old man will be glad when he sees this--she's worth ten dollars.  But when I got to shore pap wasn't in sight yet, and as I was running her into a little creek like a gully, all hung over with vines and willows, I struck another idea:  I judged I'd hide her good, and then, 'stead of taking to the woods when I run off, I'd go down the river about fifty mile and camp in one place for good, and not have such a rough time tramping on foot. It was pretty close to the shanty, and I thought I heard the old man coming all the time; but I got her hid; and then I out and looked around a bunch of willows, and there was the old man down the path a piece just drawing a bead on a bird with his gun.  So he hadn't seen anything. When he got along I was hard at it taking up a “trot” line.  He abused me a little for being so slow; but I told him I fell in the river, and that was what made me so long.  I knowed he would see I was wet, and then he would be asking questions.  We got five catfish off the lines and went home. While we laid off after breakfast to sleep up, both of us being about wore out, I got to thinking that if I could fix up some way to keep pap and the widow from trying to follow me, it would be a certainer thing than trusting to luck to get far enough off before they missed me; you see, all kinds of things might happen.  Well, I didn't see no way for a while, but by and by pap raised up a minute to drink another barrel of water, and he says: “Another time a man comes a-prowling round here you roust me out, you hear? That man warn't here for no good.  I'd a shot him.  Next time you roust me out, you hear?” Then he dropped down and went to sleep again; but what he had been saying give me the very idea I wanted.  I says to myself, I can fix it now so nobody won't think of following me. About twelve o'clock we turned out and went along up the bank.  The river was coming up pretty fast, and lots of driftwood going by on the rise. By and by along comes part of a log