“River ain’t a white woman.” “What about Sadie, yer wife? She’s pretty. You think she’s pretty.” “I do, but, Huck, I’m a slave. You don’t neber forget dat. I ain’t no nigger, but I is a slave.” After some quiet: “Was she nice? You kin say whether she was nice.” “She was nice, Huck. We was young ’uns.” “Was you friends?” “Looky dere,” I said. “Lawdy.” Across the river, a steamboat was on fire. Flames leaped high into the sky. People jumped off the decks into the river. Small boats circled, pulling people in. If there was screaming, the wind carried it away onto the far shore and we heard none
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