He was just suited--this kind of thing was right in his line.
He got to hanging around the widow's too much and so she told him at last that if he didn't quit using around there she would make trouble for him.
Well, WASN'T he mad?
He said he would show who was Huck Finn's boss.

So he watched out for me one day in the spring, and catched me, and took me up the river about three mile in a skiff, and crossed over to the Illinois shore where it was woody and there warn't no houses but an old log hut in a place where the timber was so thick you couldn't find it if you didn't know where it was.
He kept me with him all the time, and I never got a chance to run off.
We lived in that old cabin, and he always locked the door and put the key under his head nights.

He had a gun which he had stole, I reckon, and we fished and hunted, and that was what we lived on.

Every little while he locked me in and went down to the store, three miles, to the ferry, and traded fish and game for whisky, and fetched it home and got drunk and had a good time, and licked me.

The widow she found out where I was by and by, and she sent a man over to try to get hold of me; but pap drove him off with the gun, and it warn't long after that till I was used to being where I was, and liked it--all but the cowhide part.
It was kind of lazy and jolly, laying off comfortable all day, smoking and fishing, and no books nor study.