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<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2>
<p>WELL, I got a good going-over in the morning from old Miss Watson on
account of my clothes; but the widow she didn't scold, but only cleaned
off the grease and clay, and looked so sorry that I thought I would behave
awhile if I could. Then Miss Watson she took me in the closet and
prayed, but nothing come of it. She told me to pray every day, and
whatever I asked for I would get it. But it warn't so. I tried
it. Once I got a fish-line, but no hooks. It warn't any good to me
without hooks. I tried for the hooks three or four times, but
somehow I couldn't make it work. By and by, one day, I asked Miss
Watson to try for me, but she said I was a fool. She never told me
why, and I couldn't make it out no way.</p>
<p>I set down one time back in the woods, and had a long think about it.
I says to myself, if a body can get anything they pray for, why
don't Deacon Winn get back the money he lost on pork? Why can't the
widow get back her silver snuffbox that was stole? Why can't Miss
Watson fat up? No, says I to my self, there ain't nothing in it. I
went and told the widow about it, and she said the thing a body could get
by praying for it was "spiritual gifts." This was too many for me,
but she told me what she meant—I must help other people, and do
everything I could for other people, and look out for them all the time,
and never think about myself. This was including Miss Watson, as I took
it. I went out in the woods and turned it over in my mind a long
time, but I couldn't see no advantage about it—except for the other
people; so at last I reckoned I wouldn't worry about it any more, but just
let it go. Sometimes the widow would take me one side and talk about
Providence in a way to make a body's mouth water; but maybe next day Miss
Watson would take hold and knock it all down again. I judged I could
see that there was two Providences, and a poor chap would stand
considerable show with the widow's Providence, but if Miss Watson's got
him there warn't no help for him any more. I thought it all out, and
reckoned I would belong to the widow's if he wanted me, though I couldn't
make out how he was a-going to be any better off then than what he was
before, seeing I was so ignorant, and so kind of low-down and ornery.</p>
<p>Pap he hadn't been seen for more than a year, and that was comfortable for
me; I didn't want to see him no more. He used to always whale me
when he was sober and could get his hands on me; though I used to take to
the woods most of the time when he was around. Well, about this time
he was found in the river drownded, about twelve mile above town, so
people said. They judged it was him, anyway; said this drownded man
was just his size, and was ragged, and had uncommon long hair, which was
all like pap; but they couldn't make nothing out of the face, because it
had been in the water so long it warn't much like a face at all. They
said he was floating on his back in the water. They took him and
buried him on the bank. But I warn't comfortable long, because I
happened to think of something. I knowed mighty well that a drownded
man don't float on his back, but on his face. So I knowed, then,
that this warn't pap, but a woman dressed up in a man's clothes. So
I was uncomfortable again. I judged the old man would turn up again
by and by, though I wished he wouldn't.</p>
<p>We played robber now and then about a month, and then I resigned. All
the boys did. We hadn't robbed nobody, hadn't killed any people, but
only just pretended. We used to hop out of the woods and go charging
down on hog-drivers and women in carts taking garden stuff to market, but
we never hived any of them. Tom Sawyer called the hogs "ingots," and
he called the turnips and stuff "julery," and we would go to the cave and
powwow over what we had done, and how many people we had killed and
marked. But I couldn't see no profit in it. One time Tom sent
a boy to run about town with a blazing stick, which he called a slogan
(which was the sign for the Gang to get together), and then he said he had
got secret news by his spies that next day a whole parcel of Spanish
merchants and rich A-rabs was going to camp in Cave Hollow with two
hundred elephants, and six hundred camels, and over a thousand "sumter"
mules, all loaded down with di'monds, and they didn't have only a guard of
four hundred soldiers, and so we would lay in ambuscade, as he called it,
and kill the lot and scoop the things. He said we must slick up our
swords and guns, and get ready. He never could go after even a
turnip-cart but he must have the swords and guns all scoured up for it,
though they was only lath and broomsticks, and you might scour at them
till you rotted, and then they warn't worth a mouthful of ashes more than
what they was before. I didn't believe we could lick such a crowd of
Spaniards and A-rabs, but I wanted to see the camels and elephants, so I
was on hand next day, Saturday, in the ambuscade; and when we got the word
we rushed out of the woods and down the hill. But there warn't no
Spaniards and A-rabs, and there warn't no camels nor no elephants. It
warn't anything but a Sunday-school picnic, and only a primer-class at
that. We busted it up, and chased the children up the hollow; but we
never got anything but some doughnuts and jam, though Ben Rogers got a rag
doll, and Jo Harper got a hymn-book and a tract; and then the teacher
charged in, and made us drop everything and cut.</p>
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<p> I didn't see no di'monds, and I told Tom Sawyer so. He said
there was loads of them there, anyway; and he said there was A-rabs there,
too, and elephants and things. I said, why couldn't we see them,
then? He said if I warn't so ignorant, but had read a book called
Don Quixote, I would know without asking. He said it was all done by
enchantment. He said there was hundreds of soldiers there, and
elephants and treasure, and so on, but we had enemies which he called
magicians; and they had turned the whole thing into an infant
Sunday-school, just out of spite. I said, all right; then the thing
for us to do was to go for the magicians. Tom Sawyer said I was a
numskull.</p>
<p>"Why," said he, "a magician could call up a lot of genies, and they would
hash you up like nothing before you could say Jack Robinson. They
are as tall as a tree and as big around as a church."</p>
<p>"Well," I says, "s'pose we got some genies to help <i>us</i>—can't we lick
the other crowd then?"</p>
<p>"How you going to get them?"</p>
<p>"I don't know. How do <i>they</i> get them?"</p>
<p>"Why, they rub an old tin lamp or an iron ring, and then the genies come
tearing in, with the thunder and lightning a-ripping around and the smoke
a-rolling, and everything they're told to do they up and do it. They
don't think nothing of pulling a shot-tower up by the roots, and belting a
Sunday-school superintendent over the head with it—or any other
man."</p>
<p>"Who makes them tear around so?"</p>
<p>"Why, whoever rubs the lamp or the ring. They belong to whoever rubs
the lamp or the ring, and they've got to do whatever he says. If he
tells them to build a palace forty miles long out of di'monds, and fill it
full of chewing-gum, or whatever you want, and fetch an emperor's daughter
from China for you to marry, they've got to do it—and they've got to
do it before sun-up next morning, too. And more: they've got
to waltz that palace around over the country wherever you want it, you
understand."</p>
<p>"Well," says I, "I think they are a pack of flat-heads for not keeping the
palace themselves 'stead of fooling them away like that. And what's
more—if I was one of them I would see a man in Jericho before I
would drop my business and come to him for the rubbing of an old tin
lamp."</p>
<p>"How you talk, Huck Finn. Why, you'd <i>have</i> to come when he rubbed it,
whether you wanted to or not."</p>
<p>"What! and I as high as a tree and as big as a church? All right,
then; I <i>would</i> come; but I lay I'd make that man climb the highest tree
there was in the country."</p>
<p>"Shucks, it ain't no use to talk to you, Huck Finn. You don't seem
to know anything, somehow—perfect saphead."</p>
<p>I thought all this over for two or three days, and then I reckoned I would
see if there was anything in it. I got an old tin lamp and an iron
ring, and went out in the woods and rubbed and rubbed till I sweat like an
Injun, calculating to build a palace and sell it; but it warn't no use,
none of the genies come. So then I judged that all that stuff was
only just one of Tom Sawyer's lies. I reckoned he believed in the
A-rabs and the elephants, but as for me I think different. It had
all the marks of a Sunday-school.</p>
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