“My great-grandfather, the oldest offspring of the Duke of Bridgewater, escaped to this country so that he could be free. He took a wife here and died here. He died about the same time as his daddy and so his younger brother seized the estate and the title. The real duke was forgotten, run over by history, but I am his descendant, and therefore”—he paused—“I am the rightful heir to that title. I am the Duke of Bridgewater.” “Lawdy,” Huck said. “A duke. A real duke. Right here on our little raft. You hear that, Jim?” “I heard it, Huck. Lawdy, Lawd, Lawd.”
