it's de dad-blame' witches, sah, en I wisht I was dead, I do.  Dey's awluz at it, sah, en dey do mos' kill me, dey sk'yers me so.  Please to don't tell nobody 'bout it sah, er ole Mars Silas he'll scole me; 'kase he say dey _ain't_ no witches.  I jis' wish to goodness he was heah now--_den_ what would he say!  I jis' bet he couldn' fine no way to git aroun' it _dis_ time.  But it's awluz jis' so; people dat's _sot_, stays sot; dey won't look into noth'n'en fine it out f'r deyselves, en when _you_ fine it out en tell um 'bout it, dey doan' b'lieve you.” Tom give him a dime, and said we wouldn't tell nobody; and told him to buy some more thread to tie up his wool with; and then looks at Jim, and says: “I wonder if Uncle Silas is going to hang this nigger.  If I was to catch a nigger that was ungrateful enough to run away, I wouldn't give him up, I'd hang him.”  And whilst the nigger stepped to the door to look at the dime and bite it to see if it was good, he whispers to Jim and says: “Don't ever let on to know us.  And if you hear any digging going on nights, it's us; we're going to set you free.” Jim only had time to grab us by the hand and squeeze it; then the nigger come back, and we said we'd come again some time if the nigger wanted us to; and he said he would, more particular if it was dark, because the witches went for him mostly in the dark, and it was good to have folks around then. CHAPTER XXXV. IT would be most an hour yet till breakfast, so we left and struck down into the woods; because Tom said we got to have _some_ light to see how to dig by, and a lantern makes too much, and might get us into trouble; what we must have was a lot of them rotten chunks that's called fox-fire, and just makes a soft kind of a glow when you lay them in a dark place.  We fetched an armful and hid it in the weeds, and set down to rest, and Tom says, kind of dissatisfied: “Blame it, this whole thing is just as easy and awkward as it can be. And so it makes it so ro