“I ain’t a mule, Huck.” We drifted on. “Ain’t I doin’ wrong, though?” Huck said. He was troubled. “How am I s’posed to know what good is?” “Way I sees it is dis. If’n ya gots to hab a rule to tells ya wha’s good, if’n ya gots to hab good ’splained to ya, den ya cain’t be good. If’n ya need sum kinda God to tells ya right from wrong, den you won’t never know.” “But the law says…” “Good ain’t got nuttin’ to do wif da law. Law says I’m a slave.” We drifted on, our silence becoming quieter.
