Chapter 7

“Git up! What you ’bout?”

“Get up! What you about?”

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:

I opened my eyes and looked around, trying to figure out where I was. The sun was up, and I had been sound asleep. Pap was standing over me, looking cranky and sick, too. He says:

“What you doin’ with this gun?”

“What you doing with this gun?”

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

I figured 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.”

“Somebody tried to get in, so I was waiting to catch him.”

“Why didn’t you roust me out?”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

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

“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.”

“Well, all right. Don’t stand there talking all day. Get out there 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.

He unlocked the door, and I cleared out up the riverbank. I noticed some broken branches and such things floating down, along with a scattering 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 lucky for me. Because as soon as the river starts rising, here comes firewood floating down, along with pieces of log rafts. Sometimes a dozen logs come down together. So all you have to do is catch them and sell them to the lumberyards 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.

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. It was 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. When a chap had pulled a skiff out most to it, they’d raise up and laugh at him. But it wasn’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. 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, instead 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.

It was pretty close to the cabin, and I thought I heard the old man coming all the time. But I got her hid. Then I went out and looked around a bunch of willows. There was the old man a little way down the path, just aiming his gun at a bird. 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.

When he came along, I was hard at work pulling in a “trot” line. He scolded me a little for being so slow. But I told him I fell in the river, and that was why I took 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:

After breakfast, we laid down to catch up on sleep, both of us being about wore out. I got to thinking that if I could stop pap and the widow from following me, I'd be more sure of getting away. That would be better than trusting to luck to get far enough away before they missed me. You see, all kinds of things might happen. Well, I didn’t see no way for a while. But after a while, pap sat up for 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?”

“Another time a man comes prowling around here, you roust me out, you hear? That man wasn't here for no good. I'd have 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.

Then he lay down and went to sleep again. But what he had been saying give me just the 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.

About twelve o’clock we got up and went along up the bank. The river was rising pretty fast, and lots of driftwood was floating by on the rising water. Before long, along comes part of a log raft, nine logs tied together. We went out with the skiff and towed it ashore. Then we had dinner. Anybody but pap would have waited and seen the day through, so as to catch more stuff. But that wasn't pap’s style. Nine logs was enough for one time. He had to head right over to town and sell them. So he locked me in and took the skiff. About half-past three, he started off towing the raft. I judged he wouldn’t come back that night. I waited till I reckoned he had got a good start. Then I pulled out my saw and went to work on that log again. Before he was on the other side of the river, I was out of the hole. Him and his raft was just a speck on the water way off in the distance.

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 took the sack of cornmeal to where the canoe was hid. I pushed the vines and branches apart and put the sack in the canoe. Then I done the same with the side of bacon, then the whiskey jug. I took all the coffee and sugar there was, and all the ammunition. I took the gun wadding, the bucket, and the gourd. I took a dipper and a tin cup, my old saw and two blankets, the skillet and the coffeepot. I took fishing 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 except the one out at the woodpile. And I knowed why I was going to leave that axe. I brought 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.

I had wore the ground down a good deal crawling out of the hole and dragging so many things out. So I covered the marks as good as I could from outside by scattering dust over the spot. The dust hid the smooth ground and the sawdust. Then I put the piece of log back in place. I put two rocks under it and one against it to hold it there. The log was bent upward at that spot and didn’t quite touch the 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 wasn’t likely anybody would go fooling around there.

It was all grass clear to the canoe, so I hadn’t left a track. I followed around to see. I stood on the bank and looked out over the river. All safe. So I took the gun and went up a piece into the woods, and was hunting around for some birds when I see a wild pig; hogs soon went wild in them bottoms after they had got away from the prairie farms. I shot this fellow and took him into camp.

It was all grass right up to the canoe, so I hadn’t left a track. I went around to check. I stood on the bank and looked out over the river. All safe. So I took the gun and went a little way into the woods. I was hunting around for some birds when I see a wild pig. Hogs soon went wild in them river lowlands after they had got away from the prairie farms. I shot this fellow and took him into camp.

I took the axe and smashed in the door. I beat it and hacked it considerable a-doing it. I fetched the pig in, and took him back nearly to the table and hacked into his throat with the axe, and laid him down on the ground to bleed; I say ground because it was ground—hard packed, and no boards. Well, next I took an old sack and put a lot of big rocks in it—all I could drag—and I started it from the pig, and dragged it to the door and through the woods down to the river and dumped it in, and down it sunk, out of sight. You could easy see that something had been dragged over the ground. I did wish Tom Sawyer was there; I knowed he would take an interest in this kind of business, and throw in the fancy touches. Nobody could spread himself like Tom Sawyer in such a thing as that.

I took the axe and smashed in the door. I beat it and hacked it a good deal to get it open. I brought the pig in and took him back nearly to the table. I hacked into his throat with the axe and laid him on the ground to bleed. I say ground because it was ground, hard-packed dirt with no boards. Well, next I took an old sack and filled it with big rocks, all I could drag. I started dragging the sack from where the pig lay. I dragged it to the door, then through the woods down to the river, and dumped it in. The sack sank out of sight. You could easy see that something had been dragged over the ground. I did wish Tom Sawyer was there. I knowed he would take an interest in this kind of business and add the fancy touches. Nobody could go all out like Tom Sawyer in a thing like that.

Well, last I pulled out some of my hair, and blooded the axe good, and stuck it on the back side, and slung the axe in the corner. Then I took up the pig and held him to my breast with my jacket (so he couldn’t drip) till I got a good piece below the house and then dumped him into the river. Now I thought of something else. So I went and got the bag of meal and my old saw out of the canoe, and fetched them to the house. I took the bag to where it used to stand, and ripped a hole in the bottom of it with the saw, for there warn’t no knives and forks on the place—pap done everything with his clasp-knife about the cooking. Then I carried the sack about a hundred yards across the grass and through the willows east of the house, to a shallow lake that was five mile wide and full of rushes—and ducks too, you might say, in the season. There was a slough or a creek leading out of it on the other side that went miles away, I don’t know where, but it didn’t go to the river. The meal sifted out and made a little track all the way to the lake. I dropped pap’s whetstone there too, so as to look like it had been done by accident. Then I tied up the rip in the meal sack with a string, so it wouldn’t leak no more, and took it and my saw to the canoe again.

Well, last I pulled out some of my hair and got the axe good and bloody. I stuck the hair on the back of the axe and slung the axe in the corner. Then I picked up the pig and held him against my chest with my jacket (so he couldn’t drip). I carried him a good way below the house and then dumped him into the river. Now I thought of something else. So I went and got the bag of cornmeal and my old saw out of the canoe. I brought them to the house. I took the bag to where it used to stand and sawed a hole in the bottom. There wasn’t no knives and forks on the place. Pap done everything about the cooking with his pocketknife. Then I carried the sack about a hundred yards across the grass and through the willows east of the house. I went to a shallow lake that was five mile wide and full of rushes. And ducks too, you might say, in the season. There was a swampy channel or a creek leading out of the lake on the other side. It went miles away, I don’t know where, but it didn’t go to the river. The cornmeal sifted out and made a little trail all the way to the lake. I dropped pap’s sharpening stone there too, so it would look like I’d dropped it by accident. Then I tied up the tear in the cornmeal sack with string, so it wouldn’t leak no more. I took the sack and my saw back to the canoe.

It was about dark now; so I dropped the canoe down the river under some willows that hung over the bank, and waited for the moon to rise. I made fast to a willow; then I took a bite to eat, and by-and-by laid down in the canoe to smoke a pipe and lay out a plan. I says to myself, they’ll follow the track of that sackful of rocks to the shore and then drag the river for me. And they’ll follow that meal track to the lake and go browsing down the creek that leads out of it to find the robbers that killed me and took the things. They won’t ever hunt the river for anything but my dead carcass. They’ll soon get tired of that, and won’t bother no more about me. All right; I can stop anywhere I want to. Jackson’s Island is good enough for me; I know that island pretty well, and nobody ever comes there. And then I can paddle over to town nights, and slink around and pick up things I want. Jackson’s Island’s the place.

It was about dark now. So I let the canoe drift downriver under some willows hanging over the bank and waited for the moon to rise. I tied the canoe to a willow, then took a bite to eat. After a while, I laid down in the canoe to smoke a pipe and work out a plan. I says to myself, they’ll follow the trail left by that sackful of rocks to the shore. Then they’ll drag the river for me. And they’ll follow that trail of cornmeal to the lake. They’ll go searching down the creek that flows out of the lake for the robbers that killed me and took the things. They won’t ever search the river for anything but my dead body. They’ll soon get tired of that, and won’t bother no more about me. All right, I can stop anywhere I want to. Jackson’s Island is good enough for me. I know that island pretty well, and nobody ever comes there. And then I can paddle over to town at night, sneak around, and pick up things I want. Jackson’s Island’s the place.

I was pretty tired, and the first thing I knowed I was asleep. When I woke up I didn’t know where I was for a minute. I set up and looked around, a little scared. Then I remembered. The river looked miles and miles across. The moon was so bright I could a counted the drift logs that went a-slipping along, black and still, hundreds of yards out from shore. Everything was dead quiet, and it looked late, and smelt late. You know what I mean—I don’t know the words to put it in.

I was pretty tired, and the first thing I knowed I was asleep. When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was for a minute. I set up and looked around, a little scared. Then I remembered. The river looked miles and miles across. The moon was so bright I could have counted the logs drifting along, black and still, hundreds of yards offshore. Everything was dead quiet, and it looked late, and smelled late. You know what I mean. I don’t know the words to put it in.

I took a good gap and a stretch, and was just going to unhitch and start when I heard a sound away over the water. I listened. Pretty soon I made it out. It was that dull kind of a regular sound that comes from oars working in rowlocks when it’s a still night. I peeped out through the willow branches, and there it was—a skiff, away across the water. I couldn’t tell how many was in it. It kept a-coming, and when it was abreast of me I see there warn’t but one man in it. Think’s I, maybe it’s pap, though I warn’t expecting him. He dropped below me with the current, and by-and-by he came a-swinging up shore in the easy water, and he went by so close I could a reached out the gun and touched him. Well, it was pap, sure enough—and sober, too, by the way he laid his oars.

I took a good yawn and a stretch. I was just going to untie and start when I heard a sound far out over the water. I listened. Pretty soon I made it out. It was that dull, steady sound that comes from oars working in oarlocks on a still night. I peeped out through the willow branches, and there was a little rowboat, far across the water. I couldn’t tell how many was in it. It kept coming, and when it was alongside me, I see there wasn’t but one man in it. Thinks I, maybe it’s pap, though I wasn’t expecting him. He drifted downstream past me with the current. After a while, he swung back upstream along the shore, where the water was calmer. He went by so close I could have reached out the gun and touched him. Well, it was pap, sure enough. And he was sober, too, by the way he handled his oars.

I didn’t lose no time. The next minute I was a-spinning down stream soft but quick in the shade of the bank. I made two mile and a half, and then struck out a quarter of a mile or more towards the middle of the river, because pretty soon I would be passing the ferry landing, and people might see me and hail me. I got out amongst the driftwood, and then laid down in the bottom of the canoe and let her float.

I didn’t lose no time. The next minute I was spinning downstream soft but quick in the shade of the bank. I went two mile and a half, then headed a quarter of a mile or more toward the river’s middle. I did that because I would soon be passing the ferry landing, and people might see me and call out. I got out among the driftwood. Then 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 away into the sky; not a cloud in it. The sky looks ever so deep when you lay down on your back in the moonshine; I never knowed it before. And how far a body can hear on the water such nights! I heard people talking at the ferry landing. I heard what they said, too—every word of it. One man said it was getting towards the long days and the short nights now. T’other one said this warn’t one of the short ones, he reckoned—and then they laughed, and he said it over again, and they laughed again; then they waked up another fellow and told him, and laughed, but he didn’t laugh; he ripped out something brisk, and said let him alone. The first fellow said he ’lowed to tell it to his old woman—she would think it was pretty good; but he said that warn’t nothing to some things he had said in his time. I heard one man say it was nearly three o’clock, and he hoped daylight wouldn’t wait more than about a week longer. After that the talk got further and further away, and I couldn’t make out the words any more; but I could hear the mumble, and now and then a laugh, too, but it seemed a long ways off.

I laid there and had a good rest and a smoke out of my pipe, looking up into the sky. There wasn't a cloud in it. The sky looks ever so deep when you lay down on your back in the moonlight. I never knowed it before. And how far a body can hear on the water on nights like that! I heard people talking at the ferry landing. I heard what they said, too, every word of it. One man said it was getting toward the long days and the short nights now. The other one said this wasn't one of the short ones, he reckoned. Then they laughed, and he said it over again, and they laughed again. Then they waked up another fellow and told him, and laughed, but he didn't laugh. He snapped out something sharp and said to leave him alone. The first fellow said he planned to tell the joke to his old woman. She would think it was pretty good. But he said that wasn't nothing to some things he had said in his time. I heard one man say it was nearly three o'clock. He hoped daylight wouldn't wait more than about a week longer. After that the talk got further and further away, and I couldn't make out the words any more. But I could hear the mumbling, and now and then a laugh, too, though it seemed a long ways off.

I was away below the ferry now. I rose up, and there was Jackson’s Island, about two mile and a half down stream, heavy timbered and standing up out of the middle of the river, big and dark and solid, like a steamboat without any lights. There warn’t any signs of the bar at the head—it was all under water now.

I was far below the ferry now. I rose up, and there was Jackson’s Island, about two mile and a half downstream. It was thick with trees, rising out of the middle of the river, big and dark and solid. It looked like a steamboat without any lights. There wasn’t any signs of the sandbar at the island’s upstream end. The sandbar was all underwater now.

It didn’t take me long to get there. I shot past the head at a ripping rate, the current was so swift, and then I got into the dead water and landed on the side towards the Illinois shore. I run the canoe into a deep dent in the bank that I knowed about; I had to part the willow branches to get in; and when I made fast nobody could a seen the canoe from the outside.

It didn’t take me long to get there. I shot past the head at a terrific speed because the current was so fast. Then I got into still water and landed on the side facing the Illinois shore. I run the canoe into a deep hollow in the bank that I knowed about. I had to push the willow branches apart to get in. And once I tied up the canoe, nobody could have seen it from outside.

I went up and set down on a log at the head of the island, and looked out on the big river and the black driftwood and away over to the town, three mile away, where there was three or four lights twinkling. A monstrous big lumber-raft was about a mile up stream, coming along down, with a lantern in the middle of it. I watched it come creeping down, and when it was most abreast of where I stood I heard a man say, “Stern oars, there! heave her head to stabboard!” I heard that just as plain as if the man was by my side.

I went up and set down on a log at the upstream end of the island. I looked out on the big river and the black driftwood, and across to the town, three mile away. There was three or four lights twinkling in the town. A monstrous big lumber raft was about a mile upstream, coming down the river, with a lantern in the middle. I watched it come creeping down. When it was almost alongside where I stood, I heard a man say, “Stern oars, there! Heave her head to starboard!” I heard that just as plain as if the man was by my side.

There was a little gray in the sky now; so I stepped into the woods, and laid down for a nap before breakfast.

There was a little gray in the sky now. So I stepped into the woods and laid down for a nap before breakfast.