by Mark Twain
CHAPTER XXIV.
NEXT day, towards night, we laid up under a little willow towhead out inthe middle, where there was a village on each side of the river, and theduke and the king begun to lay out a plan for working them towns. ?Jimhe spoke to the duke, and said he hoped it wouldn't take but a fewhours, because it got mighty heavy and tiresome to him when he had tolay all day in the wigwam tied with the rope. ?You see, when we left himall alone we had to tie him, because if anybody happened on to him allby himself and not tied it wouldn't look much like he was a runawaynigger, you know. So the duke said it _was_ kind of hard to have to layroped all day, and he'd cipher out some way to get around it.
He was uncommon bright, the duke was, and he soon struck it. ?He dressedJim up in King Lear's outfit--it was a long curtain-calico gown, and awhite horse-hair wig and whiskers; and then he took his theater paintand painted Jim's face and hands and ears and neck all over a dead,dull, solid blue, like a man that's been drownded nine days. ?Blamed ifhe warn't the horriblest looking outrage I ever see. ?Then the duke tookand wrote out a sign on a shingle so:
Sick Arab--but harmless when not out of his head.
And he nailed that shingle to a lath, and stood the lath up four or fivefoot in front of the wigwam. ?Jim was satisfied. ?He said it was a sightbetter than lying tied a couple of years every day, and trembling allover every time there was a sound. ?The duke told him to make himselffree and easy, and if anybody ever come meddling around, he must hopout of the wigwam, and carry on a little, and fetch a howl or two likea wild beast, and he reckoned they would light out and leave him alone.?Which was sound enough judgment; but you take the average man, and hewouldn't wait for him to howl. ?Why, he didn't only look like he wasdead, he looked considerable more than that.
These rapscallions wanted to try the Nonesuch again, because there wasso much money in it, but they judged it wouldn't be safe, because maybethe news might a worked along down by this time. ?They couldn't hit noproject that suited exactly; so at last the duke said he reckoned he'dlay off and work his brains an hour or two and see if he couldn't put upsomething on the Arkansaw village; and the king he allowed he would dropover to t'other village without any plan, but just trust in Providenceto lead him the profitable way--meaning the devil, I reckon. ?We had allbought store clothes where we stopped last; and now the king put his'non, and he told me to put mine on. ?I done it, of course. ?The king'sduds was all black, and he did look real swell and starchy. ?I neverknowed how clothes could change a body before. ?Why, before, he lookedlike the orneriest old rip that ever was; but now, when he'd take offhis new white beaver and make a bow and do a smile, he looked that grandand good and pious that you'd say he had walked right out of the ark,and maybe was old Leviticus himself. ?Jim cleaned up the canoe, and Igot my paddle ready. ?There was a big steamboat laying at the shore awayup under the point, about three mile above the town--been there a coupleof hours, taking on freight. ?Says the king:
"Seein' how I'm dressed, I reckon maybe I better arrive down from St.Louis or Cincinnati, or some other big place. ?Go for the steamboat,Huckleberry; we'll come down to the village on her."
I didn't have to be ordered twice to go and take a steamboat ride.?I fetched the shore a half a mile above the village, and then wentscooting along the bluff bank in the easy water. ?Pretty soon we come toa nice innocent-looking young country jake setting on a log swabbing thesweat off of his face, for it was powerful warm weather; and he had acouple of big carpet-bags by him.
"Run her nose in shore," says the king. ?I done it. ?"Wher' you boundfor, young man?"
"For the steamboat; going to Orleans."
"Git aboard," says the king. ?"Hold on a minute, my servant 'll he'p youwith them bags. ?Jump out and he'p the gentleman, Adolphus"--meaning me,I see.
I done so, and then we all three started on again. ?The young chap wasmighty thankful; said it was tough work toting his baggage such weather.He asked the king where he was going, and the king told him he'd comedown the river and landed at the other village this morning, and now hewas going up a few mile to see an old friend on a farm up there. ?Theyoung fellow says:
"When I first see you I says to myself, 'It's Mr. Wilks, sure, and hecome mighty near getting here in time.' ?But then I says again, 'No, Ireckon it ain't him, or else he wouldn't be paddling up the river.' ?You_ain't_ him, are you?"
"No, my name's Blodgett--Elexander Blodgett--_Reverend_ ElexanderBlodgett, I s'pose I must say, as I'm one o' the Lord's poor servants.?But still I'm jist as able to be sorry for Mr. Wilks for not arrivingin time, all the same, if he's missed anything by it--which I hope hehasn't."
"Well, he don't miss any property by it, because he'll get that allright; but he's missed seeing his brother Peter die--which he mayn'tmind, nobody can tell as to that--but his brother would a give anythingin this world to see _him_ before he died; never talked about nothingelse all these three weeks; hadn't seen him since they was boystogether--and hadn't ever seen his brother William at all--that's the deefand dumb one--William ain't more than thirty or thirty-five. ?Peter andGeorge were the only ones that come out here; George was the marriedbrother; him and his wife both died last year. ?Harvey and William's theonly ones that's left now; and, as I was saying, they haven't got herein time."
"Did anybody send 'em word?"
"Oh, yes; a month or two ago, when Peter was first took; because Petersaid then that he sorter felt like he warn't going to get well thistime. You see, he was pretty old, and George's g'yirls was too young tobe much company for him, except Mary Jane, the red-headed one; and so hewas kinder lonesome after George and his wife died, and didn't seemto care much to live. ?He most desperately wanted to see Harvey--andWilliam, too, for that matter--because he was one of them kind that can'tbear to make a will. ?He left a letter behind for Harvey, and said he'dtold in it where his money was hid, and how he wanted the rest of theproperty divided up so George's g'yirls would be all right--for Georgedidn't leave nothing. ?And that letter was all they could get him to puta pen to."
"Why do you reckon Harvey don't come? ?Wher' does he live?"
"Oh, he lives in England--Sheffield--preaches there--hasn't ever been inthis country. ?He hasn't had any too much time--and besides he mightn't agot the letter at all, you know."
"Too bad, too bad he couldn't a lived to see his brothers, poor soul.You going to Orleans, you say?"
"Yes, but that ain't only a part of it. ?I'm going in a ship, nextWednesday, for Ryo Janeero, where my uncle lives."
"It's a pretty long journey. ?But it'll be lovely; wisht I was a-going.Is Mary Jane the oldest? ?How old is the others?"
"Mary Jane's nineteen, Susan's fifteen, and Joanna's aboutfourteen--that's the one that gives herself to good works and has ahare-lip."
"Poor things! to be left alone in the cold world so."
"Well, they could be worse off. ?Old Peter had friends, and theyain't going to let them come to no harm. ?There's Hobson, the Babtis'preacher; and Deacon Lot Hovey, and Ben Rucker, and Abner Shackleford,and Levi Bell, the lawyer; and Dr. Robinson, and their wives, and thewidow Bartley, and--well, there's a lot of them; but these are the onesthat Peter was thickest with, and used to write about sometimes, whenhe wrote home; so Harvey 'll know where to look for friends when he getshere."
Well, the old man went on asking questions till he just fairly emptiedthat young fellow. ?Blamed if he didn't inquire about everybody andeverything in that blessed town, and all about the Wilkses; and aboutPeter's business--which was a tanner; and about George's--which was acarpenter; and about Harvey's--which was a dissentering minister; and soon, and so on. ?Then he says:
"What did you want to walk all the way up to the steamboat for?"
"Because she's a big Orleans boat, and I was afeard she mightn't stopthere. ?When they're deep they won't stop for a hail. ?A Cincinnati boatwill, but this is a St. Louis one."
"Was Peter Wilks well off?"
"Oh, yes, pretty well off. ?He had houses and land, and it's reckoned heleft
three or four thousand in cash hid up som'ers."
"When did you say he died?"
"I didn't say, but it was last night."
"Funeral to-morrow, likely?"
"Yes, 'bout the middle of the day."
"Well, it's all terrible sad; but we've all got to go, one time oranother. So what we want to do is to be prepared; then we're all right."
"Yes, sir, it's the best way. ?Ma used to always say that."
When we struck the boat she was about done loading, and pretty soon shegot off. ?The king never said nothing about going aboard, so I lostmy ride, after all. ?When the boat was gone the king made me paddle upanother mile to a lonesome place, and then he got ashore and says:
"Now hustle back, right off, and fetch the duke up here, and the newcarpet-bags. ?And if he's gone over to t'other side, go over there andgit him. ?And tell him to git himself up regardless. ?Shove along, now."
I see what _he_ was up to; but I never said nothing, of course. ?WhenI got back with the duke we hid the canoe, and then they set down on alog, and the king told him everything, just like the young fellow hadsaid it--every last word of it. ?And all the time he was a-doing it hetried to talk like an Englishman; and he done it pretty well, too, fora slouch. I can't imitate him, and so I ain't a-going to try to; but hereally done it pretty good. ?Then he says:
"How are you on the deef and dumb, Bilgewater?"
The duke said, leave him alone for that; said he had played a deefand dumb person on the histronic boards. ?So then they waited for asteamboat.
About the middle of the afternoon a couple of little boats come along,but they didn't come from high enough up the river; but at last therewas a big one, and they hailed her. ?She sent out her yawl, and we wentaboard, and she was from Cincinnati; and when they found we only wantedto go four or five mile they was booming mad, and gave us a cussing, andsaid they wouldn't land us. ?But the king was ca'm. ?He says:
"If gentlemen kin afford to pay a dollar a mile apiece to be took on andput off in a yawl, a steamboat kin afford to carry 'em, can't it?"
So they softened down and said it was all right; and when we got to thevillage they yawled us ashore. ?About two dozen men flocked down whenthey see the yawl a-coming, and when the king says:
"Kin any of you gentlemen tell me wher' Mr. Peter Wilks lives?" theygive a glance at one another, and nodded their heads, as much as to say,"What d' I tell you?" ?Then one of them says, kind of soft and gentle:
"I'm sorry sir, but the best we can do is to tell you where he _did_live yesterday evening."
Sudden as winking the ornery old cretur went an to smash, and fell upagainst the man, and put his chin on his shoulder, and cried down hisback, and says:
"Alas, alas, our poor brother--gone, and we never got to see him; oh,it's too, too hard!"
Then he turns around, blubbering, and makes a lot of idiotic signs tothe duke on his hands, and blamed if he didn't drop a carpet-bag andbust out a-crying. ?If they warn't the beatenest lot, them two frauds,that ever I struck.
Well, the men gathered around and sympathized with them, and said allsorts of kind things to them, and carried their carpet-bags up the hillfor them, and let them lean on them and cry, and told the king all abouthis brother's last moments, and the king he told it all over again onhis hands to the duke, and both of them took on about that dead tannerlike they'd lost the twelve disciples. ?Well, if ever I struck anythinglike it, I'm a nigger. It was enough to make a body ashamed of the humanrace.