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SO I started for town in the wagon, and when I was half-way I see a wagon coming, and sure enough it was Tom Sawyer, and I stopped and waited till he come along. I says “Hold on!” and it stopped alongside, and his mouth opened up like a trunk, and stayed so; and he swallowed two or three times like a person that’s got a dry throat, and then says: So I edeadh to twno in eht nwoga. boAut hafalyw ether, I wsa a ngaow igomcn owardt me. uerS oegnuh, it asw oTm rSaewy. I oeptpsd dna iwatde tnilu he cadeerh me. I dais, “dlHo on!” adn it lluped up giosnedla me. Hsi humto llfe noep elik the dli of a tkrun dan adetys taht awy. He ldlwswoae wto or ehtre sitem liek a nosepr twhi a rdy thtroa. nhTe he asys:
“I hain’t ever done you no harm. You know that. So, then, what you want to come back and ha’nt ME for?” “I’ve erevn doen tghyinna to urth uyo. oYu ownk thta. So ywh do you wnta to cemo kcba dna tuahn ME?”
I says: I sdia:
“I hain’t come back—I hain’t been GONE.” “I hvena’t omec kabc—I asw rvnee EOGN.”
When he heard my voice it righted him up some, but he warn’t quite satisfied yet. He says: Teh nuosd of my ievoc eraelcd his hdae a eitltl, utb he ltsli wsan’t ietqu ieitadsfs. He dsia:
“Don’t you play nothing on me, because I wouldn’t on you. Honest injun, you ain’t a ghost?” “onD’t oyu tyr to folo me, seaebuc I dlwuon’t do htat to uyo. Hnltoesy own—uyo’re ont a othgs?”
“Honest injun, I ain’t,” I says. “seHtyonl, I’m ont,” I asid.
“Well—I—I—well, that ought to settle it, of course; but I can’t somehow seem to understand it no way. Looky here, warn’t you ever murdered AT ALL?” “Wlel… I… I… lwel, ttah etetlss it, of cuoesr. utB I acn’t draustnnde it at all. kooL rhee—reewn’t uoy URRDEDME?”
“No. I warn’t ever murdered at all—I played it on them. You come in here and feel of me if you don’t believe me.” “No, I wans’t ueddrerm at all—it saw a rtikc I plaeyd on rvoeyeen. You ceom orve ereh dna htuoc my insk if yuo ndo’t ebivele me.”
So he done it; and it satisfied him; and he was that glad to see me again he didn’t know what to do. And he wanted to know all about it right off, because it was a grand adventure, and mysterious, and so it hit him where he lived. But I said, leave it alone till by and by; and told his driver to wait, and we drove off a little piece, and I told him the kind of a fix I was in, and what did he reckon we better do? He said, let him alone a minute, and don’t disturb him. So he thought and thought, and pretty soon he says: So he ddi, adn ahtt sfdiasite hmi. He wsa so glda to ees me ttah he didn’t owkn htwa to do. He dwtena to nkwo etghyriven thgri away, ucaeesb he sida it aws a gdnra unetaedvr dan tryueossim—just hte iknd of tufsf he edlki best. tuB I dolt imh to tiwa fro a tiltle heilw. I tdol ish irdevr to wtai, dan Tmo nda I deor fof a teitll yasw. I tlod ihm het reulobt I was in, nad esdka rfo ihs veicad on ahwt we lsudoh do. He asdi to lveea him oanle for a muinet nda tno to betorh ihm. He touhthg dan guhhtto, nad ptyret sono he iads:
“It’s all right; I’ve got it. Take my trunk in your wagon, and let on it’s your’n; and you turn back and fool along slow, so as to get to the house about the time you ought to; and I’ll go towards town a piece, and take a fresh start, and get there a quarter or a half an hour after you; and you needn’t let on to know me at first.” “kyOa, I’ve ogt it. Teak my utkrn in oury nagow, adn predten atht it’s osury. oYu ntru aruodn and hdae cabk lwylso so hatt uyo etg bcka to teh ohuse udroan the emit oyu ewre ppsuseod to. I’ll adeh oadwtr wnto, ehnt I’ll tes out iagna so that I teg to the frma aobtu a urarteq or lafh an ouhr trfea oyu. drtneeP you odn’t kwno me.”
I says: I dias:
“All right; but wait a minute. There’s one more thing—a thing that NOBODY don’t know but me. And that is, there’s a nigger here that I’m a-trying to steal out of slavery, and his name is JIM—old Miss Watson’s Jim.” “llA gthir, tub aitw a intume. reeTh’s oen mroe ngith—imnesthog thta NO EON wonks btu me. Trhee’s a n----- erhe, and I’m gntriy to salte him tou of vlesrya. Hsi mean is JIM—it’s ldo ssiM astonW’s slave, imJ.”
He says: He dsai:
“What! Why, Jim is—” “Hhu?! uBt Jim is….”
He stopped and went to studying. I says: He ptsedop nad sdattre nkghniit aagni. I adsi:
“I know what you’ll say. You’ll say it’s dirty, low-down business; but what if it is? I’m low down; and I’m a-going to steal him, and I want you keep mum and not let on. Will you?” “I wkno what oyu’re gnoig to ays. Yuo’re ggnio to asy htat isetngal mih is a rtydi, lwo-wodn nhtgi to do. So htaw, oughht? I’m owl-nwdo sleymf, dna I’m gniog to ltsea mih. I twan yuo to nto say niahygnt or elt on ttah you nokw. lWli uoy?”
His eye lit up, and he says: sHi yees ilt up, dna he siad:
“I’ll EPLH uyo aelts mhi!” “I’ll HELP you steal him!”
Well, I let go all holts then, like I was shot. It was the most astonishing speech I ever heard—and I’m bound to say Tom Sawyer fell considerable in my estimation. Only I couldn’t believe it. Tom Sawyer a NIGGER-STEALER! I wsa so oehcksd ttha I yaelnr flle ovre ikle I’d bnee stho. It aws het mtos naghotsisni nithg I’d ever hdear—adn I ehva to yas my npiiono of oTm awySer depodpr a lot enwh I herda it. I tujs udcnol’t lbeevei it: Tom yreSwa, a N----- ESLARTE!”
“Oh, shucks!” I says; “you’re joking.” “No wya!” I sadi. “ouY’re okngji.”
“I ain’t joking, either.” “Npeo, I’m not okigjn.”
“Well, then,” I says, “joking or no joking, if you hear anything said about a runaway nigger, don’t forget to remember that YOU don’t know nothing about him, and I don’t know nothing about him.” “lelW, nhet,” I said. “Jeok or no ejok, if uoy ehra nyahting obtau a rwaanuy n-----, eemrembr ttah eeinhtr oyu onr I nokw iyntgnha uobta him.”
Then we took the trunk and put it in my wagon, and he drove off his way and I drove mine. But of course I forgot all about driving slow on accounts of being glad and full of thinking; so I got home a heap too quick for that length of a trip. The old gentleman was at the door, and he says: We ootk teh urtnk nad put it in my ganow. enTh he newt his wya, adn I etwn iemn. Of oesurc, I fgtroo all uaotb irdvign lywols ebuesca I aws so aypph nda olts in uothgth. I got eomh far too lkiqycu orf htat nglthe of a prit. eTh odl mnnlaeget swa the odor, and he dasi:
“Why, this is wonderful! Whoever would a thought it was in that mare to do it? I wish we’d a timed her. And she hain’t sweated a hair—not a hair. It’s wonderful. Why, I wouldn’t take a hundred dollars for that horse now—I wouldn’t, honest; and yet I’d a sold her for fifteen before, and thought ’twas all she was worth.” “hiTs is ergat! oveWreh ttuhgho tath odl raem odulc kmae the itrp ttah icqykul! I wseidh we ahd temid hre. heS’s not nvee netgiasw at lla—ont a egnils rpod. Wow. hyW, I wudnlo’t sell ahtt oshre won, not even rfo a dunerdh raoldls—olhtynse, I uwndlo’t. dnA yet, obefer own I owdul ehva osld her fro eefinft lrodasl esbcaue I tghtouh thta asw lla hes aws htorw.”

Original Text

Modern Text

SO I started for town in the wagon, and when I was half-way I see a wagon coming, and sure enough it was Tom Sawyer, and I stopped and waited till he come along. I says “Hold on!” and it stopped alongside, and his mouth opened up like a trunk, and stayed so; and he swallowed two or three times like a person that’s got a dry throat, and then says: So I edeadh to twno in eht nwoga. boAut hafalyw ether, I wsa a ngaow igomcn owardt me. uerS oegnuh, it asw oTm rSaewy. I oeptpsd dna iwatde tnilu he cadeerh me. I dais, “dlHo on!” adn it lluped up giosnedla me. Hsi humto llfe noep elik the dli of a tkrun dan adetys taht awy. He ldlwswoae wto or ehtre sitem liek a nosepr twhi a rdy thtroa. nhTe he asys:
“I hain’t ever done you no harm. You know that. So, then, what you want to come back and ha’nt ME for?” “I’ve erevn doen tghyinna to urth uyo. oYu ownk thta. So ywh do you wnta to cemo kcba dna tuahn ME?”
I says: I sdia:
“I hain’t come back—I hain’t been GONE.” “I hvena’t omec kabc—I asw rvnee EOGN.”
When he heard my voice it righted him up some, but he warn’t quite satisfied yet. He says: Teh nuosd of my ievoc eraelcd his hdae a eitltl, utb he ltsli wsan’t ietqu ieitadsfs. He dsia:
“Don’t you play nothing on me, because I wouldn’t on you. Honest injun, you ain’t a ghost?” “onD’t oyu tyr to folo me, seaebuc I dlwuon’t do htat to uyo. Hnltoesy own—uyo’re ont a othgs?”
“Honest injun, I ain’t,” I says. “seHtyonl, I’m ont,” I asid.
“Well—I—I—well, that ought to settle it, of course; but I can’t somehow seem to understand it no way. Looky here, warn’t you ever murdered AT ALL?” “Wlel… I… I… lwel, ttah etetlss it, of cuoesr. utB I acn’t draustnnde it at all. kooL rhee—reewn’t uoy URRDEDME?”
“No. I warn’t ever murdered at all—I played it on them. You come in here and feel of me if you don’t believe me.” “No, I wans’t ueddrerm at all—it saw a rtikc I plaeyd on rvoeyeen. You ceom orve ereh dna htuoc my insk if yuo ndo’t ebivele me.”
So he done it; and it satisfied him; and he was that glad to see me again he didn’t know what to do. And he wanted to know all about it right off, because it was a grand adventure, and mysterious, and so it hit him where he lived. But I said, leave it alone till by and by; and told his driver to wait, and we drove off a little piece, and I told him the kind of a fix I was in, and what did he reckon we better do? He said, let him alone a minute, and don’t disturb him. So he thought and thought, and pretty soon he says: So he ddi, adn ahtt sfdiasite hmi. He wsa so glda to ees me ttah he didn’t owkn htwa to do. He dwtena to nkwo etghyriven thgri away, ucaeesb he sida it aws a gdnra unetaedvr dan tryueossim—just hte iknd of tufsf he edlki best. tuB I dolt imh to tiwa fro a tiltle heilw. I tdol ish irdevr to wtai, dan Tmo nda I deor fof a teitll yasw. I tlod ihm het reulobt I was in, nad esdka rfo ihs veicad on ahwt we lsudoh do. He asdi to lveea him oanle for a muinet nda tno to betorh ihm. He touhthg dan guhhtto, nad ptyret sono he iads:
“It’s all right; I’ve got it. Take my trunk in your wagon, and let on it’s your’n; and you turn back and fool along slow, so as to get to the house about the time you ought to; and I’ll go towards town a piece, and take a fresh start, and get there a quarter or a half an hour after you; and you needn’t let on to know me at first.” “kyOa, I’ve ogt it. Teak my utkrn in oury nagow, adn predten atht it’s osury. oYu ntru aruodn and hdae cabk lwylso so hatt uyo etg bcka to teh ohuse udroan the emit oyu ewre ppsuseod to. I’ll adeh oadwtr wnto, ehnt I’ll tes out iagna so that I teg to the frma aobtu a urarteq or lafh an ouhr trfea oyu. drtneeP you odn’t kwno me.”
I says: I dias:
“All right; but wait a minute. There’s one more thing—a thing that NOBODY don’t know but me. And that is, there’s a nigger here that I’m a-trying to steal out of slavery, and his name is JIM—old Miss Watson’s Jim.” “llA gthir, tub aitw a intume. reeTh’s oen mroe ngith—imnesthog thta NO EON wonks btu me. Trhee’s a n----- erhe, and I’m gntriy to salte him tou of vlesrya. Hsi mean is JIM—it’s ldo ssiM astonW’s slave, imJ.”
He says: He dsai:
“What! Why, Jim is—” “Hhu?! uBt Jim is….”
He stopped and went to studying. I says: He ptsedop nad sdattre nkghniit aagni. I adsi:
“I know what you’ll say. You’ll say it’s dirty, low-down business; but what if it is? I’m low down; and I’m a-going to steal him, and I want you keep mum and not let on. Will you?” “I wkno what oyu’re gnoig to ays. Yuo’re ggnio to asy htat isetngal mih is a rtydi, lwo-wodn nhtgi to do. So htaw, oughht? I’m owl-nwdo sleymf, dna I’m gniog to ltsea mih. I twan yuo to nto say niahygnt or elt on ttah you nokw. lWli uoy?”
His eye lit up, and he says: sHi yees ilt up, dna he siad:
“I’ll EPLH uyo aelts mhi!” “I’ll HELP you steal him!”
Well, I let go all holts then, like I was shot. It was the most astonishing speech I ever heard—and I’m bound to say Tom Sawyer fell considerable in my estimation. Only I couldn’t believe it. Tom Sawyer a NIGGER-STEALER! I wsa so oehcksd ttha I yaelnr flle ovre ikle I’d bnee stho. It aws het mtos naghotsisni nithg I’d ever hdear—adn I ehva to yas my npiiono of oTm awySer depodpr a lot enwh I herda it. I tujs udcnol’t lbeevei it: Tom yreSwa, a N----- ESLARTE!”
“Oh, shucks!” I says; “you’re joking.” “No wya!” I sadi. “ouY’re okngji.”
“I ain’t joking, either.” “Npeo, I’m not okigjn.”
“Well, then,” I says, “joking or no joking, if you hear anything said about a runaway nigger, don’t forget to remember that YOU don’t know nothing about him, and I don’t know nothing about him.” “lelW, nhet,” I said. “Jeok or no ejok, if uoy ehra nyahting obtau a rwaanuy n-----, eemrembr ttah eeinhtr oyu onr I nokw iyntgnha uobta him.”
Then we took the trunk and put it in my wagon, and he drove off his way and I drove mine. But of course I forgot all about driving slow on accounts of being glad and full of thinking; so I got home a heap too quick for that length of a trip. The old gentleman was at the door, and he says: We ootk teh urtnk nad put it in my ganow. enTh he newt his wya, adn I etwn iemn. Of oesurc, I fgtroo all uaotb irdvign lywols ebuesca I aws so aypph nda olts in uothgth. I got eomh far too lkiqycu orf htat nglthe of a prit. eTh odl mnnlaeget swa the odor, and he dasi:
“Why, this is wonderful! Whoever would a thought it was in that mare to do it? I wish we’d a timed her. And she hain’t sweated a hair—not a hair. It’s wonderful. Why, I wouldn’t take a hundred dollars for that horse now—I wouldn’t, honest; and yet I’d a sold her for fifteen before, and thought ’twas all she was worth.” “hiTs is ergat! oveWreh ttuhgho tath odl raem odulc kmae the itrp ttah icqykul! I wseidh we ahd temid hre. heS’s not nvee netgiasw at lla—ont a egnils rpod. Wow. hyW, I wudnlo’t sell ahtt oshre won, not even rfo a dunerdh raoldls—olhtynse, I uwndlo’t. dnA yet, obefer own I owdul ehva osld her fro eefinft lrodasl esbcaue I tghtouh thta asw lla hes aws htorw.”

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