The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
by Mark Twain
by Mark Twain
Chapter III
WELL, I got a good going-over in the morning
from old Miss Watson on account of my clothes; but the widow she didn't scold,
but only cleaned off the grease and clay, and looked so sorry that I thought I
would behave awhile if I could. Then Miss Watson she took me in the closet and
prayed, but nothing come of it. She told me to pray every day, and whatever I
asked for I would get it. But it warn't so. I tried it. Once I got a fish-line,
but no hooks. It warn't any good to me without hooks. I tried for the hooks
three or four times, but somehow I couldn't make it work. By and by, one day, I
asked Miss Watson to try for me, but she said I was a fool. She never told me
why, and I couldn't make it out no way.
I set down one time back in the woods, and had a
long think about it. I says to myself, if a body can get anything they pray
for, why don't Deacon Winn get back the money he lost on pork? Why can't the
widow get back her silver snuffbox that was stole? Why can't Miss Watson fat
up? No, says I to my self, there ain't nothing in it. I went and told the widow
about it, and she said the thing a body could get by praying for it was
"spiritual gifts." This was too many for me, but she told me what she
meant -- I must help other people, and do everything I could for other people,
and look out for them all the time, and never think about myself. This was including
Miss Watson, as I took it. I went out in the woods and turned it over in my
mind a long time, but I couldn't see no advantage about it -- except for the
other people; so at last I reckoned I wouldn't worry about it any more, but
just let it go. Sometimes the widow would take me one side and talk about
Providence in a way to make a body's mouth water; but maybe next day Miss
Watson would take hold and knock it all down again. I judged I could see that
there was two Providences, and a poor chap would stand considerable show with
the widow's Providence, but if Miss Watson's got him there warn't no help for
him any more. I thought it all out, and reckoned I would belong to the widow's
if he wanted me, though I couldn't make out how he was a-going to be any better
off then than what he was before, seeing I was so ignorant, and so kind of
low-down and ornery.
Pap he hadn't been seen for more than a year,
and that was comfortable for me; I didn't want to see him no more. He used to
always whale me when he was sober and could get his hands on me; though I used
to take to the woods most of the time when he was around. Well, about this time
he was found in the river drownded, about twelve mile above town, so people
said. They judged it was him, anyway; said this drownded man was just his size,
and was ragged, and had uncommon long hair, which was all like pap; but they
couldn't make nothing out of the face, because it had been in the water so long
it warn't much like a face at all. They said he was floating on his back in the
water. They took him and buried him on the bank. But I warn't comfortable long,
because I happened to think of something. I knowed mighty well that a drownded
man don't float on his back, but on his face. So I knowed, then, that this
warn't pap, but a woman dressed up in a man's clothes. So I was uncomfortable
again. I judged the old man would turn up again by and by, though I wished he
wouldn't.
We played robber now and then about a month, and
then I resigned. All the boys did. We hadn't robbed nobody, hadn't killed any
people, but only just pretended. We used to hop out of the woods and go
charging down on hog-drivers and women in carts taking garden stuff to market,
but we never hived any of them. Tom Sawyer called the hogs "ingots,"
and he called the turnips and stuff "julery," and we would go to the
cave and powwow over what we had done, and how many people we had killed and
marked. But I couldn't see no profit in it. One time Tom sent a boy to run
about town with a blazing stick, which he called a slogan (which was the sign
for the Gang to get together), and then he said he had got secret news by his
spies that next day a whole parcel of Spanish merchants and rich A-rabs was
going to camp in Cave Hollow with two hundred elephants, and six hundred
camels, and over a thousand "sumter" mules, all loaded down with
di'monds, and they didn't have only a guard of four hundred soldiers, and so we
would lay in ambuscade, as he called it, and kill the lot and scoop the things.
He said we must slick up our swords and guns, and get ready. He never could go
after even a turnip-cart but he must have the swords and guns all scoured up
for it, though they was only lath and broomsticks, and you might scour at them
till you rotted, and then they warn't worth a mouthful of ashes more than what
they was before. I didn't believe we could lick such a crowd of Spaniards and
A-rabs, but I wanted to see the camels and elephants, so I was on hand next
day, Saturday, in the ambuscade; and when we got the word we rushed out of the
woods and down the hill. But there warn't no Spaniards and A-rabs, and there
warn't no camels nor no elephants. It warn't anything but a Sunday-school
picnic, and only a primer-class at that. We busted it up, and chased the
children up the hollow; but we never got anything but some doughnuts and jam,
though Ben Rogers got a rag doll, and Jo Harper got a hymn-book and a tract;
and then the teacher charged in, and made us drop everything and cut. I didn't
see no di'monds, and I told Tom Sawyer so. He said there was loads of them
there, anyway; and he said there was A-rabs there, too, and elephants and
things. I said, why couldn't we see them, then? He said if I warn't so
ignorant, but had read a book called Don Quixote, I would know without asking.
He said it was all done by enchantment. He said there was hundreds of soldiers
there, and elephants and treasure, and so on, but we had enemies which he
called magicians; and they had turned the whole thing into an infant
Sundayschool, just out of spite. I said, all right; then the thing for us to do
was to go for the magicians. Tom Sawyer said I was a numskull.
"Why," said he, "a magician could
call up a lot of genies, and they would hash you up like nothing before you
could say Jack Robinson. They are as tall as a tree and as big around as a
church."
"Well," I says, "s'pose we got
some genies to help US -- can't we lick the other crowd then?"
"How you going to get them?"
"I don't know. How do THEY get them?"
"Why, they rub an old tin lamp or an iron ring, and then the genies come tearing in, with the thunder and lightning a-ripping around and the smoke a-rolling, and everything they're told to do they up and do it. They don't think nothing of pulling a shot-tower up by the roots, and belting a Sunday-school superintendent over the head with it -- or any other man."
"Who makes them tear around so?"
"Why, whoever rubs the lamp or the ring.
They belong to whoever rubs the lamp or the ring, and they've got to do
whatever he says. If he tells them to build a palace forty miles long out of
di'monds, and fill it full of chewing-gum, or whatever you want, and fetch an
emperor's daughter from China for you to marry, they've got to do it -- and
they've got to do it before sun-up next morning, too. And more: they've got to
waltz that palace around over the country wherever you want it, you
understand."
"Well," says I, "I think they are
a pack of flatheads for not keeping the palace themselves 'stead of fooling
them away like that. And what's more -- if I was one of them I would see a man
in Jericho before I would drop my business and come to him for the rubbing of
an old tin lamp."
"How you talk, Huck Finn. Why, you'd HAVE
to come when he rubbed it, whether you wanted to or not."
"What! and I as high as a tree and as big
as a church? All right, then; I WOULD come; but I lay I'd make that man climb
the highest tree there was in the country."
"Shucks, it ain't no use to talk to you,
Huck Finn. You don't seem to know anything, somehow -- perfect saphead."
I thought all this over for two or three days,
and then I reckoned I would see if there was anything in it. I got an old tin
lamp and an iron ring, and went out in the woods and rubbed and rubbed till I
sweat like an Injun, calculating to build a palace and sell it; but it warn't
no use, none of the genies come. So then I judged that all that stuff was only
just one of Tom Sawyer's lies. I reckoned he believed in the A-rabs and the
elephants, but as for me I think different. It had all the marks of a
Sunday-school.
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