we couldn't hardly see anything, it was so dark; but Jim was there, sure enough, and could see us; and he sings out:
"Why, Huck! En good lan'! ain' dat Misto Tom?"
I just knowed how it would be; I just expected it. I didn't know nothing to do; and if I had, I couldn't a done it; because that nigger busted in and says:
"Why, de gracious sakes! do he know you genlmen?"
We could see pretty well, now. Tom he looked at the nigger, steady and kind of wondering, and says:
"Does who know us?"
"Why, dish-yer runaway nigger."
"I don't reckon he does; but what put that into your head?"
"What put it dar? Didn' he jis' dis minute sing out like he knowed you?"
Tom says, in a puzzled-up kind of way:
"Well, that's mighty curious. Who sung out? When did he sing out? What did he sing out?" And turns to me, perfectly c'am, and says, "Did you hear anybody sing out?"
Of course there warn't nothing to be said but the one thing; so I says:
"No; I ain't heard nobody say nothing."
Then he turns to Jim, and looks him over like he never see him before; and says:
"Did you sing out?"
"No, sah," says Jim; "I hain't said nothing, sah."
"Not a word?"
"No, sah, I hain't said a word."
"Did you ever see us before?"
"No, sah; not as I knows on."
So Tom turns to the nigger, which was looking wild and distressed, and says, kind of severe: "What do you reckon's the matter with you, anyway? What made you think somebody sung out?"
"Oh, 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
