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 anddon't see 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 give shucksfor any other way. ?Now you work your mind, and study out a plan tosteal Jim, and I will study out one, too; and we'll take the one we likethe 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 clownin 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 rightplan 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 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 riveron the raft with Jim, hiding daytimes and running nights, the way me andJim used to do before. ?Wouldn't that plan work?"
"_Work_? ?Why, cert'nly it would work, like rats a-fighting. ?But it'stoo blame' simple; there ain't nothing _to_ it. ?What's the good of aplan 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 soapfactory."
I never said nothing, because I warn't expecting nothing different; butI knowed mighty well that whenever he got _his_ plan ready it wouldn'thave none 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 manas 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 bechanging it 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 tothis business, and make himself a shame, and his family a shame,before everybody. ?I _couldn't_ understand it no way at all. ?It wasoutrageous, and I knowed I ought to just up and tell him so; and so behis true friend, and let him quit the thing right where he was and savehimself. 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 justlet it go, and never bothered no more about it. ?If he was bound to haveit so, 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 yardso as to see what the hounds would do. ?They knowed us, and didn't makeno more noise than country dogs is always doing when anything comes byin the night. ?When we got to the cabin we took a look at the front andthe two sides; and on the side I warn't acquainted with--which was thenorth side--we found a square window-hole, up tolerable high, with justone stout 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 asplaying hooky. ?I should _hope_ we can find a way that's a little morecomplicated than _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,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 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,and see the shed was only built against a cabin and hadn't no connectionwith it; and there warn't no floor to the shed, nor nothing in it butsome 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, andthe 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 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 mostbusted his brains out, he thought he'd got to give it up; but after hewas rested he allowed he would give her one more turn for luck, and thistime he 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_was_ Jim that was being fed. ?The niggers was just getting throughbreakfast and starting for the fields; and Jim's nigger was piling upa tin pan with bread and meat and things; and whilst the others wasleaving, the key come from the house.
This nigger had a good-natured, chuckle-headed face, and his wool wasall tied up in little bunches with thread. ?That was to keep witchesoff. ?He said the witches was pestering him awful these nights, andmaking him see all kinds of strange things, and hear all kinds ofstrange words and noises, and he didn't believe he was ever witched solong before in his life. ?He got so worked up, and got to running on soabout 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 inw
e 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 knownothing to do; and if I had I couldn't a done it, because that niggerbusted 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 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 knowedyou?"
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, 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'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 scoleme; 'kase he say dey _ain't_ no witches. ?I jis' wish to goodness he washeah now--_den_ what would he say! ?I jis' bet he couldn' fine no way togit 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, enwhen _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 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 tocatch a nigger that was ungrateful enough to run away, I wouldn't givehim up, I'd hang him." ?And whilst the nigger stepped to the door tolook at the dime and bite it to see if it was good, he whispers to Jimand 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 wantedus to; 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.