Sim Gwynn was hungry, and that was the greatest misfortune which could possibly happen to him.  He was growing rapidly, and consumed a vast amount of food.  I pitied him, as I did any one who was kept on short allowance, and I hastened to the house as quickly as I could, in order to relieve what was positive suffering on his part.  I intended to obtain the food at home if possible; if not, to purchase it at the store.

Captain Fishley had probably harnessed the horse himself, for he and the squire had gone away.  I went into the house.  No one was there but Flora.  Mrs. Fishley had gone, with her husband, to sun herself in the smiles of the senator.  She never liked to be left at home when there was anything going on.  In the buttery I found plenty of cooked provisions; for, whatever else may be said of the Fishleys, they always had enough to eat, and that which was good enough.  “Short provender” had never been one of my grievances, and I pitied poor Sim all the more on this account.

Mrs. Fishley had evidently given the distinguished visitor credit for a larger appetite than he possessed after his debauch the night before, and there was at least a pound of cold fried ham left.  I took a paper bag, and put into it half the meat and as much cold corned beef as would have fed me for two days, with a plentiful supply of biscuits, crackers, and brown bread.  I filled the bag full, determined that Sim should have plenty to eat for once in his life.  Thus laden with enough to fill the stomach that had “nothing in it,” I returned to the swamp.

I need not say that the hungry runaway was glad to see me.  I pushed off the raft, and poled it over to the fallen tree, where we should not be disturbed by any possible passer-by.  Sim looked piteously sad and sorrowful; he glanced wistfully at the paper bag, and seemed to begrudge every moment of delay.  At the tree, I took out the contents of the bag, and spread them on the log.  Sim’s eyes dilated till they were like a pair of saucers, and an expression of intense satisfaction lighted up his dull features.

“Go in, Sim,” said I, as soon as I had spread the table for him.

“Thank you, Buck!  You are a good fellow,” replied he, warmly.  “I knowed you’d help me, and that’s what I wanted to see you for.”

I thought it would be cruel to interrupt an operation so agreeable to him as that of eating, and I asked no questions.  He looked grateful, and satisfactorily demonstrated that the proof of the pudding is in the eating.  Though I was amused at his greediness, and enjoyed his appetite almost as much as he did himself, I did not wish to embarrass him; and, mounting the fallen tree, I walked upon its trunk so far from him that it was not convenient for him to speak to me.  He had it all his own way; for I think it is mean to watch a hungry boy when he is eating, or to take note of the quantity he consumes.

From my position I could see the stream, and the pile of lumber over which I had moralized.  I could not help thinking that something must be done with those refuse logs and boards.  I cannot exactly explain how it was, but that pile of senseless lumber seemed, in some indefinite manner, to connect itself with my affairs at the house.  The thrashing I had just received from my two masculine tyrants assured me that I was no match for both of them.  In a word, it was strongly impressed upon my mind that I could not stay in Torrentville much longer.

I had a taste for river scenery.  Every night, when I went for the mail, I used to see the steamboat on the river; and I often thought I should be “made” if I could make a trip in her.  Ever since my brother wrote that he should take us down to New Orleans in the fall, I had looked forward with intense joy to the voyage down the river.  In a smaller way my raft had afforded me a great deal of pleasure on the waters of the swamp, though the swift current did not permit me to embark on the stream.

Perhaps the decided course of Sim Gwynn in leaving his disagreeable situation had some influence upon my reflections.  I had often thought of doing the same thing myself, and only my poor sister had prevented me from acting upon the suggestion.  I had some money now.  Why could I not go, and take her with me?  But I had not enough to pay our fares to New Orleans, and there was no other place to which I could go.  Besides, Captain Fishley would not let us go.  If we went by any public conveyance, he could easily stop us.

“I have it!” I exclaimed, in a tone so loud that Sim was disturbed in his interesting occupation.

He started from his seat, and looked at me, with his mouth filled with food, his jaws suspending their pleasing occupation.

“Did you speak to me, Buck?” he called.

“No,” I replied, walking towards him.

I looked at him, and realized that he was beginning to weary of his task.  Doubtless he felt it to be a duty to eat all he could; but he had already disposed of the major part of what I had brought him, and was still struggling manfully with the balance.

“I heard you say, ‘I have it,’” added Sim, jumbling the words through the food in his mouth.

“Well, I have it.”

“So have I. That’s the best meal of victuals I’ve had for a year.  I’m sorry I can’t eat no more.”

“You will get hungry again.”

“Shall I keep the rest of it?” he asked.

“Certainly; and when that is gone, I will bring you some more.”

“Thank you, Buck.  I knowed you’d help me, and that’s what I wanted to see you for.”

“I think I heard you say that before.  Now, Sim, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, blankly.

“You have left Barkspear’s.  Are you going back again?”

“I don’t know.  That’s what I wanted to see you for.”

“Haven’t you any idea what you intend to do?”

“Not the leastest grain in the world.  That’s what I wanted to see you for, you see.”

“But you wish to do something.”

“I don’t care.  If I get enough to eat, it don’t make no difference to me.  I shan’t get much to eat if I go back to Barkspear’s.”

This seemed to be the great question with him.  He was willing to work hard for enough to eat.  He was not a dandy, and the clothes question did not trouble him.  It was only terrible to be hungry.

“Sim, I’m going to run away myself,” said I.

“What, from Fishley’s?” he demanded, opening his eyes.

“Yes, from Fishley’s.”

“Don’t they give you enough to eat?”

“Plenty.”

“What do you want to run away for, then?” asked he; and, if the provision question was all right, he did not think there ought to be trouble about any other matter.

“They don’t use me well, and they don’t use my sister well.”

“But they give you enough to eat.”

“I would rather be starved than treated like a dog.  My brother Clarence is going to take us away in the fall; but I don’t think I can stand it till that time.”

I took off my coat, and showed him one of the wales of the cowhide which my tyrants had left upon my arm.

“But they give you all you want to eat,” he replied, pulling away the rags from his shoulder, and exhibiting some marks like my own.  “I don’t mind them things much if they will only let me have something to eat.”

Sim was a puzzle to me.  He was all stomach.  Blows were nothing; food was everything.

“Where have you been since yesterday?” I asked.

“Laying round, looking for something to eat.”

“Sim, we must build a raft,” I added.

“What for?” he inquired, opening his eyes, as he always did when his muddy brain seized an idea.

“To run away on.  Do you see those logs and boards?”

“I see them.”

“Well, Sim, we can build a big raft, with a house on it,-a place to live in,-where we can cook, and sleep, and eat.”

“Eat!” exclaimed he, opening his mouth wide enough to take in a good-sized leg of bacon.

“Of course, if we live on the raft, we must have something to eat.”

“Can we get enough?” he asked, incredulously.

“You shall have all you want.”

“Goody!” shouted he.

“You must keep still about it, and not say a word to any one.”

“I don’t see nobody.  I have to keep out of sight, or Barkspear will catch me.  I’m bound to him.  I shan’t tell nobody.”

“In a few days we will have the house ready for you to live in; and I will bring you all you need to eat.”

“That’s all I want.”

“You can work on the raft, and I will help you all I can.”

“I will work from daylight till dark, if I only get something to eat.”

I pushed the raft over to the pile of lumber.  I was quite excited as soon as the idea had taken full possession of my mind.  I was not satisfied that the plan of leaving Torrentville with Flora, on a raft, was practicable; but I could have the fun of planning and building it; and really this was all I expected to do.  If worse came to worst, I could get away from the town with my sister better by the way of the swamp than by the road.  I explained to Sim more clearly what I intended to do, and how to construct the raft.  He was even more enthusiastic than I was, for the scheme would enable him to help me, and thus pay for the provisions he consumed.  He wanted to go to work at once; but nothing could be done without an axe, some nails, and other articles which I intended to procure.

I left Sim with the promise to see him again in the afternoon, and returned to the house.  I was not attending school at all at this time, as the winter term had closed, and the summer one had not commenced, and I had nothing to do but work about the place.  I went into the house, and talked with Flora.  I told her what had happened-how I had been whipped by both father and son.  She cried, and begged me not to disobey them any more.

“If they treat me decently, I will do all they tell me, Flora,” I replied; “but I will not be trodden upon.”

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the wagon, and I went out, in order that I might not be “tackled” before my sister.  Captain Fishley gave me an ugly look; but I knew he would not say anything before his brother, and he did not.  He told me I might put the horse up, and I did so.  But I felt that the day of settlement would come as soon as the squire departed.

At dinner-time I was sometimes required to stay in the store, and I was directed to do so on this day.  I selected a couple of stout clothes-lines, a shingling hatchet, and put up two pounds of ten-penny nails.  I wrote down the articles on a piece of paper, and carried it, with the five-dollar bill taken from my roll, to the captain.  He gave me the change, without knowing who the customer was, and I concealed the articles in the barn.  When I had eaten my dinner, and taken care of Darky and the pigs, I started for the swamp again, with the goods I had bought.