, 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.

CHAPTER XXXV.

IT would be most an hour yet till breakfast, so we left and struck down
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 nig