Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg.

     Tom hailed the romantic outcast:

     "Hello, Huckleberry!"

     "Hello yourself, and see how you like it."

     "What's that you got?"

     "Dead cat."

     "Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him?"

     "Bought him off'n a boy."

     "What did you give?"