“What dey screamin’ at, Huck? I ain’t growed two noses or nothin’.”
“They can’t figure why you ain’t brown or white, Jim. I reckon they don’t mean no harm by it.”
We come to a stop outside a tepee all covered in drawings with a mess of scalps hanging off a pole frame outside, some still with the ears on, which was discomforting to see. A man come out that looked stern and old, so he must be the chief. He never batted an eye when he seen Jim, just walked around him and give him a casual poke in the leg to see if he’s flesh and blood. The crowd was all silent and respectful while he done it, then he made a sign for us to get down, which we done. He sat on the ground outside his tepee flap then pointed at a spot directly in front of him and we sat down too. He give an order to a squaw and she untied my bonnet and pulled it off. I never had my hair cut since before winter on account of it comes in right handy as a head warmer, so it’s plenty long enough to make me look girlish. The chief give me a disinterested look then went straight back to staring at Jim again, so I reckon Injuns don’t set much store by females and don’t hardly rate them worth a second look.
After awhile he had a squaw bring out a pipe. He lit it and took a puff then handed it to Jim. Says I:
“Better get prepared, Jim. I already sampled Injun tobacco and it ain’t the pleasantest.”
He puffed on it just once then snorted it out again.
“Das de worstes’ I ever had,” he says. “Ain’t dey got no regular kind?”
“I reckon not. When you’re in Rome you got to smoke what the Romans smoke, Jim. Take another mouthful or they’ll likely get offended.”
He done it and handed the pipe to me, and soon as I took it in my hand the Injuns let out a howl and it got snatched away. The chief never looked pleased at all, and points at me and says a few words to Jim.
“What he sayin’, Huck?”
“It’s a puzzlement without knowing the language, Jim, but I reckon ladies ain’t supposed to smoke, same as back home.”
“He lookin’ perty mean, Huck. You bes’ be showin’ you ain’t a woman ’spiter de dress.”
I still had Grace’s two pairs of socks stuffed right where she put them; the top of a dress comes in handy for carrying things if you ain’t female. So I opened a few buttons and reached inside and pulled out my bosoms. Them socks was white wool and it must of looked like I tore two chunks of myself out with my bare hands, because the Injuns let out another howl and stepped back a pace or three. Even the chief got alarmed at the casual way I done it, and I seen now was the time to make a lasting impression, as they say. Before they looked close and figured the bosoms was only socks I stood up and went to the nearest fire and flung them in, which set the crowd back another pace, all agasp at what I done. I dusted my hands off like bosom burning is all in a day’s work to me, then sat back down with Jim and the chief, who give another order to the squaw. She come up to me fearful-like and patted me on the chest then stepped away again, talking all agitated. After that the chief offered me the pipe, which warn’t what I wanted at all, but it’s Roman tobacco after all, so best be polite.
Next the chief give another order and a little fat squaw with a baby under her arm come forward, and after listening to the chief she turns to me and says:
“He wants to know how you done it.”
It was the surprisingest thing hearing American come out of her face.
“You can talk the same as me …” says I.
“Of course I can, and I know what rolled up socks are too, so don’t think you got everyone fooled.”
“Well … uh … could you keep it hushed, please? He ain’t going to be happy if he finds out it’s just a trick.”
“Are your folks farmers?” she says.
“No, ma’am. Pap was just a drunk.”
“Good, because I hate farmers. Seeing as you ain’t from farming stock I won’t tell what you done, and I won’t tell them the nigger’s just an ordinary nigger neither, but if it turns out you ain’t likable I’ll tell, so you just better be someone I can like.”
“Yes, ma’am. Most folks say I’m the likablest boy they ever met.”
“Well you just prove it to me and you’ll be safe.”
“Yes, ma’am, Pardon me, ma’am, are you a white lady?”
Her hair was brownish, not black like the Injuns, but I never would of noticed if she hadn’t of spoke up like she done.
“No I ain’t,” she says. “I got born white but now I’m Injun. What do you want me to tell him?”
“Tell who about what, ma’am?”
“The chief about your titties, stupid. He’s getting all impatient.”
“Tell him … uh … I’ll grow a new pair next year.”
She told the chief and he nodded and spoke and she says:
“Now he wants to know why the nigger’s black.”
“This time I’m ready, so I say:
“His ma got awful burned in a fire and he got born directly after and was black from it.”
The chief swallered it and looked at Jim like he’s the president, and ordered some food dished up to feed us, which went down welcome. Then there’s more talk and the fat squaw says:
“Chief Standing Tall says you can stay here long as you like. He’s awful proud of meeting a woman that can pull her titties off and a man that got burned inside his ma. He ain’t come across no one like you two before so it makes him better than any chief of any other tribe in the Sioux nation. He’s given you names, too.”
“What names?”
“The nigger’s called Burnt Man and you’re Burnt Man’s Wife.”
“Now hold on, I ain’t a woman, titties or not. Jim’s the bestest friend I got, but I ain’t about to marry him.”
“Well it’s too late now. If you tell him you got a toby between your legs like a regular boy he’ll get all confused and upset, and it don’t pay to upset the chief. You’ll just have to keep on pretending to be a girl I reckon.”
I never had no choice. Pretty soon the Injuns got bored with staring at us and wandered off to do whatever Injuns do and Jim and me went for a walk with Fatty. She says she used to be called Hepzibah when she lived with white folks but now she’s called Little Dove. A dove that size never would of left the ground. She’s just as wide as she’s tall like a punkin on legs, and them legs was the stumpy kind that never would of reached the floor if she sat on a rocking horse. She says:
“I used to be an orphan in St. Louis, then the orphanage sent me out to work for a farmer and his wife in upstate Missouri. They made me work like a nigger. I had to get up before the sun come up and milk the cows and chop wood and hoe corn and do all kinds of stuff a girl shouldn’t ought to do and never got a word of thanks for none of it. Their own daughter never done nothing around the house except for crocheting and such and they treated her like she’s a princess or something. Mrs. Cleavon, that’s their name, she was the meanest woman in creation and never give me enough to eat. I was thin as a broomstick, just a skellington. All the Cleavons et plenty, but not me on account of not being family. I just hated that place and everyone in it and was making secret plans to run off, then Mr. Cleavon says they’re going to sell the farm and go to Oregon in a wagon along with a bunch of other farmers, and he says I’m coming too.
“They started off, then when they got onto the plains the Sioux attacked them and killed everyone except me. I seen all the Cleavons get killed and I felt real good about it. That’s why the Injuns never killed me too, because I kind of laughed when they done it and they figured I’m crazy, which Injuns has got respect for, so they took me along with them. When they seen I warn’t truly mad I got married to Running Horse, that’s him over there with the big nose, and we had babies. Now I can have all the food I want and I ain’t never going back to whites. Whites is just trash.”
She was around fifteen when she got captured so she’s a full-growed woman now, only she talks like a little girl on account of not speaking American all these years. She say
s:
“How did you come to be wearing a dress?”
I give her the story considerable pared down, making out like me and Jim run off from my cruel Uncle Silas that worked us both like horses and fed us like squirrels, and how someone in the wagon train reckernized me so I had to get away in disguise. Hepzibah says most whites is poor and miserable except them that’s got slaves, and we’re a heap better off out here with the Sioux. She was sympathetical and I felt safe, only I knowed I’ll have to keep her sweet the way I done with Grace before we made friends again, and I wondered if all females has got to be kept buttered up like that or if there’s ones that are different and you can just talk to them normal like I done with Jim.
We went to Hepzibah’s tepee and Running Horse was real honored to have us inside. He drunk in every word while we jawed with her, even if he never understood none of it, then Hepzibah undone her dress and brung out a bosom big as a watermelon to give the baby some milk without no shyness at all. There’s little Injuns there too, a boy around seven years and a girl sixish and another boy three or four. The baby was a boy too, and Hepzibah says Running Horse is proud of her for making mostly sons, which Injuns prefers to daughters, same as white folks.
Later on we went outside again and Hepzibah showed us how you cure a buffalo hide stretched on a pole frame, and what you do is scrape the flesh from the underside till it’s clean, a real boring chore. She talked while she scraped, all about how the Cleavons never fed her enough and how she had to sleep in the barn with the cows and how awful the orphanage was before that and how much fairer Injuns is when it comes to sharing out food, on and on three times over, just jawing away like her lips will seal if she lets her mouth close for more than two seconds. I figured she’s making up for not talking to whites all this time and was getting relief from it, so I listened patient and tried not to fall asleep.
When evening come we et some more and I seen why Hepzibah is so fat. Her and the other squaws had to wait till the men had their fill, which is the Injun way, then the women set to and munched away, only Hepzibah done more grabbing and munching than most, like she’s afraid the Cleavons are going to show up and feed her on dog rations again. Then everyone gathered around to hear them that brung us in this morning tell the whole story again, acting out the parts real clever. I reckon they must of stretched the yarn considerable though, because it lasted hours. They could of brung us back from China in all that time. Then the Injuns started drifting off to their tepees for shuteye. Hepzibah says Running Horse would be obliged if Jim and me would sleep in their tepee, which means he can brag on it to the rest about having such important guests. In we trooped, and if you don’t believe eight people can fit in one tepee let me tell you they can, but some of them has got to be only part growed. We got parceled out around the floor and Jim and me wrapped ourselfs in animal hide blankets and got set to snore. Then I seen Running Horse watching us close by the light of the little fire burning in the middle of the floor, watching like he’s waiting for something, and I ask Hepzibah who’s next to him what he’s doing. She says:
“He wants to see how Burnt Man makes babies with his wife that’s got no titties.”
“Well tell him we ain’t going to do nothing of the kind till I grow me a new pair.”
Running Horse looked real disappointed when she told him and turned his back on us. It warn’t a restful night, what with the baby squawling every once in a while for milk, and it made me wonder why folks go to all the bother of having them when they could just as easy go to an orphanage and get one growed up past the crying stage for free, and could sleep peaceful of a night.
Jim and me was real popular and couldn’t go nowhere without a heap of little Injuns on our heels, which got to be pesky after awhile. I figured part of the attraction is me in my dress, so I ask Hepzibah if she can’t rustle up some old Injun duds for me to wear. She says Injuns ain’t partial to hand-me-downs and always make new clothes when their old ones start letting the breeze in. She don’t mind stitching me up some, but it won’t look right on account of I’m supposed to be female. That was a problem, but I truly wanted to get out of Grace’s dress, so I talked it over with Jim and Hepzibah and worked out a plan. Hepzibah went to Chief Standing Tall and says Burnt Man’s Wife is fixing to grow a toby to match up with being flat-chested. The chief says he wants to be there when it happens, so I say I’ll do it that very night.
Jim and me went to the chief’s tepee after it got dark, and all the important men in the tribe was there to see me change from a woman into a man. When everyone got settled I sung a few hymns to pass the time, then rambled on about how me and Tom Sawyer found Injun Joe’s gold, then I done another few hymns. Hepzibah told me Injuns ain’t impressed by nothing that happens too quick, which they’ll reckon is a cheat, so I have to spin it out long as I can. I told a few Bible stories and throwed in a joke or three for good measure, then got down to the transmogrification proper. I lay on the floor and started squirming around and grabbing between my legs like I’m in mortal pain, and Jim pranced about babbling nonsense and wiggling his fingers at me while the Injuns looked on all boggled-eyed. I never had to show them beforehand that I’m a woman, Injuns being surprising modest about showing their private parts, so when I give a final yell and stood up they just naturally accepted it was all over and now I’m a man. Some must of been doubting Thomases though, because when I stepped outside for a leak they followed me out and watched, nodding their heads solemn-like. When we went back in they told what they seen and a pipe got passed around to celebrate the miracle. I reckon they liked me better now that I’m a man like them, women generally being left out of things.
Next day Hepzibah measured me with a rawhide thong, making knots in it to show how long my legs and arms is. Then she got a deerhide and hacked away at it to cut out a pattern, then punched holes for the thread, rawhide again, and in a couple of days it was done. She made me wait awhile longer while she sewed on beads and such and made moccasins to go with the rest of the outfit. Finally she braided my hair in two ratty little pigtails and I put on the Injun clothes all swishing with fringes down the arms and legs. I stepped outside looking just like Thaddeus only younger, and felt like the King of the Plains, especially when I got on my horse and rode around with my rifle, which got give back to me now I ain’t female no more. I never felt more like my own natural self than inside them Injun clothes, and wouldn’t of traded them for a gold crown and satin cloak and buckle boots.
My new outfit made a difference to Jim too. Now that I’m a man he ain’t got no wife, and all the Injun girls that warn’t married started making eyes at him and following him around till he never had a moment’s peace. Then one night he never showed up in Running Horse’s tepee at all, and next morning he walked with a kind of swagger in his step and et more than usual so I figured he’s found himself a sweetheart. He says to me:
“Huck, I ain’t had no lovin’ from a woman in a heaper time an’ I’m mighty glad I ain’t forgot how. See dat gal over dere wid de smile? Das de one dat ’minded me how good lovin’ kin be. She de cutes’ thing I ever seen wid no dress on, an’ mighty strong an’ wrigglesome ’spiter her littleness I kin tell you. I got aches all over on accounter de way she rassled me las’ night. Dese Injun gals ain’t got no kinder shame when de sun go down.”
And he squints up at the sky to see how much longer he’s got to wait till sundown. Well, anything that makes Jim happy makes me happy too, and it means there’s more room in Running Horse’s tepee.
Living with Injuns is real lazyfying if you’re a guest, and after awhile I got restless. It’s sometime in May by now, and I recalled how Thaddeus told me you got to get through the Sierras before winter sets in, and it’s still a powerful long way from here to there. The trouble as I seen it was Hepzibah. She got mighty fond of having me around so she can talk and talk and talk, none of it worth hearing, and I reckoned if I told her we wanted to leave she’d get upset and tell the chief we ain’t special at all, just
a boy and nigger, and more time got lost while I done my best to figure a way out of it. Just running off never would of worked. Thaddeus told me Injuns can track a grasshopper over running water their eyes is so keen, so we would of got catched and brung back. It was like being in a real friendly wide-open prison.
Every day was the same, with Jim eating like a horse to keep up strength for his sweetheart and me sitting with Hepzibah while she done her chores and talked and talked till my ears come close to dropping off from weariness. Running Horse never got jealous of the time I spent with her, proberly because it give him the chance to let his own ears cool. Jim and me warn’t so interesting to the Injuns as we first was, and the men ignored us seeing as we never done brave deeds and hunted and such, the kind of thing men is supposed to do. They looked at me like I still had Grace’s dress on.
Then Hepzibah give me some news, and it’s this; the tribe is packing up their tepees and heading west for buffalo, which means Jim and me will get that much closer to where we want to go before we have to think on leaving the Injuns and going our own way again. I found Jim and woke him up and shared the news, and he says:
“Das good, Huck,” and dropped off to sleep again. Having a sweetheart must be a mighty tiring business.
They got started the very next day, and it don’t take hardly no time at all to strip the skin off a tepee and roll it up and collapse the pole frame and bundle it all together. The whole village come down in an hour and there was hustle and bustle everywhere with horses being loaded with goods and having poles tied to them to drag along the ground with little platforms between them to stack things on, not so practical as wheels but they done the job. Chief Standing Tall rode out front and the rest followed along behind, the men riding and the women and children mostly walking. It felt good to be westbound again and double good to be at a distance from where Hepzibah was trudging along, walking her fat off and looking miserable. The silence was a true blessing and give me new heart for the trail ahead.
The Further Adventures of Huckleberry Finn Page 23