Huckleberry finn by Mark Twain

you'd like it."

it was all she could do to keep from giving him a crack with it. "What

made 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 never

heard the beat of it. Who's THEY?"

worked like she wanted to scratch him; and she says:

me to. They all said, kiss her; and said she'd like it. They all said

it--every one of them. But I'm sorry, m'am, and I won't do it no more

--I won't, honest."

lay 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 and

looked around slow, like he wished he could run across a friendly eye

somewheres, and fetched up on the old gentleman's, and says, "Didn't YOU

think 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, 'Sid

Sawyer--'"

rascal, to fool a body so--" and was going to hug him, but he fended her

off, 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 him

over and over again, and then turned him over to the old man, and he took

what 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 at

all, but only Tom. Sis never wrote to me about anybody coming but him."

"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-rate

surprise for him to come here to the house first, and for me to by and by

tag along and drop in, and let on to be a stranger. But it was a

mistake, Aunt Sally. This ain't no healthy place for a stranger to

come."
"No--not impudent whelps, Sid. You ought to had your jaws boxed; I

hain't been so put out since I don't know when. But I don't care, I

don't mind the terms--I'd be willing to stand a thousand such jokes to

have you here. Well, to think of that performance! I don't deny it, I

was most putrified with astonishment when you give me that smack."
We had dinner out in that broad open passage betwixt the house and the

kitchen; 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 a

cupboard in a damp cellar all night and tastes like a hunk of old cold

cannibal in the morning. Uncle Silas he asked a pretty long blessing

over it, but it was worth it; and it didn't cool it a bit, neither, the

way I've seen them kind of interruptions do lots of times. There was a

considerable good deal of talk all the afternoon, and me and Tom was on

the lookout all the time; but it warn't no use, they didn't happen to say

nothing about any runaway nigger, and we was afraid to try to work up to

it. 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 you

couldn't go if there was; because the runaway nigger told Burton and me

all 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 this

time."
So there it was!--but I couldn't help it. Tom and me was to sleep in the

same room and bed; so, being tired, we bid good-night and went up to bed

right after supper, and clumb out of the window and down the

lightning-rod, and shoved for the town; for I didn't believe anybody was

going to give the king and the duke a hint, and so if I didn't hurry up

and give them one they'd get into trouble sure.

and how pap disappeared pretty soon, and didn't come back no more, and

what a stir there was when Jim run away; and I told Tom all about our

Royal Nonesuch rapscallions, and as much of the raft voyage as I had time

to; and as we struck into the town and up through the--here comes a

raging 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 let

them go by; and as they went by I see they had the king and the duke

astraddle 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 nothing

in the world that was human--just looked like a couple of monstrous big

soldier-plumes. Well, it made me sick to see it; and I was sorry for

them poor pitiful rascals, it seemed like I couldn't ever feel any

hardness against them any more in the world. It was a dreadful thing to

see. Human beings CAN be awful cruel to one another.
We see we was too late--couldn't do no good. We asked some stragglers

about 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 of

his cavortings on the stage; then somebody give a signal, and the house

rose up and went for them.
So we poked along back home, and I warn't feeling so brash as I was

before, but kind of ornery, and humble, and to blame, somehow--though I

hadn't done nothing. But that's always the way; it don't make no

difference whether you do right or wrong, a person's conscience ain't got

no sense, and just goes for him anyway. If I had a yaller dog that

didn'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 yet

ain'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 I

know where Jim is."

dinner, didn't you see a nigger man go in there with some vittles?"

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?"

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."

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:

about?"
"Yes."

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 window-hole, up tolerable high, with just one

stout board nailed across it. I says:

wrench off the board."

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?"

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;

to pull a buckskin latch-string, 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.

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.

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 gradually over his face, like when you

heave a brickbat in a mud-puddle, and he says:

'im?"
"Yes."

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:

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:

says, kind of severe:

somebody sung out?"

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."

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:

nights, it's us; we're going to set you free."

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.

CHAPTER XXXV.

into the woods; because Tom said we got to have SOME light to see how to

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 called fox-fire, and

just makes a soft kind of a glow when you lay them in a dark place. We

fetched an armful and hid it in the weeds, and set down to 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 a watchman. There

ain't even a dog to give a sleeping-mixture to. And there's Jim chained

by one leg, with a ten-foot chain, to the leg of his bed: why, all you

got to do is to lift up the bedstead and slip off the chain. And Uncle

Silas he trusts everybody; sends the key to the punkin-headed nigger, and

don't send nobody to watch the nigger. Jim could a got out of that

window-hole before this, only there wouldn't be no 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 can with the materials we've got.

Anyhow, there's one thing--there's more honor 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 was their duty to furnish them, and

you had to contrive them all out of your own head. Now look at just that

one thing of the lantern. When you come down to the cold facts, we

simply got to LET ON that a lantern's resky. 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 to make a saw out of the first chance we

get."
"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 bed

off, so as to get the chain loose?"

off."
"Well, if that ain't just like you, Huck Finn. You CAN get up the

infant-schooliest ways of going at a thing. Why, hain't you ever read

any books at all?--Baron Trenck, nor Casanova, nor Benvenuto Chelleeny,

nor Henri IV., nor none of them heroes? Who ever heard of getting a

prisoner loose in such an old-maidy way as that? No; the way all the

best 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 and

grease around the sawed place so the very keenest seneskal can't see no

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; slip

off your chain, and there you are. Nothing to do but hitch your rope

ladder 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's

your horses and your trusty vassles, and they scoop you up and fling you

across a saddle, and away you go to your native Langudoc, or Navarre, or

wherever 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."

the cabin?"

chin 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 what

would you want to saw his leg off for, anyway?"

chain off, so they just cut their hand off and shoved. And a leg would

be better still. But we got to let that go. There ain't necessity

enough in this case; and, besides, Jim's a nigger, and wouldn't

understand the reasons for it, and how it's the custom in Europe; so

we'll let it go. But there's one thing--he can have a rope ladder; we

can tear up our sheets and make him a rope ladder easy enough. And we

can send it to him in a pie; it's mostly done that way. And I've et

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

ladder."
"He HAS got use for it. How YOU talk, you better say; you don't know