long before in his life.  He got so worked up, and got to running on so about his troubles, he forgot all about what he'd been a-going to do.  So Tom says: “What's the vittles for?  Going to feed the dogs?” The nigger kind of smiled around gradually over his face, like when you heave a brickbat in a mud-puddle, and he says: “Yes, Mars Sid, A dog.  Cur'us dog, too.  Does you want to go en look at 'im?” “Yes.” I hunched Tom, and whispers: “You going, right here in the daybreak?  _that_ warn't the plan.” “No, it warn't; but it's the plan _now_.” So, drat him, we went along, but I didn't like it much.  When we got in 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, 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 d