Adventures of Huckleberry Finn Page #9

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is a novel by Mark Twain, first published in the United Kingdom in December 1884 and in the United States in February 1885.

• Novel

								


“Tramp--tramp--tramp; that's the dead; tramp--tramp--tramp; they're coming after me; but I won't go.  Oh, they're here! don't touch me--don't! hands off--they're cold; let go.  Oh, let a poor devil alone!”

Then he went down on all fours and crawled off, begging them to let him alone, and he rolled himself up in his blanket and wallowed in under the old pine table, still a-begging; and then he went to crying.  I could hear him through the blanket.

By and by he rolled out and jumped up on his feet looking wild, and he see me and went for me.  He chased me round and round the place with a clasp-knife, calling me the Angel of Death, and saying he would kill me, and then I couldn't come for him no more.  I begged, and told him I was only Huck; but he laughed such a screechy laugh, and roared and cussed, and kept on chasing me up.  Once when I turned short and dodged under his arm he made a grab and got me by the jacket between my shoulders, and I thought I was gone; but I slid out of the jacket quick as lightning, and saved myself. Pretty soon he was all tired out, and dropped down with his back against the door, and said he would rest a minute and then kill me. He put his knife under him, and said he would sleep and get strong, and then he would see who was who.

So he dozed off pretty soon.  By and by I got the old split-bottom chair and clumb up as easy as I could, not to make any noise, and got down the gun.  I slipped the ramrod down it to make sure it was loaded, then I laid it across the turnip barrel, pointing towards pap, and set down behind it to wait for him to stir.  And how slow and still the time did drag along.

CHAPTER VII.

“GIT up!  What you 'bout?”

I opened my eyes and looked around, trying to make out where I was.  It was after sun-up, and I had been sound asleep.  Pap was standing over me looking sour and sick, too.  He says:

“What you doin' with this gun?”

I judged he didn't know nothing about what he had been doing, so I says:

“Somebody tried to get in, so I was laying for him.”

“Why didn't you roust me out?”

“Well, I tried to, but I couldn't; I couldn't budge you.”

“Well, all right.  Don't stand there palavering all day, but out with you and see if there's a fish on the lines for breakfast.  I'll be along in a minute.”

He unlocked the door, and I cleared out up the river-bank.  I noticed some pieces of limbs and such things floating down, and a sprinkling of bark; so I knowed the river had begun to rise.  I reckoned I would have great times now if I was over at the town.  The June rise used to be always luck for me; because as soon as that rise begins here comes cordwood floating down, and pieces of log rafts--sometimes a dozen logs together; so all you have to do is to catch them and sell them to the wood-yards and the sawmill.

I went along up the bank with one eye out for pap and t'other one out for what the rise might fetch along.  Well, all at once here comes a canoe; just a beauty, too, about thirteen or fourteen foot long, riding high like a duck.  I shot head-first off of the bank like a frog, clothes and all on, and struck out for the canoe.  I just expected there'd be somebody laying down in it, because people often done that to fool folks, and when a chap had pulled a skiff out most to it they'd raise up and laugh at him.  But it warn't so this time.  It was a drift-canoe sure enough, and I clumb in and paddled her ashore.  Thinks I, the old man will be glad when he sees this--she's worth ten dollars.
 But when I got to shore pap wasn't in sight yet, and as I was running her into a little creek like a gully, all hung over with vines and willows, I struck another idea:  I judged I'd hide her good, and then, 'stead of taking to the woods when I run off, I'd go down the river about fifty mile and camp in one place for good, and not have such a rough time tramping on foot.

It was pretty close to the shanty, and I thought I heard the old man coming all the time; but I got her hid; and then I out and looked around a bunch of willows, and there was the old man down the path a piece just drawing a bead on a bird with his gun.  So he hadn't seen anything.

When he got along I was hard at it taking up a “trot” line.  He abused me a little for being so slow; but I told him I fell in the river, and that was what made me so long.  I knowed he would see I was wet, and then he would be asking questions.  We got five catfish off the lines and went home.

While we laid off after breakfast to sleep up, both of us being about wore out, I got to thinking that if I could fix up some way to keep pap and the widow from trying to follow me, it would be a certainer thing than trusting to luck to get far enough off before they missed me; you see, all kinds of things might happen.  Well, I didn't see no way for a while, but by and by pap raised up a minute to drink another barrel of water, and he says:

“Another time a man comes a-prowling round here you roust me out, you hear? That man warn't here for no good.  I'd a shot him.  Next time you roust me out, you hear?”

Then he dropped down and went to sleep again; but what he had been saying give me the very idea I wanted.  I says to myself, I can fix it now so nobody won't think of following me.

About twelve o'clock we turned out and went along up the bank.  The river was coming up pretty fast, and lots of driftwood going by on the rise. By and by along comes part of a log raft--nine logs fast together.
 We went out with the skiff and towed it ashore.  Then we had dinner. Anybody but pap would a waited and seen the day through, so as to catch more stuff; but that warn't pap's style.  Nine logs was enough for one time; he must shove right over to town and sell.  So he locked me in and took the skiff, and started off towing the raft about half-past three.
 I judged he wouldn't come back that night.  I waited till I reckoned he had got a good start; then I out with my saw, and went to work on that log again.  Before he was t'other side of the river I was out of the hole; him and his raft was just a speck on the water away off yonder.

I took the sack of corn meal and took it to where the canoe was hid, and shoved the vines and branches apart and put it in; then I done the same with the side of bacon; then the whisky-jug.  I took all the coffee and sugar there was, and all the ammunition; I took the wadding; I took the bucket and gourd; I took a dipper and a tin cup, and my old saw and two blankets, and the skillet and the coffee-pot.  I took fish-lines and matches and other things--everything that was worth a cent.  I cleaned out the place.  I wanted an axe, but there wasn't any, only the one out at the woodpile, and I knowed why I was going to leave that.  I fetched out the gun, and now I was done.

I had wore the ground a good deal crawling out of the hole and dragging out so many things.  So I fixed that as good as I could from the outside by scattering dust on the place, which covered up the smoothness and the sawdust.  Then I fixed the piece of log back into its place, and put two rocks under it and one against it to hold it there, for it was bent up at that place and didn't quite touch ground.  If you stood four or five foot away and didn't know it was sawed, you wouldn't never notice it; and besides, this was the back of the cabin, and it warn't likely anybody would go fooling around there.
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