“Tom Sawyer, what’s the use to ask such a jackass question? Anybody that ain’t blind can see it don’t stand still.”
“Well,” he says, “I’m lost in the sky with no company but a passel of low-down animals that don’t know no more than the head boss of a university did three or four hundred years ago.”
It warn’t fair play, and I let him know it. I says:
“Throwin’ mud ain’t arguin’, Tom Sawyer.”
“Oh, my goodness, oh, my goodness gracious, dah’s de lake agi’n!” yelled Jim, just then. “Now, Mars Tom, what you gwine to say?”
Yes, sir, there was the lake again, away yonder across the desert, perfectly plain, trees and all, just the same as it was before. I says:
“I reckon you’re satisfied now, Tom Sawyer.”
But he says, perfectly ca’m:
“Yes, satisfied there ain’t no lake there.”
Jim says: