I stood up and shook my rags off and jumped into the river, and struck out for the raft’s light.  By and by, when I got down nearly to her, I eased up and went slow and cautious.  But everything was all right—­ nobody at the sweeps.  So I swum down along the raft till I was most abreast the camp fire in the middle, then I crawled aboard and inched along and got in amongst some bundles of shingles on the weather side of the fire.  There was thirteen men there—­they was the watch on deck of course.  And a mighty rough-looking lot, too.  They had a jug, and tin cups, and they kept the jug moving.  One man was singing—­roaring, you may say; and it wasn’t a nice song—­for a parlor anyway.  He roared through his nose, and strung out the last word of every line very long.  When he was done they all fetched a kind of Injun war-whoop, and then another was sung.  It begun:—­

’There was a woman in our towdn, In our towdn did dwed’l (dwell,) She loved her husband dear-i-lee, But another man twyste as wed’l.

Singing too, riloo, riloo, riloo, Ri-too, riloo, rilay — — — e, She loved her husband dear-i-lee, But another man twyste as wed’l.

And so on—­fourteen verses.  It was kind of poor, and when he was going to start on the next verse one of them said it was the tune the old cow died on; and another one said, ‘Oh, give us a rest.’  And another one told him to take a walk.  They made fun of him till he got mad and jumped up and begun to cuss the crowd, and said he could lame any thief in the lot.

They was all about to make a break for him, but the biggest man there jumped up and says—­

‘Set whar you are, gentlemen.  Leave him to me; he’s my meat.’

Then he jumped up in the air three times and cracked his heels together every time.  He flung off a buckskin coat that was all hung with fringes, and says, ‘You lay thar tell the chawin-up’s done;’ and flung his hat down, which was all over ribbons, and says, ’You lay thar tell his sufferin’s is over.’

Then he jumped up in the air and cracked his heels together again and shouted out—­

’Whoo-oop!  I’m the old original iron-jawed, brass-mounted, copper-bellied corpse-maker from the wilds of Arkansaw!—­Look at me!  I’m the man they call Sudden Death and General Desolation!  Sired by a hurricane, dam’d by an earthquake, half-brother to the cholera, nearly related to the small-pox on the mother’s side!  Look at me!  I take nineteen alligators and a bar’l of whiskey for breakfast when I’m in robust health, and a bushel of rattlesnakes and a dead body when I’m ailing!  I split the everlasting rocks with my glance, and I squench the thunder when I speak!  Whoo-oop!  Stand back and give me room according to my strength!  Blood’s my natural drink, and the wails of the dying is music to my ear!  Cast your eye on me, gentlemen!—­and lay low and hold your breath, for I’m bout to turn myself loose!’

All the time he was getting this off, he was shaking his head and looking fierce, and kind of swelling around in a little circle, tucking up his wrist-bands, and now and then straightening up and beating his breast with his fist, saying, ‘Look at me, gentlemen!’ When he got through, he jumped up and cracked his heels together three times, and let off a roaring ’Whoo-oop!  I’m the bloodiest son of a wildcat that lives!’