a square window-hole, up tolerable high, with just one stout board nailed across it.  I says: “Here's the ticket.  This hole's big enough for Jim to get through if we wrench off the board.” Tom says: “It's as simple as tit-tat-toe, three-in-a-row, and as easy as playing hooky.  I should _hope_ we can find a way that's a little more complicated than _that_, Huck Finn.” “Well, then,” I says, “how 'll it do to saw him out, the way I done before I was murdered that time?” “That's more _like_,” he says. “It's real mysterious, and troublesome, and good,” he says; “but I bet we can find a way that's twice as long.  There ain't no hurry; le's keep on looking around.” Betwixt the hut and the fence, on the back side, was a lean-to that joined the hut at the eaves, and was made out of plank.  It was as long as the hut, but narrow--only about six foot wide.  The door to it was at the south end, and was padlocked.  Tom he went to the soap-kettle and searched around, and fetched back the iron thing they lift the lid with; so he took it and prized out one of the staples.  The chain fell down, and we opened the door and went in, and shut it, and struck a match, and see the shed was only built against a cabin and hadn't no connection with it; and there warn't no floor to the shed, nor nothing in it but some old rusty played-out hoes and spades and picks and a crippled plow.  The match went out, and so did we, and shoved in the staple again, and the door was locked as good as ever. Tom was joyful.  He says; “Now we're all right.  We'll _dig_ him out.  It 'll take about a week!” Then we started for the house, and I went in the back door--you only have to pull a buckskin latch-string, they don't fasten the doors--but that warn't romantical enough for Tom Sawyer; no way would do him but he must climb up the lightning-rod.  But after he got up half way about three times, and missed fire and fell every time, and the last time most busted his brains out, he thought he'd got to gi