"Well, ain't you going to save any of it?"
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"Save it? What for?"
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"Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by."
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"Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?"
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"I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married."
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"That's it."
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"Tom, you-why, you ain't in your right mind."
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"Wait-you'll see."
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"Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well."
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"That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight."
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"Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?"
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"It ain't a gal at all-it's a girl."
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"It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl-both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?"
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"I'll tell you some time-not now."
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"All right-that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever."
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"No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging."
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They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another halfhour. Still no result. Huck said:
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"Do they always bury it as deep as this?"
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"Sometimes-not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place."
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So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said:
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"Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?"
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"I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's."
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"I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land."
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