[Pkg-scicomp-devel] Bug#494126: Ly." I didn't look at him at all. Jim throwed some old rags over him, but

[Cordova]

W I thought of something else. So I went and got the bag of meal and my
old saw out of the canoe, and fetched them to the house. I took the bag
to where it used to stand, and ripped a hole in the bottom of it with
the saw, for there warn't no knives and forks on the place --pap done
everything with his clasp-knife about the cooking. Then I carried the
sack about a hundred yards across the grass and through the willows east
of the house, to a shallow lake that was five mile wide and full of
rushes--and ducks too, you might say, in the season. There was a slough
or a creek leading out of it on the other side that went miles away, I
don't know where, but it didn't go to the river. The meal sifted out and
made a little track all the way to the lake. I dropped pap's whetstone
there too, so as to look like it had been done by accident. Then I tied
up the rip in the meal sack with a string, so it wouldn't leak no more,
and took it and my saw to the canoe again. It was about dark now; so I
dropped the canoe down the river under some willows that hung over the
bank, and waited for the moon to rise. I made fast to a willow; then I
took a bite to eat, and by and by laid down in the canoe to smoke a pipe
and lay out a plan. I says to myself, they'll follow the track of that
sackful of rocks to the shore and then drag the river for me. And
they'll follow that meal track to the lake and go browsing down the
creek that leads out of it to find the robbers that killed me and took
the things. They won't ever hunt the river for anything but my dead
carcass. They'll soon get tired of that, and won't bother no more about
me. All right; I can stop anywhere I want to. Jackson's Island is good
enough for me; I know that island pretty well, and nobody ever comes
there. And then I can paddle over to to
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