any too good to do it.  Oh, he's sly, I reckon.  If he don't come back for a year he'll be all right.  You can't prove anything on him, you know; everything will be quieted down then, and he'll walk in Huck's money as easy as nothing.” “Yes, I reckon so, 'm.  I don't see nothing in the way of it.  Has everybody quit thinking the nigger done it?” “Oh, no, not everybody.  A good many thinks he done it.  But they'll get the nigger pretty soon now, and maybe they can scare it out of him.” “Why, are they after him yet?” “Well, you're innocent, ain't you!  Does three hundred dollars lay around every day for people to pick up?  Some folks think the nigger ain't far from here.  I'm one of them--but I hain't talked it around.  A few days ago I was talking with an old couple that lives next door in the log shanty, and they happened to say hardly anybody ever goes to that island over yonder that they call Jackson's Island.  Don't anybody live there? says I. No, nobody, says they.  I didn't say any more, but I done some thinking.  I was pretty near certain I'd seen smoke over there, about the head of the island, a day or two before that, so I says to myself, like as not that nigger's hiding over there; anyway, says I, it's worth the trouble to give the place a hunt.  I hain't seen any smoke sence, so I reckon maybe he's gone, if it was him; but husband's going over to see--him and another man.  He was gone up the river; but he got back to-day, and I told him as soon as he got here two hours ago.” I had got so uneasy I couldn't set still.  I had to do something with my hands; so I took up a needle off of the table and went to threading it. My hands shook, and I was making a bad job of it.  When the woman stopped talking I looked up, and she was looking at me pretty curious and smiling a little.  I put down the needle and thread, and let on to be interested--and I was, too--and says: “Three hundred dollars is a power of money.  I wish my mother could get it. Is your husban