Well this was done for a project in english. That being said, if you are an english teacher and your last name is not Mikhlin and the person who sent in this exact same story is not the only bearded atheist republican in the entire school, then they stole this from me. It's a long shot but I'm just covering my assets. That said I am not mark Twain and don't own anything at all, nor am I making any money from this at all. And no I do not use the N word, I don't believe in it's usage even in historical contexts.

"Who's there? Answer or I'll shoot!" Yelled one of the men who had volunteered to help catch the desperate gang of cutthroats who were attempting to "steal" Jim. Of course we didn't answer; instead we just unfurled our heels and shoved off towards the river. Bullets whizzed past by us as they yelled "Hey there they are! They've broke for the river! After'm boys, and turn loose the dogs!"

At first I spected the dogs wouldn't give us no chase cause they knew our scent and we wouldn't get them excited. I didn't think they'd be going after Jim's scent though, that meant we had to keep running. We ran through the bushes and jumped in the canoe and shoved off. We kept as quiet as ghosts in the still of midnight. We started to drift towards the island where Tom and I had hid the raft. I'd a said Jim was a free man at the moment we got onto the raft and left the island, but we could hear other canoes paddling quickly through the water as the dogs barked to try and get our scent. The lanterns made it easy to spot'em and you could almost see the dogs lifting their noses in the air to sniff fer us. If I'd a known they was going to use dogs I'd a never let Tom write that letter. Course I wished I known that dogs could sniff you even on the river. That was when I felt something trickle by my foot. It was warm, and I guessed it was blood. Tom was holding his stomach as I just now noticed he was shot. Tom couldn't dare tell us he was hurt, and he didn't dare cry aloud, and we couldn't do nothing to ask fer help without making the hunting party aware of where we was. We was powerless to do anything. When Tom had said he wanted a real challenge he didn't have to create himself, he had gotten his wish. I thought I even saw a smile on his face. Jim ripped of his shirt and put it on the wound to try and stop the bleeding. I didn't know if we could get far enough away to go find a doctor to help him and still keep Jim free. After bout an hour or so they gave up and let our raft float in dark n silence. Jim was silently thanking Tom for helping him escape from Uncle Silas, and said he'd do everything he could to help'em out. We knew'd there was a doctor in town, but Tom kept objectin to let'm help unless he was blindfolded, and promised not to chalk the raft or tell where we was. He was startin to look real deathly white, and we figured the best way to stop the bleeding would be to burn the skin where the bullet had entered. Tom's smile had gone away a few minutes after I realized he had been shot, and now he looked real bad.

"Huck, I'm startin to wonder how they're able to get out of heavily guarded castles all the time in the books and not get shot. I knew we shouldn't a done it so fast. We didn't do it rightn slow."

"Well I spec they didn't have to worry about timeframesn such other nonesuch in the books."

"Maybe if we'd a had a decoy run the other way we could a lost them faster. Or maybe you were right Huck, maybe we didn't need to do all that nonesuch. Maybe the books got it all wrong, maybe we don't need to do such complex stuff as writin letters and baking pies with stuff in'em. We could a just walked out of the house with Jim and they wouldn't a knowed any better. You should leave me here, I'll slow you down. Jim, I should tell you this now, Miss Watson died bout three months ago. She didn't leave you in her will for anyone, so you might be a free man, or maybe not, I'm not really sure how these things work what with you being lost property and all."

"Huck, go get tha doctor we was talkin bout." Jim ordered, to which Tom heavily protested. Deep down I always knew he was just like us.

Mark Twain would probably think I'm a retard or something for destroying his story, but I decided to put it up anyways. Just a general report on my other stories
International Police will be updated by this Sunday, come hell or high water (unless either destroy my internet connection, in which case it aint happening)
A less hypocritical cliche killer could be done either on this Saturday or Sunday
Toy Soldiers 2867 whenever I decide to finish the chapter, which will probably be never

signed the good dr.