Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Chapters 36 to the Last, Page 3

  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?--what yougoing 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 before hegoes out of this--because he's going out RIGHT, and there ain't going tobe 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, Tomset to work to think out the coat of arms. By and by he said he'd struckso many good ones he didn't hardly know which to take, but there was onewhich he reckoned he'd decide on. He says:

  "On the scutcheon we'll have a bend OR in the dexter base, a saltireMURREY in the fess, with a dog, couchant, for common charge, and underhis foot a chain embattled, for slavery, with a chevron VERT in a chiefengrailed, and three invected lines on a field AZURE, with the nombrilpoints rampant on a dancette indented; crest, a runaway nigger, SABLE,with his bundle over his shoulder on a bar sinister; and a couple ofgules for supporters, which is you and me; motto, MAGGIORE FRETTA, MINOREOTTO. Got it out of a book--means the more haste the less 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 show himhow 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 by theworld and friends, fretted his sorrowful life. 3. Here a lonely heartbroke, and a worn spirit went to its rest, after thirty-seven years ofsolitary captivity. 4. Here, homeless and friendless, after thirty-sevenyears of bitter captivity, perished a noble stranger, natural son ofLouis 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 Jim toscrabble on to the wall, they was all so good; but at last he allowed hewould let him scrabble them all on. Jim said it would take him a year toscrabble such a lot of truck on to the logs with a nail, and he didn'tknow how to make letters, besides; but Tom said he would block them outfor him, and then he wouldn't have nothing to do but just follow thelines. 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 fetch arock."

  Jim said the rock was worse than the logs; he said it would take him sucha pison long time to dig them into a rock he wouldn't ever get out. ButTom said he would let me help him do it. Then he took a look to see howme and Jim was getting along with the pens. It was most pesky tedioushard work and slow, and didn't give my hands no show to get well of thesores, and we didn't seem to make no headway, hardly; so Tom says:

  "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, andcarve 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, sowe 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 falling over,and she come mighty near mashing us every time. Tom said she was goingto get one of us, sure, before we got through. We got her half way; andthen we was plumb played out, and most drownded with sweat. We see itwarn't no use; we got to go and fetch Jim So he raised up his bed andslid the chain off of the bed-leg, and wrapt it round and round his neck,and we crawled out through our hole and down there, and Jim and me laidinto that grindstone and walked her along like nothing; and Tomsuperintended. He could out-superintend any boy I ever see. He knowedhow 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 back onthe 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' 'ssoon 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; itstands 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; andsleep with you; and won't stay away from you a minute; and will let youwrap 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 shovehis head in my mouf--fer a favor, hain't it? I lay he'd wait a pow'fullong time 'fo' I AST him. En mo' en dat, I doan' WANT him to sleep widme."

  "Jim, don't act so foolish. A prisoner's GOT to have some kind of a dumbpet, and if a rattlesnake hain't ever been tried, why, there's more gloryto be gained in your being the first to ever try it than any other wayyou could ever think of to save your life."

  "Why, Mars Tom, I doan' WANT no sich glory. Snake take 'n bite Jim'schin off, den WHAH is de glory? No, sah, I doan' want no sich doin's."

  "Blame it, can't you TRY? I only WANT you to try--you needn't keep it upif 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, butef you en Huck fetches a rattlesnake in heah for me to tame, I's gwyne toLE
AVE, dat's SHORE."

  "Well, then, let it go, let it go, if you're so bull-headed about it. Wecan get you some garter-snakes, and you can tie some buttons on theirtails, and let on they're rattlesnakes, and I reckon that 'll have todo."

  "I k'n stan' DEM, Mars Tom, but blame' 'f I couldn' get along widout um,I tell you dat. I never knowed b'fo' 't was so much bother and troubleto be a prisoner."

  "Well, it ALWAYS is when it's done right. You got any rats around here?"

  "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 creturs to'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's gotto 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 more fussabout it. Prisoners ain't ever without rats. There ain't no instance ofit. And they train them, and pet them, and learn them tricks, and theyget to be as sociable as flies. But you got to play music to them. Yougot 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. A jews-harp'splenty good enough for a rat. All animals like music--in a prison theydote on it. Specially, painful music; and you can't get no other kindout of a jews-harp. It always interests them; they come out to seewhat's the matter with you. Yes, you're all right; you're fixed verywell. You want to set on your bed nights before you go to sleep, andearly in the mornings, and play your jews-harp; play 'The Last Link isBroken'--that's the thing that 'll scoop a rat quicker 'n anything else;and when you've played about two minutes you'll see all the rats, and thesnakes, and spiders, and things begin to feel worried about you, andcome. 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. I reck'n Ibetter keep de animals satisfied, en not have no trouble in de house."

  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 sight o'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'sthe 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 would haveto worry along the best he could with an onion. He promised he would goto the nigger cabins and drop one, private, in Jim's coffee-pot, in themorning. Jim said he would "jis' 's soon have tobacker in his coffee;"and found so much fault with it, and with the work and bother of raisingthe mullen, and jews-harping the rats, and petting and flattering up thesnakes and spiders and things, on top of all the other work he had to doon pens, and inscriptions, and journals, and things, which made it moretrouble and worry and responsibility to be a prisoner than anything heever undertook, that Tom most lost all patience with him; and said he wasjust loadened down with more gaudier chances than a prisoner ever had inthe world to make a name for himself, and yet he didn't know enough toappreciate them, and they was just about wasted on him. So Jim he wassorry, and said he wouldn't behave so no more, and then me and Tom shovedfor bed.