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 I know where Jim is."
"No! Where?"
"In that hut
down by the ash-hopper. Why,
looky here. When we was
at dinner, 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 thought about a dog not
eating watermelon. It shows how
a body can see and don't see
at the same time."
"Well, the
nigger unlocked the padlock
when he went in,
and he locked it again when he
came out. He fetched uncle a
key about the time we got up
from 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. All
right -- I'm glad we found it
out detective fashion; I wouldn't
give shucks for any other way.
Now you work your mind, and study
out a plan to steal Jim, and
I will study out one, too; and
we'll take the one we like the
best."
What a head for just a boy
to have! If I had Tom Sawyer's
head I wouldn't trade it off
to be a duke, nor mate of a steamboat,
nor clown in a circus, nor nothing
I can think of. I went to thinking
out a plan, but only just to
be doing something; I knowed
very well where the right plan
was 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 the island. Then
the first dark night that comes
steal the key out of the old
man's britches after he goes
to bed, and shove off down the
river on the raft with Jim, hiding
daytimes and running nights,
the way me and Jim used to do
before. Wouldn't that plan work?"
"WORK? Why,
cert'nly it would work, like
rats a-fighting. But
it's too blame' simple; there
ain't nothing TO it. What's the
good of a plan that ain'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 I knowed mighty well that
whenever he got HIS plan ready
it wouldn't have none of them
objections to it.
And it didn't. He told me what
it was, and I see in a minute
it was worth fifteen of mine
for style, and would make Jim
just as free a man as mine would,
and maybe get us all killed besides.
So I was satisfied, and said
we would waltz in on it. I needn't
tell what it was here, because
I knowed it wouldn't stay the
way, it was. I knowed he would
be changing it around every which
way as we went along, and heaving
in new bullinesses wherever he
got a chance. And that is what
he done.
Well, one thing was dead sure,
and that was that Tom Sawyer
was in earnest, 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 was respectable
and well brung up; and had a
character to lose; and folks
at home that had characters;
and he was bright and not leather-headed;
and knowing 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 this business,
and make himself a shame, and
his family a shame, before everybody.
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 true
friend, 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'm about?"
"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 any more; because when
he said he'd do a thing, he always
done it. But I couldn't make
out how he was willing to go
into this thing; so I just let
it go, and never bothered no
more about it. If he was bound
to have it so, I couldn't help
it.
When we got home the house
was all dark and still; so we
went on down to the hut by the
ash-hopper for to examine it.
We went through the yard so as
to see what the hounds would
do. They knowed us, and didn't
make no more noise than country
dogs is always doing when anything
comes by in the night. When we
got to the cabin we took a look
at the front and the two sides;
and on the side I warn't acquainted
with -- which was the north side
-- we found a square windowhole,
up tolerable high, with just
one stout board nailed across
it. I says:
"Here's the
ticket. This hole's big enough
for Jim to get through
if we wrench off the board."
Tom says:
"It's as simple
as tit-tat-toe, three-in-a-row,
and as easy as
playing hooky. I should HOPE
we can find a way that's a little
more complicated than THAT, Huck
Finn."
"Well, then," I says, "how
'll it do to saw him out, the
way I done before I was murdered
that time?"
"That's more LIKE," he says. "It's
real mysterious, and troublesome,
and good," he says; "but I bet
we can find a way that's twice
as long. There ain't no hurry;
le's keep on looking around."
Betwixt the hut and the fence,
on the back side, was a lean-to
that joined the hut at the eaves,
and was made out of plank. It
was as long as the hut, but narrow
-- only about six foot wide.
The door to it was at the south
end, and was padlocked. Tom he
went to the soap-kettle and searched
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, and see the
shed was only built against a
cabin and hadn't no connection
with it; and there warn't no
floor to the shed, nor nothing
in it but some old rusty played-out
hoes and spades and picks and
a crippled plow. The match went
out, and so did we, and shoved
in the staple again, and the
door 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 have to pull a buckskin
latchstring, they don't fasten
the doors -- but that warn't
romantical enough for Tom Sawyer;
no way would do him but he must
climb up the lightning-rod. But
after he got up half way about
three times, and missed fire
and fell every time, and the
last time most busted his brains
out, he thought he'd got to give
it up; but after he was rested
he allowed he would give her
one more turn for luck, and this
time he made the trip.
In the morning we was up at
break of day, and down to the
nigger cabins to pet the dogs
and make friends with the nigger
that fed Jim -- if it WAS Jim
that was being fed. The niggers
was just getting through breakfast
and starting for the fields;
and Jim's nigger was piling up
a tin pan with bread and meat
and things; and whilst the others
was leaving, the key come from
the house.
This nigger had a good-natured,
chuckle-headed face, and his
wool was all tied up in little
bunches with thread. That was
to keep witches off. He said
the witches was pestering him
awful these nights, and making
him see all kinds of strange
things, and hear all kinds of
strange words and noises, and
he didn't believe he was ever
witched so long before in his
life. 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
graduly over his face, like when
you heave 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 in we couldn't hardly
see anything, it was so dark;
but Jim was there, sure enough,
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 nothing to do; and if I
had I couldn't a done it, because
that nigger busted in and says:
"Why, de gracious
sakes! do he know you genlmen?"
We could see pretty well now.
Tom he looked at the nigger,
steady and kind 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? WHAT did he sing out?" And
turns to me, perfectly ca'm,
and says, "Did YOU hear 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,
and says, kind of severe:
"What do you
reckon's the matter with you,
anyway? What made you
think somebody sung out?"
"Oh, it's de
dad-blame' witches, sah, en
I wisht I was dead, I
do. Dey's awluz at it, sah, en
dey do mos' kill me, dey sk'yers
me so. Please to don't tell nobody
'bout it sah, er ole Mars Silas
he'll scole me; 'kase he 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; dey won't
look into noth'n'en fine it out
f'r deyselves, en when YOU fine
it out 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 to buy some more thread
to tie up his wool with; and
then looks at Jim, and says:
"I wonder if Uncle Silas is
going to hang this nigger. If
I was to catch a 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 the dime 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 on nights, 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 nigger come back, and we
said we'd come again some time
if the nigger wanted us to; and
he said he would, more particular
if it was dark, because the witches
went for him mostly in the dark,
and it was good to have folks
around then.
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