AFTER breakfast I wanted to
talk about the dead man and guess
out how he come to be killed,
but Jim didn't want to. He said
it would fetch bad luck; and
besides, he said, he might come
and ha'nt us; he said a man that
warn't buried was more likely
to go aha'nting around than one
that was planted and comfortable.
That sounded pretty reasonable,
so I didn't say no more; but
I couldn't keep from studying
over it and wishing I knowed
who shot the man, and what they
done it for.
We rummaged the clothes we'd
got, and found eight dollars
in silver sewed up in the lining
of an old blanket overcoat. Jim
said he reckoned the people in
that house stole the coat, because
if they'd a knowed the money
was there they wouldn't a left
it. I said I reckoned they killed
him, too; but Jim didn't want
to talk about that. I says:
"Now you think
it's bad luck; but what did
you say when I fetched
in the snake-skin that I found
on the top of the ridge day before
yesterday? You said it was the
worst bad luck in the world to
touch a snake-skin with my hands.
Well, here's your bad luck! We've
raked in all this truck and eight
dollars besides. I wish we could
have some bad luck like this
every day, Jim."
"Never you
mind, honey, never you mind.
Don't you git too peart.
It's a-comin'. Mind I tell you,
it's a-comin'."
It did come, too. It was a
Tuesday that we had that talk.
Well, after dinner Friday we
was laying around in the grass
at the upper end of the ridge,
and got out of tobacco. I went
to the cavern to get some, and
found a rattlesnake in there.
I killed him, and curled him
up on the foot of Jim's blanket,
ever so natural, thinking there'd
be some fun when Jim found him
there. Well, by night I forgot
all about the snake, and when
Jim flung himself down on the
blanket while I struck a light
the snake's mate was there, and
bit him.
He jumped up yelling, and the
first thing the light showed
was the varmint curled up and
ready for another spring. I laid
him out in a second with a stick,
and Jim grabbed pap's whisky-jug
and begun to pour it down.
He was barefooted, and the
snake bit him right on the heel.
That all comes of my being such
a fool as to not remember that
wherever you leave a dead snake
its mate always comes there and
curls around it. Jim told me
to chop off the snake's head
and throw it away, and then skin
the body and roast a piece of
it. I done it, and he eat it
and said it would help cure him.
He made me take off the rattles
and tie them around his wrist,
too. He said that that would
help. Then I slid out quiet and
throwed the snakes clear away
amongst the bushes; for I warn't
going to let Jim find out it
was all my fault, not if I could
help it.
Jim sucked and sucked at the
jug, and now and then he got
out of his head and pitched around
and yelled; but every time he
come to himself he went to sucking
at the jug again. His foot swelled
up pretty big, and so did his
leg; but by and by the drunk
begun to come, and so I judged
he was all right; but I'd druther
been bit with a snake than pap's
whisky.
Jim was laid up for four days
and nights. Then the swelling
was all gone and he was around
again. I made up my mind I wouldn't
ever take a-holt of a snake-skin
again with my hands, now that
I see what had come of it. Jim
said he reckoned I would believe
him next time. And he said that
handling a snakeskin was such
awful bad luck that maybe we
hadn't got to the end of it yet.
He said he druther see the new
moon over his left shoulder as
much as a thousand times than
take up a snake-skin in his hand.
Well, I was getting to feel that
way myself, though I've always
reckoned that looking at the
new moon over your left shoulder
is one of the carelessest and
foolishest things a body can
do. Old Hank Bunker done it once,
and bragged about it; and in
less than two years he got drunk
and fell off of the shot-tower,
and spread himself out so that
he was just a kind of a layer,
as you may say; and they slid
him edgeways between two barn
doors for a coffin, and buried
him so, so they say, but I didn't
see it. Pap told me. But anyway
it all come of looking at the
moon that way, like a fool.
Well, the days went along,
and the river went down between
its banks again; and about the
first thing we done was to bait
one of the big hooks with a skinned
rabbit and set it and catch a
catfish that was as big as a
man, being six foot two inches
long, and weighed over two hundred
pounds. We couldn't handle him,
of course; he would a flung us
into Illinois. We just set there
and watched him rip and tear
around till he drownded. We found
a brass button in his stomach
and a round ball, and lots of
rubbage. We split the ball open
with the hatchet, and there was
a spool in it. Jim said he'd
had it there a long time, to
coat it over so and make a ball
of it. It was as big a fish as
was ever catched in the Mississippi,
I reckon. Jim said he hadn't
ever seen a bigger one. He would
a been worth a good deal over
at the village. They peddle out
such a fish as that by the pound
in the markethouse there; everybody
buys some of him; his meat's
as white as snow and makes a
good fry.
Next morning I said it was
getting slow and dull, and I
wanted to get a stirring up some
way. I said I reckoned I would
slip over the river and find
out what was going on. Jim liked
that notion; but he said I must
go in the dark and look sharp.
Then he studied it over and said,
couldn't I put on some of them
old things and dress up like
a girl? That was a good notion,
too. So we shortened up one of
the calico gowns, and I turned
up my trouser-legs to my knees
and got into it. Jim hitched
it behind with the hooks, and
it was a fair fit. I put on the
sun-bonnet and tied it under
my chin, and then for a body
to look in and see my face was
like looking down a joint of
stovepipe. Jim said nobody would
know me, even in the daytime,
hardly. I practiced around all
day to get the hang of the things,
and by and by I could do pretty
well in them, only Jim said I
didn't walk like a girl; and
he said I must quit pulling up
my gown to get at my britches-pocket.
I took notice, and done better.
I started up the Illinois shore
in the canoe just after dark.
I started across to the town
from a little below the ferry-landing,
and the drift of the current
fetched me in at the bottom of
the town. I tied up and started
along the bank. There was a light
burning in a little shanty that
hadn't been lived in for a long
time, and I wondered who had
took up quarters there. I slipped
up and peeped in at the window.
There was a woman about forty
year old in there knitting by
a candle that was on a pine table.
I didn't know her face; she was
a stranger, for you couldn't
start a face in that town that
I didn't know. Now this was lucky,
because I was weakening; I was
getting afraid I had come; people
might know my voice and find
me out. But if this woman had
been in such a little town two
days she could tell me all I
wanted to know; so I knocked
at the door, and made up my mind
I wouldn't forget I was a girl. |