"
"Well, we'll get you some rats."
"Why, Mars Tom, I doan' WANT no rats. Dey's de dadblamedest creturs to
'sturb a body, en rustle roun' over 'im, en bite his feet, when he's
tryin' to sleep, I ever see. No, sah, gimme g'yarter-snakes, 'f I's got
to have 'm, but doan' gimme no rats; I hain' got no use f'r um, skasely."
"But, Jim, you GOT to have 'em--they all do. So don't make no more fuss
about it. Prisoners ain't ever without rats. There ain't no instance of
it. And they train them, and pet them, and learn them tricks, and they
get to be as sociable as flies. But you got to play music to them. You
got anything to play music on?"
"I ain' got nuffn but a coase comb en a piece o' paper, en a juice-harp;
but I reck'n dey wouldn' take no stock in a juice-harp."
"Yes they would. THEY don't care what kind of music 'tis. A jews-harp's
plenty good enough for a rat. All animals like music--in a prison they
dote on it. Specially, painful music; and you can't get no other kind
out of a jews-harp. It always interests them; they come out to see
what's the matter with you. Yes, you're all right; you're fixed very
well. You want to set on your bed nights before you go to sleep, and
early in the mornings, and play your jews-harp; play 'The Last Link is
Broken'--that's the thing that 'll scoop a rat quicker 'n anything else;
and when you've played about two minutes you'll see all the rats, and the
snakes, and spiders, and things begin to feel worried about you, and
come.
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