We could hear her pounding along, but we didn’t
see her good till she was close. She aimed right
for us. Often they do that and try to see how
close they can come without touching; sometimes the
wheel bites off a sweep, and then the pilot sticks
his head out and laughs, and thinks he’s mighty
smart. Well, here she comes, and we said she
was going to try and shave us; but she didn’t
seem to be sheering off a bit. She was a big
one, and she was coming in a hurry, too, looking like
a black cloud with rows of glow-worms around it; but
all of a sudden she bulged out, big and scary, with
a long row of wide-open furnace doors shining like
red-hot teeth, and her monstrous bows and guards hanging
right over us. There was a yell at us, and a
jingling of bells to stop the engines, a powwow of
cussing, and whistling of steam—and as Jim
went overboard on one side and I on the other, she
come smashing straight through the raft.
I dived—and I aimed to find the bottom,
too, for a thirty-foot wheel had got to go over me,
and I wanted it to have plenty of room. I could
always stay under water a minute; this time I reckon
I stayed under a minute and a half. Then I bounced
for the top in a hurry, for I was nearly busting.
I popped out to my armpits and blowed the water out
of my nose, and puffed a bit. Of course there
was a booming current; and of course that boat started
her engines again ten seconds after she stopped them,
for they never cared much for raftsmen; so now she
was churning along up the river, out of sight in the
thick weather, though I could hear her.
I sung out for Jim about a dozen times, but I didn’t
get any answer; so I grabbed a plank that touched
me while I was “treading water,” and struck
out for shore, shoving it ahead of me. But I
made out to see that the drift of the current was
towards the left-hand shore, which meant that I was
in a crossing; so I changed off and went that way.
It was one of these long, slanting, two-mile crossings;
so I was a good long time in getting over. I
made a safe landing, and clumb up the bank. I
couldn’t see but a little ways, but I went poking
along over rough ground for a quarter of a mile or
more, and then I run across a big old-fashioned double
log-house before I noticed it. I was going to
rush by and get away, but a lot of dogs jumped out
and went to howling and barking at me, and I knowed
better than to move another peg.
CHAPTER XVII.
In about a minute somebody spoke out of a window
without putting his head out, and says:
“Be done, boys! Who’s there?”
I says:
“It’s me.”
“Who’s me?”
“George Jackson, sir.”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t want nothing, sir. I only
want to go along by, but the dogs won’t let
me.”
“What are you prowling around here this time
of night for—hey?”
