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 howto dig by, and a lantern makes too much, and might get us into trouble;what we must have was a lot of them rotten chunks that's calledfox-fire, and just makes a soft kind of a glow when you lay them in adark place. ?We fetched an armful and hid it in the weeds, and set downto rest, and Tom says, 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.?There ain't no watchman to be drugged--now there _ought_ to be awatchman. ?There ain't even a dog to give a sleeping-mixture to. ?Andthere's Jim chained by one leg, with a ten-foot chain, to the leg of hisbed: ?why, all you got to do is to lift up the bedstead and slip offthe chain. ?And Uncle Silas he trusts everybody; sends the key to thepunkin-headed nigger, and don't send nobody to watch the nigger. ?Jimcould a got out of that window-hole before this, only there wouldn't beno use trying to travel with a ten-foot chain on his leg. ?Why, drat it,Huck, it's the stupidest arrangement I ever see. You got to invent _all_the difficulties. ?Well, we can't help it; we got to do the best we canwith the materials we've got. Anyhow, there's one thing--there's morehonor in getting him out through a lot of difficulties and dangers,where there warn't one of them furnished to you by the people who it wastheir duty to furnish them, and you had to contrive them all out of yourown head. ?Now look at just that one thing of the lantern. ?When youcome down to the cold facts, we simply got to _let on_ that a lantern'sresky. ?Why, we could work with a torchlight procession if we wanted to,I believe. ?Now, whilst I think of it, we got to hunt up something tomake a saw out of the first chance we get."
"What do we want of a saw?"
"What do we _want_ of it? ?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 justso, 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 seeno sign 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 yourrope ladder to the battlements, shin down it, break your leg in themoat--because a rope ladder is nineteen foot too short, you know--andthere's your horses and your trusty vassles, and they scoop you up andfling you across a saddle, and away you go to your native Langudoc, orNavarre, or wherever it is. It's gaudy, Huck. ?I wish there was a moatto 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 hadhis chin in his hand, thinking. ?Pretty soon he sighs and shakes hishead; 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 arope ladder."
"He _has_ got use for it. ?How _you_ talk, you better say; you don'tknow nothing 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 theyall do; 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,for a clew, after he's gone? and don't you reckon they'll want clews??Of course they will. ?And you wouldn't leave them any? ?That would be a_pretty_ 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 haveit, all right, 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 atit, a hickry-bark ladder don't cost nothing, and don't waste nothing,and is just as good to load up a pie with, and hide in a straw tick,as any rag ladder you can start; and as for Jim, he ain't had noexperience, and so he don't care what kind of a--"
"Oh, shucks, Huck Finn, if I was as ignorant as you I'd keepstill--that's what I'D do. ?Who ever heard of a state prisoner escapingby a hickry-bark ladder? ?Why, it's perfectly ridiculous."
"Well, all right, Tom, fix it your own way; but if you'll take myadvice, 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, ifwe make 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 pullpens out of, you muggins. ?They _always_ make their pens out of thehardest, toughest, troublesomest piece of old brass candlestick orsomething like that they can get their hands on; and it takes them weeksand weeks and months and months to file it out, too, because they've gotto do it by rubbing it on the wall. ?_They_ wouldn't use a goose-quillif 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 sortand women; the best authorities uses their own blood. ?Jim can do that;and when he wants to send any little common ordinary mysterious messageto let the world know where he's captivated, he can write it on thebottom of a tin plate with a fork and throw it out of the window. ?TheIron Mask always 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 todo is to write on the plate and throw it out. ?You don't _have_ to beable to read it. Why, half the time you can't read anything a prisonerwrites on a 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 whenhe warn'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 hemade me go and give the niggers a dime without telling them what itwas 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'tneed it to get out of prison with; there's where the difference was.?He said if I'd a wanted it to hide a knife in, and smuggle it to Jimto kill the seneskal with, it would a been all right. ?So I let it go atthat, though I couldn't see no advantage in my representing a prisonerif I got to set down and chaw over a lot of gold-leaf distinctions likethat every time I see 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,and all the modern conveniences in his wardrobe to dig himself out with??Now I want to ask you--if you got any reasonableness in you at all--whatkind of a show would _that_ give him to be a hero? ?Why, they might aswell lend him the key and done with it. ?Picks and shovels--why, theywouldn't furnish 'em to a king."
"Well, then," I says, "if we don't want the picks and shovels, what dowe want?"
"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. ?Iwish the 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 takethirty-seven years 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'ttake very long for Uncle Silas to hear from down there by New Orleans.?He'll hear Jim ain't from there. ?Then his next move will be toadvertise Jim, or something like that. ?So we can't resk being as longdigging him out as we ought to. ?By rights I reckon we ought to bea couple of years; but we can't. ?Things being so uncertain, what Irecommend is this: ?that we really dig right in, as quick as we can;and after that, we can _let on_, to ourselves, that we was at itthirty-seven years. ?Then we can snatch him out and rush him away thefirst time there's an alarm. ?Yes, I reckon that '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 mindletting on we was at it a hundred and fifty year. ?It wouldn't strainme none, after I got my hand in. ?So I'll mosey along now, and smouch acouple of case-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 andsmouch the knives--three of them." ?So I done it.