Pap warn't in a good humor—so he was his natural self.  He said he was down town, and everything was going wrong.  His lawyer said he reckoned he would win his lawsuit and get the money if they ever got started on the trial; but then there was ways to put it off a long time, and Judge Thatcher knowed how to do it. And he said people allowed there'd be another trial to get me away from him and give me to the widow for my guardian, and they guessed it would win this time.  This shook me up considerable, because I didn't want to go back to the widow's any more and be so cramped up and sivilized, as they called it.  Then the old man got to cussing, and cussed everything and everybody he could think of, and then cussed them all over again to make sure he hadn't skipped any, and after that he polished off with a kind of a general cuss all round, including a considerable parcel of people which he didn't know the names of, and so called them what's-his-name when he got to them, and went right along with his cussing.

He said he would like to see the widow get me.  He said he would watch out, and if they tried to come any such game on him he knowed of a place six or seven mile off to stow me in, where they might hunt till they dropped and they couldn't find me.  That made me pretty uneasy again, but only for a minute; I reckoned I wouldn't stay on hand till he got that chance.

The old man made me go to the skiff and fetch the things he had got. There was a fifty-pound sack of corn meal, and a side of bacon, ammunition, and a four-gallon jug of whisky, and an old book and two newspapers for wadding, besides some tow.  I toted up a load, and went back and set down on the bow of the skiff to rest.  I thought it all over, and I reckoned I would walk off with the gun and some lines, and take to the woods when I run away.  I guessed I wouldn't stay in one place, but just tramp right across the country, mostly night times, and hunt and fish to keep alive, and so get so far away that the old man nor the widow couldn't ever find me any more.  I judged I would saw out and leave that night if pap got drunk enough, and I reckoned he would.  I got so full of it I didn't notice how long I was staying till the old man hollered and asked me whether I was asleep or drownded.

I got the things all up to the cabin, and then it was about dark.  While I was cooking supper the old man took a swig or two and got sort of warmed up, and went to ripping again.  He had been drunk over in town, and laid in the gutter all night, and he was a sight to look at.  A body would a thought he was Adam—he was just all mud.  Whenever his liquor begun to work he most always went for the govment, this time he says: