Huck and Tom sat on a bridge fence overlooking a river. They were older now, and somewhat wiser, but still sometimes lost in the details of life.
“You think Jim would like to see this river?” Tom asked.
“I think he was a-sick of rivers after that adventure a few years back. I heard that when the raftin’ was all over, and the adventurin’ out in the Territories was done, ol’ Jim hitched himself up to politics and did right well up there in Washington.”
Tom thought about it for a moment. “How look he been there?”
“I hear it’s been about eight years.”
“Eight? Well, that might just be enough to make him mean.”