AS soon as we reckoned everybody was asleep that night we went down the lightning-rod, and shut ourselves up in the lean-to, and got out our pile of fox-fire, and went to work. We cleared everything out of the way, about four or five foot along the middle of the bottom log. Tom said we was right behind Jim's bed now, and we'd dig in under it, and when we got through there couldn't nobody in the cabin ever know there was any hole there, because Jim's counterpin hung down most to the ground, and you'd have to raise it up and look under to see the hole. So we dug and dug with the case-knives till most midnight; and then we was dog-tired, and our hands was blistered², and yet you couldn't see we'd done anything hardly. At last I says:

"This ain't no thirty-seven year job; this is a thirty-eight year job, Tom Sawyer."

He never said nothing. But he sighed, and pretty soon he stopped digging, and then for a good little while I knowed that he was thinking. Then he says:

"It ain't no use, Huck, it ain't a-going to work. If we was prisoners it would, because then we'd have as many years as we wanted, and no hurry; and we wouldn't get but a few minutes to dig, every day, while they was changing watches, and so our hands wouldn't get blistered, and we could keep it up right along, year in and year out, and do it right, and the way it ought to be done. But WE can't fool along; we got to rush; we ain't got no time to spare. If we was to put in another night this way we'd have to knock off for a week to let our hands get well -- couldn't touch a case-knife with them sooner."

"Well, then, what we going to do, Tom?"

"I'll tell you. It ain't right, and it ain't moral, . and I wouldn't like it to get out; but there ain't only just the one way: we got to dig him out with the picks, and LET ON it's case-knives."

"NOW you're TALKING!" I says; "your head gets leveler and leveler all the time, Tom Sawyer," I says. "Picks is the thing, moral or no moral; and as for me, I don't care shucks for the morality of it, nohow. When I start in to steal a nigger, or a watermelon, or a Sunday-school book, I ain't no ways particular how it's done so it's done. What I want is my nigger; or what I want is my watermelon; or what I want is my Sunday-school book; and if a pick's the handiest thing, that's the thing I'm a-going to dig that nigger or that watermelon or that Sunday-school book out with; and I don't give a dead rat what the authorities thinks about it nuther."

"Well," he says, "there's excuse for picks and letting-on in a case like this; if it warn't so, I wouldn't approve of it, nor I wouldn't stand by and see the rules broke -- because right is right, and wrong is wrong, and a body ain't got no business doing wrong when he ain't ignorant and knows better. It might answer for YOU to dig Jim out with a pick, WITHOUT any letting on, because you don't know no better; but it wouldn't for me, because I do know better. Gimme a case-knife."

He had his own by him, but I handed him mine. He flung it down, and says:

"Gimme a CASE-KNIFE."

I didn't know just what to do -- but then I thought. I scratched around amongst the old tools, and got a pickaxe and give it to him, and he took it and went to work, and never said a word.

He was always just that particular. Full of principle.

So then I got a shovel³, and then we picked and shoveled⁴, turn about, and made the fur fly. We stuck to it about a half an hour, which was as long as we could stand up; but we had a good deal of a hole to show for it. When I got up stairs I looked out at the window and see Tom doing his level best with the lightning-rod, but he couldn't come it, his hands was so sore. At last he says:

"It ain't no use, it can't be done. What you reckon I better do? Can't you think of no way?"

"Yes," I says, "but I reckon it ain't regular. Come up the stairs, and let on it's a lightning-rod."

So he done it.

Next day Tom stole a pewter spoon and a brass⁵ candlestick in the house, for to make some pens for Jim out of, and six tallow candles; and I hung around the nigger cabins and laid for a chance, and stole three tin plates. Tom says it wasn't enough; but I said nobody wouldn't ever see the plates that Jim throwed out, because they'd fall in the dog-fennel and jimpson weeds under the window-hole -- then we could tote them back and he could use them over again. So Tom was satisfied. Then he says:

"Now, the thing to study out is, how to get the things to Jim."

"Take them in through the hole," I says, "when we get it done."

He only just looked scornful, and said something about nobody ever heard of such an idiotic⁶ idea, and then he went to studying. By and by he said he had ciphered out two or three ways, but there warn't no need to decide on any of them yet. Said we'd got to post Jim first.

That night we went down the lightning-rod a little after ten, and took one of the candles along, and listened under the window-hole, and heard Jim snoring; so we pitched it in, and it didn't wake him. Then we whirled in with the pick and shovel, and in about two hours and a half the job was done. We crept in under Jim's bed and into the cabin, and pawed around and found the candle and lit it, and stood over Jim awhile, and found him looking hearty⁷ and healthy, and then we woke him up gentle and gradual. He was so glad to see us he most cried; and called us honey, and all the pet names he could think of; and was for having us hunt up a cold-chisel to cut the chain off of his leg with right away, and clearing out without losing any time. But Tom he showed him how unregular it would be, and set down and told him all about our plans, and how we could alter them in a minute any time there was an alarm; and not to be the least afraid, because we would see he got away, SURE. So Jim he said it was all right, and we set there and talked over old times awhile, and then Tom asked a lot of questions, and when Jim told him Uncle Silas come in every day or two to pray with him, and Aunt Sally come in to see if he was comfortable and had plenty to eat, and both of them was kind as they could be, Tom says:

"NOW I know how to fix it. We'll send you some things by them."

I said, "Don't do nothing of the kind; it's one of the most jackass ideas I ever struck;" but he never paid no attention to me; went right on. It was his way when he'd got his plans set.

So he told Jim how we'd have to smuggle⁸ in the rope-ladder pie and other large things by Nat, the nigger that fed him, and he must be on the lookout⁹, and not be surprised, and not let Nat see him open them; and we would put small things in uncle's coatpockets and he must steal them out; and we would tie things to aunt's apron-strings or put them in her apron-pocket, if we got a chance; and told him what they would be and what they was for. And told him how to keep a journal on the shirt with his blood, and all that. He told him everything. Jim he couldn't see no sense in the most of it, but he allowed we was white folks and knowed better than him; so he was satisfied, and said he would do it all just as Tom said.

Jim had plenty corn-cob pipes and tobacco; so we had a right down good sociable¹⁰ time; then we crawled out through the hole, and so home to bed, with hands that looked like they'd been chawed. Tom was in high spirits. He said it was the best fun he ever had in his life, and the most intellectural; and said if he only could see his way to it we would keep it up all the rest of our lives and leave Jim to our children to get out; for he believed Jim would come to like it better and better the more he got used to it. He said that in that way it could be strung out to as much as eighty year, and would be the best time on record. And he said it would make us all celebrated¹¹ that had a hand in it.

In the morning we went out to the woodpile and chopped up the brass candlestick into handy sizes, and Tom put them and the pewter spoon in his pocket. Then we went to the nigger cabins, and while I got Nat's notice off, Tom shoved a piece of candlestick into the middle of a corn-pone that was in Jim's pan, and we went along with Nat to see how it would work, and it just worked noble; when Jim bit into it it most mashed¹² all his teeth out; and there warn't ever anything could a worked better. Tom said so himself. Jim he never let on but what it was only just a piece of rock or something like that that's always getting into bread, you know; but after that he never bit into nothing but what he jabbed his fork into it in three or four places first.

And whilst we was a-standing there in the dimmish light, here comes a couple of the hounds bulging¹³ in from under Jim's bed; and they kept on piling in till there was eleven of them, and there warn't hardly room in there to get your breath. By jings, we forgot to fasten that lean-to door! The nigger Nat he only just hollered "Witches" once, and keeled over on to the floor amongst the dogs, and begun to groan¹⁴ like he was dying. Tom jerked the door open and flung out a slab¹⁵ of Jim's meat, and the dogs went for it, and in two seconds he was out himself and back again and shut the door, and I knowed he'd fixed¹⁶ the other door too. Then he went to work on the nigger, coaxing¹⁷ him and petting him, and asking him if he'd been imagining he saw something again. He raised up, and blinked his eyes around, and says:

"Mars Sid, you'll say I's a fool, but if I didn't b'lieve I see most a million dogs, er devils, er some'n, I wisht I may die right heah in dese tracks. I did, mos' sholy. Mars Sid, I FELT um -- I FELT um, sah; dey was all over me. Dad fetch it, I jis' wisht I could git my han's on one er dem witches jis' wunst -- on'y jis' wunst -- it's all I'd ast. But mos'ly I wisht dey'd lemme 'lone¹⁸, I does."

Tom says:

"Well, I tell you what I think. What makes them come here just at this runaway¹⁹ nigger's breakfast-time? It's because they're hungry; that's the reason. You make them a witch pie; that's the thing for YOU to do."

"But my lan', Mars Sid, how's I gwyne to make 'm a witch pie? I doan' know how to make it. I hain't ever hearn er sich a thing b'fo'."

"Well, then, I'll have to make it myself."

"Will you do it, honey? -- 褀ill you? I'll wusshup de groun' und' yo' foot, I will!"

"All right, I'll do it, seeing it's you, and you've been good to us and showed us the runaway nigger. But you got to be mighty²⁰ careful. When we come around, you turn your back; and then whatever we've put in the pan, don't you let on you see it at all. And don't you look when Jim unloads the pan -- something might happen, I don't know what. And above all, don't you HANDLE the witch-things."

"HANNEL 'm, Mars Sid? What IS you a-talkin' 'bout¹? I wouldn' lay de weight er my finger on um, not f'r ten hund'd thous'n billion dollars, I wouldn't."

那天晚上，估计大家都熟睡了，我们便顺着避雷针滑了下来，躲进那个披间，把那一堆
烂木头狐火取出来，就动手干了起来。我们把墙根底下那根横木的中段前面的东西搬开，清
出了四五英尺宽的一块空地。汤姆说，他现在的位置恰好是在杰姆床铺的背后，我们就该在
下面挖起来，等到我们一挖通，在小屋里的人谁也不会知道下面有个洞，因为杰姆的被单快
要垂到地上了，你得把被单提起来仔细地看，才能看到地洞。因此我们便挖了又挖，用的是
小刀，一直挖到了半夜。到那个时辰，我们累得要死，两手也起了泡，可是还见不到有什么
进步。最后，我说：
    “这可不是要三十七年完工的活。这是要三十八年完工的活，汤姆。”
    他没有说话。不过他叹了一口气，没多久，便停挖了。隔了一会儿，我知道这是他在思
索了，他才说：
    “这样不行，哈克，这样行不通。要是我们是囚犯，那就行得通。因为我们要干多少年
便有多少年，用不到着急。每天，趁着监狱看守换班的当儿，只能有几分钟的时间挖掘，因
此我们的手也不会起泡，我们就可以一直挖下去，一年又一年地挖得好，挖得又合乎规矩。
不过如今我们可拖不得，得赶紧，我们没有时间好浪费的了。要是我们再这么干一个晚上，
我们就得歇上一个星期，手上的伤才能养好——不然的话，我们的手连这把小刀也都不敢碰
一碰了。”
    “那我们该怎么办，汤姆？”
    “我来告诉你吧。这当然是不对的，也不道德，我也不喜欢靠了这个逃出去——不过如
今也只有一条路了。我们只能用镐头挖，把他给弄出去，‘只当是’用小刀挖的。”“你这
才象句话！”我说。“你的脑瓜子水平越来越高啦，汤姆·索亚。”我这么说。“镐头才能
解决问题嘛，合乎道德也罢，不合乎道德也罢。对我来说，我才不管道德不道德呢。我偷一
个黑奴，或者偷一只西瓜，或者主日学校的一本书，我并不操心该怎样偷，反正偷就是了。
我要的是我的黑奴，或者要的是我的西瓜，或者我的主日学校的书。如果镐头是最容易弄到
手的东西，我便用它来挖那个黑奴，或者那只西瓜，或者那本主日学校的书。至于那些赫赫
有名的人物怎么个看法，我才不管呢。”
    “嗯，”他说，“拿这样一件事情来说，镐头和‘只当是’是情有可原。要不是这样，
我就不会赞成，也不会站在一旁，眼看规矩遭到破坏——因为对就是对，错就是错。一个人
如果有知识，有识别的能力，就不会干错事。拿你来说，你靠了镐头，把杰姆挖掘出去，又
并没有‘只当是’什么的，那行，因为你不知道识别嘛。可是如果是我，那就不行了，因为
我有识别的能力嘛。给我一把小刀。”
    他有他自己那一把，可是我还是把我的小刀递给了他。他把小刀往地上一摔，并且说：
    “给我一把小刀。”
    我不知道怎么办才好——不过我在当时便思索起来了。我在那堆破烂的农具里翻了一
下，找到一把尖嘴镐，递给了他。他接过去了，干起来了，一句话也没有说。
    他就是这么特特别别。一脑子原则。
    我找到了一把铁锹。我们两个就你一镐，他一锹地干了起来。有时把工具倒一下，活儿
干得飞快。我们使劲干了半个钟头左右，这是我们能使劲使到最高限度了，不过挖的地方倒
也挖得有了个洞的模样。我上楼以后，朝窗外一望，只见汤姆拼命抱住避雷针往上爬，可是
怎么也爬不上来。他的双手尽是泡。后来他说：
    “不行啊，爬不上啊。你看我该怎么办才好？你想不到别的法子么？”
    “有法子，”我说，“不过依我看，怕不合规矩。走楼梯上来嘛，‘只当是’爬避雷针
上来的。”
    他就这么上来了。
    第二天，汤姆在屋里偷了一只调羹和一座铜烛台，为了给杰姆做笔用的。还偷了六支蜡
烛。我呢，在黑奴小屋四周转，等待机会，偷了三只洋铁盘子。汤姆说这些还不够用的。不
过我说，杰姆摔出来的盘子不会有谁看见，因为盘子落到窗洞下面野茴香和曼陀罗草丛里，
——我们可以捡回来，他可以再使。这样，汤姆认为满意了。随后他说：
    “眼下该研究的问题是怎样能把东西送到杰姆手里。”
    “洞一挖通，”我说，“就把东西往洞里送。”
    他表现出不屑一听的架势，还说，可有谁曾听到过这样的馊主意。接下来，他自个儿思
索开来了。后来他说，他想出了两三条路子，不过暂且还不忙决定哪一种好。他说，还得先
通知杰姆一下。
    当天晚上，我们在十点钟以后，顺着避雷针滑了下去。还顺手偷了一支蜡烛。我们在窗
洞口一听，只听得杰姆在打呼噜，我们就一抬手把蜡烛扔了进去。可是这并没有弄醒杰姆。
随后我们抡起镐头和铁铣猛干了起来，大约两个半钟点以后，大功便告成了。我们爬到了杰
姆的床底下，这样进了小屋。摸了半天，才摸到了蜡烛，点了起来。我们在杰姆边上站了一
会儿，见到他那样子还挺健旺。随后我们轻轻地、慢慢地把他推醒了。他见到我们，高兴得
快要哭出来，叫我们乖乖、宝贝等等他能叫出来的种种亲热的称呼。他还要我们找一只凿
子，把腿上的镣铐给打开，并且不要耽误时间，马上逃出去。不过汤姆对他说了为什么这样
不合乎规矩。汤姆还坐了下来，详详细细讲了我们的计划的方方面面。还说明，万一情况有
变，我们会怎样立时立刻对计划进行改动，完全不用害怕，因为准会想尽办法，确保他逃出
去。杰姆便说这样很好。我们就坐在那里，谈了一阵过去的事，汤姆也提出了一些问题询问
他。后来杰姆说，西拉斯姨父每隔一两天来一回，跟他一起作祷告，萨莉阿姨也来看他过得
是不是舒服，吃得饱不饱，两人都和善得无以复加。汤姆说：
    “现今我知道该怎样安排了。我们要通过他们把有些东西送给你。”
    我说，“这样可使不得，这种办法可是最笨不过的办法。”不过我的话他只当耳边风，
还是他干他的。一旦主意已定，他就是按他的老路子办。
    所以他就对杰姆说了我们准备怎样通过给他送吃食的黑奴纳特，把绳梯馅饼等等东西偷
偷送进来，要他随时注意，千万不要大惊小怪。他打开这些东西时，别叫纳特看见。我们还
打算把一些小玩意儿塞进西拉斯姨夫的口袋里，他务必把这些东西偷到手。我们还打算一有
机会，把一些东西拴在萨莉阿姨的围裙带子上，或者放进围裙口袋里，还会设法告诉他，那
是些什么东西，有什么用途。他还对杰姆说，该怎样在他的衬衫上，蘸着他自己的血写下日
记，如此等等。他对他讲的这么多种种的事，杰姆多半听了莫名其妙，不过他承认，我们是
白种人，懂得的比他多，因此他也就满意了。还说他一定一一按汤姆的话去做。
    杰姆有的是玉米轴烟斗和烟叶子，因此我们在那里快快活活地聊了一阵，随后从洞中爬
了出来，回屋里睡觉。两只手呢，磨破了好几处，乍一看，仿佛被什么东西啃过似的。汤姆
兴高采烈，说这是他平生最开心也最用脑筋的一段时光。还说，只要他能想出个法子，我们
便能一辈子干到老死，让儿辈把杰姆搭救出去。因为按照他的想法，杰姆会越来越习惯于这
样的生活，也就越来越喜欢这样的生活。他说，这么一来，便可一拖拖到八十年，从而成为
历史上的最高纪录。他还说，这能叫我们这些有关的人一律都成为赫赫有名的人物。
    到早上，我们走出去，到了木材垛那边，把那座黄铜烛台砍成几小截，汤姆把这一些和
一把锡镴调羹放进了自己的口袋。随后我们到了黑奴的小屋，由我把纳特的注意力引开，汤
姆把一小截烛台塞在给杰姆送饭的锅里一块玉米饼中间。我们和纳特一块儿去小屋，看这办
法灵不灵。果然这办法灵得很哩。杰姆一口咬下去，烛台几乎把他的牙给崩飞啦，世上恐怕
没有比这更灵的办法了。汤姆就是这么说的。杰姆呢，他装做若无其事，仿佛只是吃到了一
粒小石子之类的东西。你知道的，吃面包时往往难免会吃到小粒石子。不过，在这以后，杰
姆吃东西时，总是先用叉子戳个三四处再吃。
    我们正在不明不暗的披间里站着，忽然有几条狗在杰姆床底下钻了出来，并且越聚越
多，后来一共有十一只之多，挤得连呼吸的余地都快没有了。天呀，我们忘了把披间的门关
上了。黑奴纳特呢，只听得叫了一声“妖魔”，便昏倒在地，倒在狗群里，开始呻吟，仿佛
快死的一般。汤姆砰地推开了门，把给杰姆的肉往门外扔了一块出去，狗纷纷去抢，汤姆紧
跟着出去，一会儿就回来，把门关上。我知道披间的门他也关上啦。随后他又去对付那个黑
奴，好言安慰他，亲热地拍拍他，还问他是不是他自以为又看到了什么。他站起身来，朝四
下里眨了眨眼睛说：
    “西特少爷，你一定会说我是个傻瓜。不过，如果我不相信自己确实见到了一百万只
狗，或是魔鬼，或是别的什么，那就叫我当场使（死）在这儿。我确实看到了的，千真万缺
（确）。西特少爷，我觉着他们——觉着他们在我眼前，他们扑到了我身上。该死的东西，
我要是有一回能抓住这些妖魔中的一个那才好呢——哪怕只抓住一回——那就好啦。不过，
顶好还是它们别来缠住我，那就好啦。”
    汤姆说：
    “好吧，我来跟你讲讲我是怎么看的吧。是什么原因叫他们在逃亡的黑奴吃早点的时候
到这儿来的呢？这是因为他们饿了，这就是原因所在。只要你能给他们做一个妖魔馅饼就行
了。你该做的就是这个。”
    “可是天啊，西特少爷，叫我怎样做一个妖魔馅饼呢？我根本不知道该怎么做啊。我过
去连听也没有听说过这样一种东西啊。”
    “那好吧，我来替你做。”
    “真的么，我的好少爷——你肯？我要巴（趴）到地上给你磕头！”
    “好吧，看在你的面上，我来做。你对我们这么好，还带我们来看这个逃跑的黑奴。不
过你得非常小心才好。我们过来时，你就该转过身子去。不管我们把什么东西放到锅子里
去，你看见了也不许跟人家说。杰姆打开锅子的时候，你也不准看——看了怕会出什么事，
这在我也说不准。顶顶要紧的是，你别去碰那些妖魔鬼怪的东西。”
    “我哪敢逢（碰），西特少爷？看你说的。我连手指也不敢逢（碰）一逢（碰）。就是
给我一百万亿块大洋，我也不会逢（碰）一逢（碰）哩。