that plan work?” “_Work_?  Why, cert'nly it would work, like rats a-fighting.  But it's too blame' simple; there ain't nothing _to_ it.  What's the good of a plan that ain't no more trouble than that?  It's as mild as goose-milk.  Why, Huck, it wouldn't make no more talk than breaking into a soap factory.” I never said nothing, because I warn't expecting nothing different; but I knowed mighty well that whenever he got _his_ plan ready it wouldn't have none of them objections to it. And it didn't.  He told me what it was, and I see in a minute it was worth fifteen of mine for style, and would make Jim just as free a man as mine would, and maybe get us all killed besides.  So I was satisfied, and said we would waltz in on it.  I needn't tell what it was here, because I knowed it wouldn't stay the way, it was.  I knowed he would be changing it around every which way as we went along, and heaving in new bullinesses wherever he got a chance.  And that is what he done. Well, one thing was dead sure, and that was that Tom Sawyer was in earnest, and was actuly going to help steal that nigger out of slavery. That was the thing that was too many for me.  Here was a boy that was respectable and well brung up; and had a character to lose; and folks at home that had characters; and he was bright and not leather-headed; and knowing and not ignorant; and not mean, but kind; and yet here he was, without any more pride, or rightness, or feeling, than to stoop to this business, and make himself a shame, and his family a shame, before everybody.  I _couldn't_ understand it no way at all.  It was outrageous, and I knowed I ought to just up and tell him so; and so be his true friend, and let him quit the thing right where he was and save himself. And I _did_ start to tell him; but he shut me up, and says: “Don't you reckon I know what I'm about?  Don't I generly know what I'm about?” “Yes.” “Didn't I _say_ I was going to help steal the nigger?” “Yes.” “_Well_, then.” That's a