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Item No. comdagen-6602032538171622490
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opinion, there's a fortune in 'em.  If I had capital and a theater, I wouldn't want a better lay-out than that--and here we've gone and sold 'em for a song.  Yes, and ain't privileged to sing the song yet.  Say, where _is_ that song--that draft?” “In the bank for to be collected.  Where _would_ it be?” “Well, _that's_ all right then, thank goodness.” Says I, kind of timid-like: “Is something gone wrong?” The king whirls on me and rips out: “None o' your business!  You keep your head shet,

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all about our Royal Nonesuch rapscallions, and as much of the raft voyage as I had time to; and as we struck into the town and up through the the middle of it--it was as much as half-after eight, then--here comes a raging rush of people with torches, and an awful whooping and yelling, and banging tin pans and blowing horns; and we jumped to one side to let them go by; and as they went by I see they had the king and the duke astraddle of a rail--that is, I knowed it _was_ the king and the duke, though they was all over tar and feathers, and didn't look like nothing in the world that was human--just looked like a couple of monstrous big soldier-plumes.  Well, it made me sick to see it; and I was sorry for them poor pitiful rascals, it seemed like I couldn't ever feel any hardness against them any more in the world.  It was a dreadful thing to see.  Human beings _can_ be awful cruel to one another. We see we was too late--couldn't do no good.  We asked some stragglers about it, and they said everybody went to the show looking very innocent; and laid low and kept dark till the poor old king was in the middle of his cavortings on the stage; then somebody give a signal, and the house rose up and went for them. So we poked along back home, and I warn't feeling so brash as I was before, but kind of ornery, and humble, and to blame, somehow--though I hadn't done nothing.  But that's always the way; it don't make no difference whether you do right or wrong, a person's conscience ain't got no sense, and just goes for him anyway.  If I had a yaller dog that didn't know no more than a person's conscience does I would pison him. It takes up more room than all the rest of a person's insides, and yet ain't no good, nohow.  Tom Sawyer he says the same. CHAPTER XXXIV. WE stopped talking, and got to thinking.  By and by Tom says: “Looky here, Huck, what fools we are to not think of it before!  I bet I know where Jim is.” “No!  Where?” “In that hut down by the ash-hopper.  W