The Further Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

  “Well?”

  “Please, ma’am, me and my nigger are froze and don’t have nowhere to stay the night. I’d be obliged if you could see fit to let us use your barn just till morning.”

  She give me another looking over then stands aside and says:

  “Come in. The nigger can put them mules in a stall and stay there too.”

  So Jim led them away to the barn and I went inside, where it’s just as poor-looking as the outside, but there’s a stove giving out heat that set me steaming away like a leaky boiler.

  “Take off that blanket and sit,” she says, and I done it.

  “Have you et?” she wants to know, and I say no, and she set out two china plates and a tin pan and dollops out three portions of stew bubbling on the stove, a mountain for her own and miserable rations for Jim and me. Jim gets the tin pan.

  “Take it out to the nigger,” she says, so I did, and come back fast before the food got cold and scooped it inside me, two or three mouthfuls. The lady gummed away at her pile, looking at me with them beady little eyes.

  “That was fine eating, ma’am. Thank you kindly.”

  “You kin call me Mrs. Aintree,” she says. “That’s my name. What’s your’n?”

  “Jack Thomas, ma’am. Me and the nigger are on our way to my uncle’s place near Wellstown.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Out near Independence,” says I, lying.

  “I never heard of it.”

  “Well it’s a mighty long way, and kind of small to be on the map.”

  “And what might your uncle’s name be?” she says, suspicious.

  “Brewster Thomas, ma’am.”

  “He’ll be on your Ma’s side of the family.”

  But I seen the trap there and say:

  “No, ma’am, on my Pap’s. That’s how I come to have the same name.”

  She chewed on, still watching me with them snake eyes. It give me a shiver the way they never once blinked. She says:

  “What’s your business in this Wellstown?”

  “Pap died and there’s only Uncle Brewster left in this world to take me in, ma’am. Pap died awful, got drunk and fell off the back of a steamboat and got mangled in the wheel. Every limb got broke they say, and pulped as well. I warn’t allowed to look at him, only his face to make sure it’s Pap, and it was. I cried and cried. He was the finest Pap in the world.”

  “Where’s your Ma?”

  “She’s gone to heaven too, ma’am. She give up the ghost the day I got born. Pap brung up me and little Sis all on his own. He loved Ma too dear to marry again.”

  “How kin you have a little sister when your Ma died the day you was born?”

  It’s a good question and I should of seen it coming. A trueborn liar like me never lets himself down as a rule, but them eyes had me rattled so I warn’t lying at full strength.

  “She warn’t really my little sister, not the way you mean, ma’am. She got born two years before I come along. I got in the habit of calling her little on account of she’s a dwarf.”

  “A dwarf? One of them little punkin heads?”

  “Yes, ma’am. She was just twenty-nine inches tall without no shoes on. She could stand right under a table and you’d of never knowed she’s there without you looked. She had a fondness for tables, especially them with cloths that come down to the floor so she could hide herself. She was right playful. Pap give her one of them midget ponies to ride and she called him Jewel. They looked a picture trotting around the yard with Jewel’s little bitty hooves prancing up and down and Sis’s punkin head going up and down in time. Me and Pap used to just stand there watching. She was the happiest little girl I ever seen. It was tragical the way she died. Pap never got over it.”

  “Well how’d it happen?” she says, hooked firm.

  “It was like I say, ma’am, with Sis mounted up on Jewel and cantering around in circles, going over the little jump Pap made so’s to make it more interesting for them both, and when Sis had enough of it she got down off Jewel onto a bucket turned upside down she used, and she’s patting Jewel on the neck saying what a good little horsy he is, and then it happened. I can remember it yet.”

  I give a few sniffs on a blob of loose snot up my nose for the right effect and crinkled up my eyes some and blinked rapid like I’m holding back a regular flood of tears. Oh, it was prime lying, and she’s all open-mouthed waiting to hear the rest of it.

  “Well, ma’am, there she was stood right by Jewel and reaching into her pocket for a sugar lump to give him when the awful event took its toll, right in front of my eyes.…”

  “Well? Don’t stop, boy. What happened then?”

  “All of a sudden little Jewel give a kind of hiccup and keeled over on top of her. The horse doctor said later he had a jittery heart in him that just stopped, and down he went with Sis underneath.”

  “My Lord, ain’t it awful,” she says.

  “Yes, ma’am. Sis’s eyes practickly bugged out of her punkin head with the shock of it and then she’s dead too, squeezed all out of shape. If it had of been a regular-size horse she would of been squashed flat, so we got to be grateful for small mercies I reckon.”

  “Why, that’s the saddest story I ever heard,”

  “Yes, ma’am, it surely is. Sis and Jewel was devoted to each other in life and they both met untimely death together. Pap reckoned as how it was only fittin’ to have them buried in the same plot side by side, and that’s what he done. After that he took to the bottle for comfort and things warn’t ever the same again. We had to sell the house and everything to pay for the drinking till there’s only the nigger left. Pap would of sold him too only he fell off the steamboat.”

  She tut-tutted away and shoveled in more food which she’d forgot while I was lying, and shook her head sympathetic, then she starts in on her own piece of misery.

  “My boy Albie, he’s run off to find gold in California, my only boy that I held next to my heart. Just upped and went a week ago Friday. What kinder son would do a thing like that? He was brung up correct and taught to fear God and was give plenty of hard work to quieten him down so’s not to give in to temptation, and he just upped and left, chasing rainbows.”

  I judged it was mean rations at the table that sent him off, but never spoke it, just let her rattle on around mouthfuls.

  “We done our best, Hollis and me, always tried to give our boy the guidance a young’un needs in life, and it’s all wasted now he’s gone. How kin we run a farm without no one to help? Is it right? The Lord’ll pass judgment on Albie once he gets out there with them painted heathens. It’s my opinion God created this gold in California to suck all the trash west and leave sivilized parts the cleaner for it. Them that’s headed for gold is headed for perdition. If the Injuns don’t get ahold of ’em they’re bound to starve in the wilderness, and there won’t be no manna from heaven to save their sinning hides. You wouldn’t ever think of going out there would you, boy?”

  “No, ma’am. It’s too dangersome and too far I reckon. I’m content to stay with my kin and lead a blame-free life the way the Book says to.”

  “I’m right glad to hear it. There’s boys no older’n you with sin in their hearts and the devil on their shoulders. You take that Huckleberry Finn that lives over in St. Petersburg. Why, just the other day a neighbor told us he cut the throat of the respectablest man in town, just a half-growed river rat piece of trash that never had guidance from a mother in the way of the Lord. It goes to prove without you get raised by the Book you’re surely doomed to eternal fire.”

  “Yes, ma’am. This cutthroat Finn must be the lowest kind of sinner. Did they catch him?”

  “They surely did, standing right over the corpse with a knife still dripping blood in his hand. They’re fixing to hang him next week.”

  “Well it’s no more’n he deserves.”

  “My Hollis, he’s gone into town for supplies. I reckon he’ll come back with the exact day of the hanging and we’ll both of us go int
o town to see it happen. It’s always a blessing to see a criminal sent on his way down to Satan. It makes a body feel right clean after.”

  My face started to crawl and twitch, and I say:

  “When’s your husband due back, ma’am?”

  “The weather’s likely too bad for him tonight. If the Lord sends us clear skies he’ll be back tomorrow.”

  If he’s in town he’ll know I busted out of jail, and maybe they’ve gone looking for Jim and found he’s gone too, and now they’re after the both of us, a boy and a nigger, and Mrs. Aintree, she’s seen us both. We should of kept going, snow or not. Now my face is twitching like a fish on a line and I give it a slap to settle down.

  “What in the world did you go and hit yourself for?” she says.

  “Moskeeter on my cheek, ma’am.”

  “There ain’t no moskeeters this time of year. Are you feeling poorly, boy? Do you want a spoon of tonic?”

  “No thank you, ma’am. I reckon it’s time I turned in. I’m mighty weary after a day’s traveling.”

  “You’re a peculiar child, Jack Thomas, but you’ve lost kin and suffered some, and it’s understandable. You go along to the barn and take a good night’s rest. That’ll do you a power of good.”

  “I hope so, ma’am. Thank you again for the food and hospitality.”

  She says goodnight and I scuttled for the barn. The mules was there in the stalls alongside some cows but Jim warn’t around.

  “Jim, where are you?” I call, and there’s a rustling up in the hayloft and his head pokes out.

  “I’se up here, Huck. It de warmes’ place wid all de hay.”

  I clumb up the ladder and burrowed in with him and told the danger we’re in.

  “We could leave now, Jim, and be miles away by morning when he gets back.”

  “She still snowin’ perty bad, Huck. Das why we come here in de firs’ place. Ain’t no sense in goin’ back out again till she stop.”

  He’s right, so we agreed to get some sleep and move on soon as it quit snowing. It’s maybe fifteen miles to St. Petersburg so it was fair to reckon Hollis Aintree warn’t going to get back till tomorrow evening earliest. If it was still snowing come morning we’d light out anyway and put some distance between us and the Aintree place, and the snow would cover our tracks too. Figuring it all out made us rest easier and we settled down for shuteye, but before we done it I say:

  “Jim, put your mind back to last year when we was on the raft and seen that house come bobbing along on the flood. We went in the upstairs room and you seen a dead man you reckon was Pap.”

  “Das right, Huck. What you wantin’ to know?”

  “Was it him for sure?”

  “I reckon so. He had dat same white skin like he’s sick, an’ long hair like yo’ Pap had, an’ he ’bout de same reach top to toe, but de clincher be de bottler whiskey in his han’. Soon’s I see dat I knowed.”

  “But are you really truly certain sure? Did you look at him up close so’s there warn’t no mistake?”

  “No, Huck. I gets res’less roun’ dead folk.”

  “So it could of been some one with just a passing resemblance.”

  “Maybe, but I reckon not. Soon’s I seen him I says to myself, das Huck’s Pap an’ he better not get tol’ ’bout it, not yet awhile. So I never tol’ it, not till later. Why you askin’, Huck?”

  So I told him about seeing Pap’s hoofprint on Judge Thatcher’s doorstep, and he says:

  “De whole town know ’bout dat, I reckon. Ever’body sayin’ you made it up out’n yo’ head in de panic, tryin’ to blame a dead man.”

  “It warn’t made up, Jim. I seen it, and I seen it again on board the Arkansas.”

  I give him the full story and his eyes got wide.

  “You sure ’bout dis, Huck?”

  “Certain sure, Jim.”

  “Maybe yo’ Pap come back from de dead to harnt you,” he says.

  “Ghosts don’t make no footprints, Jim. I reckon it’s Pap. He’s flesh and blood still, come back for revenge on the Widow Douglas and the judge for the way they riled him that time, and maybe me as well.”

  “I hopes you wrong, Huck. Dat man got de devil workin’ in him.”

  We chewed the fat awhile longer then got sleepy and give a visit to the land of Nod, then I’m awake with Jim’s hand over my mouth and he whispers soft in my ear:

  “Huck, dere’s someone down in de barn. He jest come in.”

  I wriggled over to the edge of the loft and took a peek. There’s a man under me and he’s looking at our mules and scratching at his head, and I figured it’s got to be Hollis Aintree come back from St. Petersburg ahead of time. Then I seen the barn doors are open and it’s daylight outside, clear and sharp with no snow falling. We got so comfy in the loft we must of practickly set up house in Nod. Mr. Aintree unsaddled his mare and stalled her and give her some oats, then he went out and closed the doors behind him.

  “Jim,” says I, “we’re in a peck of trouble. He must of stayed overnight at a farm between here and town and he’s back early. Get the mules saddled and I’ll keep a lookout.”

  We slid down the ladder like it was greased and Jim set to with the mules, getting it all done in record time. I looked at the house through a gap in the door and sure enough, here comes Hollis stamping his way back to the barn, only now he’s got a gun and looking mighty nervous. He stopped halfway, maybe asking himself if he’s got the gumption to tackle Huckleberry Finn the bloodthirsty judge-killer, then he thinks about the reward money I bet Sheriff Bottoms put out on me and he starts coming again, looking determined this time.

  “He’s coming, Jim. Get on the other side of the door. When he comes through we’ll both have to jump him.”

  “I cain’t do dat, Huck.”

  “You got to. I’m too light to do it all alone.”

  “I cain’t do it,” he says again, looking forlorn.

  “Do you want me to go back to jail and you along with me? Well it’ll happen if you don’t give a hand. There ain’t time to argue, Jim.”

  He come over to the door reluctant and we took up position and waited, hardly breathing, my skin all crawling with the suspense of it. Tom Sawyer, he would of loved it. We waited and waited and I reckon old Hollis must of started thinking again about how he’ll get his throat cut if he comes inside. Then he mustered up the courage to open the door a little way and poke his gun barrel through. The barrel never had its throat cut so he poked the rest of it in, and it never come to harm neither. I seen his hands, then his head. It’s dark in the barn so he never noticed us both sides of the door. He opened it a couple inches more, chewing his lips when it creaked, then he’s inside. He took a few steps, eyes watching the loft, then he seen the mules is saddled so we ain’t up there no more, and he swung about all terrified and seen me and aimed the gun. Jim flung himself like a lightning bolt and knocked him sideways and the gun went off harmless through the wall, and Hollis dropped it and babbles away fast as he can:

  “Don’t kill me,” he says, begging, and I’m ashamed to be the cause of him acting that way. “Don’t kill me please! I got a wife and son!”

  He’s so scared he forgot Albie run off a week ago Friday for California, and I spoke to him gentle to get him calmed.

  “Mr. Aintree, sir, we ain’t going to hurt you nor Mrs. Aintree. What you heard tell about me is all a lie. I never killed Judge Thatcher, only I can’t prove it and had to bust out of jail.”

  “Take anything you want,” he says, not listening. “Take the horse, take the gun, only don’t, please don’t do us no harm.…”

  “I already told you, Mr. Aintree. We don’t intend no harm to no one, only to get away to St. Louis and …”

  Here I clap my hand over my mouth like I let out something I never should of, and there’s a silence, then I rush along talking fast:

  “… up north where they don’t know me. You don’t have no need to worry. We’ll take your horse so’s you can’t ride to give the alarm,
and we’ll have to tie you up as well to give us time for our getaway. I’m sorry but we got to do it. Jim, fetch a rope.”

  We tied up his hands and feet, but not too tight, then I say:

  “Mr. Aintree, sir, we’re going over to the house now. Is there any guns except for the one you brung over?”

  “No. That there’s the only one. You kin take it if you want.”

  “Thank you, but I reckon we’ll leave it. We’re both of us peaceable. We’ll be over at the house some considerable time getting food and such, so please don’t go yelling or nothing.”

  “I won’t,” he says. “I’ll stay quiet.”

  “I’m awful sorry about all this that’s happened,” I say, but he never believed it.

  I put twenty dollars in his pocket for the horse, then Jim and me led the mules and mare outside. But we never went over to the house. I never could tie up a woman. I counted on her being so scared after she heard the shot she’d stay clear of the barn for awhile till she got more curious than scared and went out to look, and by that time we’d be miles away. We got on the mules and set off down the farm track for the road, Jim leading the mare on a rope. He was awful quiet and miserable looking so I say:

  “Well, Jim, has the lockjaw got you?”

  “I’se thinkin’, Huck, an’ it’s troublin’ me some.”

  “Why don’t you share it out?”

  “What I done back dere I ain’t never done befo’.”

  “Tied a man up?”

  “Dat too, but befo’ dat I went an’ knock a white man down. I ain’t never done nothin’ like dat befo’.”

  “You had to do it, Jim. He would of captured us, maybe shot us dead.”

  “I knows dat, Huck, an’ das why I done it, but I don’t feel good ’bout it. Dat man jest a no count dirt farmer, but white. I’se scared. Yestiddy bustin’ you out I warn’t scared, but now I got de shakes on accounter knockin down a white man.”