all day, smoking and fishing, and no books nor study.  Two months or more run along, and my clothes got to be all rags and dirt, and I didn't see how I'd ever got to like it so well at the widow's, where you had to wash, and eat on a plate, and comb up, and go to bed and get up regular, and be forever bothering over a book, and have old Miss Watson pecking at you all the time.  I didn't want to go back no more.  I had stopped cussing, because the widow didn't like it; but now I took to it again because pap hadn't no objections.  It was pretty good times up in the woods there, take it all around. But by and by pap got too handy with his hick'ry, and I couldn't stand it. I was all over welts.  He got to going away so much, too, and locking me in.  Once he locked me in and was gone three days.  It was dreadful lonesome.  I judged he had got drownded, and I wasn't ever going to get out any more.  I was scared.  I made up my mind I would fix up some way to leave there.  I had tried to get out of that cabin many a time, but I couldn't find no way.  There warn't a window to it big enough for a dog to get through.  I couldn't get up the chimbly; it was too narrow.  The door was thick, solid oak slabs.  Pap was pretty careful not to leave a knife or anything in the cabin when he was away; I reckon I had hunted the place over as much as a hundred times; well, I was most all the time at it, because it was about the only way to put in the time.  But this time I found something at last; I found an old rusty wood-saw without any handle; it was laid in between a rafter and the clapboards of the roof. I greased it up and went to work.  There was an old horse-blanket nailed against the logs at the far end of the cabin behind the table, to keep the wind from blowing through the chinks and putting the candle out.  I got under the table and raised the blanket, and went to work to saw a section of the big bottom log out--big enough to let me through.  Well, it was a good long job, but