now.  Tom he looked at the nigger, steady and kind of wondering, and says: “Does _who_ know us?” “Why, dis-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 ca'm, 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 tell nobody 'bout it sah, er ole Mars Silas he'll scole me; 'kase he say dey _ain't_ no witches.  I jis' wish to goodness he was heah now--_den_ what would he say!  I jis' bet he couldn' fine no way to git aroun' it _dis_ time.  But it's awluz jis' so; people dat's _sot_, stays sot; dey won't look into noth'n'en fine it out f'r deyselves, en when _you_ fine it out en tell um 'bout it, dey doan' b'lieve you.” Tom give him a dime, and said we wouldn't tell nobody; and told him to buy some more thread to tie up his wool with; and then looks at Jim, and says: “I wonder if Uncle Silas is going to hang this nigger.  If I was to catch a nigger that was ungrateful enough to run away, I wouldn't give him up, I'd hang him.”  And whilst the nigger stepped to the door to look at the dime and bi