you don't know nothing about it.  He's _got_ to have a rope ladder; they all do.” “What in the nation can he _do_ with it?” “_Do_ with it?  He can hide it in his bed, can't he?”  That's what they all do; and _he's_ got to, too.  Huck, you don't ever seem to want to do anything that's regular; you want to be starting something fresh all the time. S'pose he _don't_ do nothing with it? ain't it there in his bed, for a clew, after he's gone? and don't you reckon they'll want clews?  Of course they will.  And you wouldn't leave them any?  That would be a _pretty_ howdy-do, _wouldn't_ it!  I never heard of such a thing.” “Well,” I says, “if it's in the regulations, and he's got to have it, all right, let him have it; because I don't wish to go back on no regulations; but there's one thing, Tom Sawyer--if we go to tearing up our sheets to make Jim a rope ladder, we're going to get into trouble with Aunt Sally, just as sure as you're born.  Now, the way I look at it, a hickry-bark ladder don't cost nothing, and don't waste nothing, and is just as good to load up a pie with, and hide in a straw tick, as any rag ladder you can start; and as for Jim, he ain't had no experience, and so he don't care what kind of a--” “Oh, shucks, Huck Finn, if I was as ignorant as you I'd keep still--that's what I'D do.  Who ever heard of a state prisoner escaping by a hickry-bark ladder?  Why, it's perfectly ridiculous.” “Well, all right, Tom, fix it your own way; but if you'll take my advice, you'll let me borrow a sheet off of the clothesline.” He said that would do.  And that gave him another idea, and he says: “Borrow a shirt, too.” “What do we want of a shirt, Tom?” “Want it for Jim to keep a journal on.” “Journal your granny--_Jim_ can't write.” “S'pose he _can't_ write--he can make marks on the shirt, can't he, if we make him a pen out of an old pewter spoon or a piece of an old iron barrel-hoop?” “Why, Tom, we can pull a feather out of a goose and make him a better one; an