out of sight in the thick weather, though I could hear her. I sung out for Jim about a dozen times, but I didn't get any answer; so I grabbed a plank that touched me while I was “treading water,” and struck out for shore, shoving it ahead of me.  But I made out to see that the drift of the current was towards the left-hand shore, which meant that I was in a crossing; so I changed off and went that way. It was one of these long, slanting, two-mile crossings; so I was a good long time in getting over.  I made a safe landing, and clumb up the bank. I couldn't see but a little ways, but I went poking along over rough ground for a quarter of a mile or more, and then I run across a big old-fashioned double log-house before I noticed it.  I was going to rush by and get away, but a lot of dogs jumped out and went to howling and barking at me, and I knowed better than to move another peg. CHAPTER XVII. IN about a minute somebody spoke out of a window without putting his head out, and says: “Be done, boys!  Who's there?” I says: “It's me.” “Who's me?” “George Jackson, sir.” “What do you want?” “I don't want nothing, sir.  I only want to go along by, but the dogs won't let me.” “What are you prowling around here this time of night for--hey?” “I warn't prowling around, sir, I fell overboard off of the steamboat.” “Oh, you did, did you?  Strike a light there, somebody.  What did you say your name was?” “George Jackson, sir.  I'm only a boy.” “Look here, if you're telling the truth you needn't be afraid--nobody'll hurt you.  But don't try to budge; stand right where you are.  Rouse out Bob and Tom, some of you, and fetch the guns.  George Jackson, is there anybody with you?” “No, sir, nobody.” I heard the people stirring around in the house now, and see a light. The man sung out: “Snatch that light away, Betsy, you old fool--ain't you got any sense? Put it on the floor behind the front door.  Bob, if you and Tom are ready, take your places.” “All ready.”