by Mark Twain
It was grass all the way to the canoe, so I hadn’t left any tracks. I stood on an old stump and looked out over the river. All safe. So I took the gun and went apiece into the woods, where I shot a wild hog. I trussed him up and took him back into camp.
I took an axe and smashed in the door. I beat it and hacked it considerable a-doin’ it. I brought the pig in and put him on the table and hacked into his throat with the axe, then laid him on the ground to bleed. I did wish that Tom Sawyer was there; I knowed he would take an interest in this business, and throw himself into the fancy touches. No one could paint a picture like Tom Sawyer in such a thing as that.
Well, at last I pulled out some of my hair, and blooded the axe good. Then I took up the pig and held him to my breast until my shirt was good and soaked with blood. Then I took the shirt off and tore it into a few pieces and cast it here and there, as if there had been a fine Zum feast. Then I bundled up the hog ag’in with my jacket – so he wouldn’t drip – and took him over and dumped him into the river, and immediately he floated off.
It was still a few hours till dark, so I dropped the canoe down the river under some willows that hung over the bank. By and by I laid out in the canoe to clear my head and went over the whole thing one more time. I says to myself, pap’ll figure the new Zum that kilt the other folk follered him back here and waited till he took the logs into town. Then they came to our cabin, chopped down the door, and had at me, tearin’ me to pieces and stuffin’ me down their throats. Then they tore the place apart. They’ll be huntin’ a bunch of Zum, and won’t be bothering about me. All right; I can stop wherever I want to. Jackson’s Island is good enough for me. I know that island pretty well, and no one hardly ever goes there. Jackson Island’s the place.
The river looked miles and miles across. Everything was dead quiet; so I started out. The next minute I was a-spinnin’ downstream, soft but quick. I made two miles and a half, and pretty soon I would be passing the ferry-landing and people might see and hail me, so I laid down in the bottom of the canoe and let her float.
I laid there and had a good rest and a smoke out of my pipe, looking out into the late-afternoon sky. The sky looks ever so pretty when you lay down on your back and just look straight up. I guess I never knowed it before. And how far a person can hear on the water when it’s quiet like it was. I heard people talking at the ferry-landing as I drifted by. I heard what they said, too – every word of it. One man said the nights were gettin’ to be shorter now. T’other one said this wasn’t one of the short ones, he reckoned – and they both laughed. I must’a fallen asleep a little, cause when I woke up, it was completely dark, and the talk was farther and farther away, and I couldn’t make out any of the words no more, and it all seemed a long ways off.
I was well below the ferry now. I rose up from the bottom of the canoe, and there was Jackson’s Island in front of me, heavy-timbered and standing out in the middle of the river, big and dark and solid, like a riverboat without any lights. I shot past the head of the island and got into the dead water and landed on the side toward the Illinois shore. I run the canoe into a bunch of willows, and when I made fast nobody could ‘a’ seen the canoe from the outside.
I went up and sat down on a log at the head of the island, and looked out on the river and way over to the town, where there were still a few lights twinkling. All the stars was out now, and I was glad my plan worked out so well, even though Tom Sawyer warn’t there to advise me. Then I stepped into the woods and laid down for a few hours before it was time to get up and think about breakfast.
Chapter Eight
I Behold Miss Watson’s Jim
The sun was so high when I waked I judged it was after eight o’clock. I laid in the grass and cool shade thinking about things, and feeling rested and rather comfortable. I could see the sun through some holes in the trees, and there was some freckled places on the ground where the light sifted through the leaves. The freckled places moved around some, showing there was a breeze up there in the trees. A couple of squirrels set on a limb and jabbered at me very friendly.
I was powerful lazy and comfortable, and started dozin’ again when I hears a deep “boom!” along up the river. I rouses myself up, and pretty soon I hears it again. I hopped up on a stump that gave me a better look and I see a bunch of smoke laying on the water a ways up – about abreast of the ferry. I knowed what the matter was now. “Boom!” I see the white smoke out of the ferryboat’s side. They must have figured I was dead, see, and they was firing cannon over the water, trying to make my carcass come to the top.
I was pretty hungry, but I knew it warnt’ the time to start a fire, because they might see the smoke. So I sat there and watched the cannon-smoke and listened to the boom. Well, I happened to think how they always take loaves of bread and put quicksilver in them, then float ‘em off, because they always go right to the carcass and stop there. People also say it delays the comin’ of the Zum state for some reason, so there’s more time for a proper burial.
So, says I, I’ll keep a lookout, and if’n I see any of them loaves floating around me, I’ll give ‘em a hook. Sure enough, a big old loaf comes along, and I almost got it with a long stick, but my foot slipped and she floated off down the river. But by and by, another one comes along, and this one, I won. I opened up the loaf and shook out the little plug of quicksilver, and set my teeth into the rest. It was good bread – what the quality eat, and none of that low-down corn-pone nonsense.
I set up a good place in the leaves and watched, munching on the bread and keeping an eye on the ferryboat. And then something struck me. I reckoned the widow or someone prayed that this bread would find me, and here it has gone and done it. So there ain’t no doubt about the power of prayer – it just don’t work for me, that’s all, and I reckon it only works for just the right kind.
I lit a pipe and had a good long smoke, and went on watching. The ferryboat was floating along with the current, and I allowed I’d have a chance to see who was aboard when it came along, so as it got close, I put down my pipe and hid behind a log in a little open place on the bank. Where the log forked, I could peep through.
By and by she comes along, and she drifted in and they could ‘a’ run a plank out and come ashore. Most everybody was on the boat. Pap was there, arguin’ and shoutin’ at the Thatcher’s lawyers, Joe Harper and Tom Sawyer, looking considerably glum, and Tom’s old Aunt Polly, and Sid and Mary, and plenty more. The Welshman and one of his sons stood at the bow, peering out down the river. Everyone was talking about the murder. Pap was saying he held the Thatcher’s responsible, and the lawyer said that now would not be a ‘propriate time to respond, and pap said he would see them all in the courts, or in hell. Aunt Polly chided Tom a little and told him he should always be careful when he was out, even if there warn’t no signs of Zum, but Tom said nothing, like maybe he might start bawling. That was enough to make Aunt Polly stop, and you could tell her heart warn’t really in it. Then the captain broke in and said:
“Look sharp now; the current sits in the closest here, and maybe he’s washed ashore and tangled against the brush at the water’s edge.” Everyone looked grim, cause there was always a chance you’d see a body tangled in the brush, and if they happened to see one, they’d have to untangle it whether it was me or not; and if it started movin’ and grabbin’ at them, they’d have to take the head off, and everyone was mostly sick to death of this kind of thing, but knew it had to be done to keep the Zum numbers down.
Then the captain sang out: “Stand away!” and the cannon let out a blast that made me deef with the noise and pretty near blind from the smoke. Then the boat finally floated on and was almost out of sight when the ferry stops ag’in and two men go out in a skiff and pull up a body that had been caught in the rocks close to shore. They knew it warn’t me, but some older man who had been there a pretty long time. One of the men took off the head, then they put him in the skiff and rolled him in a piece of oiled cloth. The ferryboat continued, and I could
hear the booming now and then, farther and farther off, and by and by, after an hour, I couldn’t hear it no more. I judged they had worked their way to the foot of the island and was then giving it up. But they didn’t. They turned around the foot and started up a channel on the Missouri side, booming once in a while as they went. I crossed over to that side and watched them. When they got back to the head of the island, the skiff had several bundles of rolled, oiled cloth, so they had turned up someone else after the first one I saw. Then they dropped over to the Missouri side and everybody got off and went home, and the men loaded the bodies they had found on a wagon and took them away for some kind of quick burial.
I knowed it was all right now. No one else would come a-huntin’ after me. I got my traps out of the canoe and made me a nice camp by the woods. I made a kind of tent out of my blankets to put my things under so the rain wouldn’t get at them. I catched a catfish and haggled him open with my saw, and toward sundown I started a campfire and had supper. Then I set out a line to catch some fish for breakfast.
And so it went for three days and nights. Each day I’d go through the island, exploring up and down, and I wanted to know all about it. I found plenty strawberries; and green summer grapes, and green razberries; and the blackberries were just beginning to show, and would come handy by and by, I judged.
Well, I always kept my gun along with me, but I hadn’t shot nothing. It was mostly for protection, though I really didn’t think I’d cross paths with any Zum. They’d have to float here, for one thing, and floating used a Zum up. Maybe one of the new Zum might paddle over here in a canoe, but it wouldn’t make no sense, as there warn’t any people here to get at. About this time I was walking along a path and mighty near stepped on a snake. It went sliding off through he grass, and I went after it, trying to get off a shot. I clipped along and all of a sudden I bounded right on the ashes of a camp-fire that was still smoking.
My heart jumped against my lungs. I uncocked my gun and tiptoed back the way I came as fast as ever I could. Every now and then I stopped and listened, but my heart was beating in my ears and I couldn’t hear nothing else. If I saw a stump, I took it for a man, crouching; if I trod on a stick, it sounded like a rifle crack.
When I got back to camp, I thinks, this ain’t no time to be fooling around. So I get all my traps into the canoe, so as to have them out of sight, and I put out the fire and scattered the ashes around to look like an old last-year’s camp, and clumb a tree.
I reckon I was in the tree for about two hours, but I didn’t hear nothing and I didn’t see nothing. Well, I couldn’t stay up there forever, so at last I got down, but I kept in the thick woods, and stayed on the lookout all the time. All I ate was berries and what leftover fish I had for breakfast.
When it got good and dark I got in the canoe and paddled over to the Illinois shore – about a quarter of a mile. I went out in the woods and cooked a supper, but I knew there was plenty of people there about. I smelled campfires and heard a harmonica and somebody laugh, and I could smell horses and hear the plunkety-plunkety, plunkety-plunkety-plunkety of their horses, so I got back in the canoe and went back to the island. I reckoned I would sleep in the canoe next to the shore.
I couldn’t sleep much, but by and by an idea comes to me. I’m a-goin’ to find out who it is on this island with me; I’ll find out who or bust. Well, I felt better right off.
So I took my paddle and slid out a few feet, then let the canoe drop down amongst the shadows. I went along like this for an hour, almost to the foot of the island, and everything was still as rocks and sound asleep. By now, the night was almost done, and I brung the nose of the canoe to shore; then I took my gun and slipped out into the edge of the woods. Pretty soon the moon went down and I could see a pale streak in the sky over the treetops, so morning was just about here. Every minute or two I’d stop again and listen, and by and by, sure enough, I caught a glimpse of fire away through the trees. I went for it, cautious and slow. Then I got close enough to see, and spied a man laid on the ground. It most gave me the fantods. He had a blanket around his head, so it warn’t no Zum, as they didn’t feel the need to sleep and keep themselves warm. Pretty soon he stretched himself and came off the ground, and it was Miss Watson’s Jim! I bet I was glad to see him. I says:
“Hello, Jim” and skipped out of the bushes.
He leaned back and stared at me wild. Then he drops down on his knees and puts his hands together and says:
“Doan’ hurt me – don’t! I ain’t ever done harm to no ghost nor Zum. I always liked dead people, and done all I could for ‘em. You go float down that river s’mo’, whah you belongs, en doan’ do nuffin to Ole Jim. He was always yo’ fren’.”
Well, I warn’t long making him understand I warn’t dead, not ghost, nor Zum. I was ever so glad to see him. I warn’t lonesome now. I talked along for awhile, relaxed, but he only sat there and looked at me. Then I says:
“It’s good daylight. Let’s have us a breakfast. Get your campfire goin’ good.”
“What’s the use of getting a campfire goin’ to cook strawbries en such? But you got you a gun. We kin get sumfn better than strawbries.”
“Strawberries?” I says. “Is that what you been livin’ on?”
“C’ain’t get nuffin else.”
“Why, how long you been here, Jim?”
“I came the night after you’s killed.”
“All that time?”
“Yes-indeedy.”
“And you ain’t had nothing but berries to eat?”
“No, suh – nuffn else.”
“Well, you must be starved, ain’t you?
“I could eat a hoss, I think. How long you been on dis island?”
“Since the night I got killed.”
“No!” he said, but he smiled, cause he had to know I had me some kind of provisions and resources. “Dat’s good. Now you take your gun and go shoot sumfn, and I’ll make up de fire.”
So while Jim built a fire in a grassy open place amongst the trees, I fetched bacon and coffee, and coffee-pot and frying pan, and sugar and cups. I catched a big good catfish, too, and Jim cleaned him with his knife, and fried him up.
When it was ready, Jim laid into that breakfast with all his might, for he was most about starved. Then, when we had gotten pretty well stuffed, we laid and lazied.
By and by Jim says:
“But looky here, Huck, who wuz it dat wuz killed in dat shanty if it warn’t you?”
Then I told him the whole thing, and he said it was smart. He said Tom Sawyer couldn’t get up no better than what I had. Then I says:
“How do you come to be here, Jim?”
He looked pretty uneasy, and didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he says:
“You won’t tell?”
“Never,” says I, and I had on my serious face.
“Well, I believe you, Huck. I – I run off.”
“Jim!”
“It’s a fact. Dat Miss Watson pecks at me all de time, en treats me pretty rough. She was always sayin’ she wouldn’t sell me down to Orleans, but I noticed one of them traders roun’ the place lately, en I begins to get uneasy. Well, one night I creeps to de door late – it warn’t quite shut – and I hear Miss Watson tell de widdder she goin’ sell me down to Orleans. She said she could get eight hund’d dollars for me, and that much money, she couldn’t resist. I lit out mighty quick after that, I can tell you.
“I hid out by the river, and in de mawnin’ skifts began to go by, full o’ ladies and genlmen goin’ over to see the place where you wuz killed. I was powerful sorry you’s killed, Huck, but I’m awright now.
“Anyways, I made up my mine ‘bout what I’s agwine to do. You see, if I tried to get away on foot, de dogs would track me. If I stole a skift, dey’d miss a skift and know where I was goin’ to pick up my track with the dogs. So I says, a raff is what I’s after. It doan’ make no track.
“But I didn’t have no luck. They was people everywheres, lookin’ for you
, and I couldn’t chance bein’ out mor’n a few minutes at a time lest someone see me by accident. So I swam across holdin’ onto a log, and hid here. I figured I’d stay here awhile, until things cooled down. Then I’d be all right.”
Some young birds came along, flying a yard or two at a time and lighting. Jim said it was a sign it was going to rain. I reckoned I could catch one of them, but Jim wouldn’t let me. He said he would die if I caught one. He said his father laid really sick once, and one of them went out and caught a bird, and sure enough, his pappy died.
Well, I had plenty of food, so it warn’t no concern. Like I said, it was just fine to have a person to talk to – someone I could count on not to betray my secret. I believe he felt pretty much the same. It was perfect.
Chapter Nine
The House of the Undead Floats By
I wanted to go have a look at a place I found at the middle of the island that I’d found a few days earlier when I was exploring. I soon got to it, because the island was three miles long but only a quarter of a mile wide.
The place was a tolerable, long steep hill about forty feet high. Jim and I had a tough time getting to the top, the sides were so steep, and the bushes so thick. We tramped and clumb all around it, and by and by found a big cavern in the rock, most up at the top. The cavern was as big as two or three rooms bunched together, and Jim could stand straight up in it. It was cool in there, and a little wet. There warn’t no initials or names on the wall, which means we was the first ones there. Jim was for putting our stuff in there right away, and he said we could rush there if anyone else was to come to the island, and they’d never be able to find us without dogs, and even then if would be a while. Besides, he said them little birds had told him it was going to rain, and did we want our things to get wet?
So we went back to the canoe and got all the traps, and lugged them up. It took us the whole day. Then we took some fish off the line and set them out again, and got ready for dinner. We built a fire in the cavern for the first time and cooked our dinner.