Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

  CHAPTER XXXVIII.

  MAKING them pens was a distressid tough job, and so was the saw; and Jimallowed the inscription was going to be the toughest of all. ?That's theone which the prisoner has to scrabble on the wall. ?But he had to haveit; Tom said he'd _got_ to; there warn't no case of a state prisoner notscrabbling his inscription to leave behind, and his coat of arms.

  "Look at Lady Jane Grey," he says; "look at Gilford Dudley; look at oldNorthumberland! ?Why, Huck, s'pose it _is_ considerble trouble?--whatyou going to do?--how you going to get around it? ?Jim's _got_ to do hisinscription and coat of arms. ?They all do."

  Jim says:

  "Why, Mars Tom, I hain't got no coat o' arm; I hain't got nuffn but dishyer ole shirt, en you knows I got to keep de journal on dat."

  "Oh, you don't understand, Jim; a coat of arms is very different."

  "Well," I says, "Jim's right, anyway, when he says he ain't got no coatof arms, because he hain't."

  "I reckon I knowed that," Tom says, "but you bet he'll have one beforehe goes out of this--because he's going out _right_, and there ain'tgoing to be no flaws in his record."

  So whilst me and Jim filed away at the pens on a brickbat apiece, Jima-making his'n out of the brass and I making mine out of the spoon,Tom set to work to think out the coat of arms. ?By and by he said he'dstruck so many good ones he didn't hardly know which to take, but therewas one which he reckoned he'd decide on. ?He says:

  "On the scutcheon we'll have a bend _or_ in the dexter base, a saltire_murrey_ in the fess, with a dog, couchant, for common charge, and underhis foot a chain embattled, for slavery, with a chevron _vert_ in achief engrailed, and three invected lines on a field _azure_, with thenombril points rampant on a dancette indented; crest, a runaway nigger,_sable_, with his bundle over his shoulder on a bar sinister; and acouple of gules for supporters, which is you and me; motto, _MaggioreFretta, Minore Otto._ ?Got it out of a book--means the more haste theless speed."

  "Geewhillikins," I says, "but what does the rest of it mean?"

  "We ain't got no time to bother over that," he says; "we got to dig inlike all git-out."

  "Well, anyway," I says, "what's _some_ of it? ?What's a fess?"

  "A fess--a fess is--_you_ don't need to know what a fess is. ?I'll showhim how to make it when he gets to it."

  "Shucks, Tom," I says, "I think you might tell a person. ?What's a barsinister?"

  "Oh, I don't know. ?But he's got to have it. ?All the nobility does."

  That was just his way. ?If it didn't suit him to explain a thing to you,he wouldn't do it. ?You might pump at him a week, it wouldn't make nodifference.

  He'd got all that coat of arms business fixed, so now he started in tofinish up the rest of that part of the work, which was to plan out amournful inscription--said Jim got to have one, like they all done. ?Hemade up a lot, and wrote them out on a paper, and read them off, so:

  1. ?Here a captive heart busted. 2. ?Here a poor prisoner, forsook bythe world and friends, fretted his sorrowful life. 3. ?Here a lonelyheart broke, and a worn spirit went to its rest, after thirty-sevenyears of solitary captivity. 4. ?Here, homeless and friendless, afterthirty-seven years of bitter captivity, perished a noble stranger,natural son of Louis XIV.

  Tom's voice trembled whilst he was reading them, and he most broke down.When he got done he couldn't no way make up his mind which one for Jimto scrabble on to the wall, they was all so good; but at last he allowedhe would let him scrabble them all on. ?Jim said it would take him ayear to scrabble such a lot of truck on to the logs with a nail, and hedidn't know how to make letters, besides; but Tom said he would blockthem out for him, and then he wouldn't have nothing to do but justfollow the lines. ?Then pretty soon he says:

  "Come to think, the logs ain't a-going to do; they don't have log wallsin a dungeon: ?we got to dig the inscriptions into a rock. ?We'll fetcha rock."

  Jim said the rock was worse than the logs; he said it would take himsuch a pison long time to dig them into a rock he wouldn't ever get out.?But Tom said he would let me help him do it. ?Then he took a look tosee how me and Jim was getting along with the pens. ?It was most peskytedious hard work and slow, and didn't give my hands no show to getwell of the sores, and we didn't seem to make no headway, hardly; so Tomsays:

  "I know how to fix it. ?We got to have a rock for the coat of arms andmournful inscriptions, and we can kill two birds with that same rock.There's a gaudy big grindstone down at the mill, and we'll smouch it,and carve the things on it, and file out the pens and the saw on it,too."

  It warn't no slouch of an idea; and it warn't no slouch of a grindstonenuther; but we allowed we'd tackle it. ?It warn't quite midnight yet,so we cleared out for the mill, leaving Jim at work. ?We smouched thegrindstone, and set out to roll her home, but it was a most nation toughjob. Sometimes, do what we could, we couldn't keep her from fallingover, and she come mighty near mashing us every time. ?Tom said she wasgoing to get one of us, sure, before we got through. ?We got her halfway; and then we was plumb played out, and most drownded with sweat. ?Wesee it warn't no use; we got to go and fetch Jim. So he raised up hisbed and slid the chain off of the bed-leg, and wrapt it round and roundhis neck, and we crawled out through our hole and down there, and Jimand me laid into that grindstone and walked her along like nothing; andTom superintended. ?He could out-superintend any boy I ever see. ?Heknowed how to do everything.

  Our hole was pretty big, but it warn't big enough to get the grindstonethrough; but Jim he took the pick and soon made it big enough. ?Then Tommarked out them things on it with the nail, and set Jim to work on them,with the nail for a chisel and an iron bolt from the rubbage in thelean-to for a hammer, and told him to work till the rest of his candlequit on him, and then he could go to bed, and hide the grindstone underhis straw tick and sleep on it. ?Then we helped him fix his chain backon the bed-leg, and was ready for bed ourselves. ?But Tom thought ofsomething, and says:

  "You got any spiders in here, Jim?"

  "No, sah, thanks to goodness I hain't, Mars Tom."

  "All right, we'll get you some."

  "But bless you, honey, I doan' _want_ none. ?I's afeard un um. ?I jis''s soon have rattlesnakes aroun'."

  Tom thought a minute or two, and says:

  "It's a good idea. ?And I reckon it's been done. ?It _must_ a been done;it stands to reason. ?Yes, it's a prime good idea. ?Where could you keepit?"

  "Keep what, Mars Tom?"

  "Why, a rattlesnake."

  "De goodness gracious alive, Mars Tom! ?Why, if dey was a rattlesnake tocome in heah I'd take en bust right out thoo dat log wall, I would, widmy head."

  "Why, Jim, you wouldn't be afraid of it after a little. ?You could tameit."

  "_Tame_ it!"

  "Yes--easy enough. ?Every animal is grateful for kindness and petting,and they wouldn't _think_ of hurting a person that pets them. ?Any bookwill tell you that. ?You try--that's all I ask; just try for two or threedays. Why, you can get him so, in a little while, that he'll love you;and sleep with you; and won't stay away from you a minute; and will letyou wrap him round your neck and put his head in your mouth."

  "_Please_, Mars Tom--_doan_' talk so! ?I can't _stan_' it! ?He'd _let_me shove his head in my mouf--fer a favor, hain't it? ?I lay he'd wait apow'ful long time 'fo' I _ast_ him. ?En mo' en dat, I doan' _want_ himto sleep wid me."

  "Jim, don't act so foolish. ?A prisoner's _got_ to have some kind of adumb pet, and if a rattlesnake hain't ever been tried, why, there's moreglory to be gained in your being the first to ever try it than any otherway you could ever think of to save your life."

  "Why, Mars Tom, I doan' _want_ no sich glory. ?Snake take 'n biteJim's chin off, den _whah_ is de glory? ?No, sah, I doan' want no sichdoin's."

  "Blame it, can't you _try_? ?I only _want_ you to try--you needn't keepit up if it don't work."

  "But de trouble all _done_ ef de snake bite me while I's a tryin' him.Mars Tom, I's willin' to tackle mos' anything 'at ain't onreasonable,but ef you en Huck fetc
hes a rattlesnake in heah for me to tame, I'sgwyne to _leave_, dat's _shore_."

  "Well, then, let it go, let it go, if you're so bull-headed about it.?We can get you some garter-snakes, and you can tie some buttons ontheir tails, and let on they're rattlesnakes, and I reckon that 'll haveto do."

  "I k'n stan' _dem_, Mars Tom, but blame' 'f I couldn' get along widoutum, I tell you dat. ?I never knowed b'fo' 't was so much bother andtrouble to be a prisoner."

  "Well, it _always_ is when it's done right. ?You got any rats aroundhere?"

  "No, sah, I hain't seed none."

  "Well, we'll get you some rats."

  "Why, Mars Tom, I doan' _want_ no rats. ?Dey's de dadblamedest cretursto 'sturb a body, en rustle roun' over 'im, en bite his feet, when he'stryin' to sleep, I ever see. ?No, sah, gimme g'yarter-snakes, 'f I'sgot to have 'm, but doan' gimme no rats; I hain' got no use f'r um,skasely."

  "But, Jim, you _got_ to have 'em--they all do. ?So don't make no morefuss about it. ?Prisoners ain't ever without rats. ?There ain't noinstance of it. ?And they train them, and pet them, and learn themtricks, and they get to be as sociable as flies. ?But you got to playmusic to them. ?You got anything to play music on?"

  "I ain' got nuffn but a coase comb en a piece o' paper, en a juice-harp;but I reck'n dey wouldn' take no stock in a juice-harp."

  "Yes they would?_they_ don't care what kind of music 'tis. ?Ajews-harp's plenty good enough for a rat. ?All animals like music--in aprison they dote on it. ?Specially, painful music; and you can't get noother kind out of a jews-harp. ?It always interests them; they come outto see what's the matter with you. ?Yes, you're all right; you're fixedvery well. ?You want to set on your bed nights before you go to sleep,and early in the mornings, and play your jews-harp; play 'The Last Linkis Broken'--that's the thing that 'll scoop a rat quicker 'n anythingelse; and when you've played about two minutes you'll see all the rats,and the snakes, and spiders, and things begin to feel worried about you,and come. ?And they'll just fairly swarm over you, and have a noble goodtime."

  "Yes, _dey_ will, I reck'n, Mars Tom, but what kine er time is _Jim_havin'? Blest if I kin see de pint. ?But I'll do it ef I got to. ?Ireck'n I better keep de animals satisfied, en not have no trouble in dehouse."

  Tom waited to think it over, and see if there wasn't nothing else; andpretty soon he says:

  "Oh, there's one thing I forgot. ?Could you raise a flower here, do youreckon?"

  "I doan know but maybe I could, Mars Tom; but it's tolable dark in heah,en I ain' got no use f'r no flower, nohow, en she'd be a pow'ful sighto' trouble."

  "Well, you try it, anyway. ?Some other prisoners has done it."

  "One er dem big cat-tail-lookin' mullen-stalks would grow in heah, MarsTom, I reck'n, but she wouldn't be wuth half de trouble she'd coss."

  "Don't you believe it. ?We'll fetch you a little one and you plant it inthe corner over there, and raise it. ?And don't call it mullen, call itPitchiola--that's its right name when it's in a prison. ?And you want towater it with your tears."

  "Why, I got plenty spring water, Mars Tom."

  "You don't _want_ spring water; you want to water it with your tears.?It's the way they always do."

  "Why, Mars Tom, I lay I kin raise one er dem mullen-stalks twyste widspring water whiles another man's a _start'n_ one wid tears."

  "That ain't the idea. ?You _got_ to do it with tears."

  "She'll die on my han's, Mars Tom, she sholy will; kase I doan' skaselyever cry."

  So Tom was stumped. ?But he studied it over, and then said Jim wouldhave to worry along the best he could with an onion. ?He promisedhe would go to the nigger cabins and drop one, private, in Jim'scoffee-pot, in the morning. Jim said he would "jis' 's soon havetobacker in his coffee;" and found so much fault with it, and with thework and bother of raising the mullen, and jews-harping the rats, andpetting and flattering up the snakes and spiders and things, on top ofall the other work he had to do on pens, and inscriptions, and journals,and things, which made it more trouble and worry and responsibility tobe a prisoner than anything he ever undertook, that Tom most lost allpatience with him; and said he was just loadened down with more gaudierchances than a prisoner ever had in the world to make a name forhimself, and yet he didn't know enough to appreciate them, and they wasjust about wasted on him. ?So Jim he was sorry, and said he wouldn'tbehave so no more, and then me and Tom shoved for bed.