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I
took
the
sack
of
corn
meal
and
took
it
to
where
the
canoe
was
hid
,
and
shoved
the
vines
and
branches
apart
and
put
it
in
;
then
I
done
the
same
with
the
side
of
bacon
;
then
the
whisky-jug
.
I
took
all
the
coffee
and
sugar
there
was
,
and
all
the
ammunition
;
I
took
the
wadding
;
I
took
the
bucket
and
gourd
;
I
took
a
dipper
and
a
tin
cup
,
and
my
old
saw
and
two
blankets
,
and
the
skillet
and
the
coffee-pot
.
I
took
fish-lines
and
matches
and
other
things
--
everything
that
was
worth
a
cent
.
I
cleaned
out
the
place
.
I
wanted
an
axe
,
but
there
was
n't
any
,
only
the
one
out
at
the
woodpile
,
and
I
knowed
why
I
was
going
to
leave
that
.
I
fetched
out
the
gun
,
and
now
I
was
done
.
I
had
wore
the
ground
a
good
deal
crawling
out
of
the
hole
and
dragging
out
so
many
things
.
So
I
fixed
that
as
good
as
I
could
from
the
outside
by
scattering
dust
on
the
place
,
which
covered
up
the
smoothness
and
the
sawdust
.
Then
I
fixed
the
piece
of
log
back
into
its
place
,
and
put
two
rocks
under
it
and
one
against
it
to
hold
it
there
,
for
it
was
bent
up
at
that
place
and
did
n't
quite
touch
ground
.
If
you
stood
four
or
five
foot
away
and
did
n't
know
it
was
sawed
,
you
would
n't
never
notice
it
;
and
besides
,
this
was
the
back
of
the
cabin
,
and
it
war
n't
likely
anybody
would
go
fooling
around
there
.
It
was
all
grass
clear
to
the
canoe
,
so
I
had
n't
left
a
track
.
I
followed
around
to
see
.
I
stood
on
the
bank
and
looked
out
over
the
river
.
All
safe
.
So
I
took
the
gun
and
went
up
a
piece
into
the
woods
,
and
was
hunting
around
for
some
birds
when
I
see
a
wild
pig
;
hogs
soon
went
wild
in
them
bottoms
after
they
had
got
away
from
the
prairie
farms
.
I
shot
this
fellow
and
took
him
into
camp
.
I
took
the
axe
and
smashed
in
the
door
.
I
beat
it
and
hacked
it
considerable
a-doing
it
.
I
fetched
the
pig
in
,
and
took
him
back
nearly
to
the
table
and
hacked
into
his
throat
with
the
axe
,
and
laid
him
down
on
the
ground
to
bleed
;
I
say
ground
because
it
was
ground
--
hard
packed
,
and
no
boards
.
Well
,
next
I
took
an
old
sack
and
put
a
lot
of
big
rocks
in
it
--
all
I
could
drag
--
and
I
started
it
from
the
pig
,
and
dragged
it
to
the
door
and
through
the
woods
down
to
the
river
and
dumped
it
in
,
and
down
it
sunk
,
out
of
sight
.
You
could
easy
see
that
something
had
been
dragged
over
the
ground
.
I
did
wish
Tom
Sawyer
was
there
;
I
knowed
he
would
take
an
interest
in
this
kind
of
business
,
and
throw
in
the
fancy
touches
.
Nobody
could
spread
himself
like
Tom
Sawyer
in
such
a
thing
as
that
.
Well
,
last
I
pulled
out
some
of
my
hair
,
and
blooded
the
axe
good
,
and
stuck
it
on
the
back
side
,
and
slung
the
axe
in
the
corner
.
Then
I
took
up
the
pig
and
held
him
to
my
breast
with
my
jacket
(
so
he
could
n't
drip
)
till
I
got
a
good
piece
below
the
house
and
then
dumped
him
into
the
river
.
Now
I
thought
of
something
else
.
So
I
went
and
got
the
bag
of
meal
and
my
old
saw
out
of
the
canoe
,
and
fetched
them
to
the
house
.
I
took
the
bag
to
where
it
used
to
stand
,
and
ripped
a
hole
in
the
bottom
of
it
with
the
saw
,
for
there
war
n't
no
knives
and
forks
on
the
place
--
pap
done
everything
with
his
clasp-knife
about
the
cooking
.
Then
I
carried
the
sack
about
a
hundred
yards
across
the
grass
and
through
the
willows
east
of
the
house
,
to
a
shallow
lake
that
was
five
mile
wide
and
full
of
rushes
--
and
ducks
too
,
you
might
say
,
in
the
season
.
There
was
a
slough
or
a
creek
leading
out
of
it
on
the
other
side
that
went
miles
away
,
I
do
n't
know
where
,
but
it
did
n't
go
to
the
river
.
The
meal
sifted
out
and
made
a
little
track
all
the
way
to
the
lake
.
I
dropped
pap
's
whetstone
there
too
,
so
as
to
look
like
it
had
been
done
by
accident
.
Then
I
tied
up
the
rip
in
the
meal
sack
with
a
string
,
so
it
would
n't
leak
no
more
,
and
took
it
and
my
saw
to
the
canoe
again
.
It
was
about
dark
now
;
so
I
dropped
the
canoe
down
the
river
under
some
willows
that
hung
over
the
bank
,
and
waited
for
the
moon
to
rise
.
I
made
fast
to
a
willow
;
then
I
took
a
bite
to
eat
,
and
by
and
by
laid
down
in
the
canoe
to
smoke
a
pipe
and
lay
out
a
plan
.
I
says
to
myself
,
they
'll
follow
the
track
of
that
sackful
of
rocks
to
the
shore
and
then
drag
the
river
for
me
.
And
they
'll
follow
that
meal
track
to
the
lake
and
go
browsing
down
the
creek
that
leads
out
of
it
to
find
the
robbers
that
killed
me
and
took
the
things
.
They
wo
n't
ever
hunt
the
river
for
anything
but
my
dead
carcass
.
They
'll
soon
get
tired
of
that
,
and
wo
n't
bother
no
more
about
me
.
All
right
;
I
can
stop
anywhere
I
want
to
.
Jackson
's
Island
is
good
enough
for
me
;
I
know
that
island
pretty
well
,
and
nobody
ever
comes
there
.
And
then
I
can
paddle
over
to
town
nights
,
and
slink
around
and
pick
up
things
I
want
.
Jackson
's
Island
's
the
place
.
I
was
pretty
tired
,
and
the
first
thing
I
knowed
I
was
asleep
.
When
I
woke
up
I
did
n't
know
where
I
was
for
a
minute
.
I
set
up
and
looked
around
,
a
little
scared
.
Then
I
remembered
.
The
river
looked
miles
and
miles
across
.
The
moon
was
so
bright
I
could
a
counted
the
drift
logs
that
went
a-slipping
along
,
black
and
still
,
hundreds
of
yards
out
from
shore
.
Everything
was
dead
quiet
,
and
it
looked
late
,
and
SMELT
late
.
You
know
what
I
mean
--
I
do
n't
know
the
words
to
put
it
in
.
