feel mighty mean to leave you; but my kingdom! it won't do to fool with small-pox, don't you see?” “Hold on, Parker,” says the other man, “here's a twenty to put on the board for me.  Good-bye, boy; you do as Mr. Parker told you, and you'll be all right.” “That's so, my boy--good-bye, good-bye.  If you see any runaway niggers you get help and nab them, and you can make some money by it.” “Good-bye, sir,” says I; “I won't let no runaway niggers get by me if I can help it.” They went off and I got aboard the raft, feeling bad and low, because I knowed very well I had done wrong, and I see it warn't no use for me to try to learn to do right; a body that don't get _started_ right when he's little ain't got no show--when the pinch comes there ain't nothing to back him up and keep him to his work, and so he gets beat.  Then I thought a minute, and says to myself, hold on; s'pose you'd a done right and give Jim up, would you felt better than what you do now?  No, says I, I'd feel bad--I'd feel just the same way I do now.  Well, then, says I, what's the use you learning to do right when it's troublesome to do right and ain't no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same?  I was stuck.  I couldn't answer that.  So I reckoned I wouldn't bother no more about it, but after this always do whichever come handiest at the time. I went into the wigwam; Jim warn't there.  I looked all around; he warn't anywhere.  I says: “Jim!” “Here I is, Huck.  Is dey out o' sight yit?  Don't talk loud.” He was in the river under the stern oar, with just his nose out.  I told him they were out of sight, so he come aboard.  He says: “I was a-listenin' to all de talk, en I slips into de river en was gwyne to shove for sho' if dey come aboard.  Den I was gwyne to swim to de raf' agin when dey was gone.  But lawsy, how you did fool 'em, Huck!  Dat _wuz_ de smartes' dodge!  I tell you, chile, I'spec it save' ole Jim--ole Jim ain't going to forgit you for dat, honey.” Then we talked a