he says, kind of pettish. “Don't you what _me_, you impudent thing--hand out them letters.” “What letters?” “_Them_ letters.  I be bound, if I have to take a-holt of you I'll--” “They're in the trunk.  There, now.  And they're just the same as they was when I got them out of the office.  I hain't looked into them, I hain't touched them.  But I knowed they'd make trouble, and I thought if you warn't in no hurry, I'd--” “Well, you _do_ need skinning, there ain't no mistake about it.  And I wrote another one to tell you I was coming; and I s'pose he--” “No, it come yesterday; I hain't read it yet, but _it's_ all right, I've got that one.” I wanted to offer to bet two dollars she hadn't, but I reckoned maybe it was just as safe to not to.  So I never said nothing. CHAPTER THE LAST THE first time I catched Tom private I asked him what was his idea, time of the evasion?--what it was he'd planned to do if the evasion worked all right and he managed to set a nigger free that was already free before? And he said, what he had planned in his head from the start, if we got Jim out all safe, was for us to run him down the river on the raft, and have adventures plumb to the mouth of the river, and then tell him about his being free, and take him back up home on a steamboat, in style, and pay him for his lost time, and write word ahead and get out all the niggers around, and have them waltz him into town with a torchlight procession and a brass-band, and then he would be a hero, and so would we.  But I reckoned it was about as well the way it was. We had Jim out of the chains in no time, and when Aunt Polly and Uncle Silas and Aunt Sally found out how good he helped the doctor nurse Tom, they made a heap of fuss over him, and fixed him up prime, and give him all he wanted to eat, and a good time, and nothing to do.  And we had him up to the sick-room, and had a high talk; and Tom give Jim forty dollars for being prisoner for us so patient, and doing it up so good, an