nothing I can think of.  I went to thinking out a plan, but only just to be doing something; I knowed very well where the right plan was going to come from.  Pretty soon Tom says: “Ready?” “Yes,” I says. “All right--bring it out.” “My plan is this,” I says. “We can easy find out if it's Jim in there. Then get up my canoe to-morrow night, and fetch my raft over from the island.  Then the first dark night that comes steal the key out of the old man's britches after he goes to bed, and shove off down the river on the raft with Jim, hiding daytimes and running nights, the way me and Jim used to do before.  Wouldn't 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,