he has to be praying considerable, and then he don't have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way."
"O yes, that's so," said Joe, "but I hadn't thought much about it, you know. I'd a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I've tried it."
"You see," said Tom, "people don't go much on hermits, now-a-days, like they used to in old times, but a pirate's always respected. And a hermit's got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sack-cloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and—"
"What does he put sack-cloth and ashes on his head for?" inquired Huck.
"I dono. But they've got to do it. Hermits always do. You'd have to do that if you was a hermit."
"Dern'd if I would," said Huck.
"Well what would you do?"
"I dono. But I wouldn't do that."
"Why Huck, you'd have to. How'd you get around it?"
"Why I just wouldn't stand it. I'd run away."
"Run away! Well you would be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You'd be a disgrace."
The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke—he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said:
"What does pirates have to do?"
Tom said:
"Oh they have just a bully time take ships, and burn them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their island where there's ghosts and things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships make 'em walk a plank."
"And they carry the women to the island," said Joe; "they don't kill the women."
"No," assented Tom, "they don't kill the women they're too noble. And the women's always beautiful, too."
