"Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight? — and THEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don't reckon."
"I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?"
"Of course — if you ain't afeard."
"Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?"
"Yes — and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says 'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window — but don't you tell."
"I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I'll meow this time. Say — what's that?"
"Nothing but a tick."
"Where'd you get him?"
"Out in the woods."
"What'll you take for him?"
"I don't know. I don't want to sell him."
"All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway."
"Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me."
"Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I wanted to."
"Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year."
"Say, Huck — I'll give you my tooth for him."
"Less see it."
Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said:
"Is it genuwyne?"
