reckoned the best way would be to go and ask him. So he started; but I kept a little behind, because I didn’t know but it might be a ghost, after all. When Tom got to where he was, he says: 

 “Me and Huck’s mighty glad to see you again, and you needn’t be afeared we’ll tell. And if you think it’ll be safer for you if we don’t let on to know you when we run across you, say the word and you’ll see you can depend on us, and would ruther cut our hands off than get you into the least little bit of danger.” 

 First off he looked surprised to see us, and not very glad, either; but as Tom went on he looked pleasanter, and when he was done he smiled, and nodded his head several times, and made signs with his hands, and says: 

Goo-goo—goo-goo

 “Goo-goo—goo-goo,” the way deef and dummies does. 

 Just then we see some of Steve Nickerson’s people coming that lived t’other side of the prairie, so Tom says: 

 “You do it elegant; I never see anybody do it better. You’re right; play it on us, too; play it on us same as the others; it’ll keep you in practice and prevent you making blunders. We’ll keep away from you and let on we don’t know you, but any time we can be any help, you just let us know.” 

 Then we loafed along past the Nickersons, and of course they asked if that was the new stranger yonder, and where’d he come from, and what was his name, and which communion was he, Babtis’ or Methodis’, and which politics, Whig or Democrat, and how long is he staying, and all them other questions that humans always asks when a stranger comes, and animals does, too. But Tom said he warn’t able to make anything out of deef and dumb signs, and the same with goo-gooing. Then we watched them go and bullyrag Jake; because we was pretty uneasy for him. Tom said it would take him days to get so he wouldn’t forget he was a deef and dummy sometimes, and speak out before he thought. When we had watched long enough to see that Jake was getting along all right and working his signs very good, we loafed along again, allowing to strike the schoolhouse about recess time, which was a three-mile tramp. 

 I was so disappointed not to hear Jake tell about the row in the sycamores, and how near he come to getting killed, that I couldn’t seem to get over it, and Tom he felt the same, but said if we was in Jake’s fix we would want to go careful and keep still and not take any chances. 

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