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 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
IN the morning we went up to the village and bought 
a wire rat-trap and fetched it down, and unstopped 
the best rat-hole, and in about an hour we had fifteen 
of the bulliest kind of ones; and then we took it and 
put it in a safe place under Aunt Sally's bed. But 
while we was gone for spiders little Thomas Franklin 
Benjamin Jefferson Elexander Phelps found it there, 
and opened the door of it to see if the rats would come 
out, and they did; and Aunt Sally she come in, and 
when we got back she was a-standing on top of the bed 
raising Cain, and the rats was doing what they could to 
keep off the dull times for her. So she took and 
dusted us both with the hickry, and we was as much 
as two hours catching another fifteen or sixteen, drat 
that meddlesome cub, and they warn't the likeliest, 
nuther, because the first haul was the pick of the flock. 
I never see a likelier lot of rats than what that first haul was. 
 
We got a splendid stock of sorted spiders, and bugs, 
and frogs, and caterpillars, and one thing or another; 
and we like to got a hornet's nest, but we didn't. The 
family was at home. We didn't give it right up, but 
stayed with them as long as we could; because we 
allowed we'd tire them out or they'd got to tire us 
out, and they done it. Then we got allycumpain and 
rubbed on the places, and was pretty near all right 
again, but couldn't set down convenient. And so we 
went for the snakes, and grabbed a couple of dozen 
garters and house-snakes, and put them in a bag, and 
put it in our room, and by that time it was supper- 
time, and a rattling good honest day's work: and 
hungry? -- oh, no, I reckon not! And there warn't a 
blessed snake up there when we went back -- we didn't 
half tie the sack, and they worked out somehow, and 
left. But it didn't matter much, because they was 
still on the premises somewheres. So we judged we 
could get some of them again. No, there warn't no 
real scarcity of snakes about the house for a consider- 
able spell. You'd see them dripping from the rafters 
and places every now and then; and they generly 
landed in your plate, or down the back of your neck, 
and most of the time where you didn't want them. 
Well, they was handsome and striped, and there warn't 
no harm in a million of them; but that never made no 
difference to Aunt Sally; she despised snakes, be the 
breed what they might, and she couldn't stand them 
no way you could fix it; and every time one of them 
flopped down on her, it didn't make no difference what 
she was doing, she would just lay that work down and 
light out. I never see such a woman. And you could 
hear her whoop to Jericho. You couldn't get her to 
take a-holt of one of them with the tongs. And if she 
turned over and found one in bed she would scramble 
out and lift a howl that you would think the house was 
afire. She disturbed the old man so that he said he 
could most wish there hadn't ever been no snakes 
created. Why, after every last snake had been gone 
clear out of the house for as much as a week Aunt 
Sally warn't over it yet; she warn't near over it; when 
she was setting thinking about something you could 
touch her on the back of her neck with a feather and 
she would jump right out of her stockings. It was 
very curious. But Tom said all women was just so. 
He said they was made that way for some reason or other. 
 
We got a licking every time one of our snakes come 
in her way, and she allowed these lickings warn't noth- 
ing to what she would do if we ever loaded up the 
place again with them. I didn't mind the lickings, 
because they didn't amount to nothing; but I minded 
the trouble we had to lay in another lot. But we got 
them laid in, and all the other things; and you never 
see a cabin as blithesome as Jim's was when they'd all 
swarm out for music and go for him. Jim didn't like 
the spiders, and the spiders didn't like Jim; and so 
they'd lay for him, and make it mighty warm for him. 
And he said that between the rats and the snakes and 
the grindstone there warn't no room in bed for him, 
skasely; and when there was, a body couldn't sleep, it 
was so lively, and it was always lively, he said, because 
THEY never all slept at one time, but took turn about, 
so when the snakes was asleep the rats was on deck, 
and when the rats turned in the snakes come on watch, 
so he always had one gang under him, in his way, and 
t'other gang having a circus over him, and if he got 
up to hunt a new place the spiders would take a chance 
at him as he crossed over. He said if he ever got out 
this time he wouldn't ever be a prisoner again, not for 
a salary. 
 
Well, by the end of three weeks everything was in 
pretty good shape. The shirt was sent in early, in a 
pie, and every time a rat bit Jim he would get up and 
write a little in his journal whilst the ink was fresh; the 
pens was made, the inscriptions and so on was all 
carved on the grindstone; the bed-leg was sawed in 
two, and we had et up the sawdust, and it give us a 
most amazing stomach-ache. We reckoned we was all 
going to die, but didn't. It was the most undigestible 
sawdust I ever see; and Tom said the same. But as I 
was saying, we'd got all the work done now, at last; 
and we was all pretty much fagged out, too, but mainly 
Jim. The old man had wrote a couple of times to the 
plantation below Orleans to come and get their run- 
away nigger, but hadn't got no answer, because there 
warn't no such plantation; so he allowed he would ad- 
vertise Jim in the St. Louis and New Orleans papers; 
and when he mentioned the St. Louis ones it give me 
the cold shivers, and I see we hadn't no time to lose. 
So Tom said, now for the nonnamous letters. 
 
"What's them?" I says. 
 
"Warnings to the people that something is up. 
Sometimes it's done one way, sometimes another. 
But there's always somebody spying around that gives 
notice to the governor of the castle. When Louis 
XVI. was going to light out of the Tooleries a servant- 
girl done it. It's a very good way, and so is the 
nonnamous letters. We'll use them both. And it's 
usual for the prisoner's mother to change clothes with 
him, and she stays in, and he slides out in her clothes. 
We'll do that, too." 
 
"But looky here, Tom, what do we want to WARN 
anybody for that something's up? Let them find it 
out for themselves -- it's their lookout." 
 
"Yes, I know; but you can't depend on them. 
It's the way they've acted from the very start -- left 
us to do EVERYTHING. They're so confiding and mullet- 
headed they don't take notice of nothing at all. So if 
we don't GIVE them notice there won't be nobody nor 
nothing to interfere with us, and so after all our hard 
work and trouble this escape 'll go off perfectly flat; 
won't amount to nothing -- won't be nothing TO it." 
 
"Well, as for me, Tom, that's the way I'd like." 
 
"Shucks!" he says, and looked disgusted. So I says: 
 
"But I ain't going to make no complaint. Any 
way that suits you suits me. What you going to do 
about the servant-girl?" 
 
"You'll be her. You slide in, in the middle of the 
night, and hook that yaller girl's frock." 
 
"Why, Tom, that 'll make trouble next morning; 
because, of course, she prob'bly hain't got any but 
that one." 
 
"I know; but you don't want it but fifteen minutes, 
to carry the nonnamous letter and shove it under the 
front door." 
 
"All right, then, I'll do it; but I could carry it just 
as handy in my own togs." 
 
"You wouldn't look like a servant-girl THEN, would you?" 
 
"No, but there won't be nobody to see what I look 
like, ANYWAY." 
 
"That ain't got nothing to do with it. The thing 
for us to do is just to do our DUTY, and not worry 
about whether anybody SEES us do it or not. Hain't 
you got no principle at all?" 
 
"All right, I ain't saying nothing; I'm the servant- 
girl. Who's Jim's mother?" 
 
"I'm his mother. I'll hook a gown from Aunt Sally." 
 
"Well, then, you'll have to stay in the cabin when 
me and Jim leaves." 
 
"Not much. I'll stuff Jim's clothes full of straw 
and lay it on his bed to represent his mother in dis- 
guise, and Jim 'll take the nigger woman's gown off of 
me and wear it, and we'll all evade together. When a 
prisoner of style escapes it's called an evasion. It's 
always called so when a king escapes, f'rinstance. 
And the same with a king's son; it don't make no differ- 
ence whether he's a natural one or an unnatural one." 
 
So Tom he wrote the nonnamous letter, and I 
smouched the yaller wench's frock that night, and put 
it on, and shoved it under the front door, the way Tom 
told me to. It said: 
 
Beware. Trouble is brewing. Keep a sharp lookout. 
UNKNOWN FRIEND. 
 
Next night we stuck a picture, which Tom drawed 
in blood, of a skull and crossbones on the front door; 
and next night another one of a coffin on the back 
door. I never see a family in such a sweat. They 
couldn't a been worse scared if the place had a been 
full of ghosts laying for them behind everything and 
under the beds and shivering through the air. If a 
door banged, Aunt Sally she jumped and said 
"ouch!" if anything fell, she jumped and said 
"ouch!" if you happened to touch her, when she 
warn't noticing, she done the same; she couldn't face 
noway and be satisfied, because she allowed there was 
something behind her every time -- so she was always 
a-whirling around sudden, and saying "ouch," and 
before she'd got two-thirds around she'd whirl back 
again, and say it again; and she was afraid to go to bed, 
but she dasn't set up. So the thing was working 
very well, Tom said; he said he never see a thing work  
more satisfactory. He said it showed it was done right. 
 
So he said, now for the grand bulge! So the very 
next morning at the streak of dawn we got another 
letter ready, and was wondering what we better do with 
it, because we heard them say at supper they was 
going to have a nigger on watch at both doors all 
night. Tom he went down the lightning-rod to spy 
around; and the nigger at the back door was asleep, 
and he stuck it in the back of his neck and come back. 
This letter said: 
 
 
Don't betray me, I wish to be your friend. There 
is a desprate gang of cut-throats from over in the 
Indian Territory going to steal your runaway 
nigger to-night, and they have been trying to scare 
you so as you will stay in the house and not bother 
them. I am one of the gang, but have got religgion 
and wish to quit it and lead an honest life again, 
and will betray the helish design. They will sneak 
down from northards, along the fence, at midnight 
exact, with a false key, and go in the nigger's 
cabin to get him. I am to be off a piece and blow 
a tin horn if I see any danger; but stead of that I 
will BA like a sheep soon as they get in and not 
blow at all; then whilst they are getting his chains 
loose, you slip there and lock them in, and can 
kill them at your leasure. Don't do anything but 
just the way I am telling you; if you do they will 
suspicion something and raise whoop-jamboreehoo. 
I do not wish any reward but to know I have done  
the right thing. 
UNKNOWN FRIEND. 
  
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