hear no sign of a whoop nowheres.  I reckoned Jim had fetched up on a snag, maybe, and it was all up with him.  I was good and tired, so I laid down in the canoe and said I wouldn't bother no more.  I didn't want to go to sleep, of course; but I was so sleepy I couldn't help it; so I thought I would take jest one little cat-nap. But I reckon it was more than a cat-nap, for when I waked up the stars was shining bright, the fog was all gone, and I was spinning down a big bend stern first.  First I didn't know where I was; I thought I was dreaming; and when things began to come back to me they seemed to come up dim out of last week. It was a monstrous big river here, with the tallest and the thickest kind of timber on both banks; just a solid wall, as well as I could see by the stars.  I looked away down-stream, and seen a black speck on the water. I took after it; but when I got to it it warn't nothing but a couple of sawlogs made fast together.  Then I see another speck, and chased that; then another, and this time I was right.  It was the raft. When I got to it Jim was setting there with his head down between his knees, asleep, with his right arm hanging over the steering-oar.  The other oar was smashed off, and the raft was littered up with leaves and branches and dirt.  So she'd had a rough time. I made fast and laid down under Jim's nose on the raft, and began to gap, and stretch my fists out against Jim, and says: “Hello, Jim, have I been asleep?  Why didn't you stir me up?” “Goodness gracious, is dat you, Huck?  En you ain' dead--you ain' drownded--you's back agin?  It's too good for true, honey, it's too good for true. Lemme look at you chile, lemme feel o' you.  No, you ain' dead! you's back agin, 'live en soun', jis de same ole Huck--de same ole Huck, thanks to goodness!” “What's the matter with you, Jim?  You been a-drinking?” “Drinkin'?  Has I ben a-drinkin'?  Has I had a chance to be a-drinkin'?” “Well, then, what makes you talk so wild?” “How