We had mountains on the Missouri shore and heavy timber on the Illinois side, and the channel was down the Missouri shore at that place, so we warn’t afraid of anybody running across us. We laid there all day, and watched the rafts and steamboats spin down the Missouri shore, and up-bound steamboats fight the big river in the middle.

I told Jim all about the time I had jabbering with that woman; and Jim said she was a smart one, and if she was to start after us herself she wouldn’t set down and watch a camp fire—no, sir, she’d fetch a dog. Well, then, I said, why couldn’t she tell her husband to fetch a dog? Jim said he bet she did think of it by the time the men was ready to start, and he believed they must a gone up-town to get a dog and so they lost all that time, or else we wouldn’t be here on a towhead sixteen or seventeen mile below the village—no, indeedy, we would be in that same old town again. So I said I didn’t care what was the reason they didn’t get us as long as they didn’t.

When it was beginning to come on dark we poked our heads out of the cottonwood thicket, and looked up and down and across; nothing in sight; so Jim took up some of the top planks of the raft and built a snug wigwam to get under in blazing weather and rainy, and to keep the things dry.

Jim made a floor for the wigwam, and raised it a foot or more above the level of the raft, so now the blankets and all the traps was out of reach of steamboat waves. Right in the middle of the wigwam we made a layer of dirt about five or six inches deep with a frame around it for to hold it to its place; this was to build a fire on in sloppy weather or chilly; the wigwam would keep it from being seen. We made an extra steering-oar, too, because one of the others might get broke on a snag or something. We fixed up a short forked stick to hang the old lantern on, because we must always light the lantern whenever we see a steamboat coming down-stream, to keep from getting run over; but we wouldn’t have to light it for up-stream boats unless we see we was in what they call a “crossing”; for the river was pretty high yet, very low banks being still a little under water; so up-bound boats didn’t always run the channel, but hunted easy water.
This second night we run between seven and eight hours, with a current that was making over four mile an hour. We catched fish and talked, and we took a swim now and then to keep off sleepiness. It was kind of solemn, drifting down the big, still river, laying on our backs looking up at the stars, and we didn’t ever feel like talking loud, and it warn’t often that we laughed—only a little kind of a low chuckle. We had mighty good weather as a general thing, and nothing ever happened to us at all—that night, nor the next, nor the next.

Every night we ed towns, some of them away up on black hillsides, nothing but just a shiny bed of lights; not a house could you see. The fifth night we ed St. Louis, and it was like the whole world lit up. In St. Petersburg they used to say there was twenty or thirty thousand people in St. Louis, but I never believed it till I see that wonderful spread of lights at two o’clock that still night. There warn’t a sound there; everybody was asleep.
Every night now I used to slip ashore towards ten o’clock at some little village, and buy ten or fifteen cents’ worth of meal or bacon or other stuff to eat; and sometimes I lifted a chicken that warn’t roosting comfortable, and took him along. Pap always said, take a chicken when you get a chance, because if you don’t want him yourself you can easy find somebody that does, and a good deed ain’t ever forgot. I never see pap when he didn’t want the chicken himself, but that is what he used to say, anyway.
Mornings before daylight I slipped into cornfields and borrowed a watermelon, or a mushmelon, or a punkin, or some new corn, or things of that kind. Pap always said it warn’t no harm to borrow things if you was meaning to pay them back some time; but the widow said it warn’t anything but a soft name for stealing, and no decent body would do it. Jim said he reckoned the widow was partly right and pap was partly right; so the best way would be for us to pick out two or three things from the list and say we wouldn’t borrow them any more—then he reckoned it wouldn’t be no harm to borrow the others. So we talked it over all one night, drifting along down the river, trying to make up our minds whether to drop the watermelons, or the cantelopes, or the mushmelons, or what. But towards daylight we got it all settled satisfactory, and concluded to drop crabapples and p’simmons.

We warn’t feeling just right before that, but it was all comfortable now. I was glad the way it come out, too, because crabapples ain’t ever good, and the p’simmons wouldn’t be ripe for two or three months yet.
We shot a water-fowl now and then that got up too early in the morning or didn’t go to bed early enough in the evening. Take it all round, we lived pretty high.

The fifth night below St. Louis we had a big storm after midnight, with a power of thunder and lightning, and the rain poured down in a solid sheet. We stayed in the wigwam and let the raft take care of itself. When the lightning glared out we could see a big straight river ahead, and high, rocky bluffs on both sides. By and by says I, “Hel-lo, Jim, looky yonder!”

It was a steamboat that had killed herself on a rock. We was drifting straight down for her. The lightning showed her very distinct. She was leaning over, with part of her upper deck above water, and you could see every little chimbly-guy clean and clear, and a chair by the big bell, with an old slouch hat hanging on the back of it, when the flashes come.
Well, it being away in the night and stormy, and all so mysterious-like, I felt just the way any other boy would a felt when I see that wreck laying there so mournful and lonesome in the middle of the river. I wanted to get aboard of her and slink around a little, and see what there was there. So I says:
“Le’s land on her, Jim.”
But Jim was dead against it at first. He says:
“I doan’ want to go fool’n ‘long er no wrack. We’s doin’ blame’ well, en we better let blame’ well alone, as de good book says. Like as not dey’s a watchman on dat wrack.”
“Watchman your grandmother,” I says; “there ain’t nothing to watch but the texas and the pilot-house; and do you reckon anybody’s going to resk his life for a texas and a pilot-house such a night as this, when it’s likely to break up and wash off down the river any minute">Jim whispered and said he was feeling powerful sick, and told me to come along. I says, all right, and was going to start for the raft; but just then I heard a voice wail out and say:
“Oh, please don’t, boys; I swear I won’t ever tell!”
Another voice said, pretty loud:
“It’s a lie, Jim Turner. You’ve acted this way before. You always want more’n your share of the truck, and you’ve always got it, too, because you’ve swore ‘t if you didn’t you’d tell. But this time you’ve said it jest one time too many. You’re the meanest, treacherousest hound in this country.”
By this time Jim was gone for the raft. I was just a-biling with curiosity; and I says to myself, Tom Sawyer wouldn’t back out now, and so I won’t either; I’m a-going to see what’s going on here. So I dropped on my hands and knees in the little age, and crept aft in the dark till there warn’t but one stateroom betwixt me and the cross-hall of the texas. Then in there I see a man stretched on the floor and tied hand and foot, and two men standing over him, and one of them had a dim lantern in his hand, and the other one had a pistol. This one kept pointing the pistol at the man’s head on the floor, and saying:
“I’d like to! And I orter, too—a mean skunk!”
The man on the floor would shrivel up and say, “Oh, please don’t, Bill; I hain’t ever goin’ to tell.”
And every time he said that the man with the lantern would laugh and say:
“‘Deed you ain’t! You never said no truer thing ‘n that, you bet you.” And once he said: "Hear him beg! and yit if we hadn’t got the best of him and tied him he’d a killed us both. And what for? Jist for noth’n. Jist because we stood on our rights—that’s what for. But I lay you ain’t a-goin’ to threaten nobody any more, Jim Turner. Put up that pistol, Bill.”
Bill says:
“I don’t want to, Jake Packard. I’m for killin’ him—and didn’t he kill old Hatfield jist the same way—and don’t he deserve it?”
“But I don’t want him killed, and I’ve got my reasons for it.”
“Bless yo’ heart for them words, Jake Packard! I’ll never forgit you long’s I live!” says the man on the floor, sort of blubbering.
Packard didn’t take no notice of that, but hung up his lantern on a nail and started towards where I was there in the dark, and motioned Bill to come. I crawfished as fast as I could about two yards, but the boat slanted so that I couldn’t make very good time; so to keep from getting run over and catched I crawled into a stateroom on the upper side. The man came a-pawing along in the dark, and when Packard got to my stateroom, he says:
“Here—come in here.”
And in he come, and Bill after him. But before they got in I was up in the upper berth, cornered, and sorry I come. Then they stood there, with their hands on the ledge of the berth, and talked. I couldn’t see them, but I could tell where they was by the whisky they’d been having. I was glad I didn’t drink whisky; but it wouldn’t made much difference anyway, because most of the time they couldn’t a treed me because I didn’t breathe. I was too scared. And, besides, a body couldn’t breathe and hear such talk. They talked low and earnest. Bill wanted to kill Turner. He says:
“He’s said he’ll tell, and he will. If we was to give both our shares to him now it wouldn’t make no difference after the row and the way we’ve served him. Shore’s you’re born, he’ll turn State’s evidence; now you hear me. I’m for putting him out of his troubles.”
“So’m I,” says Packard, very quiet.
“Blame it, I’d sorter begun to think you wasn’t. Well, then, that’s all right. Le’s go and do it.”
“Hold on a minute; I hain’t had my say yit. You listen to me. Shooting’s good, but there’s quieter ways if the thing’s got to be done. But what I say is this: it ain’t good sense to go court’n around after a halter if you can git at what you’re up to in some way that’s jist as good and at the same time don’t bring you into no resks. Ain’t that so?”
“You bet it is. But how you goin’ to manage it this time?”
“Well, my idea is this: we’ll rustle around and gather up whatever pickins we’ve overlooked in the staterooms, and shove for shore and hide the truck. Then we’ll wait. Now I say it ain’t a-goin’ to be more’n two hours befo’ this wrack breaks up and washes off down the river. See? He’ll be drownded, and won’t have nobody to blame for it but his own self. I reckon that’s a considerble sight better ‘n killin’ of him. I’m unfavorable to killin’ a man as long as you can git aroun’ it; it ain’t good sense, it ain’t good morals. Ain’t I right?”
“Yes, I reck’n you are. But s’pose she don’t break up and wash off?”
“Well, we can wait the two hours anyway and see, can’t we?”
“All right, then; come along.”
So they started, and I lit out, all in a cold sweat, and scrambled forward. It was dark as pitch there; but I said, in a kind of a coarse whisper, “Jim!” and he answered up, right at my elbow, with a sort of a moan, and I says:
“Quick, Jim, it ain’t no time for fooling around and moaning; there’s a gang of murderers in yonder, and if we don’t hunt up their boat and set her drifting down the river so these fellows can’t get away from the wreck there’s one of ‘em going to be in a bad fix. But if we find their boat we can put all of ‘em in a bad fix—for the sheriff ‘ll get ‘em. Quick—hurry! I’ll hunt the labboard side, you hunt the stabboard. You start at the raft, and—”
“Oh, my lordy, lordy! raf‘? Dey ain’ no raf’ no mo’; she done broke loose en gone I—en here we is!”

Deba de ser casi la una cuando por fin pasamos el final de la isla y la balsa pareca avanzar muy lenta. Si se acercaba un bote, el plan era meternos en la canoa y avanzar hacia la orilla de Illinois, y menos mal que no lleg ninguno, porque no se nos haba ocurrido poner la escopeta en la canoa, ni un sedal para pescar, ni nada que comer. Tenamos demasiada prisa para pensar en tantas cosas. No haba sido muy inteligente ponerlo todo en la balsa.
Si los hombres iban a la isla, supongo que encontraran la hoguera que haba hecho yo y que esperaran toda la noche a que llegara Jim. En todo caso no se nos acercaron, y si aquella hoguera no los enga, no era culpa ma. Yo haba hecho todo lo posible por despistarlos.
Cuando se empez a ver la primera luz del da amarramos a una barra de arena que haba en una gran curva del lado de Illinois, cortamos ramas de alamillo con el hacha y tapamos la balsa con ellas para que pareciese que haba habido un corrimiento de tierras por aquella orilla. En esas barras de arena hay alamillos tan apretados como los dientes de un rastrillo.
Veamos montaas en el lado de Missouri y mucho bosque en el de Illionois, y el canal, por aquella parte, corra del lado de Missouri, de forma que no tenamos miedo de encontrarnos con nadie. Nos quedamos all todo el da viendo las balsas y los barcos de vapor que bajaban por el lado de Missouri y los barcos de vapor que suban ro arriba peleando contra la corriente en el centro. Le cont a Jim todo lo que haba pasado cuando estuve hablando con la mujer y Jim dijo que era muy lista y que si fuese ella quien nos buscara no iba a quedarse sentada vigilando una hoguera; no, seor, ira con un perro. Bueno, entonces, dije yo, por qu no poda decirle a su marido que buscara un perro? Jim dijo que seguro que se le ocurra cuando los hombres se pusieran en marcha, y que supona que deba de haber ido a la parte de arriba del pueblo a buscar un perro, de forma que haban perdido todo aquel tiempo, o si no, no estaramos all en la barra de arena a diecisis o diecisiete millas por debajo del pueblo; no, seor, estaramos otra vez en el pueblo. As que yo dije que no me importaba por qu no llegaban, mientras no llegaran.
Cuando empez a oscurecer asomamos las cabezas entre los alamillos y miramos arriba y abajo y a los lados pero no vimos nada, as que Jim sac algunos de los troncos de arriba de la balsa y construy un wigwam muy cmodo para refugiarnos cuando hiciese mucho calor o lloviera y para tener las cosas en seco. Jim prepar un suelo para el wigwam y lo levant un pie ms por encima del nivel de la balsa, de forma que las mantas y las trampas estaban fuera del alcance del oleaje de los barcos de vapor. Justo en medio del wigwam pusimos una capa de polvo de cinco o seis pulgadas de grueso y la rodeamos con un bastidor para que no se saliera; era para hacer fuego cuando lloviese o hiciera fro; con el wigwam no se podra ver. Tambin preparamos un timn de repuesto, porque uno de los que tenamos poda romperse o engancharse
o lo que fuera. Preparamos un palo con una horquilla del que colgar el viejo farol, porque siempre tendramos que encenderlo cuando viramos un barco de vapor que vena ro abajo, para que no nos pasara inadvertido, pero no tenamos que encenderlo para los que iban ro arriba salvo que nos viramos en lo que ellos llaman entre corrientes, porque el ro segua muy alto y las riberas bajas continuaban sumergidas, de forma que los barcos que lo remontaban no suban siempre por el canal, sino que iban buscando aguas ms fciles.
La segunda noche navegamos entre siete y ocho horas, con una corriente que iba a ms de cuatro millas por hora. Pescamos y charlamos y de vez en cuando nos echamos a nadar para no quedarnos dormidos. Era bastante solemne aquello de bajar por el gran ro silencioso, echados de espaldas y mirando a las estrellas, y no nos daban ganas de hablar en voz alta ni nos remos mucho, slo alguna risa en voz baja. En general nos hizo muy buen tiempo y no nos pas nada, ni aquella noche ni la siguiente ni la otra.
Todas las noches pasbamos junto a pueblos, algunos de ellos a lo lejos en cerros negros, sin ver nada ms que el resplandor de unas luces, y ni una sola casa. La quinta noche pasamos junto a Saint Louis y era como si el mundo entero estuviera iluminado. En Saint Petersburg decan que Saint Louis tena veinte o treinta mil habitantes, pero yo nunca me lo cre hasta que vi aquella maravillosa cantidad de luces a las dos de una noche silenciosa. No se oa ni un ruido: todo el mundo dorma.
Todas las noches yo me iba ala orilla junto a alguna aldea y compraba diez o quince centavos de harina o de tocino salado u otras cosas que comer, y a veces me llevaba prestado un pollo que no pareca sentirse cmodo. Padre siempre deca que haba que llevarse un pollo cuando se tena la oportunidad, porque si no lo quiere uno es fcil encontrar a alguien que lo quiera, y una buena obra nunca se olvida. No vi ni una sola vez que no lo quisiera padre, pero en todo caso eso es lo que deca.
Por las maanas, antes del amanecer, me meta en los campos de maz y me llevaba prestada una sanda,
o un meln, o una calabaza, un poco de maz nuevo o cosas as. Padre siempre deca que no tena nada de malo llevarse prestadas cosas si se tena la intencin de pagarlas alguna vez; pero la viuda deca que aquello no era ms que robar, por mucho que se disfrazara con palabras, y que las personas decentes no lo hacan. Jim dijo que calculaba que la viuda tena una parte de razn y pap otra, as que lo mejor sera que escogiramos dos o tres cosas de la lista y no las volviramos a tomar prestadas, y entonces calculaba que no tendra nada de malo tomar prestadas las otras. As que nos pasamos toda una noche hablando de eso, mientras bamos ro abajo, tratando de decidir si eliminbamos las sandas, las cantalupas, los melones, o qu. Pero para el amanecer lo tenamos todo resuelto satisfactoriamente y concluimos que eliminaramos las reinetas y los caquis. Antes no nos habamos sentido bien del todo, pero ahora ya estbamos tranquilos. Yo me alegr de haberlo resuelto as, porque las reinetas nunca estn buenas y los caquis no estaran maduros hasta dentro de dos o tres meses.
De vez en cuando matbamos un ave acutica que se levantaba demasiado temprano por las maanas o no se acostaba lo bastante temprano por las tardes. En general, vivamos muy bien.
La quinta noche, ro abajo de Saint Louis, hubo una gran tormenta despus de medianoche, con montones de truenos y de relmpagos, y la lluvia caa como una sbana. Nos quedamos en el wigwam y dejamos que la balsa se manejara sola. Cuando brillaba un relmpago veamos el ro enorme y recto por delante y grandes acantilados a los dos lados. Y una vez voy yo y digo:
––Caray, Jim, mira ah!
Era un barco de vapor que haba naufragado contra una roca. Nosotros bamos directos hacia l. Con los relmpagos se vea muy claro. Estaba todo escorado, con una parte de la cubierta superior por encima del agua, y se vea cada uno de los cables de la chimenea con toda claridad y una silla junto a la campana grande, con un viejo chambergo que colgaba en el respaldo, cuando llegaban los relmpagos.
Bueno, como era tan tarde, haba aquella tormenta y todo pareca tan misterioso, se me ocurri lo mismo que a cualquier otro chico cuando vi aquel barco embarrancado tan triste y solitario en medio del ro. Quera abordarlo y explorarlo un poco a ver lo que tena dentro. As que dije:
––Vamos a abordarlo, Jim.
Pero al principio Jim estaba totalmente en contra. Va y dice:
––No quiero andar metiendo las narices en un barco muerto. Nos va muy bien y ms vale dejar que siga
as, como dice el Libro. Seguro que hay un vigilante en ese barco.
––Vigilante, tu abuelita ––dije yo––; no hay nada que vigilar ms que la timonera y la camaretas superiores y, te crees que nadie va a arriesgar la vida por una timonera y unas camaretas en una noche as, cuando lo ms probable es que se parta en dos y se vaya ro abajo en cualquier momento?
Jim no poda responder a aquello, as es que no lo intent.
––Y adems ––dije yo––, podramos tomar algo prestado que mereciese la pena en el camarote del capitn. Seguro que hay puros, de los que cuestan cinco centavos cada uno y en dinero contante. Los capitanes de barco de vapor siempre son ricos y cobran sesenta dlares al mes y les importa un pito lo que cuesten las cosas, ya lo sabes, si les apetecen. Ponte una vela en el bolsillo, Jim; no me puedo aguantar hasta que lo hayamos registrado. Te crees que Tom Sawyer se ira sin ms de un sitio as? Ni hablar. Dira que era una aventura, eso es lo que dira, y abordara ese barco aunque fuera lo ltimo de su vida. Y seguro que lo hara con estilo; o, no te crees que organizara una de las buenas? Hombre, te creeras que era Cristbal Coln descubriendo el Otro Mundo. Ojala estuviera aqu Tom Sawyer.
Jim gru un poco, pero cedi. Dijo que no tenamos que hablar ms que lo inevitable, y eso en voz muy baja. Los relmpagos volvieron a mostrarnos el barco naufragado justo a tiempo y nos agarramos a la cabria de estribor y amarramos all.
La cubierta estaba muy alta de aquel lado. Bajamos despacio por la pendiente hacia babor, en la oscuridad, hacia las camaretas altas, tanteando el camino muy despacio con los pies y con los brazos muy abiertos para apartar las cuerdas, porque estaba tan oscuro que no veamos nada. En seguida llegamos a la parte de delante de la claraboya y nos subimos a ella, y al paso siguiente nos quedamos enfrente de la puerta del capitn, que estaba abierta, y, qu diablos, al otro extremo de las camaretas vimos una luz! Y en el mismo momento pareci que omos voces bajas a lo lejos!
Jim me susurr que se senta muy mal y me dijo que nos furamos. Yo dije que de acuerdo, e bamos a volver a la balsa cuando o una voz que lloriqueaba y deca:
––Ay, por favor, no, muchachos! Juro que no lo dir nunca!
Otra voz dijo, muy alta:
––Es mentira, Jim Turner. Ya has hecho lo mismo antes de ahora. Siempre quieres ms que tu parte del botn, y siempre te la has llevado, porque juraste que si no nos delataras. Pero ahora lo has dicho una vez de ms. Eres el perro ms asqueroso y ms traidor de este pas.
Para entonces, Jim se haba ido a la balsa.