quiet? Well, I couldn't _have_ it that way; it wouldn't do at all.  I must go up the road and waylay him.  So I told the folks I reckoned I would go up to the town and fetch down my baggage.  The old gentleman was for going along with me, but I said no, I could drive the horse myself, and I druther he wouldn't take no trouble about me. CHAPTER XXXIII. SO I started for town in the wagon, and when I was half-way I see a wagon coming, and sure enough it was Tom Sawyer, and I stopped and waited till he come along.  I says “Hold on!” and it stopped alongside, and his mouth opened up like a trunk, and stayed so; and he swallowed two or three times like a person that's got a dry throat, and then says: “I hain't ever done you no harm.  You know that.  So, then, what you want to come back and ha'nt _me_ for?” I says: “I hain't come back--I hain't been _gone_.” When he heard my voice it righted him up some, but he warn't quite satisfied yet.  He says: “Don't you play nothing on me, because I wouldn't on you.  Honest injun now, you ain't a ghost?” “Honest injun, I ain't,” I says. “Well--I--I--well, that ought to settle it, of course; but I can't somehow seem to understand it no way.  Looky here, warn't you ever murdered _at all?_” “No.  I warn't ever murdered at all--I played it on them.  You come in here and feel of me if you don't believe me.” So he done it; and it satisfied him; and he was that glad to see me again he didn't know what to do.  And he wanted to know all about it right off, because it was a grand adventure, and mysterious, and so it hit him where he lived.  But I said, leave it alone till by and by; and told his driver to wait, and we drove off a little piece, and I told him the kind of a fix I was in, and what did he reckon we better do?  He said, let him alone a minute, and don't disturb him.  So he thought and thought, and pretty soon he says: “It's all right; I've got it.  Take my trunk in your wagon, and let on it's your'n; and you turn b