and so what's the use o' your bein' sour?  It 'll only make things oncomfortable.  It ain't my fault I warn't born a duke, it ain't your fault you warn't born a king--so what's the use to worry?  Make the best o' things the way you find 'em, says I--that's my motto.  This ain't no bad thing that we've struck here--plenty grub and an easy life--come, give us your hand, duke, and le's all be friends.” The duke done it, and Jim and me was pretty glad to see it.  It took away all the uncomfortableness and we felt mighty good over it, because it would a been a miserable business to have any unfriendliness on the raft; for what you want, above all things, on a raft, is for everybody to be satisfied, and feel right and kind towards the others. It didn't take me long to make up my mind that these liars warn't no kings nor dukes at all, but just low-down humbugs and frauds.  But I never said nothing, never let on; kept it to myself; it's the best way; then you don't have no quarrels, and don't get into no trouble.  If they wanted us to call them kings and dukes, I hadn't no objections, 'long as it would keep peace in the family; and it warn't no use to tell Jim, so I didn't tell him.  If I never learnt nothing else out of pap, I learnt that the best way to get along with his kind of people is to let them have their own way. CHAPTER XX. THEY asked us considerable many questions; wanted to know what we covered up the raft that way for, and laid by in the daytime instead of running--was Jim a runaway nigger?  Says I: “Goodness sakes! would a runaway nigger run _south_?” No, they allowed he wouldn't.  I had to account for things some way, so I says: “My folks was living in Pike County, in Missouri, where I was born, and they all died off but me and pa and my brother Ike.  Pa, he 'lowed he'd break up and go down and live with Uncle Ben, who's got a little one-horse place on the river, forty-four mile below Orleans.  Pa was pretty poor, and had some debts; so when he'd