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Tom Sawyer, Detective                          193
Sawyer — that warn't his style. Saturday night he didn't sleep any, hardly, trying to think up a plan; and towards daylight in the morning he struck it. He snaked me out of bed and was all excited, and says:
"Quick, Huck, snatch on your clothes — I've got it! Bloodhound!"
In two minutes we was tearing up the river road in the dark towards the village. Old Jeff Hooker had a bloodhound, and Tom was going to borrow him. I says:
" The trail's too old, Tom — and besides, it's rained, you know."
" It don't make any difference, Huck. If the body's hid in the woods anywhere around the hound will find it. If he's been murdered and buried, they wouldn't bury him deep, it ain't likely, and if the dog goes over the spot he'll scent him, sure. Huck, we're going to be celebrated, sure as you're born!"
He was just a-blazing; and whenever he got afire he was most likely to get afire all over. That was the way this time. In two minutes he had got it all ciphered out, and wasn't only just going to find the corpse — no, he was going to get on the track of that murderer and hunt him down, too; and not only that, but he was going to stick to him till —
" Well," I says, " you better find the corpse first; I reckon that's a-plenty for to-day. For all we know, there ain't any corpse and nobody hain't been mur­dered. That cuss could 'a' gone off somers and not
been killed at all." 16**