Jim couldn’t say nothing to that, so he didn’t try.

“And besides,” I says, “we might borrow something worth having out of the captain’s stateroom. Seegars, I bet you — and cost five cents apiece, solid cash. Steamboat captains is always rich, and get sixty dollars a month, and they don’t care a cent what a thing costs, you know, long as they want it. Stick a candle in your pocket; I can’t rest, Jim, till we give her a rummaging. Do you reckon Tom Sawyer would ever go by this thing? Not for pie, he wouldn’t. He’d call it an adventure — that’s what he’d call it; and he’d land on that wreck if it was his last act. And wouldn’t he throw style into it? — wouldn’t he spread himself, nor nothing?