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"Well, guess." ssssssssss

"I don't know. A month and a half?"

"Thirty-seven year -- and he come out in China. That's the kind. I wish

the bottom of this fortress was solid rock."

"Jim don't know nobody in China."

"What's that got to do with it? Neither did that other fellow. But you're

always a-wandering off on a side issue. Why can't you stick to the main point?"

"All right -- I don't care where he

comes out, so he comes out; and Jim ssssssssss

don't, either, I reckon. But there's one ssssssssss

thing, anyway -- Jim's too old to be dug ssssssssss

out with a case-knife. He won't last." ssssssssss

"Yes he will last, too. You don't

reckon it's going to take thirty-seven ssssssssss

years to dig out through a dirt founda- ssssssssss

tion, do you?" ssssssssss

"How long will it take, Tom?"

"Well, we can't resk being as long

as we ought to, because it mayn't take ssssssssss

very long for Uncle Silas to hear from ssssssssss

down there by New Orleans. He'll hear ssssssssss

Jim ain't from there. Then his next ssssssssss

move will be to advertise Jim, or some- ssssssssss

thing like that. So we can't resk being ssssssssss

as long digging him out as we ought to. ssssssssss

By rights I reckon we ought to be a ssssssssss

couple of years; but we can't. Things ssssssssss

being so uncertain, what I recommend is ssssssssss

this: that we really dig right in, as quick as we can; and after that, we can let

on, to ourselves, that we was at it thirty-seven years. Then we can snatch him

out and rush him away the first time there's an alarm. Yes, I reckon that'll be

the best way." ssssssssss

ssssssssss

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