It was a most lovely day now, and bright and sunshiny; and the further
and further we went over the hills towards the prairie the lovelier and
lovelier the trees and flowers got to be and the more it seemed strange
and somehow wrong that there had to be trouble in such a world as this.
And then all of a sudden I catched my breath and grabbed Tom's arm, and
all my livers and lungs and things fell down into my legs.

"There it is!" I says. We jumped back behind a bush shivering, and Tom
says:

"'Sh!--don't make a noise."

It was setting on a log right in the edge of a little prairie, thinking.
I tried to get Tom to come away, but he wouldn't, and I dasn't budge by
myself. He said we mightn't ever get another chance to see one, and he
was going to look his fill at this one if he died for it. So I looked
too, though it give me the fan-tods to do it. Tom he HAD to talk, but he
talked low. He says:

"Poor Jakey, it's got all its things on, just as he said he would. NOW
you see what we wasn't certain about--its hair. It's not long now the way
it was: it's got it cropped close to its head, the way he said he would.
Huck, I never see anything look any more naturaler than what It does."

"Nor I neither," I says; "I'd recognize it anywheres."

"So would I. It looks perfectly solid and genuwyne, just the way it done
before it died."