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: “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.” I says: “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.” He says: “What!  Why, Jim is--” He stopped and went to studying.  I says: “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?” His eye lit up, and he says: “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!_ “Oh, shucks!”  I says; “you're joking.” “I ain't joking, either.” “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.” 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: “Why, this is wonderful!  Whoever would a thought it