University of Virginia Library

Chapter XXI

It was after sun-up, now, but we went
right on, and didn't tie up. The king
and the duke turned out, by-and-by,
looking pretty rusty; but after they'd
jumped overboard and took a swim, it
chippered them up a good deal. After
breakfast the king he took a seat on a
corner of the raft, and pulled off his
boots and rolled up his britches, and
let his legs dangle in the water, so as
to be comfortable, and lit his pipe, and
went to getting his Romeo and Juliet
by heart. When he had got it pretty
good, him and the duke begun to
practice it together. The duke had to
learn him over and over again, how to
say every speech; and he made him sigh, and put his hand on his heart, and
after while he said he done it pretty well; "only," he says, "you mustn't
bellow out Romeo! that way, like a bull—you must say it soft, and sick, and
languishy, so—R-o-o-meo! that is the idea; for Juliet's a dear sweet mere child
of a girl, you know, and she don't bray like a jackass."

[ILLUSTRATION]

practicing.

Well, next they got out a couple of long swords that the duke made out of
oak laths, and begun to practice the sword-fight—the duke called himself
Richard III.; and the way they laid on, and pranced around the raft was grand
to see. But by-and-by the king tripped and fell overboard, and after that they

took a rest, and had a talk about all kinds of adventures they'd had in other
times along the river.

After dinner, the duke says:

"Well, Capet, we'll want to make this a first-class show, you know, so I
guess we'll add a little more to it. We want a little something to answer
encores with, anyway."

"What's onkores, Bilgewater?"

The duke told him, and then says:

"I'll answer by doing the Highland fling or the sailor's hornpipe; and you—
well, let me see—oh, I've got it—
you can do Hamlet's soliloquy."

"Hamlet's which?"

"Hamlet's soliloquy, you know;
the most celebrated thing in
Shakespeare. Ah, it's sublime,
sublime! Always fetches the
house. I haven't got it in the
book—I've only got one volume—
but I reckon I can piece it out
from memory. I'll just walk up
and down a minute, and see if I
can call it back from recollection's
vaults."

[ILLUSTRATION]

hamlet's soliloquy.

So he went to marching up
and down, thinking, and frowning
horrible every now and then;
then he would hoist up his eyebrows;
next he would squeeze his
hand on his forehead and stagger
back and kind of moan; next he would sigh, and next he'd let on to drop
a tear. It was beautiful to see him. By-and-by he got it. He told us to give
attention. Then he strikes a most noble attitude, with one leg shoved forwards,

and his arms stretched away up, and his head tilted back, looking up at the sky;
and then he begins to rip and rave and grit his teeth; and after that, all through
his speech he howled, and spread around, and swelled up his chest, and just
knocked the spots out of any acting ever I see before. This is the speech—
I learned it, easy enough, while he was learning it to the king:

Well, the old man he liked that speech, and he mighty soon got it so he could
do it first rate. It seemed like he was just born for it; and when he had his
hand in and was excited, it was perfectly lovely the way he would rip and tear
and rair up behind when he was getting it off.

The first chance we got, the duke he had some show bills printed; and after
that, for two or three days as we floated along, the raft was a most uncommon
lively place, for there warn't nothing but sword-fighting and rehearsing—as the
duke called it—going on all the time. One morning, when we was pretty well
down the State of Arkansaw, we come in sight of a little one-horse town in a big
bend; so we tied up about three-quarters of a mile above it, in the mouth of a
crick which was shut in like a tunnel by the cypress trees, and all of us but Jim
took the canoe and went down there to see if there was any chance in that place
for our show.

We struck it mighty lucky; there was going to be a circus there that afternoon,
and the country people was already beginning to come in, in all kinds of
old shackly wagons, and on horses. The circus would leave before night, so our
show would have a pretty good chance. The duke he hired the court house, and
we went around and stuck up our bills. They read like this:

Then we went loafing around the town. The stores and houses was most all old
shackly dried-up frame concerns that hadn't ever been painted; they was set up
three or four foot above ground on stilts, so as to be out of reach of the water
when the river was overflowed. The houses had little gardens around them, but
they didn't seem to raise hardly anything in them but jimpson weeds, and sunflowers,
and ash-piles, and old curled-up boots and shoes, and pieces of bottles,
and rags, and played-out tin-ware. The fences was made of different kinds of
boards, nailed on at different times; and they leaned every which-way, and had
gates that didn't generly have but one hinge—a leather one. Some of the fences
had been whitewashed, some time or another, but the duke said it was in
Clumbus's time, like enough. There was generly hogs in the garden, and people
driving them out.

All the stores was along one street. They had white-domestic awnings in
front, and the country people hitched their horses to the awning-posts.
There was empty dry-goods boxes under the awnings, and loafers roosting
on them all day long, whittling them with their Barlow knives; and chawing
tobacco, and gaping and yawning and stretching—a mighty ornery lot.
They generly had on yellow straw hats most as wide as an umbrella, but
didn't wear no coats nor waistcoats; they called one another Bill, and Buck,

and Hank, and Joe, and Andy, and talked lazy and drawly, and used considerable
many cuss-words. There was as many as one loafer leaning up
against every awning-post, and he most always had his hands in his britches
pockets, except when he fetched
them out to lend a chaw of tobacco
or scratch. What a body
was hearing amongst them, all
the time was—

"Gimme a chaw 'v tobacker,
Hank."

"Cain't—I hain't got but one
chaw left. Ask Bill."

Maybe Bill he gives him a
chaw; maybe he lies and says
he ain't got none. Some of
them kinds of loafers never has
a cent in the world, nor a chaw
of tobacco of their own. They
get all their chawing by borrowing—they
say to a fellow, "I
wisht you'd len' me a chaw, Jack,
I jist this minute give Ben
Thompson the last chaw I had"
—which is a lie, pretty much
every time; it don't fool nobody
but a stranger; but Jack ain't no stranger, so he says—

[ILLUSTRATION]

"gimme a chaw."

"You give him a chaw, did you? so did your sister's cat's grandmother. You
pay me back the chaws you've awready borry'd off'n me, Lafe Buckner, then I'll
loan you one or two ton of it, and won't charge you no back intrust, nuther."

"Well, I did pay you back some of it wunst."

"Yes, you did—'bout six chaws. You borry'd store tobacker and paid back
nigger-head."

Store tobacco is flat black plug, but these fellows mostly chaws the natural
leaf twisted. When they borrow a chaw, they don't generly cut it off with a
knife, but they set the plug in between their teeth, and gnaw with their teeth
and tug at the plug with their hands till they get it in two—then sometimes the
one that owns the tobacco looks mournful at it when it's handed back, and
says, sarcastic—

"Here, gimme the chaw, and you take the plug."

All the streets and lanes was just mud, they warn't nothing else but mud—
mud as black as tar, and nigh about a foot deep in some places; and two or
three inches deep in all the places. The hogs loafed and grunted around,
everywheres. You'd see a muddy sow and a litter of pigs come lazying along
the street and whollop herself right down in the way, where folks had to walk
around her, and she'd stretch out, and shut her eyes, and wave her ears, whilst
the pigs was milking her, and look as happy as if she was on salary. And
pretty soon you'd hear a loafer sing out, "Hi! so boy! sick him, Tige!" and
away the sow would go, squealing most horrible, with a dog or two swinging to
each ear, and three or four dozen more a-coming; and then you would see all the
loafers get up and watch the thing out of sight, and laugh at the fun and
look grateful for the noise. Then they'd settle back again till there was a
dog-fight. There couldn't anything wake them up all over, and make them
happy all over, like a dog-fight—unless it might be putting turpentine on a stray
dog and setting fire to him, or tying a tin pan to his tail and see him run himself
to death.

On the river front some of the houses was sticking out over the bank, and
they was bowed and bent, and about ready to tumble in. The people had
moved out of them. The bank was caved away under one corner of some
others, and that corner was hanging over. People lived in them yet, but it
was dangersome, because sometimes a strip of land as wide as a house caves
in at a time. Sometimes a belt of land a quarter of a mile deep will start in
and cave along and cave along till it all caves into the river in one summer.
Such a town as that has to be always moving back, and back, and back, because
the river's always gnawing at it.

The nearer it got to noon that day, the thicker and thicker was the wagons
and horses in the streets, and more coming all the time. Families fetched their
dinners with them, from the country, and eat them in the wagons. There
was considerable whiskey drinking going on, and I seen three fights. By-and-by
somebody sings out—

"Here comes old Boggs!—in from the country for his little old monthly
drunk—here he comes, boys!"

All the loafers looked glad—I reckoned they was used to having fun out of
Boggs. One of them says—

"Wonder who he's a gwyne to chaw up this time. If he'd a chawed up all
the men he's ben a gwyne to chaw up in the last twenty year, he'd have considerable
ruputation, now."

Another one says, "I wisht old Boggs 'd threaten me, 'cuz then I'd know I
warn't gwyne to die for a thousan' year."

Boggs comes a-tearing along on his horse, whooping and yelling like an Injun,
and singing out—

"Cler the track, thar. I'm on the waw-path, and the price uv coffins is a
gwyne to raise."

He was drunk, and weaving about in his saddle; he was over fifty year old,
and had a very red face. Everybody yelled at him, and laughed at him, and
sassed him, and he sassed back, and said he'd attend to them and lay them out in
their regular turns, but he couldn't wait now, because he'd come to town to kill
old Colonel Sherburn, and his motto was, "meat first, and spoon vittles to top
off on."

He see me, and rode up and says—

"Whar'd you come f'm, boy? You prepared to die?"

Then he rode on. I was scared; but a man says—

"He don't mean nothing; he's always a carryin' on like that, when he's
drunk. He's the best-naturedest old fool in Arkansaw—never hurt nobody,
drunk nor sober."

Boggs rode up before the biggest store in town and bent his head down so he
could see under the curtain of the awning, and yells—

"Come out here, Sherburn! Come out and meet the man you've swindled.
You're the houn' I'm after, and I'm a gwyne to have you, too!"

And so he went on, calling Sherburn everything he could lay his tongue to,
and the whole street packed with people listening and laughing and going on.
By-and-by a proud-looking man about fifty-five—and he was a heap the best
dressed man in that town, too—steps out of the store, and the crowd drops back
on each side to let him come. He says to Boggs, mighty ca'm and slow—he says:

"I'm tired of this; but I'll endure it till one o'clock. Till one o'clock, mind—
no longer. If you open your mouth against me only once, after that time, you
can't travel so far but I will find you."

[ILLUSTRATION]

a little monthly drunk.

Then he turns and goes in. The crowd looked mighty sober; nobody stirred,
and there warn't no more laughing. Boggs rode off blackguarding Sherburn
as loud as he could yell, all down the street; and pretty soon back he comes and
stops before the store, still keeping it up. Some men crowded around him
and tried to get him to shut up, but he wouldn't; they told him it would be one
o'clock in about fifteen minutes, and so he must go home—he must go right
away. But it didn't do no good. He cussed away, with all his might, and

throwed his hat down in the mud and rode over it, and pretty soon away he went
a-raging down the street again, with his gray hair a-flying. Everybody that
could get a chance at him tried their best to coax him off of his horse so they
could lock him up and get him sober; but it warn't no use—up the street he
would tear again, and give Sherburn another cussing. By-and-by somebody says—

"Go for his daughter!—quick, go for his daughter; sometimes he'll listen to
her. If anybody can persuade him, she can."

So somebody started on a run. I walked down street a ways, and stopped.
In about five or ten minutes, here comes Boggs again—but not on his horse. He
was a-reeling across the street towards me, bareheaded, with a friend on both
sides of him aholt of his arms and hurrying him along. He was quiet, and
looked uneasy; and he warn't hanging back any, but was doing some of the
hurrying himself. Somebody sings out—

"Boggs!"

I looked over there to see who said it, and it was that Colonel Sherburn. He
was standing perfectly still, in the street, and had a pistol raised in his right
hand—not aiming it, but holding it out with the barrel tilted up towards the sky.
The same second I see a young girl coming on the run, and two men with her.
Boggs and the men turned round, to see who called him, and when they
see the pistol the men jumped to one side, and the pistol barrel come
down slow and steady to a level—both barrels cocked. Boggs throws up
both of his hands, and says, "O Lord, don't shoot!" Bang! goes the
first shot, and he staggers back clawing at the air—bang! goes the second one,
and he tumbles backwards onto the ground, heavy and solid, with his arms
spread out. That young girl screamed out, and comes rushing, and down
she throws herself on her father, crying, and saying, "Oh, he's killed him,
he's killed him!" The crowd closed up around them, and shouldered and
jammed one another, with their necks stretched, trying to see, and people on
the inside trying to shove them back, and shouting, "Back, back! give him air,
give him air!"

Colonel Sherburn he tossed his pistol onto the ground, and turned around on
his heels and walked off.

They took Boggs to a little drug store, the crowd pressing around, just the same,
and the whole town following, and I rushed and got a good place at the window,
where I was close to him and could see in. They laid him on the floor, and put one
large Bible under his head, and opened another one and spread it on his breast—
but they tore open his shirt
first, and I seen where one of
the bullets went in. He made
about a dozen long gasps, his
breast lifting the Bible up when
he drawed in his breath, and
letting it down again when he
breathed it out—and after that
he laid still; he was dead.
Then they pulled his daughter
away from him, screaming and
crying, and took her off. She
was about sixteen, and very
sweet and gentle-looking, but
awful pale and scared.

[ILLUSTRATION]

the death of boggs.

Well, pretty soon the whole
town was there, squirming and
scrouging and pushing and
shoving to get at the window
and have a look, but people
that had the places wouldn't
give them up, and folks behind
them was saying all the time, "Say, now, you've looked enough, you fellows;
'taint right and 'taint fair, for you to stay thar all the time, and never give
nobody a chance; other folks has their rights as well as you."

There was considerable jawing back, so I slid out, thinking maybe there was
going to be trouble. The streets was full, and everybody was excited. Everybody
that seen the shooting was telling how it happened, and there was a big

crowd packed around each one of these fellows, stretching their necks and
listening. One long lanky man, with long hair and a big white fur stove-pipe
hat on the back of his head, and a crooked-handled cane, marked out the places
on the ground where Boggs stood, and where Sherburn stood, and the people
following him around from one place to t'other and watching everything he done,
and bobbing their heads to show they understood, and stooping a little and
resting their hands on their thighs to watch him mark the places on the ground
with his cane; and then he stood up straight and stiff where Sherburn had
stood, frowning and having his hat-brim down over his eyes, and sung out,
"Boggs!" and then fetched his cane down slow to a level, and says "Bang!"
staggered backwards, says "Bang!" again, and fell down flat on his back. The
people that had seen the thing said he done it perfect; said it was just exactly
the way it all happened. Then as much as a dozen people got out their bottles
and treated him.

Well, by-and-by somebody said Sherburn ought to be lynched. In about a
minute everybody was saying it; so away they went, mad and yelling, and
snatching down every clothes-line they come to, to do the hanging with.