It was strange and unnatural to see lion eat lion, and we thought maybe they warn’t kin. But Jim said that didn’t make no difference. He said a hog was fond of her own children, and so was a spider, and he reckoned maybe a lion was pretty near as unprincipled though maybe not quite. He thought likely a lion wouldn’t eat his own father, if he knowed which was him, but reckoned he would eat his brother-in-law if he was uncommon hungry, and eat his mother-in-law any time. But _reckoning_ don’t settle nothing. You can reckon till the cows come home, but that don’t fetch you to no decision. So we give it up and let it drop. Generly it was very still in the Desert nights, but this time there was music. A lot of other animals come to dinner; sneaking yelpers that Tom allowed was jackals, and roached-backed ones that he said was hyenas; and all the whole biling of them kept up a racket all the time. They made a picture in the moonlight that was more different than any picture I ever see. We had a line out and made fast to the top of a tree, and didn’t stand no watch, but all turned in and slept; but I was up two or three times to look down at the animals and hear the music. It was like having a front seat at a menagerie for nothing, which I hadn’t ever had before, and so it seemed foolish to sleep and not make the most of it; I mightn’t ever have such a chance again. We went a-fishing again in the early dawn, and then lazied around all day in the deep shade on an island, taking turn about to watch and see that none of the animals come a-snooping around there after erronorts for dinner. We was going to leave the next day, but couldn’t, it was too lovely. The day after, when we rose up toward the sky and sailed off eastward, we looked back and watched that place till it warn’t nothing but just a speck in the Desert, and I tell you it was like saying good-bye to a friend that you ain’t ever going to see any more. Jim was thinking to himself, and at last he says: “Mars Tom, we’s mos’ to de end er de Desert now, I speck.” “Why?” “Well, hit stan’ to reason we is. You knows how long we’s been a-skimmin’ over it. Mus’ be mos’ out o’ san’. Hit’s a wonder to me dat it’s hilt out as long as it has.” “Shucks, there’s plenty sand, you needn’t worry.” “Oh, I ain’t a-worryin’, Mars Tom, only wonderin’, dat’s all. De Lord’s got plenty san’, I ain’t doubtin’ dat; but nemmine, He ain’t gwyne to _was’e_ it jist on dat account; en I allows dat dis Desert’s plenty big enough now, jist de way she is, en you can’t spread her out no mo’ ’dout was’in’ san’.” “Oh, go ’long! we ain’t much more than fairly _started_ across this Desert yet. The United States is a pretty big country, ain’t it? Ain’t it, Huck?” “Yes,” I says, “there ain’t no bigger one, I don’t reckon.”