
and  so  is the nonnamous letters. We'll use them both. And it's usual for
the prisoner's mother to change clothes with him, and she stays in, and he
slides out in her clothes. We'll do that, too."
   "But  looky  here,  Tom,  what  do  we  want  to  WARN anybody for that
something's up? Let them find it out for themselves-it's their lookout."
   "Yes,  I know; but you can't depend on them. It's the way they've acted
from  the  very  start-left  us to do EVERYTHING. They're so confiding and
mulletheaded they don't take notice of nothing at all. So if we don't GIVE
them notice there won't be nobody nor nothing to interfere with us, and so
after all our hard work and trouble this escape 'll go off perfectly flat;
won't amount to nothing-won't be nothing TO it."
   "Well, as for me, Tom, that's the way I'd like."
   "Shucks!" he says, and looked disgusted. So I says:
   "But  I  ain't going to make no complaint. Any way that suits you suits
me. What you going to do about the servant-girl?"
   "You'll be her. You slide in, in the middle of the night, and hook that
yaller girl's frock."
   "Why,  Tom, that 'll make trouble next morning; because, of course, she
prob'bly hain't got any but that one."
   "I  know;  but  you  don't  want  it  but fifteen minutes, to carry the
nonnamous letter and shove it under the front door."
   "All  right, then, I'll do it; but I could carry it just as handy in my
own togs."
   "You wouldn't look like a servant-girl THEN, would you?"
   "No, but there won't be nobody to see what I look like, ANYWAY."
   "That  ain't  got nothing to do with it. The thing for us to do is just
to  do our DUTY, and not worry about whether anybody SEES us do it or not.
Hain't you got no principle at all?"
   "All  right,  I  ain't saying nothing; I'm the servantgirl. Who's Jim's
mother?"
   "I'm his mother. I'll hook a gown from Aunt Sally."
   "Well, then, you'll have to stay in the cabin when me and Jim leaves."
   "Not much. I'll stuff Jim's clothes full of straw and lay it on his bed
to  represent  his mother in disguise, and Jim 'll take the nigger woman's
gown  off of me and wear it, and we'll all evade together. When a prisoner
of style escapes it's called an evasion. It's always called so when a king
escapes,  f'rinstance.  And  the  same with a king's son; it don't make no
difference whether he's a natural one or an unnatural one."
   So Tom he wrote the nonnamous letter, and I smouched the yaller wench's
frock  that  night, and put it on, and shoved it under the front door, the
way Tom told me to. It said:
   Beware. Trouble is brewing. Keep a sharp lookout.
   UNKNOWN FRIEND.
   Next  night  we  stuck a picture, which Tom drawed in blood, of a skull
and  crossbones  on the front door; and next night another one of a coffin
on  the  back  door. I never see a family in such a sweat. They couldn't a
been  worse  scared if the place had a been full of ghosts laying for them
behind  everything  and under the beds and shivering through the air. If a
door  banged, Aunt Sally she jumped and said "ouch!" if anything fell, she
jumped  and  said  "ouch!"  if  you happened to touch her, when she warn't
noticing,  she  done  the  same; she couldn't face noway and be satisfied,
because  she  allowed there was something behind her every time-so she was
always  a-whirling  around sudden, and saying "ouch," and before she'd got
two-thirds  around  she'd  whirl back again, and say it again; and she was
afraid  to go to bed, but she dasn't set up. So the thing was working very
well,  Tom  said;  he said he never see a thing work more satisfactory. He
said it showed it was done right.
   So  he  said,  now for the grand bulge! So the very next morning at the
streak  of  dawn  we  got  another letter ready, and was wondering what we
better  do  with it, because we heard them say at supper they was going to
have  a  nigger  on  watch  at  both doors all night. Tom he went down the
lightning-rod  to  spy around; and the nigger at the back door was asleep,
and he stuck it in the back of his neck and come back. This letter said:
   Don't  betray me, I wish to be your friend. There is a desprate gang of
cut-throats  from over in the Indian Territory going to steal your runaway
nigger  to-night,  and  they  have been trying to scare you so as you will
stay  in the house and not bother them. I am one of the gang, but have got
religgion  and  wish  to  quit  it and lead an honest life again, and will
betray  the  helish design. They will sneak down from northards, along the
fence,  at  midnight exact, with a false key, and go in the nigger's cabin
to  get  him.  I  am  to  be  off a piece and blow a tin horn if I see any
danger;  but  stead of that I will BA like a sheep soon as they get in and
not  blow  at all; then whilst they are getting his chains loose, you slip
there  and  lock  them  in,  and  can  kill them at your leasure. Don't do
anything  but just the way I am telling you; if you do they will suspicion
something  and  raise  whoop-jamboreehoo.  I do not wish any reward but to
know I have done the right thing.
   UNKNOWN FRIEND.


        Chapter XL.

   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 a 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
s'pose  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 did 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 lightningrod 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
sheepsignal."
   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 'em in the
dark and kill 'em 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 hear 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 on to 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 powwow
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 on to 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 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 considerable, 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 gywne 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 a-going for a doctor. He
raised  considerable 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 sees 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.


        Chapter XLI.

   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  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 twentytwo 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 lightningrod, 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
ey