Chapter 35 - Page 2

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."

I says:

"What do we want of a moat when we're going to
snake him out from under the cabin?"

But he never heard me. He had forgot me and
everything else. He had his 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 neces-
sity for it. And what would you want to saw his leg
off for, anyway?"

"Well, some of the best authorities has done it.
They couldn't get the 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 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 they all do; and HE'S got to, too.
Huck, you don't ever seem to want to do anything
that's regular; you want to be starting something fresh
all the time. 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 have it, all right, let him have it; because I