a piece and got aboard, and Jim he grabbed me and hugged me, he was so glad to see me.  He says: “Laws bless you, chile, I 'uz right down sho' you's dead agin.  Jack's been heah; he say he reck'n you's ben shot, kase you didn' come home no mo'; so I's jes' dis minute a startin' de raf' down towards de mouf er de crick, so's to be all ready for to shove out en leave soon as Jack comes agin en tells me for certain you _is_ dead.  Lawsy, I's mighty glad to git you back again, honey.” I says: “All right--that's mighty good; they won't find me, and they'll think I've been killed, and floated down the river--there's something up there that 'll help them think so--so don't you lose no time, Jim, but just shove off for the big water as fast as ever you can.” I never felt easy till the raft was two mile below there and out in the middle of the Mississippi.  Then we hung up our signal lantern, and judged that we was free and safe once more.  I hadn't had a bite to eat since yesterday, so Jim he got out some corn-dodgers and buttermilk, and pork and cabbage and greens--there ain't nothing in the world so good when it's cooked right--and whilst I eat my supper we talked and had a good time.  I was powerful glad to get away from the feuds, and so was Jim to get away from the swamp.  We said there warn't no home like a raft, after all.  Other places do seem so cramped up and smothery, but a raft don't.  You feel mighty free and easy and comfortable on a raft. CHAPTER XIX. TWO or three days and nights went by; I reckon I might say they swum by, they slid along so quiet and smooth and lovely.  Here is the way we put in the time.  It was a monstrous big river down there--sometimes a mile and a half wide; we run nights, and laid up and hid daytimes; soon as night was most gone we stopped navigating and tied up--nearly always in the dead water under a towhead; and then cut young cottonwoods and willows, and hid the raft with them.  Then we set out the lines.  Next we slid in