it warn't borrowing, it was stealing.  He said we was representing prisoners; and prisoners don't care how they get a thing so they get it, and nobody don't blame them for it, either.  It ain't no crime in a prisoner to steal the thing he needs to get away with, Tom said; it's his right; and so, as long as we was representing a prisoner, we had a perfect right to steal anything on this place we had the least use for to get ourselves out of prison with.  He said if we warn't prisoners it would be a very different thing, and nobody but a mean, ornery person would steal when he warn't a prisoner.  So we allowed we would steal everything there was that come handy.  And yet he made a mighty fuss, one day, after that, when I stole a watermelon out of the nigger-patch and eat it; and he made me go and give the niggers a dime without telling them what it was for. Tom said that what he meant was, we could steal anything we _needed_. Well, I says, I needed the watermelon.  But he said I didn't need it to get out of prison with; there's where the difference was.  He said if I'd a wanted it to hide a knife in, and smuggle it to Jim to kill the seneskal with, it would a been all right.  So I let it go at that, though I couldn't see no advantage in my representing a prisoner if I got to set down and chaw over a lot of gold-leaf distinctions like that every time I see a chance to hog a watermelon. Well, as I was saying, we waited that morning till everybody was settled down to business, and nobody in sight around the yard; then Tom he carried the sack into the lean-to whilst I stood off a piece to keep watch.  By and by he come out, and we went and set down on the woodpile to talk.  He says: “Everything's all right now except tools; and that's easy fixed.” “Tools?”  I says. “Yes.” “Tools for what?” “Why, to dig with.  We ain't a-going to _gnaw_ him out, are we?” “Ain't them old crippled picks and things in there good enough to dig a nigger out with?”  I says. He turns on