HUCKLEBERRY FINN

By Mark Twain

Part 7. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

WE dasn't stop again at any town for days and days; kept right along downthe river. We was down south in the warm weather now, and a mighty longways from home. We begun to come to trees with Spanish moss on them, hanging down from the limbs like long, gray beards. It was the first Iever see it growing, and it made the woods look solemn and dismal. Sonow the frauds reckoned they was out of danger, and they begun to workthe villages again. 

First they done a lecture on temperance; but they didn't make enough forthem both to get drunk on. Then in another village they started adancing-school; but they didn't know no more how to dance than a kangaroodoes; so the first prance they made the general public jumped in andpranced them out of town. Another time they tried to go at yellocution;but they didn't yellocute long till the audience got up and give them asolid good cussing, and made them skip out. They tackled missionarying, and mesmerizing, and doctoring, and telling fortunes, and a little ofeverything; but they couldn't seem to have no luck. So at last they gotjust about dead broke, and laid around the raft as she floated along, thinking and thinking, and never saying nothing, by the half a day at atime, and dreadful blue and desperate. 

And at last they took a change and begun to lay their heads together inthe wigwam and talk low and confidential two or three hours at a time. Jim and me got uneasy. We didn't like the look of it. We judged theywas studying up some kind of worse deviltry than ever. We turned it overand over, and at last we made up our minds they was going to break intosomebody's house or store, or was going into the counterfeit-moneybusiness, or something. So then we was pretty scared, and made up anagreement that we wouldn't have nothing in the world to do with suchactions, and if we ever got the least show we would give them the coldshake and clear out and leave them behind. Well, early one morning we hidthe raft in a good, safe place about two mile below a little bit of ashabby village named Pikesville, and the king he went ashore and told usall to stay hid whilst he went up to town and smelt around to see ifanybody had got any wind of the Royal Nonesuch there yet. ("House to rob, you MEAN, " says I to myself; "and when you get through robbing it you'llcome back here and wonder what has become of me and Jim and the raft--andyou'll have to take it out in wondering. ") And he said if he warn't backby midday the duke and me would know it was all right, and we was to comealong. 

So we stayed where we was. The duke he fretted and sweated around, andwas in a mighty sour way. He scolded us for everything, and we couldn'tseem to do nothing right; he found fault with every little thing. Something was a-brewing, sure. I was good and glad when midday come andno king; we could have a change, anyway--and maybe a chance for THEchance on top of it. So me and the duke went up to the village, andhunted around there for the king, and by and by we found him in the backroom of a little low doggery, very tight, and a lot of loafersbullyragging him for sport, and he a-cussing and a-threatening with allhis might, and so tight he couldn't walk, and couldn't do nothing tothem. The duke he begun to abuse him for an old fool, and the king begunto sass back, and the minute they was fairly at it I lit out and shookthe reefs out of my hind legs, and spun down the river road like a deer, for I see our chance; and I made up my mind that it would be a long daybefore they ever see me and Jim again. I got down there all out ofbreath but loaded up with joy, and sung out:

"Set her loose, Jim! we're all right now!"

But there warn't no answer, and nobody come out of the wigwam. Jim wasgone! I set up a shout--and then another--and then another one; and runthis way and that in the woods, whooping and screeching; but it warn't nouse--old Jim was gone. Then I set down and cried; I couldn't help it. But I couldn't set still long. Pretty soon I went out on the road, trying to think what I better do, and I run across a boy walking, andasked him if he'd seen a strange nigger dressed so and so, and he says:

"Yes. "

"Whereabouts?" says I. 

"Down to Silas Phelps' place, two mile below here. He's a runawaynigger, and they've got him. Was you looking for him?"

"You bet I ain't! I run across him in the woods about an hour or twoago, and he said if I hollered he'd cut my livers out--and told me to laydown and stay where I was; and I done it. Been there ever since; afeardto come out. "

"Well, " he says, "you needn't be afeard no more, becuz they've got him. He run off f'm down South, som'ers. "

"It's a good job they got him. "

"Well, I RECKON! There's two hunderd dollars reward on him. It's likepicking up money out'n the road. "

"Yes, it is--and I could a had it if I'd been big enough; I see himFIRST. Who nailed him?"

"It was an old fellow--a stranger--and he sold out his chance in him forforty dollars, becuz he's got to go up the river and can't wait. Thinko' that, now! You bet I'D wait, if it was seven year. "

"That's me, every time, " says I. "But maybe his chance ain't worth nomore than that, if he'll sell it so cheap. Maybe there's something ain'tstraight about it. "

"But it IS, though--straight as a string. I see the handbill myself. Ittells all about him, to a dot--paints him like a picture, and tells theplantation he's frum, below NewrLEANS. No-sirree-BOB, they ain't notrouble 'bout THAT speculation, you bet you. Say, gimme a chaw tobacker, won't ye?"

I didn't have none, so he left. I went to the raft, and set down in thewigwam to think. But I couldn't come to nothing. I thought till I woremy head sore, but I couldn't see no way out of the trouble. After allthis long journey, and after all we'd done for them scoundrels, here itwas all come to nothing, everything all busted up and ruined, becausethey could have the heart to serve Jim such a trick as that, and make hima slave again all his life, and amongst strangers, too, for forty dirtydollars. 

Once I said to myself it would be a thousand times better for Jim to be aslave at home where his family was, as long as he'd GOT to be a slave, and so I'd better write a letter to Tom Sawyer and tell him to tell MissWatson where he was. But I soon give up that notion for two things:she'd be mad and disgusted at his rascality and ungratefulness forleaving her, and so she'd sell him straight down the river again; and ifshe didn't, everybody naturally despises an ungrateful nigger, and they'dmake Jim feel it all the time, and so he'd feel ornery and disgraced. And then think of ME! It would get all around that Huck Finn helped anigger to get his freedom; and if I was ever to see anybody from thattown again I'd be ready to get down and lick his boots for shame. That'sjust the way: a person does a low-down thing, and then he don't want totake no consequences of it. Thinks as long as he can hide, it ain't nodisgrace. That was my fix exactly. The more I studied about this themore my conscience went to grinding me, and the more wicked and low-downand ornery I got to feeling. And at last, when it hit me all of a suddenthat here was the plain hand of Providence slapping me in the face andletting me know my wickedness was being watched all the time from upthere in heaven, whilst I was stealing a poor old woman's nigger thathadn't ever done me no harm, and now was showing me there's One that'salways on the lookout, and ain't a-going to allow no such miserabledoings to go only just so fur and no further, I most dropped in my tracksI was so scared. Well, I tried the best I could to kinder soften it upsomehow for myself by saying I was brung up wicked, and so I warn't somuch to blame; but something inside of me kept saying, "There was theSunday-school, you could a gone to it; and if you'd a done it they'd alearnt you there that people that acts as I'd been acting about thatnigger goes to everlasting fire. "

It made me shiver. And I about made up my mind to pray, and see if Icouldn't try to quit being the kind of a boy I was and be better. So Ikneeled down. But the words wouldn't come. Why wouldn't they? Itwarn't no use to try and hide it from Him. Nor from ME, neither. Iknowed very well why they wouldn't come. It was because my heart warn'tright; it was because I warn't square; it was because I was playingdouble. I was letting ON to give up sin, but away inside of me I washolding on to the biggest one of all. I was trying to make my mouth SAYI would do the right thing and the clean thing, and go and write to thatnigger's owner and tell where he was; but deep down in me I knowed it wasa lie, and He knowed it. You can't pray a lie--I found that out. 

So I was full of trouble, full as I could be; and didn't know what to do. At last I had an idea; and I says, I'll go and write the letter--and thensee if I can pray. Why, it was astonishing, the way I felt as light as afeather right straight off, and my troubles all gone. So I got a pieceof paper and a pencil, all glad and excited, and set down and wrote:

Miss Watson, your runaway nigger Jim is down here two mile belowPikesville, and Mr. Phelps has got him and he will give him up for thereward if you send. 

HUCK FINN. 

I felt good and all washed clean of sin for the first time I had everfelt so in my life, and I knowed I could pray now. But I didn't do itstraight off, but laid the paper down and set there thinking--thinkinghow good it was all this happened so, and how near I come to being lostand going to hell. And went on thinking. And got to thinking over ourtrip down the river; and I see Jim before me all the time: in the dayand in the night-time, sometimes moonlight, sometimes storms, and wea-floating along, talking and singing and laughing. But somehow Icouldn't seem to strike no places to harden me against him, but only theother kind. I'd see him standing my watch on top of his'n, 'stead ofcalling me, so I could go on sleeping; and see him how glad he was when Icome back out of the fog; and when I come to him again in the swamp, upthere where the feud was; and such-like times; and would always call mehoney, and pet me and do everything he could think of for me, and howgood he always was; and at last I struck the time I saved him by tellingthe men we had small-pox aboard, and he was so grateful, and said I wasthe best friend old Jim ever had in the world, and the ONLY one he's gotnow; and then I happened to look around and see that paper. 

It was a close place. I took it up, and held it in my hand. I wasa-trembling, because I'd got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, andI knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and thensays to myself:

"All right, then, I'll GO to hell"--and tore it up. 

It was awful thoughts and awful words, but they was said. And I let themstay said; and never thought no more about reforming. I shoved the wholething out of my head, and said I would take up wickedness again, whichwas in my line, being brung up to it, and the other warn't. And for astarter I would go to work and steal Jim out of slavery again; and if Icould think up anything worse, I would do that, too; because as long as Iwas in, and in for good, I might as well go the whole hog. 

Then I set to thinking over how to get at it, and turned over someconsiderable many ways in my mind; and at last fixed up a plan thatsuited me. So then I took the bearings of a woody island that was downthe river a piece, and as soon as it was fairly dark I crept out with myraft and went for it, and hid it there, and then turned in. I slept thenight through, and got up before it was light, and had my breakfast, andput on my store clothes, and tied up some others and one thing or anotherin a bundle, and took the canoe and cleared for shore. I landed belowwhere I judged was Phelps's place, and hid my bundle in the woods, andthen filled up the canoe with water, and loaded rocks into her and sunkher where I could find her again when I wanted her, about a quarter of amile below a little steam sawmill that was on the bank. 

Then I struck up the road, and when I passed the mill I see a sign on it, "Phelps's Sawmill, " and when I come to the farm-houses, two or threehundred yards further along, I kept my eyes peeled, but didn't see nobodyaround, though it was good daylight now. But I didn't mind, because Ididn't want to see nobody just yet--I only wanted to get the lay of theland. According to my plan, I was going to turn up there from thevillage, not from below. So I just took a look, and shoved along, straight for town. Well, the very first man I see when I got there wasthe duke. He was sticking up a bill for the Royal Nonesuch--three-nightperformance--like that other time. They had the cheek, them frauds! Iwas right on him before I could shirk. He looked astonished, and says:

"Hel-LO! Where'd YOU come from?" Then he says, kind of glad and eager, "Where's the raft?--got her in a good place?"

I says:

"Why, that's just what I was going to ask your grace. "

Then he didn't look so joyful, and says:

"What was your idea for asking ME?" he says. 

"Well, " I says, "when I see the king in that doggery yesterday I says tomyself, we can't get him home for hours, till he's soberer; so I wenta-loafing around town to put in the time and wait. A man up and offeredme ten cents to help him pull a skiff over the river and back to fetch asheep, and so I went along; but when we was dragging him to the boat, andthe man left me a-holt of the rope and went behind him to shove himalong, he was too strong for me and jerked loose and run, and we afterhim. We didn't have no dog, and so we had to chase him all over thecountry till we tired him out. We never got him till dark; then wefetched him over, and I started down for the raft. When I got there andsee it was gone, I says to myself, 'They've got into trouble and had toleave; and they've took my nigger, which is the only nigger I've got inthe world, and now I'm in a strange country, and ain't got no property nomore, nor nothing, and no way to make my living;' so I set down andcried. I slept in the woods all night. But what DID become of the raft, then?--and Jim--poor Jim!"

"Blamed if I know--that is, what's become of the raft. That old fool hadmade a trade and got forty dollars, and when we found him in the doggerythe loafers had matched half-dollars with him and got every cent but whathe'd spent for whisky; and when I got him home late last night and foundthe raft gone, we said, 'That little rascal has stole our raft and shookus, and run off down the river. '"

"I wouldn't shake my NIGGER, would I?--the only nigger I had in theworld, and the only property. "

"We never thought of that. Fact is, I reckon we'd come to consider himOUR nigger; yes, we did consider him so--goodness knows we had troubleenough for him. So when we see the raft was gone and we flat broke, there warn't anything for it but to try the Royal Nonesuch another shake. And I've pegged along ever since, dry as a powder-horn. Where's that tencents? Give it here. "

I had considerable money, so I give him ten cents, but begged him tospend it for something to eat, and give me some, because it was all themoney I had, and I hadn't had nothing to eat since yesterday. He neversaid nothing. The next minute he whirls on me and says:

"Do you reckon that nigger would blow on us? We'd skin him if he donethat!"

"How can he blow? Hain't he run off?"

"No! That old fool sold him, and never divided with me, and the money'sgone. "

"SOLD him?" I says, and begun to cry; "why, he was MY nigger, and thatwas my money. Where is he?--I want my nigger. "

"Well, you can't GET your nigger, that's all--so dry up your blubbering. Looky here--do you think YOU'D venture to blow on us? Blamed if I thinkI'd trust you. Why, if you WAS to blow on us--"

He stopped, but I never see the duke look so ugly out of his eyes before. I went on a-whimpering, and says:

"I don't want to blow on nobody; and I ain't got no time to blow, nohow. I got to turn out and find my nigger. "

He looked kinder bothered, and stood there with his bills fluttering onhis arm, thinking, and wrinkling up his forehead. At last he says:

"I'll tell you something. We got to be here three days. If you'llpromise you won't blow, and won't let the nigger blow, I'll tell youwhere to find him. "

So I promised, and he says:

"A farmer by the name of Silas Ph--" and then he stopped. You see, hestarted to tell me the truth; but when he stopped that way, and begun tostudy and think again, I reckoned he was changing his mind. And so hewas. He wouldn't trust me; he wanted to make sure of having me out of theway the whole three days. So pretty soon he says:

"The man that bought him is named Abram Foster--Abram G. Foster--and helives forty mile back here in the country, on the road to Lafayette. "

"All right, " I says, "I can walk it in three days. And I'll start thisvery afternoon. "

"No you wont, you'll start NOW; and don't you lose any time about it, neither, nor do any gabbling by the way. Just keep a tight tongue inyour head and move right along, and then you won't get into trouble withUS, d'ye hear?"

That was the order I wanted, and that was the one I played for. I wantedto be left free to work my plans. 

"So clear out, " he says; "and you can tell Mr. Foster whatever you wantto. Maybe you can get him to believe that Jim IS your nigger--some idiotsdon't require documents--leastways I've heard there's such down Southhere. And when you tell him the handbill and the reward's bogus, maybehe'll believe you when you explain to him what the idea was for getting'em out. Go 'long now, and tell him anything you want to; but mind youdon't work your jaw any BETWEEN here and there. "

So I left, and struck for the back country. I didn't look around, but Ikinder felt like he was watching me. But I knowed I could tire him outat that. I went straight out in the country as much as a mile before Istopped; then I doubled back through the woods towards Phelps'. Ireckoned I better start in on my plan straight off without foolingaround, because I wanted to stop Jim's mouth till these fellows could getaway. I didn't want no trouble with their kind. I'd seen all I wantedto of them, and wanted to get entirely shut of them. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

WHEN I got there it was all still and Sunday-like, and hot and sunshiny;the hands was gone to the fields; and there was them kind of faintdronings of bugs and flies in the air that makes it seem so lonesome andlike everybody's dead and gone; and if a breeze fans along and quiversthe leaves it makes you feel mournful, because you feel like it's spiritswhispering--spirits that's been dead ever so many years--and you alwaysthink they're talking about YOU. As a general thing it makes a body wishHE was dead, too, and done with it all. 

Phelps' was one of these little one-horse cotton plantations, and theyall look alike. A rail fence round a two-acre yard; a stile made out oflogs sawed off and up-ended in steps, like barrels of a different length, to climb over the fence with, and for the women to stand on when they aregoing to jump on to a horse; some sickly grass-patches in the big yard, but mostly it was bare and smooth, like an old hat with the nap rubbedoff; big double log-house for the white folks--hewed logs, with thechinks stopped up with mud or mortar, and these mud-stripes beenwhitewashed some time or another; round-log kitchen, with a big broad, open but roofed passage joining it to the house; log smoke-house back ofthe kitchen; three little log nigger-cabins in a row t'other side thesmoke-house; one little hut all by itself away down against the backfence, and some outbuildings down a piece the other side; ash-hopper andbig kettle to bile soap in by the little hut; bench by the kitchen door, with bucket of water and a gourd; hound asleep there in the sun; morehounds asleep round about; about three shade trees away off in a corner;some currant bushes and gooseberry bushes in one place by the fence;outside of the fence a garden and a watermelon patch; then the cottonfields begins, and after the fields the woods. 

I went around and clumb over the back stile by the ash-hopper, andstarted for the kitchen. When I got a little ways I heard the dim hum ofa spinning-wheel wailing along up and sinking along down again; and thenI knowed for certain I wished I was dead--for that IS the lonesomestsound in the whole world. 

I went right along, not fixing up any particular plan, but just trustingto Providence to put the right words in my mouth when the time come; forI'd noticed that Providence always did put the right words in my mouth ifI left it alone. 

When I got half-way, first one hound and then another got up and went forme, and of course I stopped and faced them, and kept still. And suchanother powwow as they made! In a quarter of a minute I was a kind of ahub of a wheel, as you may say--spokes made out of dogs--circle offifteen of them packed together around me, with their necks and nosesstretched up towards me, a-barking and howling; and more a-coming; youcould see them sailing over fences and around corners from everywheres. 

A nigger woman come tearing out of the kitchen with a rolling-pin in herhand, singing out, "Begone YOU Tige! you Spot! begone sah!" and shefetched first one and then another of them a clip and sent them howling, and then the rest followed; and the next second half of them come back, wagging their tails around me, and making friends with me. There ain'tno harm in a hound, nohow. 

And behind the woman comes a little nigger girl and two little niggerboys without anything on but tow-linen shirts, and they hung on to theirmother's gown, and peeped out from behind her at me, bashful, the waythey always do. And here comes the white woman running from the house, about forty-five or fifty year old, bareheaded, and her spinning-stick inher hand; and behind her comes her little white children, acting the sameway the little niggers was going. She was smiling all over so she couldhardly stand--and says:

"It's YOU, at last!--AIN'T it?"

I out with a "Yes'm" before I thought. 

She grabbed me and hugged me tight; and then gripped me by both hands andshook and shook; and the tears come in her eyes, and run down over; andshe couldn't seem to hug and shake enough, and kept saying, "You don'tlook as much like your mother as I reckoned you would; but law sakes, Idon't care for that, I'm so glad to see you! Dear, dear, it does seemlike I could eat you up! Children, it's your cousin Tom!--tell himhowdy. "

But they ducked their heads, and put their fingers in their mouths, andhid behind her. So she run on:

"Lize, hurry up and get him a hot breakfast right away--or did you getyour breakfast on the boat?"

I said I had got it on the boat. So then she started for the house, leading me by the hand, and the children tagging after. When we gotthere she set me down in a split-bottomed chair, and set herself down ona little low stool in front of me, holding both of my hands, and says:

"Now I can have a GOOD look at you; and, laws-a-me, I've been hungry forit a many and a many a time, all these long years, and it's come at last!We been expecting you a couple of days and more. What kep' you?--boatget aground?"

"Yes'm--she--"

"Don't say yes'm--say Aunt Sally. Where'd she get aground?"

I didn't rightly know what to say, because I didn't know whether the boatwould be coming up the river or down. But I go a good deal on instinct;and my instinct said she would be coming up--from down towards Orleans. That didn't help me much, though; for I didn't know the names of barsdown that way. I see I'd got to invent a bar, or forget the name of theone we got aground on--or--Now I struck an idea, and fetched it out:

"It warn't the grounding--that didn't keep us back but a little. Weblowed out a cylinder-head. "

"Good gracious! anybody hurt?"

"No'm. Killed a nigger. "

"Well, it's lucky; because sometimes people do get hurt. Two years agolast Christmas your uncle Silas was coming up from Newrleans on the oldLally Rook, and she blowed out a cylinder-head and crippled a man. And Ithink he died afterwards. He was a Baptist. Your uncle Silas knowed afamily in Baton Rouge that knowed his people very well. Yes, I remembernow, he DID die. Mortification set in, and they had to amputate him. But it didn't save him. Yes, it was mortification--that was it. Heturned blue all over, and died in the hope of a glorious resurrection. They say he was a sight to look at. Your uncle's been up to the townevery day to fetch you. And he's gone again, not more'n an hour ago;he'll be back any minute now. You must a met him on the road, didn'tyou?--oldish man, with a--"

"No, I didn't see nobody, Aunt Sally. The boat landed just at daylight, and I left my baggage on the wharf-boat and went looking around the townand out a piece in the country, to put in the time and not get here toosoon; and so I come down the back way. "

"Who'd you give the baggage to?"

"Nobody. "

"Why, child, it 'll be stole!"

"Not where I hid it I reckon it won't, " I says. 

"How'd you get your breakfast so early on the boat?"

It was kinder thin ice, but I says:

"The captain see me standing around, and told me I better have somethingto eat before I went ashore; so he took me in the texas to the officers'lunch, and give me all I wanted. "

I was getting so uneasy I couldn't listen good. I had my mind on thechildren all the time; I wanted to get them out to one side and pump thema little, and find out who I was. But I couldn't get no show, Mrs. Phelps kept it up and run on so. Pretty soon she made the cold chillsstreak all down my back, because she says:

"But here we're a-running on this way, and you hain't told me a wordabout Sis, nor any of them. Now I'll rest my works a little, and youstart up yourn; just tell me EVERYTHING--tell me all about 'm all everyone of 'm; and how they are, and what they're doing, and what they toldyou to tell me; and every last thing you can think of. "

Well, I see I was up a stump--and up it good. Providence had stood by methis fur all right, but I was hard and tight aground now. I see itwarn't a bit of use to try to go ahead--I'd got to throw up my hand. SoI says to myself, here's another place where I got to resk the truth. Iopened my mouth to begin; but she grabbed me and hustled me in behind thebed, and says:

"Here he comes! Stick your head down lower--there, that'll do; you can'tbe seen now. Don't you let on you're here. I'll play a joke on him. Children, don't you say a word. "

I see I was in a fix now. But it warn't no use to worry; there warn'tnothing to do but just hold still, and try and be ready to stand fromunder when the lightning struck. 

I had just one little glimpse of the old gentleman when he come in; thenthe bed hid him. Mrs. Phelps she jumps for him, and says:

"Has he come?"

"No, " says her husband. 

"Good-NESS gracious!" she says, "what in the warld can have become ofhim?"

"I can't imagine, " says the old gentleman; "and I must say it makes medreadful uneasy. "

"Uneasy!" she says; "I'm ready to go distracted! He MUST a come; andyou've missed him along the road. I KNOW it's so--something tells meso. "

"Why, Sally, I COULDN'T miss him along the road--YOU know that. "

"But oh, dear, dear, what WILL Sis say! He must a come! You must amissed him. He--"

"Oh, don't distress me any more'n I'm already distressed. I don't knowwhat in the world to make of it. I'm at my wit's end, and I don't mindacknowledging 't I'm right down scared. But there's no hope that he'scome; for he COULDN'T come and me miss him. Sally, it's terrible--justterrible--something's happened to the boat, sure!"

"Why, Silas! Look yonder!--up the road!--ain't that somebody coming?"

He sprung to the window at the head of the bed, and that give Mrs. Phelpsthe chance she wanted. She stooped down quick at the foot of the bed andgive me a pull, and out I come; and when he turned back from the windowthere she stood, a-beaming and a-smiling like a house afire, and Istanding pretty meek and sweaty alongside. The old gentleman stared, andsays:

"Why, who's that?"

"Who do you reckon 't is?"

"I hain't no idea. Who IS it?"

"It's TOM SAWYER!"

By jings, I most slumped through the floor! But there warn't no time toswap knives; the old man grabbed me by the hand and shook, and kept onshaking; and all the time how the woman did dance around and laugh andcry; and then how they both did fire off questions about Sid, and Mary, and the rest of the tribe. 

But if they was joyful, it warn't nothing to what I was; for it was likebeing born again, I was so glad to find out who I was. Well, they frozeto me for two hours; and at last, when my chin was so tired it couldn'thardly go any more, I had told them more about my family--I mean theSawyer family--than ever happened to any six Sawyer families. And Iexplained all about how we blowed out a cylinder-head at the mouth ofWhite River, and it took us three days to fix it. Which was all right, and worked first-rate; because THEY didn't know but what it would takethree days to fix it. If I'd a called it a bolthead it would a done justas well. 

Now I was feeling pretty comfortable all down one side, and prettyuncomfortable all up the other. Being Tom Sawyer was easy andcomfortable, and it stayed easy and comfortable till by and by I hear asteamboat coughing along down the river. Then I says to myself, s'poseTom Sawyer comes down on that boat? And s'pose he steps in here anyminute, and sings out my name before I can throw him a wink to keepquiet?

Well, I couldn't HAVE it that way; it wouldn't do at all. I must go upthe road and waylay him. So I told the folks I reckoned I would go up tothe town and fetch down my baggage. The old gentleman was for goingalong with me, but I said no, I could drive the horse myself, and Idruther he wouldn't take no trouble about me. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

SO I started for town in the wagon, and when I was half-way I see a wagoncoming, and sure enough it was Tom Sawyer, and I stopped and waited tillhe come along. I says "Hold on!" and it stopped alongside, and his mouthopened up like a trunk, and stayed so; and he swallowed two or threetimes like a person that's got a dry throat, and then says:

"I hain't ever done you no harm. You know that. So, then, what you wantto come back and ha'nt ME for?"

I says:

"I hain't come back--I hain't been GONE. "

When he heard my voice it righted him up some, but he warn't quitesatisfied yet. He says:

"Don't you play nothing on me, because I wouldn't on you. Honest injun, you ain't a ghost?"

"Honest injun, I ain't, " I says. 

"Well--I--I--well, that ought to settle it, of course; but I can'tsomehow seem to understand it no way. Looky here, warn't you evermurdered AT ALL?"

"No. I warn't ever murdered at all--I played it on them. You come inhere and feel of me if you don't believe me. "

So he done it; and it satisfied him; and he was that glad to see me againhe didn't know what to do. And he wanted to know all about it right off, because it was a grand adventure, and mysterious, and so it hit him wherehe lived. But I said, leave it alone till by and by; and told his driverto wait, and we drove off a little piece, and I told him the kind of afix I was in, and what did he reckon we better do? He said, let himalone a minute, and don't disturb him. So he thought and thought, andpretty soon he says:

"It's all right; I've got it. Take my trunk in your wagon, and let onit's your'n; and you turn back and fool along slow, so as to get to thehouse about the time you ought to; and I'll go towards town a piece, andtake a fresh start, and get there a quarter or a half an hour after you;and you needn't let on to know me at first. "

I says:

"All right; but wait a minute. There's one more thing--a thing thatNOBODY don't know but me. And that is, there's a nigger here that I'ma-trying to steal out of slavery, and his name is JIM--old Miss Watson'sJim. "

He says:

"What! Why, Jim is--"

He stopped and went to studying. I says:

"I know what you'll say. You'll say it's dirty, low-down business; butwhat if it is? I'm low down; and I'm a-going to steal him, and I wantyou keep mum and not let on. Will you?"

His eye lit up, and he says:

"I'll HELP you steal him!"

Well, I let go all holts then, like I was shot. It was the mostastonishing speech I ever heard--and I'm bound to say Tom Sawyer fellconsiderable in my estimation. Only I couldn't believe it. Tom Sawyer aNIGGER-STEALER!

"Oh, shucks!" I says; "you're joking. "

"I ain't joking, either. "

"Well, then, " I says, "joking or no joking, if you hear anything saidabout a runaway nigger, don't forget to remember that YOU don't knownothing about him, and I don't know nothing about him. "

Then we took the trunk and put it in my wagon, and he drove off his wayand I drove mine. But of course I forgot all about driving slow onaccounts of being glad and full of thinking; so I got home a heap tooquick for that length of a trip. The old gentleman was at the door, andhe says:

"Why, this is wonderful! Whoever would a thought it was in that mare todo it? I wish we'd a timed her. And she hain't sweated a hair--not ahair. It's wonderful. Why, I wouldn't take a hundred dollars for thathorse now--I wouldn't, honest; and yet I'd a sold her for fifteenbefore, and thought 'twas all she was worth. "

That's all he said. He was the innocentest, best old soul I ever see. But it warn't surprising; because he warn't only just a farmer, he was apreacher, too, and had a little one-horse log church down back of theplantation, which he built it himself at his own expense, for a churchand schoolhouse, and never charged nothing for his preaching, and it wasworth it, too. There was plenty other farmer-preachers like that, anddone the same way, down South. 

In about half an hour Tom's wagon drove up to the front stile, and AuntSally she see it through the window, because it was only about fiftyyards, and says:

"Why, there's somebody come! I wonder who 'tis? Why, I do believe it'sa stranger. Jimmy" (that's one of the children) "run and tell Lize toput on another plate for dinner. "

Everybody made a rush for the front door, because, of course, a strangerdon't come EVERY year, and so he lays over the yaller-fever, forinterest, when he does come. Tom was over the stile and starting for thehouse; the wagon was spinning up the road for the village, and we was allbunched in the front door. Tom had his store clothes on, and anaudience--and that was always nuts for Tom Sawyer. In them circumstancesit warn't no trouble to him to throw in an amount of style that wassuitable. He warn't a boy to meeky along up that yard like a sheep; no, he come ca'm and important, like the ram. When he got a-front of us helifts his hat ever so gracious and dainty, like it was the lid of a boxthat had butterflies asleep in it and he didn't want to disturb them, andsays:

"Mr. Archibald Nichols, I presume?"

"No, my boy, " says the old gentleman, "I'm sorry to say 't your driverhas deceived you; Nichols's place is down a matter of three mile more. Come in, come in. "

Tom he took a look back over his shoulder, and says, "Too late--he's outof sight. "

"Yes, he's gone, my son, and you must come in and eat your dinner withus; and then we'll hitch up and take you down to Nichols's. "

"Oh, I CAN'T make you so much trouble; I couldn't think of it. I'll walk--I don't mind the distance. "

"But we won't LET you walk--it wouldn't be Southern hospitality to do it. Come right in. "

"Oh, DO, " says Aunt Sally; "it ain't a bit of trouble to us, not a bit inthe world. You must stay. It's a long, dusty three mile, and we can'tlet you walk. And, besides, I've already told 'em to put on anotherplate when I see you coming; so you mustn't disappoint us. Come right inand make yourself at home. "

So Tom he thanked them very hearty and handsome, and let himself bepersuaded, and come in; and when he was in he said he was a stranger fromHicksville, Ohio, and his name was William Thompson--and he made anotherbow. 

Well, he run on, and on, and on, making up stuff about Hicksville andeverybody in it he could invent, and I getting a little nervious, andwondering how this was going to help me out of my scrape; and at last, still talking along, he reached over and kissed Aunt Sally right on themouth, and then settled back again in his chair comfortable, and wasgoing on talking; but she jumped up and wiped it off with the back of herhand, and says:

"You owdacious puppy!"

He looked kind of hurt, and says:

"I'm surprised at you, m'am. "

"You're s'rp--Why, what do you reckon I am? I've a good notion to takeand--Say, what do you mean by kissing me?"

He looked kind of humble, and says:

"I didn't mean nothing, m'am. I didn't mean no harm. I--I--thoughtyou'd like it. "

"Why, you born fool!" She took up the spinning stick, and it looked likeit was all she could do to keep from giving him a crack with it. "Whatmade you think I'd like it?"

"Well, I don't know. Only, they--they--told me you would. "

"THEY told you I would. Whoever told you's ANOTHER lunatic. I neverheard the beat of it. Who's THEY?"

"Why, everybody. They all said so, m'am. "

It was all she could do to hold in; and her eyes snapped, and her fingersworked like she wanted to scratch him; and she says:

"Who's 'everybody'? Out with their names, or ther'll be an idiot short. "

He got up and looked distressed, and fumbled his hat, and says:

"I'm sorry, and I warn't expecting it. They told me to. They all toldme to. They all said, kiss her; and said she'd like it. They all saidit--every one of them. But I'm sorry, m'am, and I won't do it no more--I won't, honest. "

"You won't, won't you? Well, I sh'd RECKON you won't!"

"No'm, I'm honest about it; I won't ever do it again--till you ask me. "

"Till I ASK you! Well, I never see the beat of it in my born days! Ilay you'll be the Methusalem-numskull of creation before ever I ask you--or the likes of you. "

"Well, " he says, "it does surprise me so. I can't make it out, somehow. They said you would, and I thought you would. But--" He stopped andlooked around slow, like he wished he could run across a friendly eyesomewheres, and fetched up on the old gentleman's, and says, "Didn't YOUthink she'd like me to kiss her, sir?"

"Why, no; I--I--well, no, I b'lieve I didn't. "

Then he looks on around the same way to me, and says:

"Tom, didn't YOU think Aunt Sally 'd open out her arms and say, 'SidSawyer--'"

"My land!" she says, breaking in and jumping for him, "you impudent youngrascal, to fool a body so--" and was going to hug him, but he fended heroff, and says:

"No, not till you've asked me first. "

So she didn't lose no time, but asked him; and hugged him and kissed himover and over again, and then turned him over to the old man, and he tookwhat was left. And after they got a little quiet again she says:

"Why, dear me, I never see such a surprise. We warn't looking for YOU atall, but only Tom. Sis never wrote to me about anybody coming but him. "

"It's because it warn't INTENDED for any of us to come but Tom, " he says;"but I begged and begged, and at the last minute she let me come, too;so, coming down the river, me and Tom thought it would be a first-ratesurprise for him to come here to the house first, and for me to by and bytag along and drop in, and let on to be a stranger. But it was amistake, Aunt Sally. This ain't no healthy place for a stranger tocome. "

"No--not impudent whelps, Sid. You ought to had your jaws boxed; Ihain't been so put out since I don't know when. But I don't care, Idon't mind the terms--I'd be willing to stand a thousand such jokes tohave you here. Well, to think of that performance! I don't deny it, Iwas most putrified with astonishment when you give me that smack. "

We had dinner out in that broad open passage betwixt the house and thekitchen; and there was things enough on that table for seven families--and all hot, too; none of your flabby, tough meat that's laid in acupboard in a damp cellar all night and tastes like a hunk of old coldcannibal in the morning. Uncle Silas he asked a pretty long blessingover it, but it was worth it; and it didn't cool it a bit, neither, theway I've seen them kind of interruptions do lots of times. There was aconsiderable good deal of talk all the afternoon, and me and Tom was onthe lookout all the time; but it warn't no use, they didn't happen to saynothing about any runaway nigger, and we was afraid to try to work up toit. But at supper, at night, one of the little boys says:

"Pa, mayn't Tom and Sid and me go to the show?"

"No, " says the old man, "I reckon there ain't going to be any; and youcouldn't go if there was; because the runaway nigger told Burton and meall about that scandalous show, and Burton said he would tell the people;so I reckon they've drove the owdacious loafers out of town before thistime. "

So there it was!--but I couldn't help it. Tom and me was to sleep in thesame room and bed; so, being tired, we bid good-night and went up to bedright after supper, and clumb out of the window and down thelightning-rod, and shoved for the town; for I didn't believe anybody wasgoing to give the king and the duke a hint, and so if I didn't hurry upand give them one they'd get into trouble sure. 

On the road Tom he told me all about how it was reckoned I was murdered, and how pap disappeared pretty soon, and didn't come back no more, andwhat a stir there was when Jim run away; and I told Tom all about ourRoyal Nonesuch rapscallions, and as much of the raft voyage as I had timeto; and as we struck into the town and up through the--here comes araging rush of people with torches, and an awful whooping and yelling, and banging tin pans and blowing horns; and we jumped to one side to letthem go by; and as they went by I see they had the king and the dukeastraddle of a rail--that is, I knowed it WAS the king and the duke, though they was all over tar and feathers, and didn't look like nothingin the world that was human--just looked like a couple of monstrous bigsoldier-plumes. Well, it made me sick to see it; and I was sorry forthem poor pitiful rascals, it seemed like I couldn't ever feel anyhardness against them any more in the world. It was a dreadful thing tosee. Human beings CAN be awful cruel to one another. 

We see we was too late--couldn't do no good. We asked some stragglersabout it, and they said everybody went to the show looking very innocent;and laid low and kept dark till the poor old king was in the middle ofhis cavortings on the stage; then somebody give a signal, and the houserose up and went for them. 

So we poked along back home, and I warn't feeling so brash as I wasbefore, but kind of ornery, and humble, and to blame, somehow--though Ihadn't done nothing. But that's always the way; it don't make nodifference whether you do right or wrong, a person's conscience ain't gotno sense, and just goes for him anyway. If I had a yaller dog thatdidn't know no more than a person's conscience does I would pison him. It takes up more room than all the rest of a person's insides, and yetain't no good, nohow. Tom Sawyer he says the same. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

WE stopped talking, and got to thinking. By and by Tom says:

"Looky here, Huck, what fools we are to not think of it before! I bet Iknow where Jim is. "

"No! Where?"

"In that hut down by the ash-hopper. Why, looky here. When we was atdinner, didn't you see a nigger man go in there with some vittles?"

"Yes. "

"What did you think the vittles was for?"

"For a dog. "

"So 'd I. Well, it wasn't for a dog. "

"Why?"

"Because part of it was watermelon. "

"So it was--I noticed it. Well, it does beat all that I never thoughtabout a dog not eating watermelon. It shows how a body can see and don'tsee at the same time. "

"Well, the nigger unlocked the padlock when he went in, and he locked itagain when he came out. He fetched uncle a key about the time we got upfrom table--same key, I bet. Watermelon shows man, lock shows prisoner;and it ain't likely there's two prisoners on such a little plantation, and where the people's all so kind and good. Jim's the prisoner. Allright--I'm glad we found it out detective fashion; I wouldn't giveshucks for any other way. Now you work your mind, and study out a planto steal Jim, and I will study out one, too; and we'll take the one welike the best. "

What a head for just a boy to have! If I had Tom Sawyer's head Iwouldn't trade it off to be a duke, nor mate of a steamboat, nor clown ina circus, nor nothing I can think of. I went to thinking out a plan, butonly just to be doing something; I knowed very well where the right planwas going to come from. Pretty soon Tom says:

"Ready?"

"Yes, " I says. 

"All right--bring it out. "

"My plan is this, " I says. "We can easy find out if it's Jim in there. Then get up my canoe to-morrow night, and fetch my raft over from theisland. Then the first dark night that comes steal the key out of theold man's britches after he goes to bed, and shove off down the river onthe raft with Jim, hiding daytimes and running nights, the way me and Jimused to do before. Wouldn't that plan work?"

"WORK? Why, cert'nly it would work, like rats a-fighting. But it's tooblame' simple; there ain't nothing TO it. What's the good of a plan thatain't no more trouble than that? It's as mild as goose-milk. Why, Huck, it wouldn't make no more talk than breaking into a soap factory. "

I never said nothing, because I warn't expecting nothing different; but Iknowed mighty well that whenever he got HIS plan ready it wouldn't havenone of them objections to it. 

And it didn't. He told me what it was, and I see in a minute it wasworth fifteen of mine for style, and would make Jim just as free a man asmine would, and maybe get us all killed besides. So I was satisfied, andsaid we would waltz in on it. I needn't tell what it was here, because Iknowed it wouldn't stay the way, it was. I knowed he would be changingit around every which way as we went along, and heaving in newbullinesses wherever he got a chance. And that is what he done. 

Well, one thing was dead sure, and that was that Tom Sawyer was inearnest, and was actuly going to help steal that nigger out of slavery. That was the thing that was too many for me. Here was a boy that wasrespectable and well brung up; and had a character to lose; and folks athome that had characters; and he was bright and not leather-headed; andknowing and not ignorant; and not mean, but kind; and yet here he was, without any more pride, or rightness, or feeling, than to stoop to thisbusiness, and make himself a shame, and his family a shame, beforeeverybody. I COULDN'T understand it no way at all. It was outrageous, and I knowed I ought to just up and tell him so; and so be his truefriend, and let him quit the thing right where he was and save himself. And I DID start to tell him; but he shut me up, and says:

"Don't you reckon I know what I'm about? Don't I generly know what I'mabout?"

"Yes. "

"Didn't I SAY I was going to help steal the nigger?"

"Yes. "

"WELL, then. "

That's all he said, and that's all I said. It warn't no use to say anymore; because when he said he'd do a thing, he always done it. But Icouldn't make out how he was willing to go into this thing; so I just letit go, and never bothered no more about it. If he was bound to have itso, I couldn't help it. 

When we got home the house was all dark and still; so we went on down tothe hut by the ash-hopper for to examine it. We went through the yard soas to see what the hounds would do. They knowed us, and didn't make nomore noise than country dogs is always doing when anything comes by inthe night. When we got to the cabin we took a look at the front and thetwo sides; and on the side I warn't acquainted with--which was the northside--we found a square window-hole, up tolerable high, with just onestout board nailed across it. I says:

"Here's the ticket. This hole's big enough for Jim to get through if wewrench off the board. "

Tom says:

"It's as simple as tit-tat-toe, three-in-a-row, and as easy as playinghooky. I should HOPE we can find a way that's a little more complicatedthan THAT, Huck Finn. "

"Well, then, " I says, "how 'll it do to saw him out, the way I donebefore I was murdered that time?"

"That's more LIKE, " he says. "It's real mysterious, and troublesome, andgood, " he says; "but I bet we can find a way that's twice as long. Thereain't no hurry; le's keep on looking around. "

Betwixt the hut and the fence, on the back side, was a lean-to thatjoined the hut at the eaves, and was made out of plank. It was as longas the hut, but narrow--only about six foot wide. The door to it was atthe south end, and was padlocked. Tom he went to the soap-kettle andsearched around, and fetched back the iron thing they lift the lid with;so he took it and prized out one of the staples. The chain fell down, and we opened the door and went in, and shut it, and struck a match, andsee the shed was only built against a cabin and hadn't no connection withit; and there warn't no floor to the shed, nor nothing in it but some oldrusty played-out hoes and spades and picks and a crippled plow. Thematch went out, and so did we, and shoved in the staple again, and thedoor was locked as good as ever. Tom was joyful. He says;

"Now we're all right. We'll DIG him out. It 'll take about a week!"

Then we started for the house, and I went in the back door--you only haveto pull a buckskin latch-string, they don't fasten the doors--but thatwarn't romantical enough for Tom Sawyer; no way would do him but he mustclimb up the lightning-rod. But after he got up half way about threetimes, and missed fire and fell every time, and the last time most bustedhis brains out, he thought he'd got to give it up; but after he wasrested he allowed he would give her one more turn for luck, and this timehe made the trip. 

In the morning we was up at break of day, and down to the nigger cabinsto pet the dogs and make friends with the nigger that fed Jim--if it WASJim that was being fed. The niggers was just getting through breakfastand starting for the fields; and Jim's nigger was piling up a tin panwith bread and meat and things; and whilst the others was leaving, thekey come from the house. 

This nigger had a good-natured, chuckle-headed face, and his wool was alltied up in little bunches with thread. That was to keep witches off. Hesaid the witches was pestering him awful these nights, and making him seeall kinds of strange things, and hear all kinds of strange words andnoises, and he didn't believe he was ever witched so long before in hislife. He got so worked up, and got to running on so about his troubles, he forgot all about what he'd been a-going to do. So Tom says:

"What's the vittles for? Going to feed the dogs?"

The nigger kind of smiled around gradually over his face, like when youheave a brickbat in a mud-puddle, and he says:

"Yes, Mars Sid, A dog. Cur'us dog, too. Does you want to go en look at'im?"

"Yes. "

I hunched Tom, and whispers:

"You going, right here in the daybreak? THAT warn't the plan. "

"No, it warn't; but it's the plan NOW. "

So, drat him, we went along, but I didn't like it much. When we got inwe couldn't hardly see anything, it was so dark; but Jim was there, sureenough, and could see us; and he sings out:

"Why, HUCK! En good LAN'! ain' dat Misto Tom?"

I just knowed how it would be; I just expected it. I didn't know nothingto do; and if I had I couldn't a done it, because that nigger busted inand says:

"Why, de gracious sakes! do he know you genlmen?"

We could see pretty well now. Tom he looked at the nigger, steady andkind of wondering, and says:

"Does WHO know us?"

"Why, dis-yer runaway nigger. "

"I don't reckon he does; but what put that into your head?"

"What PUT it dar? Didn' he jis' dis minute sing out like he knowed you?"

Tom says, in a puzzled-up kind of way:

"Well, that's mighty curious. WHO sung out? WHEN did he sing out? WHATdid he sing out?" And turns to me, perfectly ca'm, and says, "Did YOUhear anybody sing out?"

Of course there warn't nothing to be said but the one thing; so I says:

"No; I ain't heard nobody say nothing. "

Then he turns to Jim, and looks him over like he never see him before, and says:

"Did you sing out?"

"No, sah, " says Jim; "I hain't said nothing, sah. "

"Not a word?"

"No, sah, I hain't said a word. "

"Did you ever see us before?"

"No, sah; not as I knows on. "

So Tom turns to the nigger, which was looking wild and distressed, andsays, kind of severe:

"What do you reckon's the matter with you, anyway? What made you thinksomebody sung out?"

"Oh, it's de dad-blame' witches, sah, en I wisht I was dead, I do. Dey'sawluz at it, sah, en dey do mos' kill me, dey sk'yers me so. Please todon't tell nobody 'bout it sah, er ole Mars Silas he'll scole me; 'kasehe say dey AIN'T no witches. I jis' wish to goodness he was heah now--DEN what would he say! I jis' bet he couldn' fine no way to git aroun'it DIS time. But it's awluz jis' so; people dat's SOT, stays sot; deywon't look into noth'n'en fine it out f'r deyselves, en when YOU fine itout en tell um 'bout it, dey doan' b'lieve you. "

Tom give him a dime, and said we wouldn't tell nobody; and told him tobuy some more thread to tie up his wool with; and then looks at Jim, andsays:

"I wonder if Uncle Silas is going to hang this nigger. If I was to catcha nigger that was ungrateful enough to run away, I wouldn't give him up, I'd hang him. " And whilst the nigger stepped to the door to look at thedime and bite it to see if it was good, he whispers to Jim and says:

"Don't ever let on to know us. And if you hear any digging going onnights, it's us; we're going to set you free. "

Jim only had time to grab us by the hand and squeeze it; then the niggercome back, and we said we'd come again some time if the nigger wanted usto; and he said he would, more particular if it was dark, because thewitches went for him mostly in the dark, and it was good to have folksaround then. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

IT would be most an hour yet till breakfast, so we left and struck downinto the woods; because Tom said we got to have SOME light to see how todig by, and a lantern makes too much, and might get us into trouble; whatwe must have was a lot of them rotten chunks that's called fox-fire, andjust makes a soft kind of a glow when you lay them in a dark place. Wefetched an armful and hid it in the weeds, and set down to rest, and Tomsays, kind of dissatisfied:

"Blame it, this whole thing is just as easy and awkward as it can be. And so it makes it so rotten difficult to get up a difficult plan. Thereain't no watchman to be drugged--now there OUGHT to be a watchman. Thereain't even a dog to give a sleeping-mixture to. And there's Jim chainedby one leg, with a ten-foot chain, to the leg of his bed: why, all yougot to do is to lift up the bedstead and slip off the chain. And UncleSilas he trusts everybody; sends the key to the punkin-headed nigger, anddon't send nobody to watch the nigger. Jim could a got out of thatwindow-hole before this, only there wouldn't be no use trying to travelwith a ten-foot chain on his leg. Why, drat it, Huck, it's the stupidestarrangement I ever see. You got to invent ALL the difficulties. Well, wecan't help it; we got to do the best we can with the materials we've got. Anyhow, there's one thing--there's more honor in getting him outthrough a lot of difficulties and dangers, where there warn't one of themfurnished to you by the people who it was their duty to furnish them, andyou had to contrive them all out of your own head. Now look at just thatone thing of the lantern. When you come down to the cold facts, wesimply got to LET ON that a lantern's resky. Why, we could work with atorchlight procession if we wanted to, I believe. Now, whilst I think ofit, we got to hunt up something to make a saw out of the first chance weget. "

"What do we want of a saw?"

"What do we WANT of a saw? Hain't we got to saw the leg of Jim's bedoff, so as to get the chain loose?"

"Why, you just said a body could lift up the bedstead and slip the chainoff. "

"Well, if that ain't just like you, Huck Finn. You CAN get up theinfant-schooliest ways of going at a thing. Why, hain't you ever readany books at all?--Baron Trenck, nor Casanova, nor Benvenuto Chelleeny, nor Henri IV. , nor none of them heroes? Who ever heard of getting aprisoner loose in such an old-maidy way as that? No; the way all thebest authorities does is to saw the bed-leg in two, and leave it just so, and swallow the sawdust, so it can't be found, and put some dirt andgrease around the sawed place so the very keenest seneskal can't see nosign of it's being sawed, and thinks the bed-leg is perfectly sound. Then, the night you're ready, fetch the leg a kick, down she goes; slipoff your chain, and there you are. Nothing to do but hitch your ropeladder to the battlements, shin down it, break your leg in the moat--because a rope ladder is nineteen foot too short, you know--and there'syour horses and your trusty vassles, and they scoop you up and fling youacross a saddle, and away you go to your native Langudoc, or Navarre, orwherever it is. It's gaudy, Huck. I wish there was a moat to this cabin. If we get time, the night of the escape, we'll dig one. "

I says:

"What do we want of a moat when we're going to snake him out from underthe cabin?"

But he never heard me. He had forgot me and everything else. He had hischin in his hand, thinking. Pretty soon he sighs and shakes his head;then sighs again, and says:

"No, it wouldn't do--there ain't necessity enough for it. "

"For what?" I says. 

"Why, to saw Jim's leg off, " he says. 

"Good land!" I says; "why, there ain't NO necessity for it. And whatwould you want to saw his leg off for, anyway?"

"Well, some of the best authorities has done it. They couldn't get thechain off, so they just cut their hand off and shoved. And a leg wouldbe better still. But we got to let that go. There ain't necessityenough in this case; and, besides, Jim's a nigger, and wouldn'tunderstand the reasons for it, and how it's the custom in Europe; sowe'll let it go. But there's one thing--he can have a rope ladder; wecan tear up our sheets and make him a rope ladder easy enough. And wecan send it to him in a pie; it's mostly done that way. And I've etworse pies. "

"Why, Tom Sawyer, how you talk, " I says; "Jim ain't got no use for a ropeladder. "

"He HAS got use for it. How YOU talk, you better say; you don't knownothing about it. He's GOT to have a rope ladder; they all do. "

"What in the nation can he DO with it?"

"DO with it? He can hide it in his bed, can't he?" That's what they alldo; and HE'S got to, too. Huck, you don't ever seem to want to doanything that's regular; you want to be starting something fresh all thetime. S'pose he DON'T do nothing with it? ain't it there in his bed, fora clew, after he's gone? and don't you reckon they'll want clews? Ofcourse they will. And you wouldn't leave them any? That would be aPRETTY howdy-do, WOULDN'T it! I never heard of such a thing. "

"Well, " I says, "if it's in the regulations, and he's got to have it, allright, let him have it; because I don't wish to go back on noregulations; but there's one thing, Tom Sawyer--if we go to tearing upour sheets to make Jim a rope ladder, we're going to get into troublewith Aunt Sally, just as sure as you're born. Now, the way I look at it, a hickry-bark ladder don't cost nothing, and don't waste nothing, and isjust as good to load up a pie with, and hide in a straw tick, as any ragladder you can start; and as for Jim, he ain't had no experience, and sohe don't care what kind of a--"

"Oh, shucks, Huck Finn, if I was as ignorant as you I'd keep still--that's what I'D do. Who ever heard of a state prisoner escaping by ahickry-bark ladder? Why, it's perfectly ridiculous. "

"Well, all right, Tom, fix it your own way; but if you'll take my advice, you'll let me borrow a sheet off of the clothesline. "

He said that would do. And that gave him another idea, and he says:

"Borrow a shirt, too. "

"What do we want of a shirt, Tom?"

"Want it for Jim to keep a journal on. "

"Journal your granny--JIM can't write. "

"S'pose he CAN'T write--he can make marks on the shirt, can't he, if wemake him a pen out of an old pewter spoon or a piece of an old ironbarrel-hoop?"

"Why, Tom, we can pull a feather out of a goose and make him a betterone; and quicker, too. "

"PRISONERS don't have geese running around the donjon-keep to pull pensout of, you muggins. They ALWAYS make their pens out of the hardest, toughest, troublesomest piece of old brass candlestick or something likethat they can get their hands on; and it takes them weeks and weeks andmonths and months to file it out, too, because they've got to do it byrubbing it on the wall. THEY wouldn't use a goose-quill if they had it. It ain't regular. "

"Well, then, what'll we make him the ink out of?"

"Many makes it out of iron-rust and tears; but that's the common sort andwomen; the best authorities uses their own blood. Jim can do that; andwhen he wants to send any little common ordinary mysterious message tolet the world know where he's captivated, he can write it on the bottomof a tin plate with a fork and throw it out of the window. The Iron Maskalways done that, and it's a blame' good way, too. "

"Jim ain't got no tin plates. They feed him in a pan. "

"That ain't nothing; we can get him some. "

"Can't nobody READ his plates. "

"That ain't got anything to DO with it, Huck Finn. All HE'S got to do isto write on the plate and throw it out. You don't HAVE to be able toread it. Why, half the time you can't read anything a prisoner writes ona tin plate, or anywhere else. "

"Well, then, what's the sense in wasting the plates?"

"Why, blame it all, it ain't the PRISONER'S plates. "

"But it's SOMEBODY'S plates, ain't it?"

"Well, spos'n it is? What does the PRISONER care whose--"

He broke off there, because we heard the breakfast-horn blowing. So wecleared out for the house. 

Along during the morning I borrowed a sheet and a white shirt off of theclothes-line; and I found an old sack and put them in it, and we wentdown and got the fox-fire, and put that in too. I called it borrowing, because that was what pap always called it; but Tom said it warn'tborrowing, it was stealing. He said we was representing prisoners; andprisoners don't care how they get a thing so they get it, and nobodydon't blame them for it, either. It ain't no crime in a prisoner tosteal the thing he needs to get away with, Tom said; it's his right; andso, as long as we was representing a prisoner, we had a perfect right tosteal anything on this place we had the least use for to get ourselvesout of prison with. He said if we warn't prisoners it would be a verydifferent thing, and nobody but a mean, ornery person would steal when hewarn't a prisoner. So we allowed we would steal everything there wasthat come handy. And yet he made a mighty fuss, one day, after that, when I stole a watermelon out of the nigger-patch and eat it; and he mademe go and give the niggers a dime without telling them what it was for. Tom said that what he meant was, we could steal anything we NEEDED. Well, I says, I needed the watermelon. But he said I didn't need it to get outof prison with; there's where the difference was. He said if I'd awanted it to hide a knife in, and smuggle it to Jim to kill the seneskalwith, it would a been all right. So I let it go at that, though Icouldn't see no advantage in my representing a prisoner if I got to setdown and chaw over a lot of gold-leaf distinctions like that every time Isee a chance to hog a watermelon. 

Well, as I was saying, we waited that morning till everybody was settleddown to business, and nobody in sight around the yard; then Tom hecarried the sack into the lean-to whilst I stood off a piece to keepwatch. By and by he come out, and we went and set down on the woodpileto talk. He says:

"Everything's all right now except tools; and that's easy fixed. "

"Tools?" I says. 

"Yes. "

"Tools for what?"

"Why, to dig with. We ain't a-going to GNAW him out, are we?"

"Ain't them old crippled picks and things in there good enough to dig anigger out with?" I says. 

He turns on me, looking pitying enough to make a body cry, and says:

"Huck Finn, did you EVER hear of a prisoner having picks and shovels, andall the modern conveniences in his wardrobe to dig himself out with? NowI want to ask you--if you got any reasonableness in you at all--what kindof a show would THAT give him to be a hero? Why, they might as well lendhim the key and done with it. Picks and shovels--why, they wouldn'tfurnish 'em to a king. "

"Well, then, " I says, "if we don't want the picks and shovels, what do wewant?"

"A couple of case-knives. "

"To dig the foundations out from under that cabin with?"

"Yes. "

"Confound it, it's foolish, Tom. "

"It don't make no difference how foolish it is, it's the RIGHT way--andit's the regular way. And there ain't no OTHER way, that ever I heardof, and I've read all the books that gives any information about thesethings. They always dig out with a case-knife--and not through dirt, mindyou; generly it's through solid rock. And it takes them weeks and weeksand weeks, and for ever and ever. Why, look at one of them prisoners inthe bottom dungeon of the Castle Deef, in the harbor of Marseilles, thatdug himself out that way; how long was HE at it, you reckon?"

"I don't know. "

"Well, guess. "

"I don't know. A month and a half. "

"THIRTY-SEVEN YEAR--and he come out in China. THAT'S the kind. I wishthe bottom of THIS fortress was solid rock. "

"JIM don't know nobody in China. "

"What's THAT got to do with it? Neither did that other fellow. Butyou're always a-wandering off on a side issue. Why can't you stick tothe main point?"

"All right--I don't care where he comes out, so he COMES out; and Jimdon't, either, I reckon. But there's one thing, anyway--Jim's too old tobe dug out with a case-knife. He won't last. "

"Yes he will LAST, too. You don't reckon it's going to take thirty-sevenyears to dig out through a DIRT foundation, do you?"

"How long will it take, Tom?"

"Well, we can't resk being as long as we ought to, because it mayn't takevery long for Uncle Silas to hear from down there by New Orleans. He'llhear Jim ain't from there. Then his next move will be to advertise Jim, or something like that. So we can't resk being as long digging him outas we ought to. By rights I reckon we ought to be a couple of years; butwe can't. Things being so uncertain, what I recommend is this: that wereally dig right in, as quick as we can; and after that, we can LET ON, to ourselves, that we was at it thirty-seven years. Then we can snatchhim out and rush him away the first time there's an alarm. Yes, I reckonthat 'll be the best way. "

"Now, there's SENSE in that, " I says. "Letting on don't cost nothing;letting on ain't no trouble; and if it's any object, I don't mind lettingon we was at it a hundred and fifty year. It wouldn't strain me none, after I got my hand in. So I'll mosey along now, and smouch a couple ofcase-knives. "

"Smouch three, " he says; "we want one to make a saw out of. "

"Tom, if it ain't unregular and irreligious to sejest it, " I says, "there's an old rusty saw-blade around yonder sticking under theweather-boarding behind the smoke-house. "

He looked kind of weary and discouraged-like, and says:

"It ain't no use to try to learn you nothing, Huck. Run along and smouchthe knives--three of them. " So I done it.