We never showed a light till we was about ten mile below the village. Then we lit up and had a supper, and the king and the duke fairly laughed their bones loose over the way they'd served them people. The duke says:

     "Greenhorns, flatheads! I knew the first house would keep mum and let the rest of the town get roped in; and I knew they'd lay for us the third night, and consider it was THEIR turn now. Well, it IS their turn, and I'd give something to know how much they'd take for it. I WOULD just like to know how they're putting in their opportunity. They can turn it into a picnic if they want to--they brought plenty provisions."

     Them rapscallions took in four hundred and sixty-five dollars in that three nights. I never see money hauled in by the wagon-load like that before. By and by, when they was asleep and snoring, Jim says:

     "Don't it s'prise you de way dem kings carries on, Huck?"

     "No," I says, "it don't."

     "Why don't it, Huck?"

     "Well, it don't, because it's in the breed. I reckon they're all alike."

     "But, Huck, dese kings o' ourn is reglar rapscallions; dat's jist what dey is; dey's reglar rapscallions."

     "Well, that's what I'm a-saying; all kings is mostly rapscallions, as fur as I can make out."

     "Is dat so?"