ever 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:

"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 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 tim