the cold weather I used to slide out and sleep in the woods sometimes, and so that was a rest to me.  I liked the old ways best, but I was getting so I liked the new ones, too, a little bit. The widow said I was coming along slow but sure, and doing very satisfactory.  She said she warn't ashamed of me. One morning I happened to turn over the salt-cellar at breakfast.  I reached for some of it as quick as I could to throw over my left shoulder and keep off the bad luck, but Miss Watson was in ahead of me, and crossed me off. She says, “Take your hands away, Huckleberry; what a mess you are always making!”  The widow put in a good word for me, but that warn't going to keep off the bad luck, I knowed that well enough.  I started out, after breakfast, feeling worried and shaky, and wondering where it was going to fall on me, and what it was going to be.  There is ways to keep off some kinds of bad luck, but this wasn't one of them kind; so I never tried to do anything, but just poked along low-spirited and on the watch-out. I went down to the front garden and clumb over the stile where you go through the high board fence.  There was an inch of new snow on the ground, and I seen somebody's tracks.  They had come up from the quarry and stood around the stile a while, and then went on around the garden fence.  It was funny they hadn't come in, after standing around so.  I couldn't make it out.  It was very curious, somehow.  I was going to follow around, but I stooped down to look at the tracks first.  I didn't notice anything at first, but next I did.  There was a cross in the left boot-heel made with big nails, to keep off the devil. I was up in a second and shinning down the hill.  I looked over my shoulder every now and then, but I didn't see nobody.  I was at Judge Thatcher's as quick as I could get there.  He said: “Why, my boy, you are all out of breath.  Did you come for your interest?” “No, sir,” I says; “is there some for me?” “Oh, yes, a half-yearly is i