by Mark Twain
CHAPTER XLI.
THE doctor was an old man; a very nice, kind-looking old man when I gothim up. ?I told him me and my brother was over on Spanish Island huntingyesterday afternoon, and camped on a piece of a raft we found, and aboutmidnight he must a kicked his gun in his dreams, for it went off andshot him in the leg, and we wanted him to go over there and fix it andnot say nothing about it, nor let anybody know, because we wanted tocome 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. ?Butwhen he sees the canoe he didn't like the look of her--said she was bigenough 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 easyenough."
"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 wasall locked and chained; so he took my canoe, and said for me to waittill he come back, or I could hunt around further, or maybe I bettergo down home and get them ready for the surprise if I wanted to. ?ButI said I didn't; so I told him just how to find the raft, and then hestarted.
I struck an idea pretty soon. ?I says to myself, spos'n he can't fixthat 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?--layaround 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 togo any more I'll get down there, too, if I swim; and we'll take and tiehim, and keep him, and shove out down the river; and when Tom's donewith him we'll give him what it's worth, or all we got, and then let himget ashore.
So then I crept into a lumber-pile to get some sleep; and next time Iwaked up the sun was away up over my head! ?I shot out and went for thedoctor's house, but they told me he'd gone away in the night some timeor other, and warn't back yet. ?Well, thinks I, that looks powerful badfor 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'sstomach! He says:
"Why, _Tom!_ ?Where you been all this time, you rascal?"
"I hain't been nowheres," I says, "only just hunting for the runawaynigger--me and Sid."
"Why, where ever did you go?" he says. ?"Your aunt's been mightyuneasy."
"She needn't," I says, "because we was all right. ?We followed the menand the dogs, but they outrun us, and we lost them; but we thought weheard them on the water, so we got a canoe and took out after them andcrossed over, but couldn't find nothing of them; so we cruised alongup-shore till we got kind of tired and beat out; and tied up the canoeand went to sleep, and never waked up till about an hour ago; then wepaddled over here to hear the news, and Sid's at the post-office to seewhat he can hear, and I'm a-branching out to get something to eat forus, and then we're going home."
So then we went to the post-office to get "Sid"; but just as Isuspicioned, he warn't there; so the old man he got a letter out of theoffice, and we waited awhile longer, but Sid didn't come; so the old mansaid, come along, let Sid foot it home, or canoe it, when he got donefooling around--but we would ride. ?I couldn't get him to let me stayand wait for Sid; and he said there warn't no use in it, and I must comealong, and let Aunt Sally see we was all right.
When we got home Aunt Sally was that glad to see me she laughed andcried both, and hugged me, and give me one of them lickings of hern thatdon'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 theworst; her tongue was a-going all the time. ?She says:
"Well, Sister Phelps, I've ransacked that-air cabin over, an' I b'lievethe nigger was crazy. ?I says to Sister Damrell--didn't I, SisterDamrell?--s'I, he's crazy, s'I--them's the very words I said. ?You allhearn me: he's crazy, s'I; everything shows it, s'I. ?Look at that-airgrindstone, 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' sopegged along for thirty-seven year, 'n' all that--natcherl son o' Louissomebody, 'n' sich everlast'n rubbage. ?He's plumb crazy, s'I; it's whatI says in the fust place, it's what I says in the middle, 'n' it's whatI 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," saysold Mrs. Damrell; "what in the name o' goodness _could_ he ever wantof--"
"The very words I was a-sayin' no longer ago th'n this minute to SisterUtterback, 'n' she'll tell you so herself. ?Sh-she, look at that-air ragladder, sh-she; 'n' s'I, yes, _look_ at it, s'I--what _could_ he a-wantedof 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_, mindyou--'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 onthis 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 beendone. Look at them case-knife saws and things, how tedious they've beenmade; 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, SisterHotchkiss, s'e? Think o' what, Brer Phelps, s'I? ?Think o' that bed-legsawed 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 itor leave it, it mayn't be no 'count, s'I, but sich as 't is, it's myopinion, 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 thereevery night for four weeks to a done all that work, Sister Phelps. ?Lookat that shirt--every last inch of it kivered over with secret Africanwrit'n done with blood! ?Must a ben a raft uv 'm at it right along, allthe 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 stoleeverything 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 thatsheet they made the rag ladder out of, ther' ain't no telling howmany times they _didn't_ steal that; and flour, and candles, andcandlesticks, and spoons, and the old warming-pan, and most a thousandthings that I disremember now, and my new calico dress; and me andSilas and my Sid and Tom on the constant watch day _and_ night, as I wasa-telling you, and not a one of us could catch hide nor hair nor sightnor sound of them; and here at the last minute, lo and behold you, theyslides right in under our noses and fools us, and not only fools _us_but the Injun Territory robbers too, and actuly gets _away_ with thatnigger safe and sound, and that with sixteen men and twenty-two dogsright on their very heels at that very time! ?I tell you, it just bangsanything I ever _heard_ of. Why, _sperits_ couldn't a done better andbeen 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 goton 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, orget up, or lay down, or _set_ down, Sister Ridgeway. ?Why, they'd stealthe very--why, goodness sakes, you can guess what kind of a fluster I wasin by the time midnight come last night. ?I hope to gracious if I warn'tafraid they'd steal some o' the family! ?I was just to that pass Ididn'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 boysasleep, 'way up stairs in that lonesome room, and I declare to goodnessI was that uneasy 't I crep' up there and locked 'em in! ?I _did_. ?Andanybody would. Because, you know, when you get scared that way, and itkeeps running on, and getting worse and worse all the time, and yourwits 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 upthere, and the door ain't locked, and you--" She stopped, looking kindof wondering, and then she turned her head around slow, and when her eyelit on me--I got up and took a walk.
Says I to myself, I can explain better how we come to not be in thatroom 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 whenit was late in the day the people all went, and then I come in andtold her the noise and shooting waked up me and "Sid," and the door waslocked, 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 Silasbefore; and then she said she'd forgive us, and maybe it was all rightenough anyway, and about what a body might expect of boys, for all boyswas a pretty harum-scarum lot as fur as she could see; and so, as longas no harm hadn't come of it, she judged she better put in her timebeing grateful we was alive and well and she had us still, stead offretting over what was past and done. ?So then she kissed me, and pattedme on the head, and dropped into a kind of a brown study; and prettysoon 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 'llgo."
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'strack. Aunt Sally was a good _deal_ uneasy; but Uncle Silas he saidthere warn't no occasion to be--boys will be boys, he said, and you'llsee this one turn up in the morning all sound and right. ?So she hadto be satisfied. ?But she said she'd set up for him a while anyway, andkeep a light burning so he could see it.
And then when I went up to bed she come up with me and fetched hercandle, and tucked me in, and mothered me so good I felt mean, and likeI couldn't look her in the face; and she set down on the bed and talkedwith me a long time, and said what a splendid boy Sid was, and didn'tseem to want to ever stop talking about him; and kept asking me everynow and then if I reckoned he could a got lost, or hurt, or maybedrownded, and might be laying at this minute somewheres suffering ordead, and she not by him to help him, and so the tears would drip downsilent, and I would tell her that Sid was all right, and would be homein 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 hergood, and she was in so much trouble. ?And when she was going away shelooked down in my eyes so steady and gentle, and says:
"The door ain't going to be locked, Tom, and there's the window andthe 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 allintending 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 aroundfront, and see her setting there by her candle in the window with hereyes towards the road and the tears in them; and I wished I could dosomething for her, but I couldn't, only to swear that I wouldn't neverdo nothing to grieve her any more. ?And the third time I waked up atdawn, 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 notrack of Tom; and both of them set at the table thinking, and not sayingnothing, and looking mournful, and their coffee getting cold, and noteating 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 hadlaid 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. ?Butbefore she could break it open she dropped it and run--for she seesomething. And so did I. It was Tom Sawyer on a mattress; and that olddoctor; 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 comehandy, 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 ofhim, and flew for the house to get the bed ready, and scattering ordersright and left at the niggers and everybody else, as fast as her tonguecould go, every jump of the way.
I followed the men to see what they was going to do with Jim; and theold doctor and Uncle Silas followed after Tom into the house. ?The menwas very huffy, and some of them wanted to hang Jim for an example toall the other niggers around there, so they wouldn't be trying to runaway like Jim done, and making such a raft of trouble, and keeping awhole family scared most to death for days and nights. ?But the otherssaid, don't do it, it wouldn't answer at all; he ain't our nigger, andhis owner would turn up and make us pay for him, sure. ?So that cooledthem down a little, because the people that's always the most anxiousfor to hang a nigger that hain't done just right is always the veryones that ain't the most anxious to pay for him when they've got theirsatisfaction out of him.
They cussed Jim considerble, though, and give him a cuff or two side thehead once in a while, but Jim never said nothing, and he never let on toknow me, and they took him to the same cabin, and put his own clotheson him, and chained him again, and not to no bed-leg this time, but toa big staple drove into the bottom log, and chained his hands, too, andboth legs, and said he warn't to have nothing but bread and water toeat after this till his owner come, or he was sold at auction becausehe didn't come in a certain length of time, and filled up our hole, andsaid a couple of farmers with guns must stand watch around about thecabin every night, and a bulldog tied to the door in the daytime; andabout this time they was through with the job and was tapering off witha kind of generl good-bye cussing, and then the old doctor comes andtakes a look, and says:
"Don't be no rougher on him than you're obleeged to, because he ain'ta bad nigger. ?When I got to where I found the boy I see I couldn't cutthe bullet out without some help, and he warn't in no condition forme to leave to go and get help; and he got a little worse and a littleworse, and after a long time he went out of his h
ead, and wouldn't letme come a-nigh him any more, and said if I chalked his raft he'd killme, and no end of wild foolishness like that, and I see I couldn't doanything at all with him; so I says, I got to have _help_ somehow; andthe minute I says it out crawls this nigger from somewheres and sayshe'll help, and he done it, too, and done it very well. ?Of course Ijudged he must be a runaway nigger, and there I _was_! and there I hadto stick right straight along all the rest of the day and all night. ?Itwas a fix, I tell you! I had a couple of patients with the chills, andof 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 yetnever a skiff come close enough for me to hail. ?So there I had to stickplumb until daylight this morning; and I never see a nigger that was abetter 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 workedmain hard lately. ?I liked the nigger for that; I tell you, gentlemen, anigger like that is worth a thousand dollars--and kind treatment, too. ?Ihad everything I needed, and the boy was doing as well there as hewould 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 aboutdawn this morning; then some men in a skiff come by, and as good luckwould have it the nigger was setting by the pallet with his head proppedon his knees sound asleep; so I motioned them in quiet, and they slippedup on him and grabbed him and tied him before he knowed what he wasabout, and we never had no trouble. And the boy being in a kind of aflighty sleep, too, we muffled the oars and hitched the raft on, andtowed her over very nice and quiet, and the nigger never made the leastrow 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 thankfulto that old doctor for doing Jim that good turn; and I was glad it wasaccording to my judgment of him, too; because I thought he had a goodheart in him and was a good man the first time I see him. ?Then theyall agreed that Jim had acted very well, and was deserving to have somenotice took of it, and reward. ?So every one of them promised, right outand hearty, that they wouldn't cuss him no more.
Then they come out and locked him up. ?I hoped they was going to say hecould have one or two of the chains took off, because they was rottenheavy, or could have meat and greens with his bread and water; but theydidn't think of it, and I reckoned it warn't best for me to mix in, butI judged I'd get the doctor's yarn to Aunt Sally somehow or other assoon as I'd got through the breakers that was laying just ahead ofme--explanations, I mean, of how I forgot to mention about Sid being shotwhen I was telling how him and me put in that dratted night paddlingaround hunting the runaway nigger.
But I had plenty time. ?Aunt Sally she stuck to the sick-room all dayand all night, and every time I see Uncle Silas mooning around I dodgedhim.
Next morning I heard Tom was a good deal better, and they said AuntSally was gone to get a nap. ?So I slips to the sick-room, and if Ifound him awake I reckoned we could put up a yarn for the family thatwould wash. But he was sleeping, and sleeping very peaceful, too; andpale, not fire-faced the way he was when he come. ?So I set down andlaid for him to wake. ?In about half an hour Aunt Sally comes glidingin, and there I was, up a stump again! ?She motioned me to be still, andset down by me, and begun to whisper, and said we could all be joyfulnow, because all the symptoms was first-rate, and he'd been sleepinglike that for ever so long, and looking better and peacefuller all thetime, 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 hiseyes 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 nevernoticed, 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 runawaynigger 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 checkedhim up, just set and stared and stared, and let him clip along, andI see it warn't no use for _me_ to put in. ?"Why, Aunty, it cost us apower of work--weeks of it--hours and hours, every night, whilst you wasall 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 thewarming-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, andinscriptions, and one thing or another, and you can't think _half_ thefun 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 thelightning-rod, and dig the hole into the cabin, and made the rope ladderand send it in cooked up in a pie, and send in spoons and things to workwith in your apron pocket--"
"Mercy sakes!"
"--and load up the cabin with rats and snakes and so on, for company forJim; and then you kept Tom here so long with the butter in his hat thatyou come near spiling the whole business, because the men come beforewe was out of the cabin, and we had to rush, and they heard us and letdrive at us, and I got my share, and we dodged out of the path and letthem go by, and when the dogs come they warn't interested in us, butwent for the most noise, and we got our canoe, and made for theraft, and was all safe, and Jim was a free man, and we done it all byourselves, 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 todeath. ?I've as good a notion as ever I had in my life to take it outo' 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 OldHarry 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 allalong, and both of them going it at once, like a cat convention; and shesays:
"_Well_, you get all the enjoyment you can out of it _now_, for mind Itell you if I catch you meddling with him again--"
"Meddling with _who_?" ?Tom says, dropping his smile and lookingsurprised.
"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 orsold!"
Tom rose square up in bed, with his eye hot, and his nostrils openingand shutting like gills, and sings out to me:
"They hain't no _right_ to shut him up! ?SHOVE!--and don't you lose aminute. ?Turn him loose! he ain't no slave; he's as free as any creturthat 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 MissWatson died two months ago, and she was ashamed she ever was going tosell him down the river, and _said_ so; and she set him free in herwill."
"Then what on earth did _you_ want to set him free for, seeing he wasalready free?"
"Well, that _is_ a question, I must say; and just like women! ?Why,I wanted the _adventure_ o
f it; and I'd a waded neck-deep in bloodto--goodness alive, _Aunt Polly!_"
If she warn't standing right there, just inside the door, looking assweet and contented as an angel half full of pie, I wish I may never!
Aunt Sally jumped for her, and most hugged the head off of her, andcried over her, and I found a good enough place for me under the bed,for it was getting pretty sultry for us, seemed to me. ?And I peepedout, and in a little while Tom's Aunt Polly shook herself loose andstood there looking across at Tom over her spectacles--kind of grindinghim into the earth, you know. ?And then she says:
"Yes, you _better_ turn y'r head away--I would if I was you, Tom."
"Oh, deary me!" says Aunt Sally; "_Is_ he changed so? ?Why, that ain't_Tom_, it's Sid; Tom's--Tom's--why, where is Tom? ?He was here a minuteago."
"You mean where's Huck _Finn_--that's what you mean! ?I reckon I hain'traised such a scamp as my Tom all these years not to know him when I_see_ him. ?That _would_ be a pretty howdy-do. Come out from under thatbed, Huck Finn."
So I done it. ?But not feeling brash.
Aunt Sally she was one of the mixed-upest-looking persons I eversee--except one, and that was Uncle Silas, when he come in and they toldit all to him. ?It kind of made him drunk, as you may say, and he didn'tknow nothing at all the rest of the day, and preached a prayer-meetingsermon that night that gave him a rattling ruputation, because theoldest man in the world couldn't a understood it. ?So Tom's Aunt Polly,she told all about who I was, and what; and I had to up and tell howI was in such a tight place that when Mrs. Phelps took me for TomSawyer--she chipped in and says, "Oh, go on and call me Aunt Sally, I'mused to it now, and 'tain't no need to change"--that when Aunt Sally tookme for Tom Sawyer I had to stand it--there warn't no other way, andI knowed he wouldn't mind, because it would be nuts for him, beinga mystery, and he'd make an adventure out of it, and be perfectlysatisfied. ?And so it turned out, and he let on to be Sid, and madethings as soft as he could for me.
And his Aunt Polly she said Tom was right about old Miss Watson settingJim free in her will; and so, sure enough, Tom Sawyer had gone and tookall that trouble and bother to set a free nigger free! and I couldn'tever understand before, until that minute and that talk, how he _could_help a body set a nigger free with his bringing-up.
Well, Aunt Polly she said that when Aunt Sally wrote to her that Tom and_Sid_ had come all right and safe, she says to herself:
"Look at that, now! ?I might have expected it, letting him go off thatway without anybody to watch him. ?So now I got to go and trapse allthe way down the river, eleven hundred mile, and find out what thatcreetur's up to _this_ time, as long as I couldn't seem to get anyanswer out of you about it."
"Why, I never heard nothing from you," says Aunt Sally.
"Well, I wonder! ?Why, I wrote you twice to ask you what you could meanby Sid being here."
"Well, I never got 'em, Sis."
Aunt Polly she turns around slow and severe, and says:
"You, Tom!"
"Well--_what_?" he says, kind of pettish.
"Don't you what _me_, you impudent thing--hand out them letters."
"What letters?"
"_Them_ letters. ?I be bound, if I have to take a-holt of you I'll--"
"They're in the trunk. ?There, now. ?And they're just the same as theywas when I got them out of the office. ?I hain't looked into them, Ihain't touched them. ?But I knowed they'd make trouble, and I thought ifyou warn't in no hurry, I'd--"
"Well, you _do_ need skinning, there ain't no mistake about it. ?And Iwrote another one to tell you I was coming; and I s'pose he--"
"No, it come yesterday; I hain't read it yet, but _it's_ all right, I'vegot that one."
I wanted to offer to bet two dollars she hadn't, but I reckoned maybe itwas just as safe to not to. ?So I never said nothing.
CHAPTER THE LAST
THE first time I catched Tom private I asked him what was his idea, timeof the evasion?--what it was he'd planned to do if the evasion worked allright and he managed to set a nigger free that was already free before?And he said, what he had planned in his head from the start, if we gotJim out all safe, was for us to run him down the river on the raft, andhave adventures plumb to the mouth of the river, and then tell him abouthis being free, and take him back up home on a steamboat, in style,and pay him for his lost time, and write word ahead and get out allthe niggers around, and have them waltz him into town with a torchlightprocession and a brass-band, and then he would be a hero, and so wouldwe. ?But I reckoned it was about as well the way it was.
We had Jim out of the chains in no time, and when Aunt Polly and UncleSilas and Aunt Sally found out how good he helped the doctor nurse Tom,they made a heap of fuss over him, and fixed him up prime, and give himall he wanted to eat, and a good time, and nothing to do. ?And we hadhim up to the sick-room, and had a high talk; and Tom give Jim fortydollars for being prisoner for us so patient, and doing it up so good,and Jim was pleased most to death, and busted out, and says:
"Dah, now, Huck, what I tell you?--what I tell you up dah on Jacksonislan'? ?I _tole_ you I got a hairy breas', en what's de sign un it; enI _tole_ you I ben rich wunst, en gwineter to be rich _agin_; en it'scome true; en heah she is! ?_dah_, now! doan' talk to _me_--signs is_signs_, mine I tell you; en I knowed jis' 's well 'at I 'uz gwineter berich agin as I's a-stannin' heah dis minute!"
And then Tom he talked along and talked along, and says, le's all threeslide out of here one of these nights and get an outfit, and go forhowling adventures amongst the Injuns, over in the Territory, for acouple of weeks or two; and I says, all right, that suits me, but Iain't got no money for to buy the outfit, and I reckon I couldn't getnone from home, because it's likely pap's been back before now, and gotit all away from Judge Thatcher and drunk it up.
"No, he hain't," Tom says; "it's all there yet--six thousand dollarsand more; and your pap hain't ever been back since. ?Hadn't when I comeaway, anyhow."
Jim says, kind of solemn:
"He ain't a-comin' back no mo', Huck."
I says:
"Why, Jim?"
"Nemmine why, Huck--but he ain't comin' back no mo."
But I kept at him; so at last he says:
"Doan' you 'member de house dat was float'n down de river, en dey wuz aman in dah, kivered up, en I went in en unkivered him and didn' let youcome in? ?Well, den, you kin git yo' money when you wants it, kase datwuz him."
Tom's most well now, and got his bullet around his neck on a watch-guardfor a watch, and is always seeing what time it is, and so there ain'tnothing more to write about, and I am rotten glad of it, because if I'da knowed what a trouble it was to make a book I wouldn't a tackled it,and ain't a-going to no more. ?But I reckon I got to light out for theTerritory ahead of the rest, because Aunt Sally she's going to adopt meand sivilize me, and I can't stand it. ?I been there before.
THE END. YOURS TRULY, _HUCK FINN_.