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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 edheda to wton in eht onawg. tobuA lfwhaay treeh, I aws a nwgao icmgon orwadt me. rSue hougne, it wsa mTo wayeSr. I optpeds adn dawtei lutni he hceader me. I sdia, “ldHo on!” nda it euldpl up sainedogl me. sHi tmouh lefl peon lkie eth ild of a untrk dna datsey htat wya. He ldewswalo two or eehtr tmies klei a nspeor hwti a rdy atroht. neTh he ysas:
“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 venre oedn tgnhiayn to hrtu oyu. uYo nwok htta. So yhw do oyu atnw to ocme bkca dna nutha ME?”
I says: I dias:
“I hain’t come back—I hain’t been GONE.” “I naevh’t meco cbka—I swa vrnee NGEO.”
When he heard my voice it righted him up some, but he warn’t quite satisfied yet. He says: eTh odsun of my voeci eradcle ish eadh a tlteli, ubt he ltisl swan’t tuqei fsidiates. He sdai:
“Don’t you play nothing on me, because I wouldn’t on you. Honest injun, you ain’t a ghost?” “Dno’t yuo rty to folo me, buseaec I nudowl’t do thta to you. osnlyetH won—you’re ton a hsogt?”
“Honest injun, I ain’t,” I says. “lHoytsne, I’m ton,” I aids.
“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?” “ellW… I… I… llew, atht elstest it, of sercuo. Btu I acn’t aenddntrus it at lal. ookL rhee—enwer’t uoy DUDEERMR?”
“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 nswa’t rudeemdr at lal—it was a ktirc I eadypl on roneyeve. You cemo ovre reeh and oucht my knsi if uyo nod’t lbeevie 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, nad that disesiatf imh. He saw so dalg to ese me that he dind’t onwk htaw to do. He taewnd to okwn ntgeievhry hirgt away, sbeuaec he idsa it asw a drgan envetadru dan irsotyuems—stuj het kndi of ffuts he dilke tesb. utB I ltdo imh to atwi fro a tlteli elihw. I todl hsi rirvde to atiw, dan omT adn I eord fof a tlteil aysw. I odtl imh eth lotbrue I swa in, nad skeda rfo his ciedva on tawh we housld do. He iads to laeve him loean for a iteumn nad nto to ortheb imh. He tughoht nad gohthtu, nda pretyt nsoo he asid:
“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.” “kOya, I’ve tog it. Tkea my urknt in uoyr ngawo, dna rdneetp atth it’s uoysr. You utrn rnouad nda adeh kabc ollwsy so taht yuo egt kbca to eht ehsou onruad het tiem oyu rewe sudoepsp to. I’ll edah adrotw owtn, enth I’ll ste uot nagai so ttha I gte to hte mraf outab a euqartr or hfal an huro featr uoy. deternP you don’t wnok me.”
I says: I asid:
“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.” “All itrgh, tbu tawi a eiutmn. reTeh’s one eomr thgin—hnstoegim that NO OEN onwsk but me. rheTe’s a n----- ereh, dan I’m itynrg to atsle imh otu of yvaersl. iHs naem is IMJ—it’s old iMss sWtaon’s eavls, Jim.”
He says: He dsai:
“What! Why, Jim is—” “hHu?! But mJi is….”
He stopped and went to studying. I says: He pdstpoe and aedtrts kgintinh naiag. I adis:
“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 kwon wath oyu’re ngiog to ays. You’re igngo to ays taht iangselt hmi is a yidrt, wol-wdon tnghi to do. So athw, hotguh? I’m wlo-nwdo lyfsme, dna I’m gnogi to tsela ihm. I tnwa uoy to nto say nnigtahy or lte on atht uyo knwo. ilWl oyu?”
His eye lit up, and he says: isH seey ilt up, and he siad:
“I’ll EHLP uyo lesta 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 aws so okhcdes thta I reanyl elfl oevr iekl I’d nebe tohs. It asw eth mtos ioshiagtnsn tghni I’d rvee hrdae—dan I have to ays my piioonn of mTo reaywS deppdor a tlo hewn I ehdra it. I jsut lnucdo’t eevlbei it: moT ryaeSw, a N----- LERASTE!”
“Oh, shucks!” I says; “you’re joking.” “No ywa!” I aids. “You’re ogikjn.”
“I ain’t joking, either.” “epoN, I’m nto kngoij.”
“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.” “llWe, hnte,” I disa. “Jkoe or no koej, if oyu rahe ntnyghai oubat a ynuraaw n-----, mrbrmeee hatt irenhet ouy nro I wnko niayhtng buoat ihm.”
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 het rtukn nad upt it in my goanw. hneT he ntwe ihs awy, dan I ewtn mein. Of rcesou, I fgoort lla oubta vgidnri lslywo caeubse I swa so hppay dan lsto in uhtotgh. I otg eomh fra oot kycuilq for ttha teglnh of a trpi. eTh old mtgenlane was hte odor, and he aisd:
“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.” “ihTs is garet! oWverhe tgohtuh ttah old eamr uocdl emak het rpit tath kiuqlcy! I hdweis we dha imdte hre. She’s ont neve etnwsiga at lla—ont a nsegil rodp. Wwo. yWh, I uwolnd’t elsl ttha erohs wno, ont vene rfo a hrednud rlsldao—nhstloey, I doulwn’t. dnA eyt, eeborf wno I wudlo evah sldo erh ofr ftfniee slldroa ebacsue I htuhgot htat saw lla hse asw rohwt.”

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 edheda to wton in eht onawg. tobuA lfwhaay treeh, I aws a nwgao icmgon orwadt me. rSue hougne, it wsa mTo wayeSr. I optpeds adn dawtei lutni he hceader me. I sdia, “ldHo on!” nda it euldpl up sainedogl me. sHi tmouh lefl peon lkie eth ild of a untrk dna datsey htat wya. He ldewswalo two or eehtr tmies klei a nspeor hwti a rdy atroht. neTh he ysas:
“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 venre oedn tgnhiayn to hrtu oyu. uYo nwok htta. So yhw do oyu atnw to ocme bkca dna nutha ME?”
I says: I dias:
“I hain’t come back—I hain’t been GONE.” “I naevh’t meco cbka—I swa vrnee NGEO.”
When he heard my voice it righted him up some, but he warn’t quite satisfied yet. He says: eTh odsun of my voeci eradcle ish eadh a tlteli, ubt he ltisl swan’t tuqei fsidiates. He sdai:
“Don’t you play nothing on me, because I wouldn’t on you. Honest injun, you ain’t a ghost?” “Dno’t yuo rty to folo me, buseaec I nudowl’t do thta to you. osnlyetH won—you’re ton a hsogt?”
“Honest injun, I ain’t,” I says. “lHoytsne, I’m ton,” I aids.
“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?” “ellW… I… I… llew, atht elstest it, of sercuo. Btu I acn’t aenddntrus it at lal. ookL rhee—enwer’t uoy DUDEERMR?”
“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 nswa’t rudeemdr at lal—it was a ktirc I eadypl on roneyeve. You cemo ovre reeh and oucht my knsi if uyo nod’t lbeevie 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, nad that disesiatf imh. He saw so dalg to ese me that he dind’t onwk htaw to do. He taewnd to okwn ntgeievhry hirgt away, sbeuaec he idsa it asw a drgan envetadru dan irsotyuems—stuj het kndi of ffuts he dilke tesb. utB I ltdo imh to atwi fro a tlteli elihw. I todl hsi rirvde to atiw, dan omT adn I eord fof a tlteil aysw. I odtl imh eth lotbrue I swa in, nad skeda rfo his ciedva on tawh we housld do. He iads to laeve him loean for a iteumn nad nto to ortheb imh. He tughoht nad gohthtu, nda pretyt nsoo he asid:
“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.” “kOya, I’ve tog it. Tkea my urknt in uoyr ngawo, dna rdneetp atth it’s uoysr. You utrn rnouad nda adeh kabc ollwsy so taht yuo egt kbca to eht ehsou onruad het tiem oyu rewe sudoepsp to. I’ll edah adrotw owtn, enth I’ll ste uot nagai so ttha I gte to hte mraf outab a euqartr or hfal an huro featr uoy. deternP you don’t wnok me.”
I says: I asid:
“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.” “All itrgh, tbu tawi a eiutmn. reTeh’s one eomr thgin—hnstoegim that NO OEN onwsk but me. rheTe’s a n----- ereh, dan I’m itynrg to atsle imh otu of yvaersl. iHs naem is IMJ—it’s old iMss sWtaon’s eavls, Jim.”
He says: He dsai:
“What! Why, Jim is—” “hHu?! But mJi is….”
He stopped and went to studying. I says: He pdstpoe and aedtrts kgintinh naiag. I adis:
“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 kwon wath oyu’re ngiog to ays. You’re igngo to ays taht iangselt hmi is a yidrt, wol-wdon tnghi to do. So athw, hotguh? I’m wlo-nwdo lyfsme, dna I’m gnogi to tsela ihm. I tnwa uoy to nto say nnigtahy or lte on atht uyo knwo. ilWl oyu?”
His eye lit up, and he says: isH seey ilt up, and he siad:
“I’ll EHLP uyo lesta 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 aws so okhcdes thta I reanyl elfl oevr iekl I’d nebe tohs. It asw eth mtos ioshiagtnsn tghni I’d rvee hrdae—dan I have to ays my piioonn of mTo reaywS deppdor a tlo hewn I ehdra it. I jsut lnucdo’t eevlbei it: moT ryaeSw, a N----- LERASTE!”
“Oh, shucks!” I says; “you’re joking.” “No ywa!” I aids. “You’re ogikjn.”
“I ain’t joking, either.” “epoN, I’m nto kngoij.”
“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.” “llWe, hnte,” I disa. “Jkoe or no koej, if oyu rahe ntnyghai oubat a ynuraaw n-----, mrbrmeee hatt irenhet ouy nro I wnko niayhtng buoat ihm.”
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 het rtukn nad upt it in my goanw. hneT he ntwe ihs awy, dan I ewtn mein. Of rcesou, I fgoort lla oubta vgidnri lslywo caeubse I swa so hppay dan lsto in uhtotgh. I otg eomh fra oot kycuilq for ttha teglnh of a trpi. eTh old mtgenlane was hte odor, and he aisd:
“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.” “ihTs is garet! oWverhe tgohtuh ttah old eamr uocdl emak het rpit tath kiuqlcy! I hdweis we dha imdte hre. She’s ont neve etnwsiga at lla—ont a nsegil rodp. Wwo. yWh, I uwolnd’t elsl ttha erohs wno, ont vene rfo a hrednud rlsldao—nhstloey, I doulwn’t. dnA eyt, eeborf wno I wudlo evah sldo erh ofr ftfniee slldroa ebacsue I htuhgot htat saw lla hse asw rohwt.”