THE ADVENTURES OF
TOM SAWYER
by Mark Twain
|
|
PREFACE
Most of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred;
one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who
were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom
Sawyer also, but not from an individualhe is a combination
of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore
belongs to the composite order of architecture.
The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among
children and slaves in the West at the period of this
storythat is to say, thirty or forty years ago.
Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of
boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on
that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly
remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they
felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they
sometimes engaged in.
THE AUTHOR.
HARTFORD, 1876.
Part 1
CHAPTER I
TOM!
No answer.
TOM!
No answer.
Whats gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!
No answer.
The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them
about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them.
She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a
boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were
built for style, not serviceshe could have seen through
a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a
moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for
the furniture to hear:
Well, I lay if I get hold of you Ill
She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and
punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath
to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the
cat.
I never did see the beat of that boy!
She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among
the tomato vines and jimpson weeds that constituted the garden.
No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for
distance and shouted:
Y-o-u-u TOM!
There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in
time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and
arrest his flight.
There! I might a thought of that closet. What you been
doing in there?
Nothing.
Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS
that truck?
I dont know, aunt.
Well, I know. Its jamthats what it is. Forty times
Ive said if you didnt let that jam alone Id skin you. Hand me
that switch.
The switch hovered in the airthe peril was
desperate
My! Look behind you, aunt!
The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of
danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high
board-fence, and disappeared over it.
His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a
gentle laugh.
Hang the boy, cant I never learn anything? Aint he played
me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by
this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Cant
learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness,
he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know
whats coming? He pears to know just how long he can torment me
before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put
me off for a minute or make me laugh, its all down again and I
cant hit him a lick. I aint doing my duty by that boy, and
thats the Lords truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile
the child, as the Good Book says. Im a laying up sin and
suffering for us both, I know. Hes full of the Old Scratch, but
laws-a-me! hes my own dead sisters boy, poor thing, and I aint
got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off,
my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old
heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of
few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon
its so. Hell play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern
for afternoon] Ill just be obleeged to make him work,
tomorrow, to punish him. Its mighty hard to make him work
Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work
more than he hates anything else, and Ive GOT to do some of my
duty by him, or Ill be the ruination of the child.
Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back
home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw
next-days wood and split the kindlings before supperat
least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while
Jim did three-fourths of the work. Toms younger brother (or
rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the
work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no
adventurous, trouble-some ways.
While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as
opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were
full of guile, and very deepfor she wanted to trap him
into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls,
it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent
for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate
her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said
she:
Tom, it was middling warm in school, warnt it?
Yesm.
Powerful warm, warnt it?
Yesm.
Didnt you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?
A bit of a scare shot through Toma touch of
uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Pollys face, but it
told him nothing. So he said:
Nomwell, not very much.
The old lady reached out her hand and felt Toms shirt, and
said:
But you aint too warm now, though. And it flattered her to
reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without
anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in
spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled
what might be the next move:
Some of us pumped on our headsmines damp yet.
See?
Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of
circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new
inspiration:
Tom, you didnt have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed
it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!
The trouble vanished out of Toms face. He opened his jacket.
His shirt collar was securely sewed.
Bother! Well, go long with you. Id made sure youd played
hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon
youre a kind of a singed cat, as the saying isbettern
you look. THIS time.
She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad
that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once.
But Sidney said:
Well, now, if I didnt think you sewed his collar with white
thread, but its black.
Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!
But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door
he said:
Siddy, Ill lick you for that.
In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were
thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about
themone needle carried white thread and the other black.
He said:
Shed never noticed if it hadnt been for Sid. Confound it!
sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with
black. I wish to gee-miny shed stick to one or totherI
cant keep the run of em. But I bet you Ill lam Sid for that.
Ill learn him!
He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy
very well thoughand loathed him.
Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his
troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and
bitter to him than a mans are to a man, but because a new and
powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind
for the timejust as mens misfortunes are forgotten in the
excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued
novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro,
and he was suffering to practise it un-disturbed. It consisted in
a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by
touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals
in the midst of the musicthe reader probably remembers how
to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon
gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his
mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt
much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new
planetno doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure
is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the
astronomer.
The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently
Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before hima boy a
shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex
was an im-pressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of
St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, toowell dressed
on a week-day. This was simply as- tounding. His cap was a dainty
thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and
natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes onand it
was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon.
He had a citified air about him that ate into Toms vitals. The
more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up
his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own
outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved,
the other movedbut only sidewise, in a circle; they kept
face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said:
I can lick you!
Id like to see you try it.
Well, I can do it.
No you cant, either.
Yes I can.
No you cant.
I can.
You cant.
Can!
Cant!
An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said:
Whats your name?
Tisnt any of your business, maybe.
Well I low Ill MAKE it my business.
Well why dont you?
If you say much, I will.
MuchmuchMUCH. There now.
Oh, you think youre mighty smart, DONT you? I could lick
you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to.
Well why dont you DO it? You SAY you can do it.
Well I WILL, if you fool with me.
Oh yesIve seen whole families in the same fix.
Smarty! You think youre SOME, now, DONT you? Oh, what a
hat!
You can lump that hat if you dont like it. I dare you to
knock it offand anybody thatll take a dare will suck
eggs.
Youre a liar!
Youre another.
Youre a fighting liar and dasnt take it up.
Awtake a walk!
Sayif you give me much more of your sass Ill take and
bounce a rock offn your head.
Oh, of COURSE you will.
Well I WILL.
Well why dont you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you
will for? Why dont you DO it? Its because youre afraid.
I AINT afraid.
You are.
I aint.
You are.
Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other.
Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said:
Get away from here!
Go away yourself!
I wont.
I wont either.
So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace,
and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other
with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling
till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with
watchful caution, and Tom said:
Youre a coward and a pup. Ill tell my big brother on you,
and he can thrash you with his little finger, and Ill make him
do it, too.
What do I care for your big brother? Ive got a brother
thats bigger than he isand whats more, he can throw him
over that fence, too. [Both brothers were imaginary.]
Thats a lie.
YOUR saying so dont make it so.
Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said:
I dare you to step over that, and Ill lick you till you
cant stand up. Anybody thatll take a dare will steal
sheep.
The new boy stepped over promptly, and said:
Now you said youd do it, now lets see you do it.
Dont you crowd me now; you better look out.
Well, you SAID youd do itwhy dont you do it?
By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it.
The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held
them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an
instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped
together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and
tore at each others hair and clothes, punched and scratched each
others nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory.
Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle
Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with
his fists. Holler nuff! said he.
The boy only struggled to free himself. He was
cryingmainly from rage.
Holler nuff!and the pounding went on.
At last the stranger got out a smothered Nuff! and Tom let
him up and said:
Now thatll learn you. Better look out who youre fooling
with next time.
The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes,
sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his
head and threatening what he would do to Tom the next time he
caught him out. To which Tom responded with jeers, and started
off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new
boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the
shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom
chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He
then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy
to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through
the window and declined. At last the enemys mother appeared, and
called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So
he went away; but he said he lowed to lay for that boy.
He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed
cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the
person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were
in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at
hard labor became adamantine in its firmness.
CHAPTER II
SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright
and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every
heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips.
There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The
locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms
filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it,
was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem
a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting.
Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a
long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left
him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty
yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow,
and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and
passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it
again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the
far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a
tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a
tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town
pump had always been hateful work in Toms eyes, before, but now
it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at
the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always
there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings,
quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that
although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim
never got back with a bucket of water under an hourand
even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said:
Say, Jim, Ill fetch the water if youll whitewash some.
Jim shook his head and said:
Cant, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an git
dis water an not stop foolin roun wid anybody. She say she
spec Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an so she tole me go
long an tend to my own businessshe lowed SHED tend
to de whitewashin.
Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. Thats the way she
always talks. Gimme the bucketI wont be gone only a a
minute. SHE wont ever know.
Oh, I dasnt, Mars Tom. Ole missis shed take an tar de head
offn me. Deed she would.
SHE! She never licks anybodywhacks em over the head
with her thimbleand who cares for that, Id like to know.
She talks awful, but talk dont hurtanyways it dont if
she dont cry. Jim, Ill give you a marvel. Ill give you a white
alley!
Jim began to waver.
White alley, Jim! And its a bully taw.
My! Dats a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom Is
powerful fraid ole missis
And besides, if you will Ill show you my sore toe.
Jim was only humanthis attraction was too much for him.
He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe
with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In
another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a
tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly
was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and
triumph in her eye.
But Toms energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he
had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the
free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious
expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having
to workthe very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got
out his worldly wealth and examined itbits of toys,
marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but
not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom.
So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up
the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless
moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great,
magnificent inspiration.
He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers
hove in sight presentlythe very boy, of all boys, whose
ridicule he had been dreading. Bens gait was the
hop-skip-and-jumpproof enough that his heart was light and
his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a
long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned
ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a
steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle
of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to
ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstancefor he
was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be
drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and
engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on
his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them:
Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! The headway ran almost out,
and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk.
Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling! His arms straightened and
stiffened down his sides.
Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow!
ch-chow-wow! Chow! His right hand, mean-time, describing stately
circlesfor it was representing a forty-foot wheel.
Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-ling-ling!
Chow-ch-chow-chow! The left hand began to describe circles.
Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come
ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over
slow! Ting-a-ling- ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line!
LIVELY now! Comeout with your spring-linewhatre
you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of
it! Stand by that stage, nowlet her go! Done with the
engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SHT! SHT! SHT! (trying the
gauge-cocks).
Tom went on whitewashingpaid no attention to the
steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: Hi-YI! YOURE up a
stump, aint you!
No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an
artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed
the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Toms
mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben
said:
Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?
Tom wheeled suddenly and said:
Why, its you, Ben! I warnt noticing.
SayIm going in a-swimming, I am. Dont you wish you
could? But of course youd druther WORKwouldnt you?
Course you would!
Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said:
What do you call work?
Why, aint THAT work?
Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly:
Well, maybe it is, and maybe it aint. All I know, is, it
suits Tom Sawyer.
Oh come, now, you dont mean to let on that you LIKE it?
The brush continued to move.
Like it? Well, I dont see why I oughtnt to like it. Does a
boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?
That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his
apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forthstepped
back to note the effectadded a touch here and
therecriticised the effect againBen watching every
move and getting more and more interested, more and more
absorbed. Presently he said:
Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little.
Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his
mind:
NonoI reckon it wouldnt hardly do, Ben. You
see, Aunt Pollys awful particular about this fenceright
here on the street, you knowbut if it was the back fence
I wouldnt mind and SHE wouldnt. Yes, shes awful particular
about this fence; its got to be done very careful; I reckon
there aint one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can
do it the way its got to be done.
Nois that so? Oh come, nowlemme just try. Only
just a littleId let YOU, if you was me, Tom.
Ben, Id like to, honest injun; but Aunt Pollywell,
Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldnt let him; Sid wanted to do
it, and she wouldnt let Sid. Now dont you see how Im fixed? If
you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to
it
Oh, shucks, Ill be just as careful. Now lemme try.
SayIll give you the core of my apple.
Well, hereNo, Ben, now dont. Im afeard
Ill give you ALL of it!
Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but
alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri
worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel
in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and
planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of
material; boys happened along every little while; they came to
jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out,
Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in
good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for
a dead rat and a string to swing it withand so on, and so
on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came,
from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was
literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before
mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue
bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldnt
unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a
decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers,
a kitten with only one eye, a brass door-knob, a
dog-collarbut no dogthe handle of a knife, four pieces
of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash.
He had had a nice, good, idle time all the whileplenty
of companyand the fence had three coats of whitewash on
it! If he hadnt run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted
every boy in the village.
Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after
all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without
knowing itnamely, that in order to make a man or a boy
covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult
to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the
writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work
consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play
consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would
help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or
performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or
climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy
gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches
twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because
the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were
offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and
then they would resign.
The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had
taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward
headquarters to report.
CHAPTER III
TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an
open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom,
breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy
summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the
drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was
nodding over her knittingfor she had no company but the
cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up
on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom
had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place
himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: Maynt
I go and play now, aunt?
What, aready? How much have you done?
Its all done, aunt.
Tom, dont lie to meI cant bear it.
I aint, aunt; it IS all done.
Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out
to see for herself; and she would have been content to find
twenty per cent. of Toms statement true. When she found the
entire fence white-washed, and not only whitewashed but
elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the
ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said:
Well, I never! Theres no getting round it, you can work when
youre a mind to, Tom. And then she diluted the compliment by
adding, But its powerful seldom youre a mind to, Im bound to
say. Well, go long and play; but mind you get back some time in
a week, or Ill tan you.
She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that
she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and
delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the
added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came
without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a
happy Scriptural flourish, he hooked a doughnut.
Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside
stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods
were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They
raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could
collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or
seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence
and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too
crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now
that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black
thread and getting him into trouble.
Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that
led by the back of his aunts cow-stable. He presently got safely
beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward
the public square of the village, where two military companies
of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment.
Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom
friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not
condescend to fight in personthat being better suited to
the still smaller frybut sat together on an eminence and
conducted the field operations by orders delivered through
aides-de-camp. Toms army won a great victory, after a long and
hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners
exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and
the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the
armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward
alone.
As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he
saw a new girl in the gardena lovely little blue-eyed
creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white
summer frock and embroidered pan-talettes. The fresh-crowned hero
fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out
of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had
thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion
as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent
partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed
hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy
in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of
time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose
visit is done.
He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw
that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know
she was present, and began to show off in all sorts of absurd
boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this
grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was
in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced
aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the
house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and
hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on
the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh
as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right
away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she
disappeared.
The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the
flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look
down street as if he had discovered something of interest going
on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began
trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back;
and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged
nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested
upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with
the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a
minuteonly while he could button the flower inside his
jacket, next his heartor next his stomach, possibly, for
he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical,
anyway.
He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall,
showing off, as before; but the girl never exhibited herself
again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that
she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his
attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor
head full of visions.
All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt
wondered what had got into the child. He took a good scolding
about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He
tried to steal sugar under his aunts very nose, and got his
knuckles rapped for it. He said:
Aunt, you dont whack Sid when he takes it.
Well, Sid dont torment a body the way you do. Youd be
always into that sugar if I warnt watching you.
Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his
immunity, reached for the sugar-bowla sort of glorying
over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sids fingers
slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In
such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent.
He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his
aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who
did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be
nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model catch it.
He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold
himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck
discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said
to himself, Now its coming! And the next instant he was
sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike
again when Tom cried out:
Hold on, now, what er you belting ME for?Sid broke
it!
Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity.
But when she got her tongue again, she only said:
Umf! Well, you didnt get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been
into some other audacious mischief when I wasnt around, like
enough.
Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say
something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be
construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and
discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her
affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted
his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to
him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He
would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew
that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a
film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured
himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him
beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face
to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she
feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river,
dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she
would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like
rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she
would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there
cold and white and make no signa poor little sufferer,
whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with
the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he
was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which
overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end
of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his
sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or
any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such
contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all
alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit
of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and
darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at
the other.
He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought
desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft
in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge
and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the
while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and
unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine
devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out,
rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal
felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would
she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his
neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the
hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable
suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and
set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare.
At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness.
About half-past nine or ten oclock he came along the deserted
street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no
sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull
glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred
presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way
through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up
at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground
under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands
clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And
thus he would dieout in the cold world, with no shelter
over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps
from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the
great agony came. And thus SHE would see him when she looked out
upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear
upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to
see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut
down?
The window went up, a maid-servants discordant voice profaned
the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyrs
remains!
The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There
was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of
a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small,
vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom.
Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying
his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up;
but if he had any dim idea of making any references to
allusions, he thought better of it and held his peace, for there
was danger in Toms eye.
Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid
made mental note of the omission.
Part 2
CHAPTER IV
THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the
peaceful village like a benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly
had family worship: it began with a prayer built from the ground
up of solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together
with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit of this
she delivered a grim chapter of the Mosaic Law, as from
Sinai.
Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to
get his verses. Sid had learned his lesson days before. Tom
bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and he
chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because he could find no
verses that were shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a
vague general idea of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was
traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were
busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear
him recite, and he tried to find his way through the fog:
Blessed are theaa
Poor
Yespoor; blessed are the
pooraa
In spirit
In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for
theythey
THEIRS
For THEIRS. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the
kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for
theythey
Sh
For theya
S, H, A
For they S, HOh, I dont know what it is!
SHALL!
Oh, SHALL! for they shallfor they
shallaashall
mournaablessed are they that shallthey
thatathey that shall mourn, for they
shallashall WHAT? Why dont you tell me,
Mary?what do you want to be so mean for?
Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, Im not teasing you. I
wouldnt do that. You must go and learn it again. Dont you be
discouraged, Tom, youll manage itand if you do, Ill give
you something ever so nice. There, now, thats a good boy.
All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is.
Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say its nice, it is
nice.
You bet you thats so, Mary. All right, Ill tackle it
again.
And he did tackle it againand under the double
pressure of curiosity and prospective gain he did it with such
spirit that he accomplished a shining success. Mary gave him a
brand-new Barlow knife worth twelve and a half cents; and the
convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his
foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything, but it was a
sure-enough Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeur in
thatthough where the Western boys ever got the idea that
such a weapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury is an
imposing mystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom
contrived to scarify the cupboard with it, and was arranging to
begin on the bureau, when he was called off to dress for
Sunday-school.
Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he
went outside the door and set the basin on a little bench there;
then he dipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up
his sleeves; poured out the water on the ground, gently, and then
entered the kitchen and began to wipe his face diligently on the
towel behind the door. But Mary removed the towel and said:
Now aint you ashamed, Tom. You mustnt be so bad. Water
wont hurt you.
Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and
this time he stood over it a little while, gathering resolution;
took in a big breath and began. When he entered the kitchen
presently, with both eyes shut and groping for the towel with his
hands, an honorable testimony of suds and water was dripping from
his face. But when he emerged from the towel, he was not yet
satisfactory, for the clean territory stopped short at his chin
and his jaws, like a mask; below and beyond this line there was a
dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward in front
and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she
was done with him he was a man and a brother, without distinction
of color, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its
short curls wrought into a dainty and symmetrical general effect.
[He privately smoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty,
and plastered his hair close down to his head; for he held curls
to be effeminate, and his own filled his life with bitterness.]
Then Mary got out a suit of his clothing that had been used only
on Sundays during two yearsthey were simply called his
other clothesand so by that we know the size of his
wardrobe. The girl put him to rights after he had dressed
himself; she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned
his vast shirt collar down over his shoulders, brushed him off
and crowned him with his speckled straw hat. He now looked
exceedingly improved and uncomfortable. He was fully as
uncomfortable as he looked; for there was a restraint about whole
clothes and cleanliness that galled him. He hoped that Mary would
forget his shoes, but the hope was blighted; she coated them
thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and brought them out.
He lost his temper and said he was always being made to do
everything he didnt want to do. But Mary said, persuasively:
Please, Tomthats a good boy.
So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and
the three children set out for Sunday-schoola place that
Tom hated with his whole heart; but Sid and Mary were fond of
it.
Sabbath-school hours were from nine to half-past ten; and then
church service. Two of the children always remained for the
sermon voluntarily, and the other always remained toofor
stronger reasons. The churchs high-backed, uncushioned pews
would seat about three hundred persons; the edifice was but a
small, plain affair, with a sort of pine board tree-box on top of
it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a step and
accosted a Sunday-dressed comrade:
Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?
Yes.
Whatll you take for her?
Whatll you give?
Piece of lickrish and a fish-hook.
Less see em.
Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property
changed hands. Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys for three
red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue
ones. He waylaid other boys as they came, and went on buying
tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. He
entered the church, now, with a swarm of clean and noisy boys and
girls, proceeded to his seat and started a quarrel with the first
boy that came handy. The teacher, a grave, elderly man,
interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled a boys
hair in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boy
turned around; stuck a pin in another boy, presently, in order to
hear him say Ouch! and got a new reprimand from his teacher.
Toms whole class were of a patternrestless, noisy, and
troublesome. When they came to recite their lessons, not one of
them knew his verses perfectly, but had to be prompted all along.
However, they worried through, and each got his rewardin
small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scripture on it; each
blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation. Ten blue
tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten
red tickets equalled a yellow one; for ten yellow tickets the
superintendent gave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents
in those easy times) to the pupil. How many of my readers would
have the industry and application to memorize two thousand
verses, even for a Dore Bible? And yet Mary had acquired two
Bibles in this wayit was the patient work of two
yearsand a boy of German parentage had won four or five.
He once recited three thousand verses without stopping; but the
strain upon his mental faculties was too great, and he was little
better than an idiot from that day fortha grievous
misfortune for the school, for on great occasions, before
company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed it) had always made
this boy come out and spread himself. Only the older pupils
managed to keep their tickets and stick to their tedious work
long enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these
prizes was a rare and noteworthy circumstance; the successful
pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot
every scholars heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often
lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Toms mental
stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but
unquestionably his entire being had for many a day longed for
the glory and the eclat that came with it.
In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the
pulpit, with a closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger
inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a
Sunday-school superintendent makes his customary little speech,
a hymn-book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable
sheet of music in the hand of a singer who stands forward on the
platform and sings a solo at a concertthough why, is a
mystery: for neither the hymn-book nor the sheet of music is ever
referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slim
creature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy
hair; he wore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost
reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast
the corners of his moutha fence that compelled a straight
lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view
was required; his chin was propped on a spreading cravat which
was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and had fringed ends;
his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day,
like sleigh-runnersan effect patiently and laboriously
produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed
against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest
of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred
things and places in such reverence, and so separated them from
worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday-school
voice had acquired a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent
on week-days. He began after this fashion:
Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and
pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or
two. Therethat is it. That is the way good little boys
and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of
the windowI am afraid she thinks I am out there
somewhereperhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to
the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how
good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces
assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be
good. And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down
the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary,
and so it is familiar to us all.
The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of
fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and
by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide,
washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks
like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the
subsidence of Mr. Walters voice, and the conclusion of the
speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude.
A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event
which was more or less rarethe entrance of visitors:
lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a
fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a
dignified lady who was doubtless the latters wife. The lady was
leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and
repinings; conscience-smitten, toohe could not meet Amy
Lawrences eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he
saw this small newcomer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a
moment. The next moment he was showing off with all his
mightcuffing boys, pulling hair, making facesin a
word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and
win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloythe
memory of his humiliation in this angels gardenand that
record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness
that were sweeping over it now.
The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon
as Mr. Walters speech was finished, he introduced them to the
school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious
personageno less a one than the county
judgealtogether the most august creation these children
had ever looked uponand they wondered what kind of
material he was made ofand they half wanted to hear him
roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from
Constantinople, twelve miles awayso he had travelled, and
seen the worldthese very eyes had looked upon the county
court-housewhich was said to have a tin roof. The awe
which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive
silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge
Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately
went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by
the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the
whisperings:
Look at him, Jim! Hes a going up there. Saylook! hes
a going to shake hands with himhe IS shaking hands with
him! By jings, dont you wish you was Jeff?
Mr. Walters fell to showing off, with all sorts of official
bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments,
discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find
a target. The librarian showed offrunning hither and
thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the
splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young
lady teachers showed offbending sweetly over pupils that
were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad
little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen
teachers showed off with small scoldings and other little
displays of authority and fine attention to disciplineand
most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the
library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had
to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming
vexation). The little girls showed off in various ways, and the
little boys showed off with such diligence that the air was
thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it
all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon
all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own
grandeurfor he was showing off, too.
There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters ecstasy
complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and
exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but
none had enoughhe had been around among the star pupils
inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German
lad back again with a sound mind.
And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came
forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue
ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear
sky. Walters was not expecting an application from this source
for the next ten years. But there was no getting around
ithere were the certified checks, and they were good for
their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge
and the other elect, and the great news was announced from
headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade,
and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up
to the judicial ones altitude, and the school had two marvels to
gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with
envybut those that suffered the bitterest pangs were those
who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to
this hated splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he
had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These despised
themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake
in the grass.
The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the
superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it
lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellows instinct
taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear
the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had
warehoused two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his
premisesa dozen would strain his capacity, without a
doubt.
Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see
it in her facebut he wouldnt look. She wondered; then she
was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and
wentcame again; she watched; a furtive glance told her
worldsand then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and
angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of
all (she thought).
Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his
breath would hardly come, his heart quakedpartly because
of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her
parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it
were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Toms head and called
him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy
stammered, gasped, and got it out:
Tom.
Oh, no, not Tomit is
Thomas.
Ah, thats it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. Thats
very well. But youve another one I daresay, and youll tell it
to me, wont you?
Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas, said Walters,
and say sir. You mustnt forget your manners.
Thomas Sawyersir.
Thats it! Thats a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little
fellow. Two thousand verses is a great manyvery, very
great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took
to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there
is in the world; its what makes great men and good men; youll
be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and
then youll look back and say, Its all owing to the precious
Sunday-school privileges of my boyhoodits all owing to my
dear teachers that taught me to learnits all owing to the
good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and
gave me a beautiful Biblea splendid elegant Bibleto
keep and have it all for my own, alwaysits all owing to
right bringing up! That is what you will say, Thomasand
you wouldnt take any money for those two thousand
versesno indeed you wouldnt. And now you wouldnt mind
telling me and this lady some of the things youve
learnedno, I know you wouldntfor we are proud of
little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all
the twelve disciples. Wont you tell us the names of the first
two that were appointed?
Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He
blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters heart sank within
him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can
answer the simplest questionwhy DID the Judge ask him? Yet
he felt obliged to speak up and say:
Answer the gentleman, Thomasdont be afraid.
Tom still hung fire.
Now I know youll tell me, said the lady. The names of the
first two disciples were
DAVID AND GOLIAH!
Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the
scene.
CHAPTER V
ABOUT half-past ten the cracked bell of the small church began
to ring, and presently the people began to gather for the
morning sermon. The Sunday-school children distributed themselves
about the house and occupied pews with their parents, so as to
be under supervision. Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary
sat with herTom being placed next the aisle, in order that
he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive
outside summer scenes as possible. The crowd filed up the aisles:
the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen better days; the
mayor and his wifefor they had a mayor there, among other
unnecessaries; the justice of the peace; the widow Douglass,
fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good-hearted soul and
well-to-do, her hill mansion the only palace in the town, and the
most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of
festivities that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and
venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable
from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a
troop of lawn-clad and ribbon-decked young heart-breakers; then
all the young clerks in town in a bodyfor they had stood
in the vestibule sucking their cane-heads, a circling wall of
oiled and simpering admirers, till the last girl had run their
gantlet; and last of all came the Model Boy, Willie Mufferson,
taking as heedful care of his mother as if she were cut glass. He
always brought his mother to church, and was the pride of all the
matrons. The boys all hated him, he was so good. And besides, he
had been thrown up to them so much. His white handkerchief was
hanging out of his pocket behind, as usual on
Sundaysaccidentally. Tom had no handkerchief, and he
looked upon boys who had as snobs.
The congregation being fully assembled, now, the bell rang
once more, to warn laggards and stragglers, and then a solemn
hush fell upon the church which was only broken by the tittering
and whispering of the choir in the gallery. The choir always
tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a
church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where
it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely
remember anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign
country.
The minister gave out the hymn, and read it through with a
relish, in a peculiar style which was much admired in that part
of the country. His voice began on a medium key and climbed
steadily up till it reached a certain point, where it bore with
strong emphasis upon the topmost word and then plunged down as if
from a spring-board:
Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flowry BEDS of
ease,
Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro BLOOD-y
seas?
He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church sociables
he was always called upon to read poetry; and when he was
through, the ladies would lift up their hands and let them fall
helplessly in their laps, and wall their eyes, and shake their
heads, as much as to say, Words cannot express it; it is too
beautiful, TOO beautiful for this mortal earth.
After the hymn had been sung, the Rev. Mr. Sprague turned
himself into a bulletin-board, and read off notices of meetings
and societies and things till it seemed that the list would
stretch out to the crack of dooma queer custom which is
still kept up in America, even in cities, away here in this age
of abundant newspapers. Often, the less there is to justify a
traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it.
And now the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was,
and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little
children of the church; for the other churches of the village;
for the village itself; for the county; for the State; for the
State officers; for the United States; for the churches of the
United States; for Congress; for the President; for the officers
of the Government; for poor sailors, tossed by stormy seas; for
the oppressed millions groaning under the heel of European
monarchies and Oriental despotisms; for such as have the light
and the good tidings, and yet have not eyes to see nor ears to
hear withal; for the heathen in the far islands of the sea; and
closed with a supplication that the words he was about to speak
might find grace and favor, and be as seed sown in fertile
ground, yielding in time a grateful harvest of good. Amen.
There was a rustling of dresses, and the standing congregation
sat down. The boy whose history this book relates did not enjoy
the prayer, he only endured itif he even did that much.
He was restive all through it; he kept tally of the details of
the prayer, unconsciouslyfor he was not listening, but he
knew the ground of old, and the clergymans regular route over
itand when a little trifle of new matter was
interlarded, his ear detected it and his whole nature resented it;
he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly. In the midst of
the prayer a fly had lit on the back of the pew in front of him
and tortured his spirit by calmly rubbing its hands together,
embracing its head with its arms, and polishing it so vigorously
that it seemed to almost part company with the body, and the
slender thread of a neck was exposed to view; scraping its wings
with its hind legs and smoothing them to its body as if they had
been coat-tails; going through its whole toilet as tranquilly as
if it knew it was perfectly safe. As indeed it was; for as sorely
as Toms hands itched to grab for it they did not darehe
believed his soul would be instantly destroyed if he did such a
thing while the prayer was going on. But with the closing
sentence his hand began to curve and steal forward; and the
instant the Amen was out the fly was a prisoner of war. His
aunt detected the act and made him let it go.
The minister gave out his text and droned along monotonously
through an argument that was so prosy that many a head by and by
began to nodand yet it was an argument that dealt in
limitless fire and brimstone and thinned the predestined elect
down to a company so small as to be hardly worth the saving. Tom
counted the pages of the sermon; after church he always knew how
many pages there had been, but he seldom knew anything else about
the discourse. However, this time he was really interested for a
little while. The minister made a grand and moving picture of the
assembling together of the worlds hosts at the millennium when
the lion and the lamb should lie down together and a little
child should lead them. But the pathos, the lesson, the moral of
the great spectacle were lost upon the boy; he only thought of
the conspicuousness of the principal character before the
on-looking nations; his face lit with the thought, and he said to
himself that he wished he could be that child, if it was a tame
lion.
Now he lapsed into suffering again, as the dry argument was
resumed. Presently he bethought him of a treasure he had and got
it out. It was a large black beetle with formidable jawsa
pinchbug, he called it. It was in a percussion-cap box. The
first thing the beetle did was to take him by the finger. A
natural fillip followed, the beetle went floundering into the
aisle and lit on its back, and the hurt finger went into the
boys mouth. The beetle lay there working its helpless legs,
unable to turn over. Tom eyed it, and longed for it; but it was
safe out of his reach. Other people uninterested in the sermon
found relief in the beetle, and they eyed it too. Presently a
vagrant poodle dog came idling along, sad at heart, lazy with the
summer softness and the quiet, weary of captivity, sighing for
change. He spied the beetle; the drooping tail lifted and wagged.
He surveyed the prize; walked around it; smelt at it from a safe
distance; walked around it again; grew bolder, and took a closer
smell; then lifted his lip and made a gingerly snatch at it, just
missing it; made another, and another; began to enjoy the
diversion; subsided to his stomach with the beetle between his
paws, and continued his experiments; grew weary at last, and then
indifferent and absent-minded. His head nodded, and little by
little his chin descended and touched the enemy, who seized it.
There was a sharp yelp, a flirt of the poodles head, and the
beetle fell a couple of yards away, and lit on its back once
more. The neighboring spectators shook with a gentle inward joy,
several faces went behind fans and hand-kerchiefs, and Tom was
entirely happy. The dog looked foolish, and probably felt so; but
there was resentment in his heart, too, and a craving for
revenge. So he went to the beetle and began a wary attack on it
again; jumping at it from every point of a circle, lighting with
his fore-paws within an inch of the creature, making even closer
snatches at it with his teeth, and jerking his head till his ears
flapped again. But he grew tired once more, after a while; tried
to amuse himself with a fly but found no relief; followed an ant
around, with his nose close to the floor, and quickly wearied of
that; yawned, sighed, forgot the beetle entirely, and sat down on
it. Then there was a wild yelp of agony and the poodle went
sailing up the aisle; the yelps continued, and so did the dog; he
crossed the house in front of the altar; he flew down the other
aisle; he crossed before the doors; he clamored up the
home-stretch; his anguish grew with his progress, till presently he
was but a woolly comet moving in its orbit with the gleam and the
speed of light. At last the frantic sufferer sheered from its
course, and sprang into its masters lap; he flung it out of the
window, and the voice of distress quickly thinned away and died
in the distance.
By this time the whole church was red-faced and suffocating
with suppressed laughter, and the sermon had come to a dead
standstill. The discourse was resumed presently, but it went lame
and halting, all possibility of impressiveness being at an end;
for even the gravest sentiments were constantly being received
with a smothered burst of unholy mirth, under cover of some
remote pew-back, as if the poor parson had said a rarely
facetious thing. It was a genuine relief to the whole
congregation when the ordeal was over and the benediction
pronounced.
Tom Sawyer went home quite cheerful, thinking to himself that
there was some satisfaction about divine service when there was a
bit of variety in it. He had but one marring thought; he was
willing that the dog should play with his pinchbug, but he did
not think it was upright in him to carry it off.
CHAPTER VI
MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning
always found him sobecause it began another weeks slow
suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he
had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity
and fetters again so much more odious.
Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished
he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was a
vague possibility. He canvassed his system. No ailment was
found, and he investigated again. This time he thought he could
detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with
considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died
wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered
something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was
lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a starter, as he
called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court
with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would
hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the
present, and seek further. Nothing offered for some little time,
and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain
thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and
threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his
sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for inspection. But
now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it seemed
well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with
considerable spirit.
But Sid slept on unconscious.
Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in
the toe.
No result from Sid.
Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a
rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a succession of
admirable groans.
Sid snored on.
Tom was aggravated. He said, Sid, Sid! and shook him. This
course worked well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned,
stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and
began to stare at Tom. Tom went on groaning. Sid said:
Tom! Say, Tom! [No response.] Here, Tom! TOM! What is the
matter, Tom? And he shook him and looked in his face
anxiously.
Tom moaned out:
Oh, dont, Sid. Dont joggle me.
Why, whats the matter, Tom? I must call auntie.
Nonever mind. Itll be over by and by, maybe. Dont
call anybody.
But I must! DONT groan so, Tom, its awful. How long you
been this way?
Hours. Ouch! Oh, dont stir so, Sid, youll kill me.
Tom, why didnt you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, DONT! It makes
my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?
I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything youve
ever done to me. When Im gone
Oh, Tom, you aint dying, are you? Dont, Tomoh,
dont. Maybe
I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell em so, Sid. And Sid,
you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl
thats come to town, and tell her
But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering
in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and
so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone.
Sid flew downstairs and said:
Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Toms dying!
Dying!
Yesm. Dont waitcome quick!
Rubbage! I dont believe it!
But she fled upstairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her
heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When
she reached the bedside she gasped out:
You, Tom! Tom, whats the matter with you?
Oh, auntie, Im
Whats the matter with youwhat is the matter with you,
child?
Oh, auntie, my sore toes mortified!
The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then
cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she
said:
Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that
nonsense and climb out of this.
The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy
felt a little foolish, and he said:
Aunt Polly, it SEEMED mortified, and it hurt so I never
minded my tooth at all.
Your tooth, indeed! Whats the matter with your tooth?
One of thems loose, and it aches perfectly awful.
There, there, now, dont begin that groaning again. Open your
mouth. Wellyour tooth IS loose, but youre not going to
die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire
out of the kitchen.
Tom said:
Oh, please, auntie, dont pull it out. It dont hurt any
more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please dont, auntie. I
dont want to stay home from school.
Oh, you dont, dont you? So all this row was because you
thought youd get to stay home from school and go a-fishing? Tom,
Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to
break my old heart with your outrageousness. By this time the
dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the
silk thread fast to Toms tooth with a loop and tied the other to
the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly
thrust it almost into the boys face. The tooth hung dangling by
the bedpost, now.
But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to
school after breakfast, he was the envy of every boy he met
because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to
expectorate in a new and admirable way. He gathered quite a
following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had
cut his finger and had been a centre of fascination and homage up
to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent,
and shorn of his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a
disdain which he did not feel that it wasnt anything to spit
like Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, Sour grapes! and he
wandered away a dismantled hero.
Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village,
Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was
cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town,
because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and badand
because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his
forbidden society, and wished they dared to be like him. Tom was
like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied
Huckleberry his gaudy outcast condition, and was under strict
orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he
got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast-off
clothes of full-grown men, and they were in perennial bloom and
fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide
crescent lopped out of its brim; his coat, when he wore one, hung
nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the
back; but one suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the
trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs
dragged in the dirt when not rolled up.
Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on
doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did
not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master
or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where
he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him
to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always
the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to
resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on
clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything
that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every
harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg.
Tom hailed the romantic outcast:
Hello, Huckleberry!
Hello yourself, and see how you like it.
Whats that you got?
Dead cat.
Lemme see him, Huck. My, hes pretty stiff. Whered you get
him ?
Bought him offn a boy.
What did you give?
I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the
slaughter-house.
Whered you get the blue ticket?
Bought it offn Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a
hoop-stick.
Saywhat is dead cats good for, Huck?
Good for? Cure warts with.
No! Is that so? I know something thats better.
I bet you dont. What is it?
Why, spunk-water.
Spunk-water! I wouldnt give a dern for spunk-water.
You wouldnt, wouldnt you? Dyou ever try it?
No, I haint. But Bob Tanner did.
Who told you so!
Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and
Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a
nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!
Well, what of it? Theyll all lie. Leastways all but the
nigger. I dont know HIM. But I never see a nigger that WOULDNT
lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck.
Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the
rain-water was.
In the daytime?
Certainly.
With his face to the stump?
Yes. Least I reckon so.
Did he say anything?
I dont reckon he did. I dont know.
Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a
blame fool way as that! Why, that aint a-going to do any good.
You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where
you know theres a spunk- water stump, and just as its midnight
you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say:
Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts, Spunk-water,
spunk-water, swaller these warts,
and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut,
and then turn around three times and walk home without speaking
to anybody. Because if you speak the charms busted.
Well, that sounds like a good way; but that aint the way Bob
Tanner done.
No, sir, you can bet he didnt, becuz hes the wartiest boy
in this town; and he wouldnt have a wart on him if hed knowed
how to work spunk-water. Ive took off thousands of warts off of
my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that Ive
always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take em off
with a bean.
Yes, beans good. Ive done that.
Have you? Whats your way?
You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get
some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean
and take and dig a hole and bury it bout midnight at the
crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then you burn up the rest
of the bean. You see that piece thats got the blood on it will
keep drawing and drawing, trying to fetch the other piece to it,
and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off
she comes.
Yes, thats it, Huckthats it; though when youre
burying it if you say Down bean; off wart; come no more to
bother me! its better. Thats the way Joe Harper does, and hes
been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres. But sayhow
do you cure em with dead cats?
Why, you take your cat and go and get in the grave-yard long
about midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and
when its midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but
you cant see em, you can only hear something like the wind, or
maybe hear em talk; and when theyre taking that feller away,
you heave your cat after em and say, Devil follow corpse, cat
follow devil, warts follow cat, Im done with ye! Thatll fetch
ANY wart.
Sounds right. Dyou ever try it, Huck?
No, but old Mother Hopkins told me.
Well, I reckon its so, then. Becuz they say shes a
witch.
Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so
his own self. He come along one day, and he see she was
a-witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadnt dodged,
hed a got her. Well, that very night he rolled offn a shed
wher he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm.
Why, thats awful. How did he know she was a-witching
him?
Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at
you right stiddy, theyre a-witching you. Specially if they
mumble. Becuz when they mumble theyre saying the Lords Prayer
backards.
Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?
To-night. I reckon theyll come after old Hoss Williams
to-night.
But they buried him Saturday. Didnt they get him Saturday
night?
Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till
midnight?and THEN its Sunday. Devils dont slosh around
much of a Sunday, I dont reckon.
I never thought of that. Thats so. Lemme go with you?
Of courseif you aint afeard.
Afeard! Taint likely. Will you meow?
Yesand 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
windowbut dont you tell.
I wont. I couldnt meow that night, becuz auntie was
watching me, but Ill meow this time. Saywhats that?
Nothing but a tick.
Whered you get him?
Out in the woods.
Whatll you take for him?
I dont know. I dont want to sell him.
All right. Its a mighty small tick, anyway.
Oh, anybody can run a tick down that dont belong to them.
Im satisfied with it. Its a good enough tick for me.
Sho, theres ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of em
if I wanted to.
Well, why dont you? Becuz you know mighty well you cant.
This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. Its the first one Ive
seen this year.
Say, HuckIll 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?
Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy.
Well, all right, said Huckleberry, its a trade.
Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had
lately been the pinchbugs prison, and the boys separated, each
feeling wealthier than before.
When Tom reached the little isolated frame school-house, he
strode in briskly, with the manner of one who had come with all
honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his
seat with business-like alacrity. The master, throned on high
in his great splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the
drowsy hum of study. The interruption roused him.
Thomas Sawyer!
Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant
trouble.
Sir!
Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as
usual?
Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long
tails of yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by
the electric sympathy of love; and by that form was THE ONLY
VACANT PLACE on the girls side of the school-house. He instantly
said:
I STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINN!
The masters pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The
buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy
had lost his mind. The master said:
Youyou did what?
Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn.
There was no mistaking the words.
Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have
ever listened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence.
Take off your jacket.
The masters arm performed until it was tired and the stock of
switches notably diminished. Then the order followed:
Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a
warning to you.
The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the
boy, but in reality that result was caused rather more by his
worshipful awe of his unknown idol and the dread pleasure that
lay in his high good fortune. He sat down upon the end of the
pine bench and the girl hitched herself away from him with a toss
of her head. Nudges and winks and whispers traversed the room,
but Tom sat still, with his arms upon the long, low desk before
him, and seemed to study his book.
By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed
school murmur rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy
began to steal furtive glances at the girl. She observed it,
made a mouth at him and gave him the back of her head for the
space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a
peach lay before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back.
She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently
returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled on
his slate, Please take itI got more. The girl glanced at
the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something
on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the
girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began
to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked
on, apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of
non-committal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he
was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly
whispered:
Let me see it.
Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two
gable ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the
chimney. Then the girls interest began to fasten itself upon the
work and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she
gazed a moment, then whispered:
Its nicemake a man.
The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a
derrick. He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was
not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and
whispered:
Its a beautiful mannow make me coming along.
Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it
and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl
said:
Its ever so niceI wish I could draw.
Its easy, whispered Tom, Ill learn you.
Oh, will you? When?
At noon. Do you go home to dinner?
Ill stay if you will.
Goodthats a whack. Whats your name?
Becky Thatcher. Whats yours? Oh, I know. Its Thomas
Sawyer.
Thats the name they lick me by. Im Tom when Im good. You
call me Tom, will you?
Yes.
Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the
words from the girl. But she was not backward this time. She
begged to see. Tom said:
Oh, it aint anything.
Yes it is.
No it aint. You dont want to see.
Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me.
Youll tell.
No I wontdeed and deed and double deed wont.
You wont tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you
live?
No, I wont ever tell ANYbody. Now let me.
Oh, YOU dont want to see!
Now that you treat me so, I WILL see. And she put her small
hand upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to
resist in earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these
words were revealed: I LOVE YOU.
Oh, you bad thing! And she hit his hand a smart rap, but
reddened and looked pleased, nevertheless.
Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip
closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that vise he
was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under
a peppering fire of giggles from the whole school. Then the
master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally
moved away to his throne without saying a word. But although
Toms ear tingled, his heart was jubilant.
As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study,
but the turmoil within him was too great. In turn he took his
place in the reading class and made a botch of it; then in the
geography class and turned lakes into mountains, mountains into
rivers, and rivers into continents, till chaos was come again;
then in the spelling class, and got turned down, by a
succession of mere baby words, till he brought up at the foot and
yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with ostentation
for months.
CHAPTER VII
THE harder Tom tried to fasten his mind on his book, the more
his ideas wandered. So at last, with a sigh and a yawn, he gave
it up. It seemed to him that the noon recess would never come.
The air was utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was
the sleepiest of sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and
twenty studying scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is
in the murmur of bees. Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff
Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of
heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on
lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but
some cows, and they were asleep. Toms heart ached to be free, or
else to have something of interest to do to pass the dreary time.
His hand wandered into his pocket and his face lit up with a glow
of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it. Then
furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the tick
and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed
with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment,
but it was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel
off, Tom turned him aside with a pin and made him take a new
direction.
Toms bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had
been, and now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this
entertainment in an instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper.
The two boys were sworn friends all the week, and embattled
enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a pin out of his lapel and began
to assist in exercising the prisoner. The sport grew in interest
momently. Soon Tom said that they were interfering with each
other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of the tick. So he
put Joes slate on the desk and drew a line down the middle of it
from top to bottom.
Now, said he, as long as he is on your side you can stir
him up and Ill let him alone; but if you let him get away and
get on my side, youre to leave him alone as long as I can keep
him from crossing over.
All right, go ahead; start him up.
The tick escaped from Tom, presently, and crossed the equator.
Joe harassed him awhile, and then he got away and crossed back
again. This change of base occurred often. While one boy was
worrying the tick with absorbing interest, the other would look
on with interest as strong, the two heads bowed together over the
slate, and the two souls dead to all things else. At last luck
seemed to settle and abide with Joe. The tick tried this, that,
and the other course, and got as excited and as anxious as the
boys themselves, but time and again just as he would have victory
in his very grasp, so to speak, and Toms fingers would be
twitching to begin, Joes pin would deftly head him off, and keep
possession. At last Tom could stand it no longer. The temptation
was too strong. So he reached out and lent a hand with his pin.
Joe was angry in a moment. Said he:
Tom, you let him alone.
I only just want to stir him up a little, Joe.
No, sir, it aint fair; you just let him alone.
Blame it, I aint going to stir him much.
Let him alone, I tell you.
I wont!
You shallhes on my side of the line.
Look here, Joe Harper, whose is that tick?
I dont care whose tick he ishes on my side of the
line, and you shant touch him.
Well, Ill just bet I will, though. Hes my tick and Ill do
what I blame please with him, or die!
A tremendous whack came down on Toms shoulders, and its
duplicate on Joes; and for the space of two minutes the dust
continued to fly from the two jackets and the whole school to
enjoy it. The boys had been too absorbed to notice the hush that
had stolen upon the school awhile before when the master came
tiptoeing down the room and stood over them. He had contemplated
a good part of the performance before he contributed his bit of
variety to it.
When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and
whispered in her ear:
Put on your bonnet and let on youre going home; and when you
get to the corner, give the rest of em the slip, and turn down
through the lane and come back. Ill go the other way and come it
over em the same way.
So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other
with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the
lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to
themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and
Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it,
and so created another surprising house. When the interest in art
began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in
bliss. He said:
Do you love rats?
No! I hate them!
Well, I do, tooLIVE ones. But I mean dead ones, to
swing round your head with a string.
No, I dont care for rats much, anyway. What I like is
chewing-gum.
Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now.
Do you? Ive got some. Ill let you chew it awhile, but you
must give it back to me.
That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled
their legs against the bench in excess of contentment.
Was you ever at a circus? said Tom.
Yes, and my pas going to take me again some time, if Im
good.
I been to the circus three or four timeslots of times.
Church aint shucks to a circus. Theres things going on at a
circus all the time. Im going to be a clown in a circus when I
grow up.
Oh, are you! That will be nice. Theyre so lovely, all
spotted up.
Yes, thats so. And they get slathers of moneymost a
dollar a day, Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever
engaged?
Whats that?
Why, engaged to be married.
No.
Would you like to?
I reckon so. I dont know. What is it like?
Like? Why it aint like anything. You only just tell a boy
you wont ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you
kiss and thats all. Anybody can do it.
Kiss? What do you kiss for?
Why, that, you know, is towell, they always do
that.
Everybody?
Why, yes, everybody thats in love with each other. Do you
remember what I wrote on the slate?
Yeyes.
What was it?
I shant tell you.
Shall I tell YOU?
Yeyesbut some other time.
No, now.
No, not nowto-morrow.
Oh, no, NOW. Please, BeckyIll whisper it, Ill
whisper it ever so easy.
Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his
arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with
his mouth close to her ear. And then he added:
Now you whisper it to mejust the same.
She resisted, for a while, and then said:
You turn your face away so you cant see, and then I will.
But you mustnt ever tell anybodyWILL you, Tom? Now you
wont, WILL you?
No, indeed, indeed I wont. Now, Becky.
He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her
breath stirred his curls and whispered,
Iloveyou!
Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and
benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last,
with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about
her neck and pleaded:
Now, Becky, its all doneall over but the kiss. Dont
you be afraid of thatit aint anything at all. Please,
Becky. And he tugged at her apron and the hands.
By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop; her face, all
glowing with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the
red lips and said:
Now its all done, Becky. And always after this, you know,
you aint ever to love anybody but me, and you aint ever to
marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?
No, Ill never love anybody but you, Tom, and Ill never
marry anybody but youand you aint to ever marry anybody
but me, either.
Certainly. Of course. Thats PART of it. And always coming to
school or when were going home, youre to walk with me, when
there aint anybody lookingand you choose me and I choose
you at parties, because thats the way you do when youre
engaged.
Its so nice. I never heard of it before.
Oh, its ever so gay! Why, me and Amy Lawrence
The big eyes told Tom his blunder and he stopped,
confused.
Oh, Tom! Then I aint the first youve ever been engaged
to!
The child began to cry. Tom said:
Oh, dont cry, Becky, I dont care for her any more.
Yes, you do, Tomyou know you do.
Tom tried to put his arm about her neck, but she pushed him
away and turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom
tried again, with soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed
again. Then his pride was up, and he strode away and went
outside. He stood about, restless and uneasy, for a while,
glancing at the door, every now and then, hoping she would repent
and come to find him. But she did not. Then he began to feel
badly and fear that he was in the wrong. It was a hard struggle
with him to make new advances, now, but he nerved himself to it
and entered. She was still standing back there in the corner,
sobbing, with her face to the wall. Toms heart smote him. He
went to her and stood a moment, not knowing exactly how to
proceed. Then he said hesitatingly:
Becky, II dont care for anybody but you.
No replybut sobs.
Beckypleadingly. Becky, wont you say
something?
More sobs.
Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob from the top of
an andiron, and passed it around her so that she could see it,
and said:
Please, Becky, wont you take it?
She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house
and over the hills and far away, to return to school no more that
day. Presently Becky began to suspect. She ran to the door; he
was not in sight; she flew around to the play-yard; he was not
there. Then she called:
Tom! Come back, Tom!
She listened intently, but there was no answer. She had no
companions but silence and loneliness. So she sat down to cry
again and upbraid herself; and by this time the scholars began to
gather again, and she had to hide her griefs and still her broken
heart and take up the cross of a long, dreary, aching afternoon,
with none among the strangers about her to exchange sorrows
with.
Part 3
CHAPTER VIII
TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well
out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a
moody jog. He crossed a small branch two or three times,
because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water
baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind
the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the
school-house was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley
behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to
the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading
oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat
had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance
that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering
of a wood-pecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence
and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boys soul was
steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his
surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his
chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but
a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so
lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and
slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering
through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over
the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more.
If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing
to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he
done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been
treated like a doglike a very dog. She would be sorry some
daymaybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die
TEMPORARILY!
But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one
constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift
insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he
turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he
went awayever so far away, into unknown countries beyond
the seasand never came back any more! How would she feel
then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill
him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were
an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was
exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would
be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and
illustrious. Nobetter still, he would join the Indians,
and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges
and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the
future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous
with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer
morning, with a blood-curdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs
of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was
something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was
it! NOW his future lay plain before him, and glowing with
unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and
make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the
dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of
the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the
zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old
village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his
black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his
crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his
crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving
plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on
it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, Its Tom
Sawyer the Pirate!the Black Avenger of the Spanish
Main!
Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run
away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next
morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would
collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at
hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife.
He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there
and uttered this incantation impressively:
What hasnt come here, come! Whats here, stay here!
Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He
took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose
bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Toms
astonishment was bound-less! He scratched his head with a
perplexed air, and said:
Well, that beats anything!
Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood
cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed,
here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as
infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary
incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the
place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that
all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves
together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been
separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably
failed. Toms whole structure of faith was shaken to its
foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding
but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he
had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find
the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some
time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and
broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that
point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot
with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself
down and put his mouth close to this depression and
called
Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!
Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!
The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug
appeared for a second and then darted under again in a
fright.
He dasnt tell! So it WAS a witch that done it. I just knowed
it.
He well knew the futility of trying to contend against
witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that
he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and
therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could
not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully
placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the
marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and
tossed it in the same way, saying:
Brother, go find your brother!
He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it
must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more.
The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a
foot of each other.
Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the
green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and
trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush
behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath
sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things
and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently
halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then
began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said
cautiouslyto an imaginary company:
Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow.
Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed
as Tom. Tom called:
Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my
pass?
Guy of Guisborne wants no mans pass. Who art thou
thatthat
Dares to hold such language, said Tom, promptingfor
they talked by the book, from memory.
Who art thou that dares to hold such language?
I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall
know.
Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I
dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at
thee!
They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the
ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a
grave, careful combat, two up and two down. Presently Tom
said:
Now, if youve got the hang, go it lively!
So they went it lively, panting and perspiring with the
work. By and by Tom shouted:
Fall! fall! Why dont you fall?
I shant! Why dont you fall yourself? Youre getting the
worst of it.
Why, that aint anything. I cant fall; that aint the way it
is in the book. The book says, Then with one back-handed stroke
he slew poor Guy of Guisborne. Youre to turn around and let me
hit you in the back.
There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned,
received the whack and fell.
Now, said Joe, getting up, you got to let me kill YOU.
Thats fair.
Why, I cant do that, it aint in the book.
Well, its blamed meanthats all.
Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the millers
son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or Ill be the Sheriff of
Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me.
This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried
out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the
treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected
wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping
outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble
hands, and Tom said, Where this arrow falls, there bury poor
Robin Hood under the greenwood tree. Then he shot the arrow and
fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang
up too gaily for a corpse.
The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and
went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and
wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to
compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws
a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States
forever.
CHAPTER IX
AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed,
as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom
lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to
him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike
ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his
nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay
still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally
still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely
perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of
the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to
crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently
spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt
Pollys chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that
no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking
of a death-watch in the wall at the beds head made Tom
shudderit meant that somebodys days were numbered. Then
the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered
by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony.
At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun;
he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven,
but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his
half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising
of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of Scat! you
devil! and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his
aunts woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later
he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof
of the ell on all fours. He meowd with caution once or
twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and
thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead
cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end
of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the
graveyard.
It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was
on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a
crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and
outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass
and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves
were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place;
round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves,
leaning for support and finding none. Sacred to the memory of
So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer
have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been
light.
A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might
be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The
boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and
the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their
spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and
ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms
that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave.
Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The
hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead
stillness. Toms reflections grew oppressive. He must force some
talk. So he said in a whisper:
Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be
here?
Huckleberry whispered:
I wisht I knowed. Its awful solemn like, AINT it?
I bet it is.
There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this
matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered:
Say, Huckydo you reckon Hoss Williams hears us
talking?
O course he does. Least his sperrit does.
Tom, after a pause:
I wish Id said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm.
Everybody calls him Hoss.
A body cant be too particlar how they talk bout these-yer
dead people, Tom.
This was a damper, and conversation died again.
Presently Tom seized his comrades arm and said:
Sh!
What is it, Tom? And the two clung together with beating
hearts.
Sh! There tis again! Didnt you hear it?
I
There! Now you hear it.
Lord, Tom, theyre coming! Theyre coming, sure. Whatll we
do?
I dono. Think theyll see us?
Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I
hadnt come.
Oh, dont be afeard. I dont believe theyll bother us. We
aint doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they
wont notice us at all.
Ill try to, Tom, but, Lord, Im all of a shiver.
Listen!
The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A
muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the
graveyard.
Look! See there! whispered Tom. What is it?
Its devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful.
Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an
old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with
innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry
whispered with a shudder:
Its the devils sure enough. Three of em! Lordy, Tom, were
goners! Can you pray?
Ill try, but dont you be afeard. They aint going to hurt
us. Now I lay me down to sleep, I
Sh!
What is it, Huck?
Theyre HUMANS! One of em is, anyway. One of ems old Muff
Potters voice.
Notaint so, is it?
I bet I know it. Dont you stir nor budge. He aint sharp
enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual,
likelyblamed old rip!
All right, Ill keep still. Now theyre stuck. Cant find it.
Here they come again. Now theyre hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red
hot! Theyre pinted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another
o them voices; its Injun Joe.
Thats sothat murderin half-breed! Id druther they
was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?
The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had
reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys
hiding-place.
Here it is, said the third voice; and the owner of it held
the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor
Robinson.
Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope
and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and
began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head
of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of
the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched
him.
Hurry, men! he said, in a low voice; the moon might come
out at any moment.
They growled a response and went on digging. For some time
there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades
discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very
monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull
woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had
hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their
shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground. The
moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face.
The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered
with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took
out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope
and then said:
Now the cussed things ready, Sawbones, and youll just out
with another five, or here she stays.
Thats the talk! said Injun Joe.
Look here, what does this mean? said the doctor. You
required your pay in advance, and Ive paid you.
Yes, and you done more than that, said Injun Joe,
approaching the doctor, who was now standing. Five years ago you
drove me away from your fathers kitchen one night, when I come
to ask for something to eat, and you said I warnt there for any
good; and when I swore Id get even with you if it took a hundred
years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think Id
forget? The Injun blood aint in me for nothing. And now Ive GOT
you, and you got to SETTLE, you know!
He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by
this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the
ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and
exclaimed:
Here, now, dont you hit my pard! and the next moment he had
grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might
and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their
heels. Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with
passion, snatched up Potters knife, and went creeping, catlike
and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an
opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized
the heavy headboard of Williams grave and felled Potter to the
earth with itand in the same instant the half-breed saw
his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young mans
breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with
his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the
dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away
in the dark.
Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing
over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured
inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The
half-breed muttered:
THAT score is settleddamn you.
Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in
Potters open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin.
Threefourfive minutes passed, and then Potter
began to stir and moan. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised
it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat
up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around
him, confusedly. His eyes met Joes.
Lord, how is this, Joe? he said.
Its a dirty business, said Joe, without moving.
What did you do it for?
I! I never done it!
Look here! That kind of talk wont wash.
Potter trembled and grew white.
I thought Id got sober. Id no business to drink to-night.
But its in my head yetworsen when we started here. Im
all in a muddle; cant recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell
me, JoeHONEST, now, old fellerdid I do it? Joe, I
never meant topon my soul and honor, I never meant to,
Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, its awfuland him so
young and promising.
Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the
headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling
and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into
him, just as he fetched you another awful clipand here
youve laid, as dead as a wedge til now.
Oh, I didnt know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this
minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the
excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before,
Joe. Ive fought, but never with weepons. Theyll all say that.
Joe, dont tell! Say you wont tell, Joethats a good
feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Dont
you remember? You WONT tell, WILL you, Joe? And the poor
creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and
clasped his appealing hands.
No, youve always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter,
and I wont go back on you. There, now, thats as fair as a man
can say.
Oh, Joe, youre an angel. Ill bless you for this the longest
day I live. And Potter began to cry.
Come, now, thats enough of that. This aint any time for
blubbering. You be off yonder way and Ill go this. Move, now,
and dont leave any tracks behind you.
Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The
half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered:
If hes as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the
rum as he had the look of being, he wont think of the knife till
hes gone so far hell be afraid to come back after it to such a
place by himselfchicken-heart!
Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed
corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no
inspection but the moons. The stillness was complete again,
too.
CHAPTER X
THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless
with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time
to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be
followed. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man
and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped
by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking
of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet.
If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!
whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. I cant stand
it much longer.
Huckleberrys hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys
fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their
work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast
to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and
exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond. By and by their
pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered:
Huckleberry, what do you reckonll come of this?
If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hangingll come of it.
Do you though?
Why, I KNOW it, Tom.
Tom thought a while, then he said:
Wholl tell? We?
What are you talking about? Spose something happened and
Injun Joe DIDNT hang? Why, hed kill us some time or other, just
as dead sure as were a laying here.
Thats just what I was thinking to myself, Huck.
If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if hes fool enough.
Hes generally drunk enough.
Tom said nothingwent on thinking. Presently he
whispered:
Huck, Muff Potter dont know it. How can he tell?
Whats the reason he dont know it?
Because hed just got that whack when Injun Joe done it.
Dyou reckon he could see anything? Dyou reckon he knowed
anything?
By hokey, thats so, Tom!
And besides, look-a-heremaybe that whack done for
HIM!
No, taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see
that; and besides, he always has. Well, when paps full, you
might take and belt him over the head with a church and you
couldnt phase him. He says so, his own self. So its the same
with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I
reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono.
After another reflective silence, Tom said:
Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?
Tom, we GOT to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil
wouldnt make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if
we was to squeak bout this and they didnt hang him. Now,
look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one anotherthats
what we got to doswear to keep mum.
Im agreed. Its the best thing. Would you just hold hands
and swear that we
Oh no, that wouldnt do for this. Thats good enough for
little rubbishy common thingsspecially with gals, cuz THEY
go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huffbut
there orter be writing bout a big thing like this. And
blood.
Toms whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark,
and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were
in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in
the moon-light, took a little fragment of red keel out of his
pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these
lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue
between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes.
[See next page.]
Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This
and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They
ever Tell and Rot.
Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Toms facility in
writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin
from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom
said:
Hold on! Dont do that. A pins brass. It might have
verdigrease on it.
Whats verdigrease?
Its pison. Thats what it is. You just swaller some of it
onceyoull see.
So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each
boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of
blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his
initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he
showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was
complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some
dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound
their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown
away.
A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of
the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it.
Tom, whispered Huckleberry, does this keep us from EVER
tellingALWAYS?
Of course it does. It dont make any difference WHAT happens,
we got to keep mum. Wed drop down deaddont YOU know
that?
Yes, I reckon thats so.
They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a
dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outsidewithin ten
feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony
of fright.
Which of us does he mean? gasped Huckleberry.
I donopeep through the crack. Quick!
No, YOU, Tom!
I cantI cant DO it, Huck!
Please, Tom. There tis again!
Oh, lordy, Im thankful! whispered Tom. I know his voice.
Its Bull Harbison. *
[* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have
spoken of him as Harbisons Bull, but a son or a dog of that
name was Bull Harbison.]
Oh, thats goodI tell you, Tom, I was most scared to
death; Id a bet anything it was a STRAY dog.
The dog howled again. The boys hearts sank once more.
Oh, my! that aint no Bull Harbison! whispered Huckleberry.
DO, Tom!
Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack.
His whisper was hardly audible when he said:
Oh, Huck, IT S A STRAY DOG!
Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?
Huck, he must mean us bothwere right together.
Oh, Tom, I reckon were goners. I reckon there aint no
mistake bout where ILL go to. I been so wicked.
Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing
everything a fellers told NOT to do. I might a been good, like
Sid, if Id a triedbut no, I wouldnt, of course. But if
ever I get off this time, I lay Ill just WALLER in
Sunday-schools! And Tom began to snuffle a little.
YOU bad! and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. Consound it,
Tom Sawyer, youre just old pie, long-side o what I am. Oh,
LORDY, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance.
Tom choked off and whispered:
Look, Hucky, look! Hes got his BACK to us!
Hucky looked, with joy in his heart.
Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?
Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is
bully, you know. NOW who can he mean?
The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears.
Sh! Whats that? he whispered.
Sounds likelike hogs grunting. Noits somebody
snoring, Tom.
That IS it! Where bouts is it, Huck?
I bleeve its down at tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap
used to sleep there, sometimes, long with the hogs, but laws
bless you, he just lifts things when HE snores. Besides, I reckon
he aint ever coming back to this town any more.
The spirit of adventure rose in the boys souls once more.
Hucky, do you dast to go if I lead?
I dont like to, much. Tom, spose its Injun Joe!
Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again
and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they
would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went
tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they
had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a
stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a
little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter.
The boys hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the
man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tip-toed out,
through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little
distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl
rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog
standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING
Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward.
Oh, geeminy, its HIM! exclaimed both boys, in a breath.
Say, Tomthey say a stray dog come howling around
Johnny Millers house, bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago;
and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the
very same evening; and there aint anybody dead there yet.
Well, I know that. And suppose there aint. Didnt Gracie
Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the
very next Saturday?
Yes, but she aint DEAD. And whats more, shes getting
better, too.
All right, you wait and see. Shes a goner, just as dead sure
as Muff Potters a goner. Thats what the niggers say, and they
know all about these kind of things, Huck.
Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his
bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with
excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that
nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the
gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour.
When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late
look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was
startled. Why had he not been calledpersecuted till he was
up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five
minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy.
The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast.
There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there
was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the
culprits heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was
up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed
into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths.
After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost
brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it
was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go
and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and
ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave,
for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a
thousand whippings, and Toms heart was sorer now than his body.
He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and
over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had
won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble
confidence.
He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful
toward Sid; and so the latters prompt retreat through the back
gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took
his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day
before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier
woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself to his
seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands,
and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has
reached the limit and can no further go. His elbow was pressing
against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and
sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh.
It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal
sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron
knob!
This final feather broke the camels back.
CHAPTER XI
CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly
electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet
un-dreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from
group to group, from house to house, with little less than
telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holi-day for
that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if
he had not.
A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it
had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff
Potterso the story ran. And it was said that a belated
citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the branch
about one or two oclock in the morning, and that Potter had at
once sneaked offsuspicious circumstances, especially the
washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also said that
the town had been ransacked for this murderer (the public are
not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a
verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed
down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff was
confident that he would be captured before night.
All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Toms
heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he
would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because
an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the
dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and
saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was
there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes
met Huckleberrys. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and
wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance.
But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle
before them.
Poor fellow! Poor young fellow! This ought to be a lesson
to grave robbers! Muff Potterll hang for this if they catch
him! This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, It
was a judgment; His hand is here.
Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the
stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway
and struggle, and voices shouted, Its him! its him! hes
coming himself!
Who? Who? from twenty voices.
Muff Potter!
Hallo, hes stopped!Look out, hes turning! Dont let
him get away!
People in the branches of the trees over Toms head said he
wasnt trying to get awayhe only looked doubtful and
perplexed.
Infernal impudence! said a bystander; wanted to come and
take a quiet look at his work, I reckondidnt expect any
company.
The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through,
ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellows face
was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When
he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and
he put his face in his hands and burst into tears.
I didnt do it, friends, he sobbed; pon my word and honor
I never done it.
Whos accused you? shouted a voice.
This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and
looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He
saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed:
Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me youd never
Is that your knife? and it was thrust before him by the
Sheriff.
Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased
him to the ground. Then he said:
Something told me t if I didnt come back and get He
shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished
gesture and said, Tell em, Joe, tell emit aint any use
any more.
Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard
the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they
expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver Gods
lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the
stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood
alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and
save the poor betrayed prisoners life faded and vanished away,
for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would
be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that.
Why didnt you leave? What did you want to come here for?
somebody said.
I couldnt help itI couldnt help it, Potter moaned.
I wanted to run away, but I couldnt seem to come anywhere but
here. And he fell to sobbing again.
Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few
minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys,
seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in
their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now
become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had
ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes
from his face.
They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity
should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread
master.
Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put
it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the
shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought
that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right
direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager
remarked:
It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it.
Toms fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his
sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one
morning Sid said:
Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you
keep me awake half the time.
Tom blanched and dropped his eyes.
Its a bad sign, said Aunt Polly, gravely. What you got on
your mind, Tom?
Nothing. Nothing t I know of. But the boys hand shook so
that he spilled his coffee.
And you do talk such stuff, Sid said. Last night you said,
Its blood, its blood, thats what it is! You said that over
and over. And you said, Dont torment me soIll tell!
Tell WHAT? What is it youll tell?
Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what
might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of
Aunt Pollys face and she came to Toms relief without knowing
it. She said:
Sho! Its that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every
night myself. Sometimes I dream its me that done it.
Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed
satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly
could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and
tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly
watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned
on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward
slipped the bandage back to its place again. Toms distress of
mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was
discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Toms
disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself.
It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done
holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble
present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at
one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the
lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never
acted as a witnessand that was strange; and Sid did not
overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these
inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled,
but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at
last, and ceased to torture Toms conscience.
Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his
opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and
smuggled such small comforts through to the murderer as he
could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that
stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were
afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings
greatly helped to ease Toms conscience.
The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe
and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was
his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take
the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to
begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without
confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was
deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present.
CHAPTER XII
ONE of the reasons why Toms mind had drifted away from its
secret troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter
to interest itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to
school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to
whistle her down the wind, but failed. He began to find himself
hanging around her fathers house, nights, and feeling very
miserable. She was ill. What if she should die! There was
distraction in the thought. He no longer took an interest in
war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there was
nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat;
there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She
began to try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those
people who are infatuated with patent medicines and all
new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was an
inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in
this line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not
on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody else that
came handy. She was a subscriber for all the Health periodicals
and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they were
inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the rot they
contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get
up, and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to
take, and what frame of mind to keep ones self in, and what sort
of clothing to wear, was all gospel to her, and she never
observed that her health-journals of the current month
customarily upset everything they had recommended the month
before. She was as simple-hearted and honest as the day was long,
and so she was an easy victim. She gathered together her quack
periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death,
went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with hell
following after. But she never suspected that she was not an
angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the
suffering neighbors.
The water treatment was new, now, and Toms low condition was
a windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning,
stood him up in the wood-shed and drowned him with a deluge of
cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file,
and so brought him to; then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and
put him away under blankets till she sweated his soul clean and
the yellow stains of it came through his poresas Tom
said.
Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more
melancholy and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz
baths, shower baths, and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a
hearse. She began to assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet
and blister-plasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a
jugs, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls.
Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This
phase filled the old ladys heart with consternation. This
indifference must be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of
Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She
tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a
liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else,
and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a teaspoonful
and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles
were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the
indifference was broken up. The boy could not have shown a
wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him.
Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might
be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was
getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting
variety about it. So he thought over various plans for relief,
and finally hit upon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer.
He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt
ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her. If
it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her
delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle
clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish,
but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health
of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it.
One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunts
yellow cat came along, purring, eyeing the teaspoon avariciously,
and begging for a taste. Tom said:
Dont ask for it unless you want it, Peter.
But Peter signified that he did want it.
You better make sure.
Peter was sure.
Now youve asked for it, and Ill give it to you, because
there aint anything mean about me; but if you find you dont
like it, you mustnt blame anybody but your own self.
Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured
down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air,
and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the
room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and
making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced
around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder
and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he
went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and
destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him
throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and
sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the
flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with
astonishment, peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor
expiring with laughter.
Tom, what on earth ails that cat?
I dont know, aunt, gasped the boy.
Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act
so?
Deed I dont know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when
theyre having a good time.
They do, do they? There was something in the tone that made
Tom apprehensive.
Yesm. That is, I believe they do.
You DO?
Yesm.
The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest
emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined her drift. The
handle of the telltale tea-spoon was visible under the
bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, and
dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the usual
handlehis earand cracked his head soundly with her
thimble.
Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so,
for?
I done it out of pity for himbecause he hadnt any
aunt.
Hadnt any aunt!you numskull. What has that got to do
with it?
Heaps. Because if hed had one shed a burnt him out herself!
Shed a roasted his bowels out of him thout any more feeling
than if he was a human!
Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the
thing in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat MIGHT be cruelty
to a boy, too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes
watered a little, and she put her hand on Toms head and said
gently:
I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it DID do you
good.
Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle
peeping through his gravity.
I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with
Peter. It done HIM good, too. I never see him get around so
since
Oh, go long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again.
And you try and see if you cant be a good boy, for once, and you
neednt take any more medicine.
Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this
strange thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as
usual of late, he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead
of playing with his comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked
it. He tried to seem to be looking everywhere but whither he
really was lookingdown the road. Presently Jeff Thatcher
hove in sight, and Toms face lighted; he gazed a moment, and
then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom accosted
him; and led up warily to opportunities for remark about Becky,
but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and
watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and
hating the owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right
one. At last frocks ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly
into the dumps; he entered the empty schoolhouse and sat down to
suffer. Then one more frock passed in at the gate, and Toms
heart gave a great bound. The next instant he was out, and going
on like an Indian; yelling, laughing, chasing boys, jumping over
the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing handsprings,
standing on his headdoing all the heroic things he could
conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see
if Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious
of it all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was
not aware that he was there? He carried his exploits to her
immediate vicinity; came war-whooping around, snatched a boys
cap, hurled it to the roof of the schoolhouse, broke through a
group of boys, tumbling them in every direction, and fell
sprawling, himself, under Beckys nose, almost upsetting
herand she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard
her say: Mf! some people think theyre mighty smartalways
showing off!
Toms cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off,
crushed and crestfallen.
Part 4.
CHAPTER XIII
TOMS mind was made up now. He was gloomy and desperate. He
was a forsaken, friendless boy, he said; nobody loved him; when
they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be
sorry; he had tried to do right and get along, but they would not
let him; since nothing would do them but to be rid of him, let it
be so; and let them blame HIM for the consequenceswhy
shouldnt they? What right had the friendless to complain? Yes,
they had forced him to it at last: he would lead a life of crime.
There was no choice.
By this time he was far down Meadow Lane, and the bell for
school to take up tinkled faintly upon his ear. He sobbed, now,
to think he should never, never hear that old familiar sound any
moreit was very hard, but it was forced on him; since he
was driven out into the cold world, he must submitbut he
forgave them. Then the sobs came thick and fast.
Just at this point he met his souls sworn comrade, Joe
Harperhard-eyed, and with evidently a great and dismal
purpose in his heart. Plainly here were two souls with but a
single thought. Tom, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, began to
blubber out something about a resolution to escape from hard
usage and lack of sympathy at home by roaming abroad into the
great world never to return; and ended by hoping that Joe would
not forget him.
But it transpired that this was a request which Joe had just
been going to make of Tom, and had come to hunt him up for that
purpose. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream which
he had never tasted and knew nothing about; it was plain that she
was tired of him and wished him to go; if she felt that way,
there was nothing for him to do but succumb; he hoped she would
be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into
the unfeeling world to suffer and die.
As the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new
compact to stand by each other and be brothers and never separate
till death relieved them of their troubles. Then they began to
lay their plans. Joe was for being a hermit, and living on crusts
in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of cold and want and
grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that there were
some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he
consented to be a pirate.
Three miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the
Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide, there was a
long, narrow, wooded island, with a shallow bar at the head of
it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It was not
inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a
dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jacksons Island was
chosen. Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a
matter that did not occur to them. Then they hunted up
Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them promptly, for all careers
were one to him; he was indifferent. They presently separated to
meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles above the
village at the favorite hourwhich was midnight. There was
a small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would
bring hooks and lines, and such provision as he could steal in
the most dark and mysterious wayas became outlaws. And
before the afternoon was done, they had all managed to enjoy the
sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would
hear something. All who got this vague hint were cautioned to
be mum and wait.
About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few
trifles, and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff
overlooking the meeting-place. It was starlight, and very still.
The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened a
moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low,
distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom
whistled twice more; these signals were answered in the same way.
Then a guarded voice said:
Who goes there?
Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your
names.
Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the
Seas. Tom had furnished these titles, from his favorite
literature.
Tis well. Give the countersign.
Two hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word
simultaneously to the brooding night:
BLOOD!
Then Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down
after it, tearing both skin and clothes to some extent in the
effort. There was an easy, comfortable path along the shore
under the bluff, but it lacked the advantages of difficulty and
danger so valued by a pirate.
The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had
about worn himself out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed
had stolen a skillet and a quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco,
and had also brought a few corn-cobs to make pipes with. But none
of the pirates smoked or chewed but himself. The Black Avenger
of the Spanish Main said it would never do to start without some
fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly known there in
that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a hundred
yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped
themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it,
saying, Hist! every now and then, and suddenly halting with
finger on lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and
giving orders in dismal whispers that if the foe stirred, to
let him have it to the hilt, because dead men tell no tales.
They knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the
village laying in stores or having a spree, but still that was no
excuse for their conducting this thing in an unpiratical way.
They shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after
oar and Joe at the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed,
and with folded arms, and gave his orders in a low, stern
whisper:
Luff, and bring her to the wind!
Aye-aye, sir!
Steady, steady-y-y-y!
Steady it is, sir!
Let her go off a point!
Point it is, sir!
As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward
mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were
given only for style, and were not intended to mean anything in
particular.
What sails she carrying?
Courses, topsls, and flying-jib, sir.
Send the ryals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of
yeforetopmaststunsl! Lively, now!
Aye-aye, sir!
Shake out that maintogalansl! Sheets and braces! NOW my
hearties!
Aye-aye, sir!
Hellum-a-leehard a port! Stand by to meet her when she
comes! Port, port! NOW, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!
Steady it is, sir!
The raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed
her head right, and then lay on their oars. The river was not
high, so there was not more than a two or three mile current.
Hardly a word was said during the next three-quarters of an hour.
Now the raft was passing before the distant town. Two or three
glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping,
beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of
the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood
still with folded arms, looking his last upon the scene of his
former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing she could see
him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with
dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips.
It was but a small strain on his imagination to remove Jacksons
Island beyond eye-shot of the village, and so he looked his
last with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were
looking their last, too; and they all looked so long that they
came near letting the current drift them out of the range of the
island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made shift to
avert it. About two oclock in the morning the raft grounded on
the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they
waded back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of
the little rafts belongings consisted of an old sail, and this
they spread over a nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their
provisions; but they themselves would sleep in the open air in
good weather, as became outlaws.
They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or
thirty steps within the sombre depths of the forest, and then
cooked some bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half
of the corn pone stock they had brought. It seemed glorious
sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest
of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of
men, and they said they never would return to civilization. The
climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon
the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the
varnished foliage and festooning vines.
When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last
allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves
out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found
a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a
romantic feature as the roasting campfire.
AINT it gay? said Joe.
Its NUTS! said Tom. What would the boys say if they could
see us?
Say? Well, theyd just die to be herehey, Hucky!
I reckon so, said Huckleberry; anyways, Im suited. I dont
want nothing bettern this. I dont ever get enough to eat,
genallyand here they cant come and pick at a feller and
bullyrag him so.
Its just the life for me, said Tom. You dont have to get
up, mornings, and you dont have to go to school, and wash, and
all that blame foolishness. You see a pirate dont have to do
ANYTHING, Joe, when hes ashore, but a hermit HE has to be
praying considerable, and then he dont have any fun, anyway, all
by himself that way.
Oh yes, thats so, said Joe, but I hadnt thought much
about it, you know. Id a good deal rather be a pirate, now that
Ive tried it.
You see, said Tom, people dont go much on hermits,
nowadays, like they used to in old times, but a pirates always
respected. And a hermits got to sleep on the hardest place he
can find, and put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out
in the rain, and
What does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?
inquired Huck.
I dono. But theyve GOT to do it. Hermits always do. Youd
have to do that if you was a hermit.
Dernd if I would, said Huck.
Well, what would you do?
I dono. But I wouldnt do that.
Why, Huck, youd HAVE to. Howd you get around it?
Why, I just wouldnt stand it. Id run away.
Run away! Well, you WOULD be a nice old slouch of a hermit.
Youd be a disgrace.
The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had
finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it,
loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and
blowing a cloud of fragrant smokehe was in the full bloom
of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this
majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly.
Presently Huck said:
What does pirates have to do?
Tom said:
Oh, they have just a bully timetake ships and burn
them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their
island where theres ghosts and things to watch it, and kill
everybody in the shipsmake em walk a plank.
And they carry the women to the island, said Joe; they
dont kill the women.
No, assented Tom, they dont kill the womentheyre
too noble. And the womens always beautiful, too.
And dont they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and
silver and dimonds, said Joe, with enthusiasm.
Who? said Huck.
Why, the pirates.
Huck scanned his own clothing forlornly.
I reckon I aint dressed fitten for a pirate, said he, with
a regretful pathos in his voice; but I aint got none but
these.
But the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast
enough, after they should have begun their adventures. They made
him understand that his poor rags would do to begin with, though
it was customary for wealthy pirates to start with a proper
wardrobe.
Gradually their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal
upon the eyelids of the little waifs. The pipe dropped from the
fingers of the Red-Handed, and he slept the sleep of the
conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the Seas and the
Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in getting
to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since
there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and
recite aloud; in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all,
but they were afraid to proceed to such lengths as that, lest
they might call down a sudden and special thunderbolt from
heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered upon the imminent
verge of sleepbut an intruder came, now, that would not
down. It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear that
they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of
the stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to
argue it away by reminding conscience that they had purloined
sweetmeats and apples scores of times; but conscience was not to
be appeased by such thin plausibilities; it seemed to them, in
the end, that there was no getting around the stubborn fact that
taking sweetmeats was only hooking, while taking bacon and hams
and such valuables was plain simple stealingand there was
a command against that in the Bible. So they inwardly resolved
that so long as they remained in the business, their piracies
should not again be sullied with the crime of stealing. Then
conscience granted a truce, and these curiously inconsistent
pirates fell peacefully to sleep.
CHAPTER XIV
WHEN Tom awoke in the morning, he wondered where he was. He
sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked around. Then he
comprehended. It was the cool gray dawn, and there was a
delicious sense of repose and peace in the deep pervading calm
and silence of the woods. Not a leaf stirred; not a sound
obtruded upon great Natures meditation. Beaded dewdrops stood
upon the leaves and grasses. A white layer of ashes covered the
fire, and a thin blue breath of smoke rose straight into the air.
Joe and Huck still slept.
Now, far away in the woods a bird called; another answered;
presently the hammering of a woodpecker was heard. Gradually the
cool dim gray of the morning whitened, and as gradually sounds
multiplied and life manifested itself. The marvel of Nature
shaking off sleep and going to work unfolded itself to the musing
boy. A little green worm came crawling over a dewy leaf, lifting
two-thirds of his body into the air from time to time and
sniffing around, then proceeding againfor he was
measuring, Tom said; and when the worm approached him, of its own
accord, he sat as still as a stone, with his hopes rising and
falling, by turns, as the creature still came toward him or
seemed inclined to go elsewhere; and when at last it considered a
painful moment with its curved body in the air and then came
decisively down upon Toms leg and began a journey over him, his
whole heart was gladfor that meant that he was going to
have a new suit of clotheswithout the shadow of a doubt a
gaudy piratical uniform. Now a procession of ants appeared, from
nowhere in particular, and went about their labors; one
struggled manfully by with a dead spider five times as big as
itself in its arms, and lugged it straight up a tree-trunk. A
brown spotted lady-bug climbed the dizzy height of a grass blade,
and Tom bent down close to it and said, Lady-bug, lady-bug, fly
away home, your house is on fire, your childrens alone, and she
took wing and went off to see about itwhich did not
surprise the boy, for he knew of old that this insect was
credulous about conflagrations, and he had practised upon its
simplicity more than once. A tumblebug came next, heaving
sturdily at its ball, and Tom touched the creature, to see it
shut its legs against its body and pretend to be dead. The birds
were fairly rioting by this time. A catbird, the Northern mocker,
lit in a tree over Toms head, and trilled out her imitations of
her neighbors in a rapture of enjoyment; then a shrill jay swept
down, a flash of blue flame, and stopped on a twig almost within
the boys reach, cocked his head to one side and eyed the
strangers with a consuming curiosity; a gray squirrel and a big
fellow of the fox kind came skurrying along, sitting up at
intervals to inspect and chatter at the boys, for the wild things
had probably never seen a human being before and scarcely knew
whether to be afraid or not. All Nature was wide awake and
stirring, now; long lances of sunlight pierced down through the
dense foliage far and near, and a few butterflies came fluttering
upon the scene.
Tom stirred up the other pirates and they all clattered away
with a shout, and in a minute or two were stripped and chasing
after and tumbling over each other in the shallow limpid water of
the white sandbar. They felt no longing for the little village
sleeping in the distance beyond the majestic waste of water. A
vagrant current or a slight rise in the river had carried off
their raft, but this only gratified them, since its going was
something like burning the bridge between them and
civilization.
They came back to camp wonderfully refreshed, glad-hearted,
and ravenous; and they soon had the camp-fire blazing up again.
Huck found a spring of clear cold water close by, and the boys
made cups of broad oak or hickory leaves, and felt that water,
sweetened with such a wildwood charm as that, would be a good
enough substitute for coffee. While Joe was slicing bacon for
breakfast, Tom and Huck asked him to hold on a minute; they
stepped to a promising nook in the river-bank and threw in their
lines; almost immediately they had reward. Joe had not had time
to get impatient before they were back again with some handsome
bass, a couple of sun-perch and a small catfishprovisions
enough for quite a family. They fried the fish with the bacon,
and were astonished; for no fish had ever seemed so delicious
before. They did not know that the quicker a fresh-water fish is
on the fire after he is caught the better he is; and they
reflected little upon what a sauce open-air sleeping, open-air
exercise, bathing, and a large ingredient of hunger make,
too.
They lay around in the shade, after breakfast, while Huck had
a smoke, and then went off through the woods on an exploring
expedition. They tramped gayly along, over decaying logs, through
tangled underbrush, among solemn monarchs of the forest, hung
from their crowns to the ground with a drooping regalia of
grape-vines. Now and then they came upon snug nooks carpeted with
grass and jeweled with flowers.
They found plenty of things to be delighted with, but nothing
to be astonished at. They discovered that the island was about
three miles long and a quarter of a mile wide, and that the shore
it lay closest to was only separated from it by a narrow channel
hardly two hundred yards wide. They took a swim about every
hour, so it was close upon the middle of the afternoon when they
got back to camp. They were too hungry to stop to fish, but they
fared sumptuously upon cold ham, and then threw themselves down
in the shade to talk. But the talk soon began to drag, and then
died. The stillness, the solemnity that brooded in the woods, and
the sense of loneliness, began to tell upon the spirits of the
boys. They fell to thinking. A sort of undefined longing crept
upon them. This took dim shape, presentlyit was budding
homesickness. Even Finn the Red-Handed was dreaming of his
doorsteps and empty hogsheads. But they were all ashamed of their
weakness, and none was brave enough to speak his thought.
For some time, now, the boys had been dully conscious of a
peculiar sound in the distance, just as one sometimes is of the
ticking of a clock which he takes no distinct note of. But now
this mysterious sound became more pronounced, and forced a
recognition. The boys started, glanced at each other, and then
each assumed a listening attitude. There was a long silence,
profound and unbroken; then a deep, sullen boom came floating
down out of the distance.
What is it! exclaimed Joe, under his breath.
I wonder, said Tom in a whisper.
Taint thunder, said Huckleberry, in an awed tone, becuz
thunder
Hark! said Tom. Listendont talk.
They waited a time that seemed an age, and then the same
muffled boom troubled the solemn hush.
Lets go and see.
They sprang to their feet and hurried to the shore toward the
town. They parted the bushes on the bank and peered out over the
water. The little steam ferry-boat was about a mile below the
village, drifting with the current. Her broad deck seemed crowded
with people. There were a great many skiffs rowing about or
floating with the stream in the neighborhood of the ferryboat,
but the boys could not determine what the men in them were doing.
Presently a great jet of white smoke burst from the ferryboats
side, and as it expanded and rose in a lazy cloud, that same dull
throb of sound was borne to the listeners again.
I know now! exclaimed Tom; somebodys drownded!
Thats it! said Huck; they done that last summer, when Bill
Turner got drownded; they shoot a cannon over the water, and that
makes him come up to the top. Yes, and they take loaves of bread
and put quicksilver in em and set em afloat, and wherever
theres anybody thats drownded, theyll float right there and
stop.
Yes, Ive heard about that, said Joe. I wonder what makes
the bread do that.
Oh, it aint the bread, so much, said Tom; I reckon its
mostly what they SAY over it before they start it out.
But they dont say anything over it, said Huck. Ive seen
em and they dont.
Well, thats funny, said Tom. But maybe they say it to
themselves. Of COURSE they do. Anybody might know that.
The other boys agreed that there was reason in what Tom said,
because an ignorant lump of bread, uninstructed by an
incantation, could not be expected to act very intelligently when
set upon an errand of such gravity.
By jings, I wish I was over there, now, said Joe.
I do too said Huck Id give heaps to know who it is.
The boys still listened and watched. Presently a revealing
thought flashed through Toms mind, and he exclaimed:
Boys, I know whos drowndedits us!
They felt like heroes in an instant. Here was a gorgeous
triumph; they were missed; they were mourned; hearts were
breaking on their account; tears were being shed; accusing
memories of unkindness to these poor lost lads were rising up,
and unavailing regrets and remorse were being indulged; and best
of all, the departed were the talk of the whole town, and the
envy of all the boys, as far as this dazzling notoriety was
concerned. This was fine. It was worth while to be a pirate,
after all.
As twilight drew on, the ferryboat went back to her accustomed
business and the skiffs disappeared. The pirates returned to
camp. They were jubilant with vanity over their new grandeur and
the illustrious trouble they were making. They caught fish,
cooked supper and ate it, and then fell to guessing at what the
village was thinking and saying about them; and the pictures they
drew of the public distress on their account were gratifying to
look uponfrom their point of view. But when the shadows of
night closed them in, they gradually ceased to talk, and sat
gazing into the fire, with their minds evidently wandering
elsewhere. The excitement was gone, now, and Tom and Joe could
not keep back thoughts of certain persons at home who were not
enjoying this fine frolic as much as they were. Misgivings came;
they grew troubled and unhappy; a sigh or two escaped, unawares.
By and by Joe timidly ventured upon a roundabout feeler as to
how the others might look upon a return to civilizationnot
right now, but
Tom withered him with derision! Huck, being uncommitted as
yet, joined in with Tom, and the waverer quickly explained, and
was glad to get out of the scrape with as little taint of
chicken-hearted home-sickness clinging to his garments as he
could. Mutiny was effectually laid to rest for the moment.
As the night deepened, Huck began to nod, and presently to
snore. Joe followed next. Tom lay upon his elbow motionless, for
some time, watching the two intently. At last he got up
cautiously, on his knees, and went searching among the grass and
the flickering reflections flung by the campfire. He picked up
and inspected several large semi-cylinders of the thin white
bark of a sycamore, and finally chose two which seemed to suit
him. Then he knelt by the fire and painfully wrote something upon
each of these with his red keel; one he rolled up and put in
his jacket pocket, and the other he put in Joes hat and removed
it to a little distance from the owner. And he also put into the
hat certain schoolboy treasures of almost inestimable
valueamong them a lump of chalk, an India-rubber ball,
three fishhooks, and one of that kind of marbles known as a sure
nough crystal. Then he tiptoed his way cautiously among the
trees till he felt that he was out of hearing, and straightway
broke into a keen run in the direction of the sandbar.
CHAPTER XV
A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar,
wading toward the Illinois shore. Before the depth reached his
middle he was halfway over; the current would permit no more
wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining
hundred yards. He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept
downward rather faster than he had expected. However, he reached
the shore finally, and drifted along till he found a low place
and drew himself out. He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found
his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods,
following the shore, with streaming garments. Shortly before ten
oclock he came out into an open place opposite the village, and
saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high
bank. Everything was quiet under the blinking stars. He crept
down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the
water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that
did yawl duty at the boats stern. He laid himself down under
the thwarts and waited, panting.
Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order
to cast off. A minute or two later the skiffs head was
standing high up, against the boats swell, and the voyage was
begun. Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the
boats last trip for the night. At the end of a long twelve or
fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom slipped overboard and
swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of
danger of possible stragglers.
He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself
at his aunts back fence. He climbed over, approached the ell,
and looked in at the sitting-room window, for a light was burning
there. There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harpers mother,
grouped together, talking. They were by the bed, and the bed was
between them and the door. Tom went to the door and began to
softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and the door
yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking
every time it creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on
his knees; so he put his head through and began, warily.
What makes the candle blow so? said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried
up. Why, that doors open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No
end of strange things now. Go long and shut it, Sid.
Tom disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and
breathed himself for a time, and then crept to where he could
almost touch his aunts foot.
But as I was saying, said Aunt Polly, he warnt BAD, so to
sayonly mischEEvous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum,
you know. He warnt any more responsible than a colt. HE never
meant any harm, and he was the best-hearted boy that ever
wasand she began to cry.
It was just so with my Joealways full of his
devilment, and up to every kind of mischief, but he was just as
unselfish and kind as he could beand laws bless me, to
think I went and whipped him for taking that cream, never once
recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour,
and I never to see him again in this world, never, never, never,
poor abused boy! And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would
break.
I hope Toms better off where he is, said Sid, but if hed
been better in some ways
SID! Tom felt the glare of the old ladys eye, though he
could not see it. Not a word against my Tom, now that hes gone!
Godll take care of HIMnever you trouble YOURself, sir!
Oh, Mrs. Harper, I dont know how to give him up! I dont know
how to give him up! He was such a comfort to me, although he
tormented my old heart out of me, most.
The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken awayBlessed be
the name of the Lord! But its so hardOh, its so hard!
Only last Saturday my Joe busted a firecracker right under my
nose and I knocked him sprawling. Little did I know then, how
soonOh, if it was to do over again Id hug him and bless
him for it.
Yes, yes, yes, I know just how you feel, Mrs. Harper, I know
just exactly how you feel. No longer ago than yesterday noon, my
Tom took and filled the cat full of Pain-killer, and I did think
the cretur would tear the house down. And God forgive me, I
cracked Toms head with my thimble, poor boy, poor dead boy. But
hes out of all his troubles now. And the last words I ever heard
him say was to reproach
But this memory was too much for the old lady, and she broke
entirely down. Tom was snuffling, now, himselfand more in
pity of himself than anybody else. He could hear Mary crying, and
putting in a kindly word for him from time to time. He began to
have a nobler opinion of himself than ever before. Still, he was
sufficiently touched by his aunts grief to long to rush out from
under the bed and overwhelm her with joyand the theatrical
gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature, too,
but he resisted and lay still.
He went on listening, and gathered by odds and ends that it
was conjectured at first that the boys had got drowned while
taking a swim; then the small raft had been missed; next, certain
boys said the missing lads had promised that the village should
hear something soon; the wise-heads had put this and that
together and decided that the lads had gone off on that raft and
would turn up at the next town below, presently; but toward noon
the raft had been found, lodged against the Missouri shore some
five or six miles below the villageand then hope perished;
they must be drowned, else hunger would have driven them home by
nightfall if not sooner. It was believed that the search for the
bodies had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning
must have occurred in mid-channel, since the boys, being good
swimmers, would otherwise have escaped to shore. This was
Wednesday night. If the bodies continued missing until Sunday,
all hope would be given over, and the funerals would be preached
on that morning. Tom shuddered.
Mrs. Harper gave a sobbing goodnight and turned to go. Then
with a mutual impulse the two bereaved women flung themselves
into each others arms and had a good, consoling cry, and then
parted. Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her wont, in her
goodnight to Sid and Mary. Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off
crying with all her heart.
Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so
appealingly, and with such measureless love in her words and her
old trembling voice, that he was weltering in tears again, long
before she was through.
He had to keep still long after she went to bed, for she kept
making broken-hearted ejaculations from time to time, tossing
unrestfully, and turning over. But at last she was still, only
moaning a little in her sleep. Now the boy stole out, rose
gradually by the bedside, shaded the candle-light with his hand,
and stood regarding her. His heart was full of pity for her. He
took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle. But
something occurred to him, and he lingered considering. His face
lighted with a happy solution of his thought; he put the bark
hastily in his pocket. Then he bent over and kissed the faded
lips, and straightway made his stealthy exit, latching the door
behind him.
He threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at
large there, and walked boldly on board the boat, for he knew she
was tenantless except that there was a watchman, who always
turned in and slept like a graven image. He untied the skiff at
the stern, slipped into it, and was soon rowing cautiously
upstream. When he had pulled a mile above the village, he
started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work.
He hit the landing on the other side neatly, for this was a
familiar bit of work to him. He was moved to capture the skiff,
arguing that it might be considered a ship and therefore
legitimate prey for a pirate, but he knew a thorough search would
be made for it and that might end in revelations. So he stepped
ashore and entered the woods.
He sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile
to keep awake, and then started warily down the home-stretch. The
night was far spent. It was broad daylight before he found
himself fairly abreast the island bar. He rested again until the
sun was well up and gilding the great river with its splendor,
and then he plunged into the stream. A little later he paused,
dripping, upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe say:
No, Toms true-blue, Huck, and hell come back. He wont
desert. He knows that would be a disgrace to a pirate, and Toms
too proud for that sort of thing. Hes up to something or other.
Now I wonder what?
Well, the things is ours, anyway, aint they?
Pretty near, but not yet, Huck. The writing says they are if
he aint back here to breakfast.
Which he is! exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect,
stepping grandly into camp.
A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided,
and as the boys set to work upon it, Tom recounted (and adorned)
his adventures. They were a vain and boastful company of heroes
when the tale was done. Then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook
to sleep till noon, and the other pirates got ready to fish and
explore.
CHAPTER XVI
AFTER dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs
on the bar. They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when
they found a soft place they went down on their knees and dug
with their hands. Sometimes they would take fifty or sixty eggs
out of one hole. They were perfectly round white things a trifle
smaller than an English walnut. They had a famous fried-egg feast
that night, and another on Friday morning.
After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the
bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as
they went, until they were naked, and then continued the frolic
far away up the shoal water of the bar, against the stiff
current, which latter tripped their legs from under them from
time to time and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they
stooped in a group and splashed water in each others faces with
their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted
faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and
struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they
all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up
blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and
the same time.
When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl
on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with
it, and by and by break for the water again and go through the
original performance once more. Finally it occurred to them that
their naked skin represented flesh-colored tights very fairly;
so they drew a ring in the sand and had a circuswith three
clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest post to his
neighbor.
Next they got their marbles and played knucks and ringtaw
and keeps till that amusement grew stale. Then Joe and Huck had
another swim, but Tom would not venture, because he found that in
kicking off his trousers he had kicked his string of rattlesnake
rattles off his ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp
so long without the protection of this mysterious charm. He did
not venture again until he had found it, and by that time the
other boys were tired and ready to rest. They gradually wandered
apart, dropped into the dumps, and fell to gazing longingly
across the wide river to where the village lay drowsing in the
sun. Tom found himself writing BECKY in the sand with his big
toe; he scratched it out, and was angry with himself for his
weakness. But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he could not help
it. He erased it once more and then took himself out of
temptation by driving the other boys together and joining
them.
But Joes spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He
was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The
tears lay very near the surface. Huck was melancholy, too. Tom
was downhearted, but tried hard not to show it. He had a secret
which he was not ready to tell, yet, but if this mutinous
depression was not broken up soon, he would have to bring it out.
He said, with a great show of cheerfulness:
I bet theres been pirates on this island before, boys. Well
explore it again. Theyve hid treasures here somewhere. Howd you
feel to light on a rotten chest full of gold and
silverhey?
But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which faded out, with no
reply. Tom tried one or two other seductions; but they failed,
too. It was discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand with a
stick and looking very gloomy. Finally he said:
Oh, boys, lets give it up. I want to go home. Its so
lonesome.
Oh no, Joe, youll feel better by and by, said Tom. Just
think of the fishing thats here.
I dont care for fishing. I want to go home.
But, Joe, there aint such another swimming-place
anywhere.
Swimmings no good. I dont seem to care for it, somehow,
when there aint anybody to say I shant go in. I mean to go
home.
Oh, shucks! Baby! You want to see your mother, I reckon.
Yes, I DO want to see my motherand you would, too, if
you had one. I aint any more baby than you are. And Joe
snuffled a little.
Well, well let the crybaby go home to his mother, wont we,
Huck? Poor thingdoes it want to see its mother? And so it
shall. You like it here, dont you, Huck? Well stay, wont
we?
Huck said, Y-e-swithout any heart in it.
Ill never speak to you again as long as I live, said Joe,
rising. There now! And he moved moodily away and began to dress
himself.
Who cares! said Tom. Nobody wants you to. Go long home and
get laughed at. Oh, youre a nice pirate. Huck and me aint
crybabies. Well stay, wont we, Huck? Let him go if he wants
to. I reckon we can get along without him, peraps.
But Tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and was alarmed to see Joe
go sullenly on with his dressing. And then it was discomforting
to see Huck eying Joes preparations so wistfully, and keeping
up such an ominous silence. Presently, without a parting word,
Joe began to wade off toward the Illinois shore. Toms heart
began to sink. He glanced at Huck. Huck could not bear the look,
and dropped his eyes. Then he said:
I want to go, too, Tom. It was getting so lonesome anyway,
and now itll be worse. Lets us go, too, Tom.
I wont! You can all go, if you want to. I mean to stay.
Tom, I better go.
Well, go longwhos hendering you.
Huck began to pick up his scattered clothes. He said:
Tom, I wisht youd come, too. Now you think it over. Well
wait for you when we get to shore.
Well, youll wait a blame long time, thats all.
Huck started sorrowfully away, and Tom stood looking after
him, with a strong desire tugging at his heart to yield his pride
and go along too. He hoped the boys would stop, but they still
waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become
very lonely and still. He made one final struggle with his pride,
and then darted after his comrades, yelling:
Wait! Wait! I want to tell you something!
They presently stopped and turned around. When he got to where
they were, he began unfolding his secret, and they listened
moodily till at last they saw the point he was driving at, and
then they set up a warwhoop of applause and said it was
splendid! and said if he had told them at first, they wouldnt
have started away. He made a plausible excuse; but his real
reason had been the fear that not even the secret would keep them
with him any very great length of time, and so he had meant to
hold it in reserve as a last seduction.
The lads came gayly back and went at their sports again with a
will, chattering all the time about Toms stupendous plan and
admiring the genius of it. After a dainty egg and fish dinner,
Tom said he wanted to learn to smoke, now. Joe caught at the idea
and said he would like to try, too. So Huck made pipes and filled
them. These novices had never smoked anything before but cigars
made of grapevine, and they bit the tongue, and were not
considered manly anyway.
Now they stretched themselves out on their elbows and began to
puff, charily, and with slender confidence. The smoke had an
unpleasant taste, and they gagged a little, but Tom said:
Why, its just as easy! If Id a knowed this was all, Id a
learnt long ago.
So would I, said Joe. Its just nothing.
Why, many a time Ive looked at people smoking, and thought
well I wish I could do that; but I never thought I could, said
Tom.
Thats just the way with me, haint it, Huck? Youve heard me
talk just that wayhavent you, Huck? Ill leave it to Huck
if I havent.
Yesheaps of times, said Huck.
Well, I have too, said Tom; oh, hundreds of times. Once
down by the slaughter-house. Dont you remember, Huck? Bob Tanner
was there, and Johnny Miller, and Jeff Thatcher, when I said it.
Dont you remember, Huck, bout me saying that?
Yes, thats so, said Huck. That was the day after I lost a
white alley. No, twas the day before.
ThereI told you so, said Tom. Huck recollects
it.
I bleeve I could smoke this pipe all day, said Joe. I dont
feel sick.
Neither do I, said Tom. I could smoke it all day. But I bet
you Jeff Thatcher couldnt.
Jeff Thatcher! Why, hed keel over just with two draws. Just
let him try it once. HED see!
I bet he would. And Johnny MillerI wish could see
Johnny Miller tackle it once.
Oh, dont I! said Joe. Why, I bet you Johnny Miller
couldnt any more do this than nothing. Just one little snifter
would fetch HIM.
Deed it would, Joe. SayI wish the boys could see us
now.
So do I.
Sayboys, dont say anything about it, and some time
when theyre around, Ill come up to you and say, Joe, got a
pipe? I want a smoke. And youll say, kind of careless like, as
if it warnt anything, youll say, Yes, I got my OLD pipe, and
another one, but my tobacker aint very good. And Ill say, Oh,
thats all right, if its STRONG enough. And then youll out
with the pipes, and well light up just as cam, and then just
see em look!
By jings, thatll be gay, Tom! I wish it was NOW!
So do I! And when we tell em we learned when we was off
pirating, wont they wish theyd been along?
Oh, I reckon not! Ill just BET they will!
So the talk ran on. But presently it began to flag a trifle,
and grow disjointed. The silences widened; the expectoration
marvellously increased. Every pore inside the boys cheeks became
a spouting fountain; they could scarcely bail out the cellars
under their tongues fast enough to prevent an inundation; little
overflowings down their throats occurred in spite of all they
could do, and sudden retchings followed every time. Both boys
were looking very pale and miserable, now. Joes pipe dropped
from his nerveless fingers. Toms followed. Both fountains were
going furiously and both pumps bailing with might and main. Joe
said feebly:
Ive lost my knife. I reckon I better go and find it.
Tom said, with quivering lips and halting utterance:
Ill help you. You go over that way and Ill hunt around by
the spring. No, you neednt come, Huckwe can find it.
So Huck sat down again, and waited an hour. Then he found it
lonesome, and went to find his comrades. They were wide apart in
the woods, both very pale, both fast asleep. But something
informed him that if they had had any trouble they had got rid of
it.
They were not talkative at supper that night. They had a
humble look, and when Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and
was going to prepare theirs, they said no, they were not feeling
very wellsomething they ate at dinner had disagreed with
them.
About midnight Joe awoke, and called the boys. There was a
brooding oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something.
The boys huddled themselves together and sought the friendly
companionship of the fire, though the dull dead heat of the
breathless atmosphere was stifling. They sat still, intent and
waiting. The solemn hush continued. Beyond the light of the fire
everything was swallowed up in the blackness of darkness.
Presently there came a quivering glow that vaguely revealed the
foliage for a moment and then vanished. By and by another came, a
little stronger. Then another. Then a faint moan came sighing
through the branches of the forest and the boys felt a fleeting
breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered with the fancy that the
Spirit of the Night had gone by. There was a pause. Now a weird
flash turned night into day and showed every little grassblade,
separate and distinct, that grew about their feet. And it showed
three white, startled faces, too. A deep peal of thunder went
rolling and tumbling down the heavens and lost itself in sullen
rumblings in the distance. A sweep of chilly air passed by,
rustling all the leaves and snowing the flaky ashes broadcast
about the fire. Another fierce glare lit up the forest and an
instant crash followed that seemed to rend the treetops right
over the boys heads. They clung together in terror, in the thick
gloom that followed. A few big raindrops fell pattering upon
the leaves.
Quick! boys, go for the tent! exclaimed Tom.
They sprang away, stumbling over roots and among vines in the
dark, no two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast
roared through the trees, making everything sing as it went. One
blinding flash after another came, and peal on peal of deafening
thunder. And now a drenching rain poured down and the rising
hurricane drove it in sheets along the ground. The boys cried out
to each other, but the roaring wind and the booming
thunderblasts drowned their voices utterly. However, one by one
they straggled in at last and took shelter under the tent, cold,
scared, and streaming with water; but to have company in misery
seemed something to be grateful for. They could not talk, the old
sail flapped so furiously, even if the other noises would have
allowed them. The tempest rose higher and higher, and presently
the sail tore loose from its fastenings and went winging away on
the blast. The boys seized each others hands and fled, with many
tumblings and bruises, to the shelter of a great oak that stood
upon the riverbank. Now the battle was at its highest. Under the
ceaseless conflagration of lightning that flamed in the skies,
everything below stood out in cleancut and shadowless
distinctness: the bending trees, the billowy river, white with
foam, the driving spray of spumeflakes, the dim outlines of the
high bluffs on the other side, glimpsed through the drifting
cloudrack and the slanting veil of rain. Every little while some
giant tree yielded the fight and fell crashing through the
younger growth; and the unflagging thunderpeals came now in
ear-splitting explosive bursts, keen and sharp, and unspeakably
appalling. The storm culminated in one matchless effort that
seemed likely to tear the island to pieces, burn it up, drown it
to the treetops, blow it away, and deafen every creature in it,
all at one and the same moment. It was a wild night for homeless
young heads to be out in.
But at last the battle was done, and the forces retired with
weaker and weaker threatenings and grumblings, and peace resumed
her sway. The boys went back to camp, a good deal awed; but they
found there was still something to be thankful for, because the
great sycamore, the shelter of their beds, was a ruin, now,
blasted by the lightnings, and they were not under it when the
catastrophe happened.
Everything in camp was drenched, the campfire as well; for
they were but heedless lads, like their generation, and had made
no provision against rain. Here was matter for dismay, for they
were soaked through and chilled. They were eloquent in their
distress; but they presently discovered that the fire had eaten
so far up under the great log it had been built against (where it
curved upward and separated itself from the ground), that a
handbreadth or so of it had escaped wetting; so they patiently
wrought until, with shreds and bark gathered from the under sides
of sheltered logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again. Then they
piled on great dead boughs till they had a roaring furnace, and
were gladhearted once more. They dried their boiled ham and had
a feast, and after that they sat by the fire and expanded and
glorified their midnight adventure until morning, for there was
not a dry spot to sleep on, anywhere around.
As the sun began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness came
over them, and they went out on the sandbar and lay down to
sleep. They got scorched out by and by, and drearily set about
getting breakfast. After the meal they felt rusty, and
stiff-jointed, and a little homesick once more. Tom saw the
signs, and fell to cheering up the pirates as well as he could.
But they cared nothing for marbles, or circus, or swimming, or
anything. He reminded them of the imposing secret, and raised a
ray of cheer. While it lasted, he got them interested in a new
device. This was to knock off being pirates, for a while, and be
Indians for a change. They were attracted by this idea; so it was
not long before they were stripped, and striped from head to heel
with black mud, like so many zebrasall of them chiefs, of
courseand then they went tearing through the woods to
attack an English settlement.
By and by they separated into three hostile tribes, and darted
upon each other from ambush with dreadful warwhoops, and killed
and scalped each other by thousands. It was a gory day.
Consequently it was an extremely satisfactory one.
They assembled in camp toward suppertime, hungry and happy;
but now a difficulty arosehostile Indians could not break
the bread of hospitality together without first making peace,
and this was a simple impossibility without smoking a pipe of
peace. There was no other process that ever they had heard of.
Two of the savages almost wished they had remained pirates.
However, there was no other way; so with such show of
cheerfulness as they could muster they called for the pipe and
took their whiff as it passed, in due form.
And behold, they were glad they had gone into savagery, for
they had gained something; they found that they could now smoke a
little without having to go and hunt for a lost knife; they did
not get sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable. They were not
likely to fool away this high promise for lack of effort. No,
they practised cautiously, after supper, with right fair success,
and so they spent a jubilant evening. They were prouder and
happier in their new acquirement than they would have been in the
scalping and skinning of the Six Nations. We will leave them to
smoke and chatter and brag, since we have no further use for
them at present.
CHAPTER XVII
BUT there was no hilarity in the little town that same
tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers, and Aunt Pollys
family, were being put into mourning, with great grief and many
tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was
ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The villagers
conducted their concerns with an absent air, and talked little;
but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden to
the children. They had no heart in their sports, and gradually
gave them up.
In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping about the
deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very melancholy. But she
found nothing there to comfort her. She soliloquized:
Oh, if I only had a brass andiron-knob again! But I havent
got anything now to remember him by. And she choked back a
little sob.
Presently she stopped, and said to herself:
It was right here. Oh, if it was to do over again, I wouldnt
say thatI wouldnt say it for the whole world. But hes
gone now; Ill never, never, never see him any more.
This thought broke her down, and she wandered away, with tears
rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group of boys and
girlsplaymates of Toms and Joescame by, and stood
looking over the paling fence and talking in reverent tones of
how Tom did so-and-so the last time they saw him, and how Joe
said this and that small trifle (pregnant with awful prophecy, as
they could easily see now!)and each speaker pointed out
the exact spot where the lost lads stood at the time, and then
added something like and I was a-standing just sojust as
I am now, and as if you was himI was as close as
thatand he smiled, just this wayand then something
seemed to go all over me, likeawful, you knowand I
never thought what it meant, of course, but I can see now!
Then there was a dispute about who saw the dead boys last in
life, and many claimed that dismal distinction, and offered
evidences, more or less tampered with by the witness; and when it
was ultimately decided who DID see the departed last, and
exchanged the last words with them, the lucky parties took upon
themselves a sort of sacred importance, and were gaped at and
envied by all the rest. One poor chap, who had no other grandeur
to offer, said with tolerably manifest pride in the
remembrance:
Well, Tom Sawyer he licked me once.
But that bid for glory was a failure. Most of the boys could
say that, and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The
group loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost
heroes, in awed voices.
When the Sunday-school hour was finished, the next morning,
the bell began to toll, instead of ringing in the usual way. It
was a very still Sabbath, and the mournful sound seemed in
keeping with the musing hush that lay upon nature. The villagers
began to gather, loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse
in whispers about the sad event. But there was no whispering in
the house; only the funereal rustling of dresses as the women
gathered to their seats disturbed the silence there. None could
remember when the little church had been so full before. There
was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and then Aunt
Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and they by the Harper
family, all in deep black, and the whole congregation, the old
minister as well, rose reverently and stood until the mourners
were seated in the front pew. There was another communing
silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs, and then the
minister spread his hands abroad and prayed. A moving hymn was
sung, and the text followed: I am the Resurrection and the
Life.
As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such pictures of
the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost
lads that every soul there, thinking he recognized these
pictures, felt a pang in remembering that he had persistently
blinded himself to them always before, and had as persistently
seen only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister related
many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, too, which
illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could
easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and
remembered with grief that at the time they occurred they had
seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The
congregation became more and more moved, as the pathetic tale
went on, till at last the whole company broke down and joined the
weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs, the preacher
himself giving way to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit.
There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed; a
moment later the church door creaked; the minister raised his
streaming eyes above his handkerchief, and stood transfixed!
First one and then another pair of eyes followed the ministers,
and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared
while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the
lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking
sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery
listening to their own funeral sermon!
Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their
restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out
thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable,
not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many
unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom
seized him and said:
Aunt Polly, it aint fair. Somebodys got to be glad to see
Huck.
And so they shall. Im glad to see him, poor motherless
thing! And the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him
were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than
he was before.
Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: Praise
God from whom all blessings flowSING!and put your
hearts in it!
And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst,
and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked
around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his
heart that this was the proudest moment of his life.
As the sold congregation trooped out they said they would
almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred
sung like that once more.
Tom got more cuffs and kisses that dayaccording to Aunt
Pollys varying moodsthan he had earned before in a year;
and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God
and affection for himself.
Part 5
CHAPTER XVIII
THAT was Toms great secretthe scheme to return home
with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had
paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday,
landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in
the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had
then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep
in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided
benches.
At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very
loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an
unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt Polly said:
Well, I dont say it wasnt a fine joke, Tom, to keep
everybody suffering most a week so you boys had a good time, but
it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so.
If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could
have come over and give me a hint some way that you warnt dead,
but only run off.
Yes, you could have done that, Tom, said Mary; and I
believe you would if you had thought of it.
Would you, Tom? said Aunt Polly, her face lighting
wistfully. Say, now, would you, if youd thought of it?
Iwell, I dont know. Twould a spoiled
everything.
Tom, I hoped you loved me that much, said Aunt Polly, with a
grieved tone that discomforted the boy. It would have been
something if youd cared enough to THINK of it, even if you
didnt DO it.
Now, auntie, that aint any harm, pleaded Mary; its only
Toms giddy wayhe is always in such a rush that he never
thinks of anything.
Mores the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have
come and DONE it, too. Tom, youll look back, some day, when its
too late, and wish youd cared a little more for me when it would
have cost you so little.
Now, auntie, you know I do care for you, said Tom.
Id know it better if you acted more like it.
I wish now Id thought, said Tom, with a repentant tone;
but I dreamt about you, anyway. Thats something, aint it?
It aint mucha cat does that muchbut its
better than nothing. What did you dream?
Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there
by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to
him.
Well, so we did. So we always do. Im glad your dreams could
take even that much trouble about us.
And I dreamt that Joe Harpers mother was here.
Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?
Oh, lots. But its so dim, now.
Well, try to recollectcant you?
Somehow it seems to me that the windthe wind blowed
thethe
Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!
Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and
then said:
Ive got it now! Ive got it now! It blowed the candle!
Mercy on us! Go on, Tomgo on!
And it seems to me that you said, Why, I believe that that
door
Go ON, Tom!
Just let me study a momentjust a moment. Oh,
yesyou said you believed the door was open.
As Im sitting here, I did! Didnt I, Mary! Go on!
And thenand thenwell I wont be certain, but it
seems like as if you made Sid go andand
Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him
do?
You made himyouOh, you made him shut it.
Well, for the lands sake! I never heard the beat of that in
all my days! Dont tell ME there aint anything in dreams, any
more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before Im an hour older.
Id like to see her get around THIS with her rubbage bout
superstition. Go on, Tom!
Oh, its all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you
said I warnt BAD, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any
more responsible thanthanI think it was a colt, or
something.
And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!
And then you began to cry.
So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And
then
Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the
same, and she wished she hadnt whipped him for taking cream when
shed throwed it out her own self
Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a
prophesyingthats what you was doing! Land alive, go on,
Tom!
Then Sid he saidhe said
I dont think I said anything, said Sid.
Yes you did, Sid, said Mary.
Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?
He saidI THINK he said he hoped I was better off where
I was gone to, but if Id been better sometimes
THERE, dyou hear that! It was his very words!
And you shut him up sharp.
I lay I did! There must a been an angel there. There WAS an
angel there, somewheres!
And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a
firecracker, and you told about Peter and the
Pain-killer
Just as true as I live!
And then there was a whole lot of talk bout dragging the
river for us, and bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you
and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went.
It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as Im
a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldnt told it more
like if youd a seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!
Then I thought you prayed for meand I could see you
and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so
sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, We
aint deadwe are only off being pirates, and put it on
the table by the candle; and then you looked so good, laying
there asleep, that I thought I went and leaned over and kissed
you on the lips.
Did you, Tom, DID you! I just forgive you everything for
that! And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him
feel like the guiltiest of villains.
It was very kind, even though it was only adream, Sid
soliloquized just audibly.
Shut up, Sid! A body does just the same in a dream as hed do
if he was awake. Heres a big Milum apple Ive been saving for
you, Tom, if you was ever found againnow go long to
school. Im thankful to the good God and Father of us all Ive
got you back, thats long-suffering and merciful to them that
believe on Him and keep His word, though goodness knows Im
unworthy of it, but if only the worthy ones got His blessings and
had His hand to help them over the rough places, theres few
enough would smile here or ever enter into His rest when the long
night comes. Go long Sid, Mary, Tomtake yourselves
offyouve hendered me long enough.
The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs.
Harper and vanquish her realism with Toms marvellous dream. Sid
had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his
mind as he left the house. It was this: Pretty thinas
long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!
What a hero Tom was become, now! He did not go skipping and
prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger as became a pirate
who felt that the public eye was on him. And indeed it was; he
tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he
passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys
than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him,
and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head
of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town.
Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at
all; but they were consuming with envy, nevertheless. They would
have given anything to have that swarthy sun-tanned skin of his,
and his glittering notoriety; and Tom would not have parted with
either for a circus.
At school the children made so much of him and of Joe, and
delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes, that the two
heroes were not long in becoming insufferably stuck-up. They
began to tell their adventures to hungry listenersbut
they only began; it was not a thing likely to have an end, with
imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when
they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the
very summit of glory was reached.
Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher
now. Glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he
was distinguished, maybe she would be wanting to make up. Well,
let hershe should see that he could be as indifferent as
some other people. Presently she arrived. Tom pretended not to
see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and
began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gayly back
and forth with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be
busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she
made a capture; but he noticed that she always made her captures
in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious
eye in his direction at such times, too. It gratified all the
vicious vanity that was in him; and so, instead of winning him,
it only set him up the more and made him the more diligent to
avoid betraying that he knew she was about. Presently she gave
over skylarking, and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or
twice and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she
observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy
Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew
disturbed and uneasy at once. She tried to go away, but her feet
were treacherous, and carried her to the group instead. She said
to a girl almost at Toms elbowwith sham vivacity:
Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didnt you come to
Sunday-school?
I did comedidnt you see me?
Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?
I was in Miss Peters class, where I always go. I saw
YOU.
Did you? Why, its funny I didnt see you. I wanted to tell
you about the picnic.
Oh, thats jolly. Whos going to give it?
My mas going to let me have one.
Oh, goody; I hope shell let ME come.
Well, she will. The picnics for me. Shell let anybody come
that I want, and I want you.
Thats ever so nice. When is it going to be?
By and by. Maybe about vacation.
Oh, wont it be fun! You going to have all the girls and
boys?
Yes, every one thats friends to meor wants to be;
and she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, but he talked right
along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island, and
how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree all to flinders
while he was standing within three feet of it.
Oh, may I come? said Grace Miller.
Yes.
And me? said Sally Rogers.
Yes.
And me, too? said Susy Harper. And Joe?
Yes.
And so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group
had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned
coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Beckys lips
trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with
a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out
of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as
soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call a
good cry. Then she sat moody, with wounded pride, till the bell
rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast in her eye, and
gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what SHED
do.
At recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant
self-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and
lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but
there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily
on a little bench behind the schoolhouse looking at a
picture-book with Alfred Templeand so absorbed were they,
and their heads so close together over the book, that they did
not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides.
Jealousy ran red-hot through Toms veins. He began to hate
himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a
reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names
he could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted
happily along, as they walked, for her heart was singing, but
Toms tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was
saying, and whenever she paused expectantly he could only stammer
an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He
kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and again,
to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could
not help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw,
that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the
land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew
she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as
she had suffered.
Amys happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things
he had to attend to; things that must be done; and time was
fleeting. But in vainthe girl chirped on. Tom thought,
Oh, hang her, aint I ever going to get rid of her? At last he
must be attending to those thingsand she said artlessly
that she would be around when school let out. And he hastened
away, hating her for it.
Any other boy! Tom thought, grating his teeth. Any boy in
the whole town but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses
so fine and is aristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first
day you ever saw this town, mister, and Ill lick you again! You
just wait till I catch you out! Ill just take and
And he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary
boypummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. Oh, you
do, do you? You holler nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn
you! And so the imaginary flogging was finished to his
satisfaction.
Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any
more of Amys grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no
more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections
with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to
suffer, her triumph began to cloud and she lost interest;
gravity and absentmindedness followed, and then melancholy; two
or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a
false hope; no Tom came. At last she grew entirely miserable and
wished she hadnt carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing
that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming:
Oh, heres a jolly one! look at this! she lost patience at
last, and said, Oh, dont bother me! I dont care for them! and
burst into tears, and got up and walked away.
Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her,
but she said:
Go away and leave me alone, cant you! I hate you!
So the boy halted, wondering what he could have donefor
she had said she would look at pictures all through the
nooningand she walked on, crying. Then Alfred went musing
into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He
easily guessed his way to the truththe girl had simply
made a convenience of him to vent her spite upon Tom Sawyer. He
was far from hating Tom the less when this thought occurred to
him. He wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble
without much risk to himself. Toms spelling-book fell under his
eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson
for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page.
Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw
the act, and moved on, without discovering herself. She started
homeward, now, intending to find Tom and tell him; Tom would be
thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half
way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Toms
treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came
scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him
get whipped on the damaged spelling-books account, and to hate
him forever, into the bargain.
CHAPTER XIX
TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his
aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an
unpromising market:
Tom, Ive a notion to skin you alive!
Auntie, what have I done?
Well, youve done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper,
like an old softy, expecting Im going to make her believe all
that rubbage about that dream, when lo and behold you shed found
out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had
that night. Tom, I dont know what is to become of a boy that
will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think you could
let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of myself and
never say a word.
This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the
morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very
ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head
and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he
said:
Auntie, I wish I hadnt done itbut I didnt
think.
Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but
your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over
here from Jacksons Island in the night to laugh at our troubles,
and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you
couldnt ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow.
Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didnt mean to be mean.
I didnt, honest. And besides, I didnt come over here to laugh
at you that night.
What did you come for, then?
It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we
hadnt got drownded.
Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I
could believe you ever had as good a thought as that, but you
know you never didand I know it, Tom.
Indeed and deed I did, auntieI wish I may never stir
if I didnt.
Oh, Tom, dont liedont do it. It only makes things a
hundred times worse.
It aint a lie, auntie; its the truth. I wanted to keep you
from grievingthat was all that made me come.
Id give the whole world to believe thatit would cover
up a power of sins, Tom. Id most be glad youd run off and
acted so bad. But it aint reasonable; because, why didnt you
tell me, child?
Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I
just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the
church, and I couldnt somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put
the bark back in my pocket and kept mum.
What bark?
The bark I had wrote on to tell you wed gone pirating. I
wish, now, youd waked up when I kissed youI do,
honest.
The hard lines in his aunts face relaxed and a sudden
tenderness dawned in her eyes.
DID you kiss me, Tom?
Why, yes, I did.
Are you sure you did, Tom?
Why, yes, I did, auntiecertain sure.
What did you kiss me for, Tom?
Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was
so sorry.
The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a
tremor in her voice when she said:
Kiss me again, Tom!and be off with you to school, now,
and dont bother me any more.
The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the
ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she
stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself:
No, I dont dare. Poor boy, I reckon hes lied about
itbut its a blessed, blessed lie, theres such a comfort
come from it. I hope the LordI KNOW the Lord will forgive
him, because it was such good-heartedness in him to tell it. But
I dont want to find out its a lie. I wont look.
She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice
she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she
refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified
herself with the thought: Its a good lieits a good
lieI wont let it grieve me. So she sought the jacket
pocket. A moment later she was reading Toms piece of bark
through flowing tears and saying: I could forgive the boy, now,
if hed committed a million sins!
CHAPTER XX
THERE was something about Aunt Pollys manner, when she kissed
Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted
and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming
upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always
determined his manner. Without a moments hesitation he ran to
her and said:
I acted mighty mean today, Becky, and Im so sorry. I wont
ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I liveplease
make up, wont you?
The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face:
Ill thank you to keep yourself TO yourself, Mr. Thomas
Sawyer. Ill never speak to you again.
She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he
had not even presence of mind enough to say Who cares, Miss
Smarty? until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said
nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into
the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would
trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and
delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in
return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in
her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to
take in, she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the
injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of
exposing Alfred Temple, Toms offensive fling had driven it
entirely away.
Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble
herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an
unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a
doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher
than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book
out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no
classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key.
There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a
glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had
a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were
alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case.
Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door,
she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious
moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next
instant she had the book in her hands. The
titlepageProfessor Somebodys ANATOMYcarried no
information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She
came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored
frontispiecea human figure, stark naked. At that moment a
shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and
caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to
close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half
down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the
key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation.
Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up
on a person and look at what theyre looking at.
How could I know you was looking at anything?
You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know
youre going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I
do! Ill be whipped, and I never was whipped in school.
Then she stamped her little foot and said:
BE so mean if you want to! I know something thats going to
happen. You just wait and youll see! Hateful, hateful,
hateful!and she flung out of the house with a new
explosion of crying.
Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently
he said to himself:
What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in
school! Shucks! Whats a licking! Thats just like a
girltheyre so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of
course I aint going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool,
because theres other ways of getting even on her, that aint so
mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his
book. Nobodyll answer. Then hell do just the way he always
doesask first one and then tother, and when he comes to
the right girl hell know it, without any telling. Girls faces
always tell on them. They aint got any backbone. Shell get
licked. Well, its a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher,
because there aint any way out of it. Tom conned the thing a
moment longer, and then added: All right, though; shed like to
see me in just such a fixlet her sweat it out!
Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few
moments the master arrived and school took in. Tom did not feel
a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at
the girls side of the room Beckys face troubled him.
Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it
was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation
that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book
discovery was made, and Toms mind was entirely full of his own
matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy
of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did
not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that
he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The
denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky
supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she
was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst
came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on
Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep
stillbecause, said she to herself, hell tell about me
tearing the picture sure. I wouldnt say a word, not to save his
life!
Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all
broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had
unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some
skylarking bouthe had denied it for forms sake and
because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from
principle.
A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne,
the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins
straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and
reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out
or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there
were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes.
Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it
out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance
at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she
did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his
quarrel with her. Quicksomething must be done! done in a
flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his
invention. Good!he had an inspiration! He would run and
snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his
resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was
lostthe master opened the volume. If Tom only had the
wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for
Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school.
Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote
even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might
count tenthe master was gathering his wrath. Then he
spoke: Who tore this book?
There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The
stillness continued; the master searched face after face for
signs of guilt.
Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?
A denial. Another pause.
Joseph Harper, did you?
Another denial. Toms uneasiness grew more and more intense
under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned
the ranks of boysconsidered a while, then turned to the
girls:
Amy Lawrence?
A shake of the head.
Gracie Miller?
The same sign.
Susan Harper, did you do this?
Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was
trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the
hopelessness of the situation.
Rebecca Thatcher [Tom glanced at her faceit was white
with terror]did you tearno, look me in the face
[her hands rose in appeal]did you tear this book?
A thought shot like lightning through Toms brain. He sprang
to his feet and shoutedI done it!
The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom
stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he
stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the
gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Beckys
eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the
splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most
merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered;
and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a
command to remain two hours after school should be
dismissedfor he knew who would wait for him outside till
his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss,
either.
Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred
Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not
forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance
had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep
at last with Beckys latest words lingering dreamily in his
ear
Tom, how COULD you be so noble!
CHAPTER XXI
VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe,
grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the
school to make a good showing on Examination day. His rod and
his ferule were seldom idle nowat least among the smaller
pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and
twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins lashings were very vigorous
ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly
bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there
was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day
approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface;
he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least
shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent
their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting
revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a
mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that
followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that
the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last
they conspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a
dazzling victory. They swore in the signpainters boy, told him
the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being
delighted, for the master boarded in his fathers family and had
given the boy ample cause to hate him. The masters wife would go
on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be
nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared
himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and
the signpainters boy said that when the dominie had reached the
proper condition on Examination Evening he would manage the
thing while he napped in his chair; then he would have him
awakened at the right time and hurried away to school.
In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At
eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and
adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The
master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform,
with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow.
Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him
were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents
of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a
spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars
who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of
small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of
discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young
ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of
their bare arms, their grandmothers ancient trinkets, their
bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All
the rest of the house was filled with non-participating
scholars.
The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly
recited, Youd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on
the stage, etc.accompanying himself with the painfully
exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have
usedsupposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But
he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine
round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and
retired.
A little shamefaced girl lisped, Mary had a little lamb,
etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of
applause, and sat down flushed and happy.
Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and
soared into the unquenchable and indestructible Give me liberty
or give me death speech, with fine fury and frantic
gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly
stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was
like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house
but he had the houses silence, too, which was even worse than
its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the
disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly
defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died
early.
The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck followed; also The
Assyrian Came Down, and other declamatory gems. Then there were
reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class
recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in
order, noworiginal compositions by the young ladies.
Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform,
cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty
ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to
expression and punctuation. The themes were the same that had
been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before
them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in
the female line clear back to the Crusades. Friendship was
one; Memories of Other Days; Religion in History; Dream
Land; The Advantages of Culture; Forms of Political
Government Compared and Contrasted; Melancholy; Filial Love;
Heart Longings, etc., etc.
A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and
petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of
fine language; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears
particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn
entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and
marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged
its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No
matter what the subject might be, a brainracking effort was made
to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and
religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring
insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the
banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not
sufficient today; it never will be sufficient while the world
stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the
young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with
a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous
and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest
and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth
is unpalatable.
Let us return to the Examination. The first composition that
was read was one entitled Is this, then, Life? Perhaps the
reader can endure an extract from it:
In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions
does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of
festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of
joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid
the festive throng, the observed of all observers. Her graceful
form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of
the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in
the gay assembly.
In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the
welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of
which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does
everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more
charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath
this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once
charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ballroom
has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart,
she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot
satisfy the longings of the soul!
And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification
from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered
ejaculations of How sweet! How eloquent! So true! etc., and
after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon
the applause was enthusiastic.
Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the
interesting paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and
read a poem. Two stanzas of it will do:
A MISSOURI MAIDENS FAREWELL TO ALABAMA
Alabama, goodbye! I love thee well!
But yet for a while do I leave thee now!
Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell,
And burning recollections throng my brow!
For I have wandered through thy flowery woods;
Have roamed and read near Tallapoosas stream;
Have listened to Tallassees warring floods,
And wooed on Coosas side Auroras beam.
Yet shame I not to bear an oerfull heart,
Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes;
Tis from no stranger land I now must part,
Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs.
Welcome and home were mine within this State,
Whose vales I leavewhose spires fade fast from me
And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete,
When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!
|
There were very few there who knew what tete meant, but the
poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless.
Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired
young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic
expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone:
A VISION
Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not
a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy
thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific
lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of
heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the
illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came
forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to
enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene.
At such a time, so dark,so dreary, for human sympathy my very
spirit sighed; but instead thereof,
My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and
guideMy joy in grief, my second bliss in joy, came to my
side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the
sunny walks of fancys Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of
beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft
was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the
magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive
beauties, she would have glided away
unperceivedunsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy
tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending
elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings
presented.
This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and
wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to
non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition
was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The
mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of
it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the
most eloquent thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel
Webster himself might well be proud of it.
It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of
compositions in which the word beauteous was over-fondled, and
human experience referred to as lifes page, was up to the
usual average.
Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put
his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to
draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the
geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his
unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He
knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged
out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than
ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire
attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down
by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he
imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it
even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret
above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through
this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a
string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her
from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed
at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible
air. The tittering rose higher and higherthe cat was
within six inches of the absorbed teachers headdown,
down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate
claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an
instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the
light did blaze abroad from the masters bald patefor the
signpainters boy had GILDED it!
That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had
come.
NOTE:The pretended compositions quoted in this
chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled
Prose and Poetry, by a Western Ladybut they are exactly
and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much
happier than any mere imitations could be.
CHAPTER XXII
TOM joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being
attracted by the showy character of their regalia. He promised
to abstain from smoking, chewing, and profanity as long as he
remained a member. Now he found out a new thingnamely,
that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world
to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found
himself tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire
grew to be so intense that nothing but the hope of a chance to
display himself in his red sash kept him from withdrawing from
the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon gave that
upgave it up before he had worn his shackles over
forty-eight hoursand fixed his hopes upon old Judge
Frazer, justice of the peace, who was apparently on his deathbed
and would have a big public funeral, since he was so high an
official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the
Judges condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes
ran highso high that he would venture to get out his
regalia and practise before the looking-glass. But the Judge had
a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was pronounced
upon the mendand then convalescent. Tom was disgusted;
and felt a sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at
onceand that night the Judge suffered a relapse and died.
Tom resolved that he would never trust a man like that again.
The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style
calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy
again, howeverthere was something in that. He could
drink and swear, nowbut found to his surprise that he did
not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the desire away,
and the charm of it.
Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted vacation was
beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands.
He attempted a diarybut nothing happened during three
days, and so he abandoned it.
The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and
made a sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers
and were happy for two days.
Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it
rained hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the
greatest man in the world (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an
actual United States Senator, proved an overwhelming
disappointmentfor he was not twenty-five feet high, nor
even anywhere in the neighborhood of it.
A circus came. The boys played circus for three days afterward
in tents made of rag carpetingadmission, three pins for
boys, two for girlsand then circusing was abandoned.
A phrenologist and a mesmerizer cameand went again and
left the village duller and drearier than ever.
There were some boys-and-girls parties, but they were so few
and so delightful that they only made the aching voids between
ache the harder.
Becky Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay
with her parents during vacationso there was no bright
side to life anywhere.
The dreadful secret of the murder was a chronic misery. It was
a very cancer for permanency and pain.
Then came the measles.
During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the world
and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in
nothing. When he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly
downtown, a melancholy change had come over everything and every
creature. There had been a revival, and everybody had got
religion, not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. Tom
went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed
sinful face, but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found
Joe Harper studying a Testament, and turned sadly away from the
depressing spectacle. He sought Ben Rogers, and found him
visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up Jim
Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his
late measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another
ton to his depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for
refuge at last to the bosom of Huckleberry Finn and was received
with a Scriptural quotation, his heart broke and he crept home
and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was lost,
forever and forever.
And that night there came on a terrific storm, with driving
rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He
covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of
suspense for his doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that
all this hubbub was about him. He believed he had taxed the
forbearance of the powers above to the extremity of endurance and
that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste of
pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery,
but there seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such
an expensive thunderstorm as this to knock the turf from under
an insect like himself.
By and by the tempest spent itself and died without
accomplishing its object. The boys first impulse was to be
grateful, and reform. His second was to waitfor there
might not be any more storms.
The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. The
three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age.
When he got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had
been spared, remembering how lonely was his estate, how
companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted listlessly down the
street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile court
that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim,
a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a
stolen melon. Poor lads! theylike Tomhad suffered a
relapse.
Part 6
CHAPTER XXIII
AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirredand
vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. It became the
absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get
away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to
his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded
him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as
feelers; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing
anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable
in the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the
time. He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It
would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to
divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover,
he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet.
Huck, have you ever told anybody aboutthat?
bout what?
You know what.
Ohcourse I havent.
Never a word?
Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?
Well, I was afeard.
Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldnt be alive two days if that got
found out. YOU know that.
Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause:
Huck, they couldnt anybody get you to tell, could they?
Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that halfbreed devil to
drownd me they could get me to tell. They aint no different
way.
Well, thats all right, then. I reckon were safe as long as
we keep mum. But lets swear again, anyway. Its more
surer.
Im agreed.
So they swore again with dread solemnities.
What is the talk around, Huck? Ive heard a power of it.
Talk? Well, its just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter
all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, sos I want to
hide somers.
Thats just the same way they go on round me. I reckon hes a
goner. Dont you feel sorry for him, sometimes?
Most alwaysmost always. He aint no account; but then
he haint ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a
little, to get money to get drunk onand loafs around
considerable; but lord, we all do thatleastways most of
uspreachers and such like. But hes kind of goodhe
give me half a fish, once, when there warnt enough for two; and
lots of times hes kind of stood by me when I was out of
luck.
Well, hes mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to
my line. I wish we could get him out of there.
My! we couldnt get him out, Tom. And besides, twouldnt do
any good; theyd ketch him again.
Yesso they would. But I hate to hear em abuse him so
like the dickens when he never donethat.
I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear em say hes the bloodiest
looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasnt ever
hung before.
Yes, they talk like that, all the time. Ive heard em say
that if he was to get free theyd lynch him.
And theyd do it, too.
The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort.
As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the
neighborhood of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an
undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away
their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no
angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive.
The boys did as they had often done beforewent to the
cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on
the ground floor and there were no guards.
His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their
consciences beforeit cut deeper than ever, this time.
They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter
said:
Youve been mighty good to me, boysbettern anybody
else in this town. And I dont forget it, I dont. Often I says
to myself, says I, I used to mend all the boys kites and
things, and show em where the good fishin places was, and
befriend em what I could, and now theyve all forgot old Muff
when hes in trouble; but Tom dont, and Huck dontTHEY
dont forget him, says I, and I dont forget them. Well, boys,
I done an awful thingdrunk and crazy at the
timethats the only way I account for itand now I
got to swing for it, and its right. Right, and BEST, too, I
reckonhope so, anyway. Well, we wont talk about that. I
dont want to make YOU feel bad; youve befriended me. But what I
want to say, is, dont YOU ever get drunkthen you wont
ever get here. Stand a litter furder westsothats
it; its a prime comfort to see faces thats friendly when a
bodys in such a muck of trouble, and there dont none come here
but yourn. Good friendly facesgood friendly faces. Git up
on one anothers backs and let me touch em. Thats it. Shake
handsyournll come through the bars, but mines too big.
Little hands, and weakbut theyve helped Muff Potter a
power, and theyd help him more if they could.
Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full
of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the
courtroom, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in,
but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same
experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered
away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always
brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers
sauntered out of the courtroom, but invariably heard distressing
newsthe toils were closing more and more relentlessly
around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk
was to the effect that Injun Joes evidence stood firm and
unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to
what the jurys verdict would be.
Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the
window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours
before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the
courthouse the next morning, for this was to be the great day.
Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience.
After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places;
shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless,
was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the
curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun
Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge
arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The
usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of
papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up
an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was
fascinating.
Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff
Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that
the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away.
After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution
said:
Take the witness.
The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them
again when his own counsel said:
I have no questions to ask him.
The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the
corpse. Counsel for the prosecution said:
Take the witness.
I have no questions to ask him, Potters lawyer replied.
A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potters
possession.
Take the witness.
Counsel for Potter declined to question him. The faces of the
audience began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to
throw away his clients life without an effort?
Several witnesses deposed concerning Potters guilty behavior
when brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to
leave the stand without being cross-questioned.
Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in
the graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so
well was brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were
cross-examined by Potters lawyer. The perplexity and
dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and
provoked a reproof from the bench. Counsel for the prosecution
now said:
By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above
suspicion, we have fastened this awful crime, beyond all
possibility of question, upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We
rest our case here.
A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his
hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful
silence reigned in the courtroom. Many men were moved, and many
womens compassion testified itself in tears. Counsel for the
defence rose and said:
Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we
foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this
fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and
irresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have changed our
mind. We shall not offer that plea. [Then to the clerk:] Call
Thomas Sawyer!
A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even
excepting Potters. Every eye fastened itself with wondering
interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand.
The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was
administered.
Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June,
about the hour of midnight?
Tom glanced at Injun Joes iron face and his tongue failed
him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to
come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his
strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to
make part of the house hear:
In the graveyard!
A little bit louder, please. Dont be afraid. You
were
In the graveyard.
A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joes face.
Were you anywhere near Horse Williams grave?
Yes, sir.
Speak upjust a trifle louder. How near were you?
Near as I am to you.
Were you hidden, or not?
I was hid.
Where?
Behind the elms thats on the edge of the grave.
Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start.
Any one with you?
Yes, sir. I went there with
Waitwait a moment. Never mind mentioning your
companions name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you
carry anything there with you.
Tom hesitated and looked confused.
Speak out, my boydont be diffident. The truth is
always respectable. What did you take there?
Only aadead cat.
There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked.
We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell
us everything that occurredtell it in your own
waydont skip anything, and dont be afraid.
Tom beganhesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his
subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while
every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon
him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his
words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations
of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when
the boy said:
and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff
Potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and
Crash! Quick as lightning the halfbreed sprang for a window,
tore his way through all opposers, and was gone!
CHAPTER XXIV
TOM was a glittering hero once morethe pet of the old,
the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print,
for the village paper magnified him. There were some that
believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging.
As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to
its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him
before. But that sort of conduct is to the worlds credit;
therefore it is not well to find fault with it.
Toms days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but
his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his
dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation
could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck
was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had
told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day
of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the
business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joes flight
had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor
fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that?
Since Toms harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the
lawyers house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had
been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths,
Hucks confidence in the human race was wellnigh
obliterated.
Daily Muff Potters gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but
nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue.
Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be
captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure
he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead
and he had seen the corpse.
Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no
Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and aweinspiring
marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around,
shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding
success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to
say, he found a clew. But you cant hang a clew for murder,
and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom
felt just as insecure as he was before.
The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly
lightened weight of apprehension.
CHAPTER XXV
THERE comes a time in every rightly-constructed boys life
when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden
treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He
sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he
sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. Presently he stumbled
upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to
a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially.
Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any
enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital,
for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time
which is not money. Wherell we dig? said Huck.
Oh, most anywhere.
Why, is it hid all around?
No, indeed it aint. Its hid in mighty particular places,
Hucksometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests
under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the
shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in hanted
houses.
Who hides it?
Why, robbers, of coursewhod you reckon?
Sunday-school suprintendents?
I dont know. If twas mine I wouldnt hide it; Id spend it
and have a good time.
So would I. But robbers dont do that way. They always hide
it and leave it there.
Dont they come after it any more?
No, they think they will, but they generally forget the
marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and
gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that
tells how to find the marksa paper thats got to be
ciphered over about a week because its mostly signs and
hyroglyphics.
HyroQwhich?
Hyroglyphicspictures and things, you know, that dont
seem to mean anything.
Have you got one of them papers, Tom?
No.
Well then, how you going to find the marks?
I dont want any marks. They always bury it under a hanted
house or on an island, or under a dead tree thats got one limb
sticking out. Well, weve tried Jacksons Island a little, and we
can try it again some time; and theres the old hanted house up
the Still-House branch, and theres lots of dead-limb
treesdead loads of em.
Is it under all of them?
How you talk! No!
Then how you going to know which one to go for?
Go for all of em!
Why, Tom, itll take all summer.
Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a
hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full
of dimonds. Hows that?
Hucks eyes glowed.
Thats bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the
hundred dollars and I dont want no dimonds.
All right. But I bet you I aint going to throw off on
dimonds. Some of ems worth twenty dollars apiecethere
aint any, hardly, buts worth six bits or a dollar.
No! Is that so?
Certnlyanybodyll tell you so. Haint you ever seen
one, Huck?
Not as I remember.
Oh, kings have slathers of them.
Well, I don know no kings, Tom.
I reckon you dont. But if you was to go to Europe youd see
a raft of em hopping around.
Do they hop?
Hop?your granny! No!
Well, what did you say they did, for?
Shucks, I only meant youd SEE emnot hopping, of
coursewhat do they want to hop for?but I mean youd
just see emscattered around, you know, in a kind of a
general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard.
Richard? Whats his other name?
He didnt have any other name. Kings dont have any but a
given name.
No?
But they dont.
Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I dont want to be
a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But
saywhere you going to dig first?
Well, I dont know. Spose we tackle that old dead-limb tree
on the hill tother side of Still-House branch?
Im agreed.
So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their
three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw
themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and
have a smoke.
I like this, said Tom.
So do I.
Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do
with your share?
Well, Ill have pie and a glass of soda every day, and Ill
go to every circus that comes along. I bet Ill have a gay
time.
Well, aint you going to save any of it?
Save it? What for?
Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by.
Oh, that aint any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town
some day and get his claws on it if I didnt hurry up, and I tell
you hed clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with
yourn, Tom?
Im going to buy a new drum, and a surenough sword, and a
red necktie and a bull pup, and get married.
Married!
Thats it.
Tom, youwhy, you aint in your right mind.
Waityoull see.
Well, thats the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap
and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I
remember, mighty well.
That aint anything. The girl Im going to marry wont
fight.
Tom, I reckon theyre all alike. Theyll all comb a body. Now
you better think bout this awhile. I tell you you better. Whats
the name of the gal?
It aint a gal at allits a girl.
Its all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says
girlboths right, like enough. Anyway, whats her name,
Tom?
Ill tell you some timenot now.
All rightthatll do. Only if you get married Ill be
more lonesomer than ever.
No you wont. Youll come and live with me. Now stir out of
this and well go to digging.
They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They
toiled another halfhour. Still no result. Huck said:
Do they always bury it as deep as this?
Sometimesnot always. Not generally. I reckon we
havent got the right place.
So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a
little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence
for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the
beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said:
Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?
I reckon maybe well tackle the old tree thats over yonder
on Cardiff Hill back of the widows.
I reckon thatll be a good one. But wont the widow take it
away from us, Tom? Its on her land.
SHE take it away! Maybe shed like to try it once. Whoever
finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It dont
make any difference whose land its on.
That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck
said:
Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you
think?
It is mighty curious, Huck. I dont understand it. Sometimes
witches interfere. I reckon maybe thats whats the trouble
now.
Shucks! Witches aint got no power in the daytime.
Well, thats so. I didnt think of that. Oh, I know what the
matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out
where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and thats where
you dig!
Then consound it, weve fooled away all this work for
nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. Its
an awful long way. Can you get out?
I bet I will. Weve got to do it tonight, too, because if
somebody sees these holes theyll know in a minute whats here
and theyll go for it.
Well, Ill come around and maow tonight.
All right. Lets hide the tools in the bushes.
The boys were there that night, about the appointed time.
They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an
hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the
rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep
baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered
with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these
solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve
had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig.
Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and
their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still
deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick
strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment.
It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said:
It aint any use, Huck, were wrong again.
Well, but we CANT be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a
dot.
I know it, but then theres another thing.
Whats that?.
Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late
or too early.
Huck dropped his shovel.
Thats it, said he. Thats the very trouble. We got to give
this one up. We cant ever tell the right time, and besides this
kind of things too awful, here this time of night with witches
and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if somethings
behind me all the time; and Im afeard to turn around, becuz
maybe theres others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been
creeping all over, ever since I got here.
Well, Ive been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always
put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look
out for it.
Lordy!
Yes, they do. Ive always heard that.
Tom, I dont like to fool around much where theres dead
people. A bodys bound to get into trouble with em, sure.
I dont like to stir em up, either. Spose this one here was
to stick his skull out and say something!
Dont Tom! Its awful.
Well, it just is. Huck, I dont feel comfortable a bit.
Say, Tom, lets give this place up, and try somewheres
else.
All right, I reckon we better.
Whatll it be?
Tom considered awhile; and then said:
The hanted house. Thats it!
Blame it, I dont like hanted houses, Tom. Why, theyre a
dern sight worsen dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe,
but they dont come sliding around in a shroud, when you aint
noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit
their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldnt stand such a thing
as that, Tomnobody could.
Yes, but, Huck, ghosts dont travel around only at night.
They wont hender us from digging there in the daytime.
Well, thats so. But you know mighty well people dont go
about that hanted house in the day nor the night.
Well, thats mostly because they dont like to go where a
mans been murdered, anywaybut nothings ever been seen
around that house except in the nightjust some blue lights
slipping by the windowsno regular ghosts.
Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering
around, Tom, you can bet theres a ghost mighty close behind it.
It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they dont anybody but
ghosts use em.
Yes, thats so. But anyway they dont come around in the
daytime, so whats the use of our being afeard?
Well, all right. Well tackle the hanted house if you say
sobut I reckon its taking chances.
They had started down the hill by this time. There in the
middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the hanted
house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds
smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the
window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys
gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a
window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the
circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the
haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through
the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill.
CHAPTER XXVI
ABOUT noon the next day the boys arrived at the dead tree;
they had come for their tools. Tom was impatient to go to the
haunted house; Huck was measurably so, alsobut suddenly
said:
Lookyhere, Tom, do you know what day it is?
Tom mentally ran over the days of the week, and then quickly
lifted his eyes with a startled look in them
My! I never once thought of it, Huck!
Well, I didnt neither, but all at once it popped onto me
that it was Friday.
Blame it, a body cant be too careful, Huck. We might a got
into an awful scrape, tackling such a thing on a Friday.
MIGHT! Better say we WOULD! Theres some lucky days, maybe,
but Friday aint.
Any fool knows that. I dont reckon YOU was the first that
found it out, Huck.
Well, I never said I was, did I? And Friday aint all,
neither. I had a rotten bad dream last nightdreampt about
rats.
No! Sure sign of trouble. Did they fight?
No.
Well, thats good, Huck. When they dont fight its only a
sign that theres trouble around, you know. All we got to do is
to look mighty sharp and keep out of it. Well drop this thing
for today, and play. Do you know Robin Hood, Huck?
No. Whos Robin Hood?
Why, he was one of the greatest men that was ever in
Englandand the best. He was a robber.
Cracky, I wisht I was. Who did he rob?
Only sheriffs and bishops and rich people and kings, and such
like. But he never bothered the poor. He loved em. He always
divided up with em perfectly square.
Well, he must a been a brick.
I bet you he was, Huck. Oh, he was the noblest man that ever
was. They aint any such men now, I can tell you. He could lick
any man in England, with one hand tied behind him; and he could
take his yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece every time, a mile and
a half.
Whats a YEW bow?
I dont know. Its some kind of a bow, of course. And if he
hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and
cryand curse. But well play Robin Hoodits nobby
fun. Ill learn you.
Im agreed.
So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then
casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a
remark about the morrows prospects and possibilities there. As
the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward
athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from
sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill.
On Saturday, shortly after noon, the boys were at the dead
tree again. They had a smoke and a chat in the shade, and then
dug a little in their last hole, not with great hope, but merely
because Tom said there were so many cases where people had given
up a treasure after getting down within six inches of it, and
then somebody else had come along and turned it up with a single
thrust of a shovel. The thing failed this time, however, so the
boys shouldered their tools and went away feeling that they had
not trifled with fortune, but had fulfilled all the requirements
that belong to the business of treasure-hunting.
When they reached the haunted house there was something so
weird and grisly about the dead silence that reigned there under
the baking sun, and something so depressing about the loneliness
and desolation of the place, that they were afraid, for a
moment, to venture in. Then they crept to the door and took a
trembling peep. They saw a weedgrown, floorless room,
unplastered, an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous
staircase; and here, there, and everywhere hung ragged and
abandoned cobwebs. They presently entered, softly, with quickened
pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert to catch the slightest
sound, and muscles tense and ready for instant retreat.
In a little while familiarity modified their fears and they
gave the place a critical and interested examination, rather
admiring their own boldness, and wondering at it, too. Next they
wanted to look upstairs. This was something like cutting off
retreat, but they got to daring each other, and of course there
could be but one resultthey threw their tools into a
corner and made the ascent. Up there were the same signs of
decay. In one corner they found a closet that promised mystery,
but the promise was a fraudthere was nothing in it. Their
courage was up now and well in hand. They were about to go down
and begin work when
Sh! said Tom.
What is it? whispered Huck, blanching with fright.
Sh! ... There! ... Hear it?
Yes! ... Oh, my! Lets run!
Keep still! Dont you budge! Theyre coming right toward the
door.
The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes
to knotholes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of
fear.
Theyve stopped.... Nocoming.... Here they are. Dont
whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of
this!
Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: Theres the old
deaf and dumb Spaniard thats been about town once or twice
latelynever saw tother man before.
Tother was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very
pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he
had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his
sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, tother
was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing
the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued
his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more
distinct as he proceeded:
No, said he, Ive thought it all over, and I dont like it.
Its dangerous.
Dangerous! grunted the deaf and dumb Spaniardto
the vast surprise of the boys. Milksop!
This voice made the boys gasp and quake. It was Injun Joes!
There was silence for some time. Then Joe said:
Whats any more dangerous than that job up yonderbut
nothings come of it.
Thats different. Away up the river so, and not another house
about. Twont ever be known that we tried, anyway, long as we
didnt succeed.
Well, whats more dangerous than coming here in the
daytime!anybody would suspicion us that saw us.
I know that. But there warnt any other place as handy after
that fool of a job. I want to quit this shanty. I wanted to
yesterday, only it warnt any use trying to stir out of here,
with those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in
full view.
Those infernal boys quaked again under the inspiration of
this remark, and thought how lucky it was that they had
remembered it was Friday and concluded to wait a day. They wished
in their hearts they had waited a year.
The two men got out some food and made a luncheon. After a
long and thoughtful silence, Injun Joe said:
Look here, ladyou go back up the river where you
belong. Wait there till you hear from me. Ill take the chances
on dropping into this town just once more, for a look. Well do
that dangerous job after Ive spied around a little and think
things look well for it. Then for Texas! Well leg it
together!
This was satisfactory. Both men presently fell to yawning, and
Injun Joe said:
Im dead for sleep! Its your turn to watch.
He curled down in the weeds and soon began to snore. His
comrade stirred him once or twice and he became quiet. Presently
the watcher began to nod; his head drooped lower and lower, both
men began to snore now.
The boys drew a long, grateful breath. Tom whispered:
Nows our chancecome!
Huck said:
I cantId die if they was to wake.
Tom urgedHuck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and
softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such
a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost
dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay
there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that
time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were
grateful to note that at last the sun was setting.
Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared
aroundsmiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was
drooping upon his kneesstirred him up with his foot and
said:
Here! YOURE a watchman, aint you! All right,
thoughnothings happened.
My! have I been asleep?
Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard.
Whatll we do with what little swag weve got left?
I dont knowleave it here as weve always done, I
reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred
and fifty in silvers something to carry.
Wellall rightit wont matter to come here once
more.
Nobut Id say come in the night as we used to
doits better.
Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the
right chance at that job; accidents might happen; taint in
such a very good place; well just regularly bury itand
bury it deep.
Good idea, said the comrade, who walked across the room,
knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearth-stones and took out
a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted from it twenty or
thirty dollars for himself and as much for Injun Joe, and passed
the bag to the latter, who was on his knees in the corner, now,
digging with his bowie-knife.
The boys forgot all their fears, all their miseries in an
instant. With gloating eyes they watched every movement.
Luck!the splendor of it was beyond all imagination! Six
hundred dollars was money enough to make half a dozen boys rich!
Here was treasure-hunting under the happiest auspicesthere
would not be any bothersome uncertainty as to where to dig. They
nudged each other every momenteloquent nudges and easily
understood, for they simply meantOh, but aint you glad
NOW were here!
Joes knife struck upon something.
Hello! said he.
What is it? said his comrade.
Half-rotten plankno, its a box, I believe.
Herebear a hand and well see what its here for. Never
mind, Ive broke a hole.
He reached his hand in and drew it out
Man, its money!
The two men examined the handful of coins. They were gold. The
boys above were as excited as themselves, and as delighted.
Joes comrade said:
Well make quick work of this. Theres an old rusty pick over
amongst the weeds in the corner the other side of the
fireplaceI saw it a minute ago.
He ran and brought the boys pick and shovel. Injun Joe took
the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered
something to himself, and then began to use it. The box was soon
unearthed. It was not very large; it was iron bound and had been
very strong before the slow years had injured it. The men
contemplated the treasure awhile in blissful silence.
Pard, theres thousands of dollars here, said Injun Joe.
Twas always said that Murrels gang used to be around here
one summer, the stranger observed.
I know it, said Injun Joe; and this looks like it, I should
say.
Now you wont need to do that job.
The halfbreed frowned. Said he:
You dont know me. Least you dont know all about that thing.
Taint robbery altogetherits REVENGE! and a wicked
light flamed in his eyes. Ill need your help in it. When its
finishedthen Texas. Go home to your Nance and your kids,
and stand by till you hear from me.
Wellif you say so; whatll we do with thisbury
it again?
Yes. [Ravishing delight overhead.] NO! by the great Sachem,
no! [Profound distress overhead.] Id nearly forgot. That pick
had fresh earth on it! [The boys were sick with terror in a
moment.] What business has a pick and a shovel here? What
business with fresh earth on them? Who brought them
hereand where are they gone? Have you heard
anybody?seen anybody? What! bury it again and leave them
to come and see the ground disturbed? Not exactlynot
exactly. Well take it to my den.
Why, of course! Might have thought of that before. You mean
Number One?
NoNumber Twounder the cross. The other place is
badtoo common.
All right. Its nearly dark enough to start.
Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window
cautiously peeping out. Presently he said:
Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they
can be upstairs?
The boys breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his
knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the
stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was
gone. The steps came creaking up the stairsthe intolerable
distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the
ladsthey were about to spring for the closet, when there
was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground
amid the debris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up
cursing, and his comrade said:
Now whats the use of all that? If its anybody, and theyre
up there, let them STAY therewho cares? If they want to
jump down, now, and get into trouble, who objects? It will be
dark in fifteen minutesand then let them follow us if they
want to. Im willing. In my opinion, whoever hove those things in
here caught a sight of us and took us for ghosts or devils or
something. Ill bet theyre running yet.
Joe grumbled awhile; then he agreed with his friend that what
daylight was left ought to be economized in getting things ready
for leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in
the deepening twilight, and moved toward the river with their
precious box.
Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared
after them through the chinks between the logs of the house.
Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground again without
broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did
not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating
themselveshating the ill luck that made them take the
spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe never would
have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to
wait there till his revenge was satisfied, and then he would
have had the misfortune to find that money turn up missing.
Bitter, bitter luck that the tools were ever brought there!
They resolved to keep a lookout for that Spaniard when he
should come to town spying out for chances to do his revengeful
job, and follow him to Number Two, wherever that might be. Then
a ghastly thought occurred to Tom.
Revenge? What if he means US, Huck!
Oh, dont! said Huck, nearly fainting.
They talked it all over, and as they entered town they agreed
to believe that he might possibly mean somebody elseat
least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom
had testified.
Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger!
Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE adventure of the day mightily tormented Toms dreams that
night. Four times he had his hands on that rich treasure and four
times it wasted to nothingness in his fingers as sleep forsook
him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality of his
misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the
incidents of his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed
curiously subdued and far awaysomewhat as if they had
happened in another world, or in a time long gone by. Then it
occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream!
There was one very strong argument in favor of this
ideanamely, that the quantity of coin he had seen was too
vast to be real. He had never seen as much as fifty dollars in
one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and station
in life, in that he imagined that all references to hundreds
and thousands were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no
such sums really existed in the world. He never had supposed for
a moment that so large a sum as a hundred dollars was to be
found in actual money in any ones possession. If his notions of
hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to
consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague,
splendid, ungraspable dollars.
But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and
clearer under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he
presently found himself leaning to the impression that the thing
might not have been a dream, after all. This uncertainty must be
swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast and go and find
Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly
dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom
concluded to let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do
it, then the adventure would be proved to have been only a
dream.
Hello, Huck!
Hello, yourself.
Silence, for a minute.
Tom, if wed a left the blame tools at the dead tree, wed
a got the money. Oh, aint it awful!
Taint a dream, then, taint a dream! Somehow I most wish
it was. Dogd if I dont, Huck.
What aint a dream?
Oh, that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was.
Dream! If them stairs hadnt broke down youd a seen how
much dream it was! Ive had dreams enough all nightwith
that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through
emrot him!
No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!
Tom, well never find him. A feller dont have only one
chance for such a pileand that ones lost. Id feel mighty
shaky if I was to see him, anyway.
Well, sod I; but Id like to see him, anywayand track
him outto his Number Two.
Number Twoyes, thats it. I been thinking bout that.
But I cant make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it
is?
I dono. Its too deep. Say, Huckmaybe its the number
of a house!
Goody! ... No, Tom, that aint it. If it is, it aint in this
one-horse town. They aint no numbers here.
Well, thats so. Lemme think a minute. Hereits the
number of a roomin a tavern, you know!
Oh, thats the trick! They aint only two taverns. We can
find out quick.
You stay here, Huck, till I come.
Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Hucks company in
public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the
best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and
was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was
a mystery. The tavern-keepers young son said it was kept locked
all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out
of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for
this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was
rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining
himself with the idea that that room was hanted; had noticed
that there was a light in there the night before.
Thats what Ive found out, Huck. I reckon thats the very
No. 2 were after.
I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?
Lemme think.
Tom thought a long time. Then he said:
Ill tell you. The back door of that No. 2 is the door that
comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and the
old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the
doorkeys you can find, and Ill nip all of aunties, and the
first dark night well go there and try em. And mind you, keep a
lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going to drop into
town and spy around once more for a chance to get his revenge. If
you see him, you just follow him; and if he dont go to that No.
2, that aint the place.
Lordy, I dont want to foller him by myself!
Why, itll be night, sure. He mightnt ever see youand
if he did, maybe hed never think anything.
Well, if its pretty dark I reckon Ill track him. I
donoI dono. Ill try.
You bet Ill follow him, if its dark, Huck. Why, he might
a found out he couldnt get his revenge, and be going right
after that money.
Its so, Tom, its so. Ill foller him; I will, by
jingoes!
Now youre TALKING! Dont you ever weaken, Huck, and I
wont.
Part 7
CHAPTER XXVIII
THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They
hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one
watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door.
Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the
Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to
be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a
considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and
maow, whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the
night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to
bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve.
Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But
Thursday night promised better. Tom slipped out in good season
with his aunts old tin lantern, and a large towel to blindfold
it with. He hid the lantern in Hucks sugar hogshead and the
watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed up and its
lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had
been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was
auspicious. The blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect
stillness was interrupted only by occasional mutterings of
distant thunder.
Tom got his lantern, lit it in the hogshead, wrapped it
closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the gloom
toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into
the alley. Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that
weighed upon Hucks spirits like a mountain. He began to wish he
could see a flash from the lanternit would frighten him,
but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It seemed
hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted;
maybe he was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and
excitement. In his uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer
and closer to the alley; fearing all sorts of dreadful things,
and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to happen that would
take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he
seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would
soon wear itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was
a flash of light and Tom came tearing by him: Run! said he;
run, for your life!
He neednt have repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making
thirty or forty miles an hour before the repetition was uttered.
The boys never stopped till they reached the shed of a deserted
slaughter-house at the lower end of the village. Just as they got
within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As
soon as Tom got his breath he said:
Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, just as soft as
I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I
couldnt hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldnt turn
in the lock, either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I
took hold of the knob, and open comes the door! It warnt locked!
I hopped in, and shook off the towel, and, GREAT CAESARS
GHOST!
What!whatd you see, Tom?
Huck, I most stepped onto Injun Joes hand!
No!
Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the floor, with his
old patch on his eye and his arms spread out.
Lordy, what did you do? Did he wake up?
No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed that towel
and started!
Id never a thought of the towel, I bet!
Well, I would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost
it.
Say, Tom, did you see that box?
Huck, I didnt wait to look around. I didnt see the box, I
didnt see the cross. I didnt see anything but a bottle and a
tin cup on the floor by Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and
lots more bottles in the room. Dont you see, now, whats the
matter with that hanted room?
How?
Why, its hanted with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance
Taverns have got a hanted room, hey, Huck?
Well, I reckon maybe thats so. Whod a thought such a
thing? But say, Tom, nows a mighty good time to get that box, if
Injun Joes drunk.
It is, that! You try it!
Huck shuddered.
Well, noI reckon not.
And I reckon not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun
Joe aint enough. If thered been three, hed be drunk enough and
Id do it.
There was a long pause for reflection, and then Tom said:
Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any more till we
know Injun Joes not in there. Its too scary. Now, if we watch
every night, well be dead sure to see him go out, some time or
other, and then well snatch that box quickern lightning.
Well, Im agreed. Ill watch the whole night long, and Ill
do it every night, too, if youll do the other part of the
job.
All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper
Street a block and maowand if Im asleep, you throw some
gravel at the window and thatll fetch me.
Agreed, and good as wheat!
Now, Huck, the storms over, and Ill go home. Itll begin to
be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back and watch that
long, will you?
I said I would, Tom, and I will. Ill hant that tavern every
night for a year! Ill sleep all day and Ill stand watch all
night.
Thats all right. Now, where you going to sleep?
In Ben Rogers hayloft. He lets me, and so does his paps
nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water for Uncle Jake whenever he
wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a little
something to eat if he can spare it. Thats a mighty good nigger,
Tom. He likes me, becuz I dont ever act as if I was above him.
Sometime Ive set right down and eat WITH him. But you neednt
tell that. A bodys got to do things when hes awful hungry he
wouldnt want to do as a steady thing.
Well, if I dont want you in the daytime, Ill let you sleep.
I wont come bothering around. Any time you see somethings up,
in the night, just skip right around and maow.
CHAPTER XXIX
THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece
of newsJudge Thatchers family had come back to town the
night before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into
secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief
place in the boys interest. He saw her and they had an
exhausting good time playing hispy and gully-keeper with a
crowd of their schoolmates. The day was completed and crowned in
a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to
appoint the next day for the long-promised and long-delayed
picnic, and she consented. The childs delight was boundless; and
Toms not more moderate. The invitations were sent out before
sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were
thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation.
Toms excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late
hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Hucks maow, and of
having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with,
next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that
night.
Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven oclock a giddy
and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatchers, and
everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for
elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The
children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few
young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of
twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferry-boat was
chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the
main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to
miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last
thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was:
Youll not get back till late. Perhaps youd better stay all
night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing,
child.
Then Ill stay with Susy Harper, mamma.
Very well. And mind and behave yourself and dont be any
trouble.
Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky:
SayIll tell you what well do. Stead of going to Joe
Harpers well climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow
Douglas. Shell have ice-cream! She has it most every
daydead loads of it. And shell be awful glad to have
us.
Oh, that will be fun!
Then Becky reflected a moment and said:
But what will mamma say?
Howll she ever know?
The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said
reluctantly:
I reckon its wrongbut
But shucks! Your mother wont know, and so whats the harm?
All she wants is that youll be safe; and I bet you shed a
said go there if shed a thought of it. I know she would!
The Widow Douglas splendid hospitality was a tempting bait.
It and Toms persuasions presently carried the day. So it was
decided to say nothing anybody about the nights programme.
Presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very
night and give the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit
out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the
fun at Widow Douglas. And why should he give it up, he
reasonedthe signal did not come the night before, so why
should it be any more likely to come tonight? The sure fun of
the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he
determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow
himself to think of the box of money another time that day.
Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a
woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the
forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with
shoutings and laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and
tired were gone through with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled
back to camp fortified with responsible appetites, and then the
destruction of the good things began. After the feast there was a
refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading
oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted:
Whos ready for the cave?
Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and
straightway there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of
the cave was up the hillsidean opening shaped like a
letter A. Its massive oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a
small chamber, chilly as an icehouse, and walled by Nature with
solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It was romantic
and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon
the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of
the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The
moment a candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the
owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defence followed, but the
candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a
glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all things have an
end. By-and-by the procession went filing down the steep descent
of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing
the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction sixty
feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight or ten
feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower
crevices branched from it on either handfor McDougals
cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into
each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one
might wander days and nights together through its intricate
tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the cave;
and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the
earth, and it was just the samelabyrinth under labyrinth,
and no end to any of them. No man knew the cave. That was an
impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and
it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion.
Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as any one.
The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters
of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into
branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each
other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again.
Parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an
hour without going beyond the known ground.
By-and-by, one group after another came straggling back to the
mouth of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot
with tallow drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted
with the success of the day. Then they were astonished to find
that they had been taking no note of time and that night was
about at hand. The clanging bell had been calling for half an
hour. However, this sort of close to the days adventures was
romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat with her
wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for
the wasted time but the captain of the craft.
Huck was already upon his watch when the ferryboats lights
went glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the
young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who
are nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why
she did not stop at the wharfand then he dropped her out
of his mind and put his attention upon his business. The night
was growing cloudy and dark. Ten oclock came, and the noise of
vehicles ceased, scattered lights began to wink out, all
straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village betook itself
to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence
and the ghosts. Eleven oclock came, and the tavern lights were
put out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a
weary long time, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening.
Was there any use? Was there really any use? Why not give it up
and turn in?
A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant.
The alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the
brick store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one
seemed to have something under his arm. It must be that box! So
they were going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It
would be absurdthe men would get away with the box and
never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow
them; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery.
So communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along
behind the men, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep
just far enough ahead not to be invisible.
They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to
the left up a crossstreet. They went straight ahead, then, until
they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took.
They passed by the old Welshmans house, halfway up the hill,
without hesitating, and still climbed upward. Good, thought
Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry. But they never stopped
at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit. They plunged into
the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and were at once
hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance,
now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along
awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast;
moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound;
none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart.
The hooting of an owl came over the hillominous sound! But
no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to
spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four
feet from him! Hucks heart shot into his throat, but he
swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen
agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he
thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was.
He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow
Douglas grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there;
it wont be hard to find.
Now there was a voicea very low voiceInjun
Joes:
Damn her, maybe shes got companytheres lights, late
as it is.
I cant see any.
This was that strangers voicethe stranger of the
haunted house. A deadly chill went to Hucks heartthis,
then, was the revenge job! His thought was, to fly. Then he
remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than
once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he
dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didnt darethey
might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the
moment that elapsed between the strangers remark and Injun Joes
nextwhich was
Because the bush is in your way. Nowthis waynow
you see, dont you?
Yes. Well, there IS company there, I reckon. Better give it
up.
Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it
up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as Ive
told you before, I dont care for her swagyou may have it.
But her husband was rough on memany times he was rough on
meand mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged
me for a vagrant. And that aint all. It aint a millionth part
of it! He had me HORSEWHIPPED!horsewhipped in front of
the jail, like a nigger!with all the town looking on!
HORSEWHIPPED!do you understand? He took advantage of me
and died. But Ill take it out of HER.
Oh, dont kill her! Dont do that!
Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill HIM if he
was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman
you dont kill herbosh! you go for her looks. You slit
her nostrilsyou notch her ears like a sow!
By God, thats
Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you.
Ill tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my
fault? Ill not cry, if she does. My friend, youll help me in
this thingfor MY sakethats why youre
hereI mightnt be able alone. If you flinch, Ill kill
you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, Ill kill
herand then I reckon nobodyll ever know much about who
done this business.
Well, if its got to be done, lets get at it. The quicker
the betterIm all in a shiver.
Do it NOW? And company there? Look hereIll get
suspicious of you, first thing you know. Nowell wait till
the lights are outtheres no hurry.
Huck felt that a silence was going to ensuea thing
still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held
his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully
and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and
almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He
took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same
risks; then another and another, anda twig snapped under
his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no
soundthe stillness was perfect. His gratitude was
measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of
sumach bushesturned himself as carefully as if he were a
shipand then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he
emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his
nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the
Welshmans. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the
old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows.
Whats the row there? Whos banging? What do you want?
Let me inquick! Ill tell everything.
Why, who are you?
Huckleberry Finnquick, let me in!
Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It aint a name to open many doors,
I judge! But let him in, lads, and lets see whats the
trouble.
Please dont ever tell I told you, were Hucks first words
when he got in. Please dontId be killed, surebut
the widows been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to
tellI WILL tell if youll promise you wont ever say it
was me.
By George, he HAS got something to tell, or he wouldnt act
so! exclaimed the old man; out with it and nobody herell ever
tell, lad.
Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were
up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their
weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid
behind a great bowlder and fell to listening. There was a
lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an
explosion of firearms and a cry.
Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down
the hill as fast as his legs could carry him.
CHAPTER XXX
AS the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning,
Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old
Welshmans door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that
was set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of
the night. A call came from a window:
Whos there!
Hucks scared voice answered in a low tone:
Please let me in! Its only Huck Finn!
Its a name that can open this door night or day,
lad!and welcome!
These were strange words to the vagabond boys ears, and the
pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the
closing word had ever been applied in his case before. The door
was quickly unlocked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and
the old man and his brace of tall sons speedily dressed
themselves.
Now, my boy, I hope youre good and hungry, because breakfast
will be ready as soon as the suns up, and well have a piping
hot one, toomake yourself easy about that! I and the
boys hoped youd turn up and stop here last night.
I was awful scared, said Huck, and I run. I took out when
the pistols went off, and I didnt stop for three mile. Ive come
now becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before
daylight becuz I didnt want to run across them devils, even if
they was dead.
Well, poor chap, you do look as if youd had a hard night of
itbut theres a bed here for you when youve had your
breakfast. No, they aint dead, ladwe are sorry enough for
that. You see we knew right where to put our hands on them, by
your description; so we crept along on tiptoe till we got within
fifteen feet of themdark as a cellar that sumach path
wasand just then I found I was going to sneeze. It was the
meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back, but no
usetwas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead with my
pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels
a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, Fire boys! and
blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys.
But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them,
down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired
a shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and
didnt do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet
we quit chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables.
They got a posse together, and went off to guard the river bank,
and as soon as it is light the sheriff and a gang are going to
beat up the woods. My boys will be with them presently. I wish we
had some sort of description of those rascalstwould help
a good deal. But you couldnt see what they were like, in the
dark, lad, I suppose?
Oh yes; I saw them downtown and follered them.
Splendid! Describe themdescribe them, my boy!
Ones the old deaf and dumb Spaniard thats ben around here
once or twice, and tothers a mean-looking, ragged
Thats enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the
woods back of the widows one day, and they slunk away. Off with
you, boys, and tell the sheriffget your breakfast
tomorrow morning!
The Welshmans sons departed at once. As they were leaving the
room Huck sprang up and exclaimed:
Oh, please dont tell ANYbody it was me that blowed on them!
Oh, please!
All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the
credit of what you did.
Oh no, no! Please dont tell!
When the young men were gone, the old Welshman said:
They wont telland I wont. But why dont you want it
known?
Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already
knew too much about one of those men and would not have the man
know that he knew anything against him for the whole
worldhe would be killed for knowing it, sure.
The old man promised secrecy once more, and said:
How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they
looking suspicious?
Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he
said:
Well, you see, Im a kind of a hard lot,least
everybody says so, and I dont see nothing agin itand
sometimes I cant sleep much, on account of thinking about it
and sort of trying to strike out a new way of doing. That was the
way of it last night. I couldnt sleep, and so I come along
upstreet bout midnight, a-turning it all over, and when I got
to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance Tavern, I
backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just then
along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with
something under their arm, and I reckoned theyd stole it. One
was a-smoking, and tother one wanted a light; so they stopped
right before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that
the big one was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers
and the patch on his eye, and tother one was a rusty,
ragged-looking devil.
Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?
This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said:
Well, I dont knowbut somehow it seems as if I
did.
Then they went on, and you
Follered emyes. That was it. I wanted to see what was
upthey sneaked along so. I dogged em to the widders
stile, and stood in the dark and heard the ragged one beg for the
widder, and the Spaniard swear hed spile her looks just as I
told you and your two
What! The DEAF AND DUMB man said all that!
Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best
to keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the
Spaniard might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get
him into trouble in spite of all he could do. He made several
efforts to creep out of his scrape, but the old mans eye was
upon him and he made blunder after blunder. Presently the
Welshman said:
My boy, dont be afraid of me. I wouldnt hurt a hair of your
head for all the world. NoId protect youId
protect you. This Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; youve let that
slip without intending it; you cant cover that up now. You know
something about that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now
trust metell me what it is, and trust meI wont
betray you.
Huck looked into the old mans honest eyes a moment, then bent
over and whispered in his ear:
Taint a Spaniardits Injun Joe!
The Welshman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he
said:
Its all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching
ears and slitting noses I judged that that was your own
embellishment, because white men dont take that sort of revenge.
But an Injun! Thats a different matter altogether.
During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the
old man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done,
before going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile
and its vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but
captured a bulky bundle of
Of WHAT?
If the words had been lightning they could not have leaped
with a more stunning suddenness from Hucks blanched lips. His
eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath
suspendedwaiting for the answer. The Welshman
startedstared in returnthree secondsfive
secondstenthen replied:
Of burglars tools. Why, whats the MATTER with you?
Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably
grateful. The Welshman eyed him gravely, curiouslyand
presently said:
Yes, burglars tools. That appears to relieve you a good
deal. But what did give you that turn? What were YOU expecting
wed found?
Huck was in a close placethe inquiring eye was upon
himhe would have given anything for material for a
plausible answernothing suggested itselfthe
inquiring eye was boring deeper and deepera senseless
reply offeredthere was no time to weigh it, so at a
venture he uttered itfeebly:
Sunday-school books, maybe.
Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed
loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head
to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in
a-mans pocket, because it cut down the doctors bill like
everything. Then he added:
Poor old chap, youre white and jadedyou aint well a
bitno wonder youre a little flighty and off your balance.
But youll come out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all
right, I hope.
Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and
betrayed such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the
idea that the parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as
soon as he had heard the talk at the widows stile. He had only
thought it was not the treasure, howeverhe had not known
that it wasntand so the suggestion of a captured bundle
was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole he felt
glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all
question that that bundle was not THE bundle, and so his mind was
at rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed
to be drifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure
must be still in No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that
day, and he and Tom could seize the gold that night without any
trouble or any fear of interruption.
Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door.
Huck jumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be
connected even remotely with the late event. The Welshman
admitted several ladies and gentlemen, among them the Widow
Douglas, and noticed that groups of citizens were climbing up the
hillto stare at the stile. So the news had spread. The
Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The
widows gratitude for her preservation was outspoken.
Dont say a word about it, madam. Theres another that youre
more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he
dont allow me to tell his name. We wouldnt have been there but
for him.
Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost
belittled the main matterbut the Welshman allowed it to
eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be
transmitted to the whole town, for he refused to part with his
secret. When all else had been learned, the widow said:
I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all
that noise. Why didnt you come and wake me?
We judged it warnt worth while. Those fellows warnt likely
to come againthey hadnt any tools left to work with, and
what was the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My
three negro men stood guard at your house all the rest of the
night. Theyve just come back.
More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold
for a couple of hours more.
There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but
everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well
canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been
yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatchers
wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle
with the crowd and said:
Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she
would be tired to death.
Your Becky?
Yes, with a startled lookdidnt she stay with you
last night?
Why, no.
Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt
Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly
said:
Goodmorning, Mrs. Thatcher. Goodmorning, Mrs. Harper. Ive
got a boy thats turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at
your house last nightone of you. And now hes afraid to
come to church. Ive got to settle with him.
Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than
ever.
He didnt stay with us, said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look
uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt Pollys face.
Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?
Nom.
When did you see him last?
Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The
people had stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along,
and a boding uneasiness took possession of every countenance.
Children were anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They
all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board
the ferryboat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought
of inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally
blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave! Mrs.
Thatcher swooned away. Aunt Polly fell to crying and wringing her
hands.
The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from
street to street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly
clanging and the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank
into instant insignificance, the burglars were forgotten,
horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferryboat ordered
out, and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men
were pouring down highroad and river toward the cave.
All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many
women visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort
them. They cried with them, too, and that was still better than
words. All the tedious night the town waited for news; but when
the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was, Send
more candlesand send food. Mrs. Thatcher was almost
crazed; and Aunt Polly, also. Judge Thatcher sent messages of
hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed no real
cheer.
The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with
candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found
Huck still in the bed that had been provided for him, and
delirious with fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the
Widow Douglas came and took charge of the patient. She said she
would do her best by him, because, whether he was good, bad, or
indifferent, he was the Lords, and nothing that was the Lords
was a thing to be neglected. The Welshman said Huck had good
spots in him, and the widow said:
You can depend on it. Thats the Lords mark. He dont leave
it off. He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that
comes from his hands.
Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle
into the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued
searching. All the news that could be gained was that
remotenesses of the cavern were being ransacked that had never
been visited before; that every corner and crevice was going to
be thoroughly searched; that wherever one wandered through the
maze of passages, lights were to be seen flitting hither and
thither in the distance, and shoutings and pistol-shots sent
their hollow reverberations to the ear down the sombre aisles. In
one place, far from the section usually traversed by tourists,
the names BECKY & TOM had been found traced upon the rocky
wall with candle-smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of
ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it.
She said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child;
and that no other memorial of her could ever be so precious,
because this one parted latest from the living body before the
awful death came. Some said that now and then, in the cave, a
far-away speck of light would glimmer, and then a glorious shout
would burst forth and a score of men go trooping down the echoing
aisleand then a sickening disappointment always followed;
the children were not there; it was only a searchers light.
Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours
along, and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had
heart for anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that
the proprietor of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his
premises, scarcely fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the
fact was. In a lucid interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject
of taverns, and finally askeddimly dreading the
worstif anything had been discovered at the Temperance
Tavern since he had been ill.
Yes, said the widow.
Huck started up in bed, wildeyed:
What? What was it?
Liquor!and the place has been shut up. Lie down,
childwhat a turn you did give me!
Only tell me just one thingonly just oneplease!
Was it Tom Sawyer that found it?
The widow burst into tears. Hush, hush, child, hush! Ive
told you before, you must NOT talk. You are very, very sick!
Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been
a great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone
forevergone forever! But what could she be crying about?
Curious that she should cry.
These thoughts worked their dim way through Hucks mind, and
under the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said
to herself:
Therehes asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! Pity
but somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there aint many left,
now, thats got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on
searching.
CHAPTER XXXI
NOW to return to Tom and Beckys share in the picnic. They
tripped along the murky aisles with the rest of the company,
visiting the familiar wonders of the cavewonders dubbed
with rather over-descriptive names, such as The Drawing-Room,
The Cathedral, Aladdins Palace, and so on. Presently the
hide-and-seek frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it
with zeal until the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome;
then they wandered down a sinuous avenue holding their candles
aloft and reading the tangled webwork of names, dates, postoffice
addresses, and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been
frescoed (in candle-smoke). Still drifting along and talking,
they scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of the cave
whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names under
an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came to a place
where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and
carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging
ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and
imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in
order to illuminate it for Beckys gratification. He found that
it curtained a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed
between narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a
discoverer seized him.
Becky responded to his call, and they made
a smoke-mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest.
They wound this way and that, far down into the secret depths of
the cave, made another mark, and branched off in search of
novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place they found
a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a multitude of
shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a mans
leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and
presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened
into it. This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose
basin was incrusted with a frostwork of glittering crystals; it
was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many
fantastic pillars which had been formed by the joining of great
stalactites and stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless
water-drip of centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had
packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch; the lights
disturbed the creatures and they came flocking down by hundreds,
squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their
ways and the danger of this sort of conduct. He seized Beckys
hand and hurried her into the first corridor that offered; and
none too soon, for a bat struck Beckys light out with its wing
while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats chased the
children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged into every
new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous
things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which stretched
its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows. He
wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be
best to sit down and rest awhile, first. Now, for the first time,
the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the
spirits of the children. Becky said:
Why, I didnt notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard
any of the others.
Come to think, Becky, we are away down below themand I
dont know how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it
is. We couldnt hear them here.
Becky grew apprehensive.
I wonder how long weve been down here, Tom? We better start
back.
Yes, I reckon we better. Praps we better.
Can you find the way, Tom? Its all a mixed-up crookedness to
me.
I reckon I could find itbut then the bats. If they put
our candles out it will be an awful fix. Lets try some other
way, so as not to go through there.
Well. But I hope we wont get lost. It would be so awful!
and the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful
possibilities.
They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a
long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was
anything familiar about the look of it; but they were all
strange. Every time Tom made an examination, Becky would watch
his face for an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily:
Oh, its all right. This aint the one, but well come to it
right away!
But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and
presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer
random, in desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He
still said it was all right, but there was such a leaden dread
at his heart that the words had lost their ring and sounded just
as if he had said, All is lost! Becky clung to his side in an
anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they
would come. At last she said:
Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, lets go back that way! We seem
to get worse and worse off all the time.
Listen! said he.
Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings
were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing
down the empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint
sound that resembled a ripple of mocking laughter.
Oh, dont do it again, Tom, it is too horrid, said
Becky.
It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you
know, and he shouted again.
The might was even a chillier horror than the ghostly
laughter, it so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood
still and listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the
back track at once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little
while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed
another fearful fact to Beckyhe could not find his way
back!
Oh, Tom, you didnt make any marks!
Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we
might want to come back! NoI cant find the way. Its all
mixed up.
Tom, Tom, were lost! were lost! We never can get out of
this awful place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others!
She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying
that Tom was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose
her reason. He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she
buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out
her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far echoes turned
them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck up hope
again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming and abusing
himself for getting her into this miserable situation; this had a
better effect. She said she would try to hope again, she would
get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he would not
talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than she,
she said.
So they moved on againaimlesslysimply at
randomall they could do was to move, keep moving. For a
little while, hope made a show of revivingnot with any
reason to back it, but only because it is its nature to revive
when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and
familiarity with failure.
By-and-by Tom took Beckys candle and blew it out. This
economy meant so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood,
and her hope died again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and
three or four pieces in his pocketsyet he must
economize.
By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children
tried to pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting
down when time was grown to be so precious, moving, in some
direction, in any direction, was at least progress and might bear
fruit; but to sit down was to invite death and shorten its
pursuit.
At last Beckys frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She
sat down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the
friends there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the
light! Becky cried, and Tom tried to think of some way of
comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown
thread-bare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so
heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was
grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow
smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and
by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face
reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and
his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories.
While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy
little laughbut it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a
groan followed it.
Oh, how COULD I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No!
No, I dont, Tom! Dont look so! I wont say it again.
Im glad youve slept, Becky; youll feel rested, now, and
well find the way out.
We can try, Tom; but Ive seen such a beautiful country in my
dream. I reckon we are going there.
Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and lets go on
trying.
They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless.
They tried to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but
all they knew was that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was
plain that this could not be, for their candles were not gone
yet. A long time after thisthey could not tell how
longTom said they must go softly and listen for dripping
waterthey must find a spring. They found one presently,
and Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired,
yet Becky said she thought she could go a little farther. She was
surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They
sat down, and Tom fastened his candle to the wall in front of
them with some clay. Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for
some time. Then Becky broke the silence:
Tom, I am so hungry!
Tom took something out of his pocket.
Do you remember this? said he.
Becky almost smiled.
Its our wedding-cake, Tom.
YesI wish it was as big as a barrel, for its all
weve got.
I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way
grownup people do with wedding-cakebut itll be
our
She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake
and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his
moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast
with. By-and-by Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was
silent a moment. Then he said:
Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something?
Beckys face paled, but she thought she could.
Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where theres water to
drink. That little piece is our last candle!
Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could
to comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said:
Tom!
Well, Becky?
Theyll miss us and hunt for us!
Yes, they will! Certainly they will!
Maybe theyre hunting for us now, Tom.
Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are.
When would they miss us, Tom?
When they get back to the boat, I reckon.
Tom, it might be dark thenwould they notice we hadnt
come?
I dont know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon
as they got home.
A frightened look in Beckys face brought Tom to his senses
and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone
home that night! The children became silent and thoughtful. In a
moment a new burst of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing
in his mind had struck hers alsothat the Sabbath morning
might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discovered that Becky
was not at Mrs. Harpers.
The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and
watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of
wick stand alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall,
climb the thin column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and
thenthe horror of utter darkness reigned!
How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow
consciousness that she was crying in Toms arms, neither could
tell. All that they knew was, that after what seemed a mighty
stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and
resumed their miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday,
nowmaybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but her
sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said
that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search
was going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He
tried it; but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so
hideously that he tried it no more.
The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the
captives again. A portion of Toms half of the cake was left;
they divided and ate it. But they seemed hungrier than before.
The poor morsel of food only whetted desire.
By-and-by Tom said:
SH! Did you hear that?
Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like
the faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and
leading Becky by the hand, started groping down the corridor in
its direction. Presently he listened again; again the sound was
heard, and apparently a little nearer.
Its them! said Tom; theyre coming! Come along,
Beckywere all right now!
The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed
was slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had
to be guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop.
It might be three feet deep, it might be a hundredthere
was no passing it at any rate. Tom got down on his breast and
reached as far down as he could. No bottom. They must stay there
and wait until the searchers came. They listened; evidently the
distant shoutings were growing more distant! a moment or two more
and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking misery of it! Tom
whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He talked
hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no
sounds came again.
The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary
time dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and
woe-stricken. Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time.
Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at
hand. It would be better to explore some of these than bear the
weight of the heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from
his pocket, tied it to a projection, and he and Becky started,
Tom in the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At the
end of twenty steps the corridor ended in a jumping-off place.
Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and then as far around
the corner as he could reach with his hands conveniently; he made
an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and at
that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a
candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious
shout, and instantly that hand was followed by the body it
belonged toInjun Joes! Tom was paralyzed; he could not
move. He was vastly gratified the next moment, to see the
Spaniard take to his heels and get himself out of sight. Tom
wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and
killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have
disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he reasoned.
Toms fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to
himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring
he would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk
of meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky
what it was he had seen. He told her he had only shouted for
luck.
But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long
run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep
brought changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging
hunger. Tom believed that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or
even Friday or Saturday, now, and that the search had been given
over. He proposed to explore another passage. He felt willing to
risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak.
She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused. She
said she would wait, now, where she was, and dieit would
not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if
he chose; but she implored him to come back every little while
and speak to her; and she made him promise that when the awful
time came, he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was
over.
Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and
made a show of being confident of finding the searchers or an
escape from the cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and
went groping down one of the passages on his hands and knees,
distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming doom.
Part 8
CHAPTER XXXII
TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village
of St. Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been
found. Public prayers had been offered up for them, and many and
many a private prayer that had the petitioners whole heart in
it; but still no good news came from the cave. The majority of
the searchers had given up the quest and gone back to their daily
avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be
found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time
delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her
child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute at a time,
then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had
drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown
almost white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad
and forlorn.
Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the
village bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with
frantic half-clad people, who shouted, Turn out! turn out!
theyre found! theyre found! Tin pans and horns were added to
the din, the population massed itself and moved toward the
river, met the children coming in an open carriage drawn by
shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward
march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah
after huzzah!
The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was
the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the
first half-hour a procession of villagers filed through Judge
Thatchers house, seized the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed
Mrs. Thatchers hand, tried to speak but couldntand
drifted out raining tears all over the place.
Aunt Pollys happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatchers
nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the
messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get
the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager
auditory about him and told the history of the wonderful
adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it withal;
and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on an
exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his
kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest
stretch of the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he
glimpsed a far-off speck that looked like daylight; dropped the
line and groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through
a small hole, and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by!
And if it
had only happened to be night he would not have seen that speck
of daylight and would not have explored that passage any more! He
told how he went back for Becky and broke the good news and she
told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was tired, and
knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he
labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for
joy when she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck
of daylight; how he pushed his way out at the hole and then
helped her out; how they sat there and cried for gladness; how
some men came along in a skiff and Tom hailed them and told them
their situation and their famished condition; how the men didnt
believe the wild tale at first, because, said they, you are
five miles down the river below the valley the cave is
inthen took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made
them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought
them home.
Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers
with him were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they
had strung behind them, and informed of the great news.
Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not
to be shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They
were bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow
more and more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a
little, on Thursday, was downtown Friday, and nearly as whole as
ever Saturday; but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and
then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting
illness.
Tom learned of Hucks sickness and went to see him on Friday,
but could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on
Saturday or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was
warned to keep still about his adventure and introduce no
exciting topic. The Widow Douglas stayed by to see that he
obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event; also that
the ragged mans body had eventually been found in the river
near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying to
escape, perhaps.
About a fortnight after Toms rescue from the cave, he started
off to visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to
hear exciting talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he
thought. Judge Thatchers house was on Toms way, and he stopped
to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and
some one asked him ironically if he wouldnt like to go to the
cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldnt mind it. The Judge
said:
Well, there are others just like you, Tom, Ive not the least
doubt. But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in
that cave any more.
Why?
Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two
weeks ago, and triple-lockedand Ive got the keys.
Tom turned as white as a sheet.
Whats the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of
water!
The water was brought and thrown into Toms face.
Ah, now youre all right. What was the matter with you,
Tom?
Oh, Judge, Injun Joes in the cave!
CHAPTER XXXIII
WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen
skiff-loads of men were on their way to McDougals cave, and the
ferryboat, well filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom
Sawyer was in the skiff that bore Judge Thatcher.
When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented
itself in the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched
upon the ground, dead, with his face close to the crack of the
door, as if his longing eyes had been fixed, to the latest
moment, upon the light and the cheer of the free world outside.
Tom was touched, for he knew by his own experience how this
wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but nevertheless he felt
an abounding sense of relief and security, now, which revealed to
him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated before how
vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day he
lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast.
Injun Joes bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two.
The great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked
through, with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the
native rock formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn
material the knife had wrought no effect; the only damage done
was to the knife itself. But if there had been no stony
obstruction there the labor would have been useless still, for if
the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could not have
squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had only
hacked that place in order to be doing somethingin order
to pass the weary timein order to employ his tortured
faculties. Ordinarily one could find half a dozen bits of candle
stuck around in the crevices of this vestibule, left there by
tourists; but there were none now. The prisoner had searched them
out and eaten them. He had also contrived to catch a few bats,
and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their claws. The poor
unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at hand, a
stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages,
builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive
had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a
stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the
precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the
dreary regularity of a clock-ticka dessertspoonful once in
four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids
were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid
when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British
empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was
news.
It is falling now; it will still be falling when all
these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and
the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick
night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did
this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready
for this flitting human insects need? and has it another
important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No
matter. It is many and many a year since the hapless half-breed
scooped out the stone to catch the priceless drops, but to this
day the tourist stares longest at that pathetic stone and that
slow-dropping water when he comes to see the wonders of
McDougals cave. Injun Joes cup stands first in the list of the
caverns marvels; even Aladdins Palace cannot rival it.
Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people
flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the
farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their
children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they
had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they
could have had at the hanging.
This funeral stopped the further growth of one thingthe
petition to the governor for Injun Joes pardon. The petition had
been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been
held, and a committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep
mourning and wail around the governor, and implore him to be a
merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was
believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of
that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty
of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition,
and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky
water-works.
The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place
to have an important talk. Huck had learned all about Toms
adventure from the Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time,
but Tom said he reckoned there was one thing they had not told
him; that thing was what he wanted to talk about now. Hucks face
saddened. He said:
I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found
anything but whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just
knowed it must a ben you, soon as I heard bout that whiskey
business; and I knowed you hadnt got the money becuz youd a
got at me some way or other and told me even if you was mum to
everybody else. Tom, somethings always told me wed never get
holt of that swag.
Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his
tavern was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Dont you
remember you was to watch there that night?
Oh yes! Why, it seems bout a year ago. It was that very
night that I follered Injun Joe to the widders.
YOU followed him?
Yesbut you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joes left friends
behind him, and I dont want em souring on me and doing me mean
tricks. If it hadnt ben for me hed be down in Texas now, all
right.
Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who
had only heard of the Welshmans part of it before.
Well, said Huck, presently, coming back to the main
question, whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money,
too, I reckonanyways its a goner for us, Tom.
Huck, that money wasnt ever in No. 2!
What! Huck searched his comrades face keenly. Tom, have
you got on the track of that money again?
Huck, its in the cave!
Hucks eyes blazed.
Say it again, Tom.
The moneys in the cave!
Tomhonest injun, nowis it fun, or earnest?
Earnest, Huckjust as earnest as ever I was in my life.
Will you go in there with me and help get it out?
I bet I will! I will if its where we can blaze our way to it
and not get lost.
Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble
in the world.
Good as wheat! What makes you think the moneys
Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we dont find it
Ill agree to give you my drum and every thing Ive got in the
world. I will, by jings.
All rightits a whiz. When do you say?
Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?
Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or
four days, now, but I cant walk moren a mile, Tomleast I
dont think I could.
Its about five mile into there the way anybody but me would
go, Huck, but theres a mighty short cut that they dont anybody
but me know about. Huck, Ill take you right to it in a skiff.
Ill float the skiff down there, and Ill pull it back again all
by myself. You neednt ever turn your hand over.
Less start right off, Tom.
All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a
little bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of
these new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you,
manys the time I wished I had some when I was in there
before.
A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a
citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were
several miles below Cave Hollow, Tom said:
Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down
from the cave hollowno houses, no wood-yards, bushes all
alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where theres
been a landslide? Well, thats one of my marks. Well get ashore,
now.
They landed.
Now, Huck, where were a-standing you could touch that hole I
got out of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it.
Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom
proudly marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said:
Here you are! Look at it, Huck; its the snuggest hole in
this country. You just keep mum about it. All along Ive been
wanting to be a robber, but I knew Id got to have a thing like
this, and where to run across it was the bother. Weve got it
now, and well keep it quiet, only well let Joe Harper and Ben
Rogers inbecause of course theres got to be a Gang, or
else there wouldnt be any style about it. Tom Sawyers
Gangit sounds splendid, dont it, Huck?
Well, it just does, Tom. And wholl we rob?
Oh, most anybody. Waylay peoplethats mostly the
way.
And kill them?
No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a
ransom.
Whats a ransom?
Money. You make them raise all they can, offn their friends;
and after youve kept them a year, if it aint raised then you
kill them. Thats the general way. Only you dont kill the women.
You shut up the women, but you dont kill them. Theyre always
beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches
and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite.
They aint anybody as polite as robbersyoull see that in
any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after theyve
been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after
that you couldnt get them to leave. If you drove them out theyd
turn right around and come back. Its so in all the books.
Why, its real bully, Tom. I believe its bettern to be a
pirate.
Yes, its better in some ways, because its close to home and
circuses and all that.
By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the
hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end
of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite-strings fast and
moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a
shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of
candle-wick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and
described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and
expire.
The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the
stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They
went on, and presently entered and followed Toms other corridor
until they reached the jumping-off place. The candles revealed
the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep
clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered:
Now Ill show you something, Huck.
He held his candle aloft and said:
Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that?
Thereon the big rock over yonderdone with
candle-smoke.
Tom, its a CROSS!
NOW wheres your Number Two? UNDER THE CROSS, hey? Right
yonders where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!
Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a
shaky voice:
Tom, less git out of here!
What! and leave the treasure?
Yesleave it. Injun Joes ghost is round about there,
certain.
No it aint, Huck, no it aint. It would hant the place
where he diedaway out at the mouth of the cavefive
mile from here.
No, Tom, it wouldnt. It would hang round the money. I know
the ways of ghosts, and so do you.
Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Mis-givings gathered in
his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him
Lookyhere, Huck, what fools were making of ourselves! Injun
Joes ghost aint a going to come around where theres a
cross!
The point was well taken. It had its effect.
Tom, I didnt think of that. But thats so. Its luck for us,
that cross is. I reckon well climb down there and have a hunt
for that box.
Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he
descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small
cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of
them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest
the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in
it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed
bones of two or three fowls. But there was no moneybox. The lads
searched and researched this place, but in vain. Tom said:
He said UNDER the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being
under the cross. It cant be under the rock itself, because that
sets solid on the ground.
They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down
discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said:
Lookyhere, Huck, theres footprints and some candle-grease
on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other
sides. Now, whats that for? I bet you the money IS under the
rock. Im going to dig in the clay.
That aint no bad notion, Tom! said Huck with animation.
Toms real Barlow was out at once, and he had not dug four
inches before he struck wood.
Hey, Huck!you hear that?
Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon
uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which
led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far
under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end
of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under;
the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding
course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels.
Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and exclaimed:
My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!
It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little
cavern, along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in
leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather
belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the water-drip.
Got it at last! said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished
coins with his hand. My, but were rich, Tom!
Huck, I always reckoned wed get it. Its just too good to
believe, but we HAVE got it, sure! Saylets not fool
around here. Lets snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the
box.
It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an
awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently.
I thought so, he said; THEY carried it like it was heavy,
that day at the hanted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was
right to think of fetching the little bags along.
The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the
cross rock.
Now less fetch the guns and things, said Huck.
No, Huckleave them there. Theyre just the tricks to
have when we go to robbing. Well keep them there all the time,
and well hold our orgies there, too. Its an awful snug place
for orgies.
What orgies?
I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course weve
got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, weve been in here a
long time. Its getting late, I reckon. Im hungry, too. Well
eat and smoke when we get to the skiff.
They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked
warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and
smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they
pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through
the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed
shortly after dark.
Now, Huck, said Tom, well hide the money in the loft of
the widows woodshed, and Ill come up in the morning and well
count it and divide, and then well hunt up a place out in the
woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and
watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylors little wagon;
I wont be gone a minute.
He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the
two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and
started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached
the Welshmans house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were
about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said:
Hallo, whos that?
Huck and Tom Sawyer.
Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody
waiting. Herehurry up, trot aheadIll haul the
wagon for you. Why, its not as light as it might be. Got bricks
in it?or old metal?
Old metal, said Tom.
I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and
fool away more time hunting up six bits worth of old iron to
sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at
regular work. But thats human naturehurry along, hurry
along!
The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about.
Never mind; youll see, when we get to the Widow
Douglas.
Huck said with some apprehensionfor he was long used to
being falsely accused:
Mr. Jones, we havent been doing nothing.
The Welshman laughed.
Well, I dont know, Huck, my boy. I dont know about that.
Aint you and the widow good friends?
Yes. Well, shes ben good friends to me, anyway.
All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?
This question was not entirely answered in Hucks slow mind
before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs.
Douglas drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and
followed.
The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any
consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there,
the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister,
the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best.
The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well
receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and
candle-grease. Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and
frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much
as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said:
Tom wasnt at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on
him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along
in a hurry.
And you did just right, said the widow. Come with me,
boys.
She took them to a bedchamber and said:
Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of
clothesshirts, socks, everything complete. Theyre
Hucksno, no thanks, HuckMr. Jones bought one and I
the other. But theyll fit both of you. Get into them. Well
waitcome down when you are slicked up enough.
Then she left.
CHAPTER XXXIV
HUCK said: Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The
window aint high from the ground.
Shucks! what do you want to slope for?
Well, I aint used to that kind of a crowd. I cant stand it.
I aint going down there, Tom.
Oh, bother! It aint anything. I dont mind it a bit. Ill
take care of you.
Sid appeared.
Tom, said he, auntie has been waiting for you all the
afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybodys
been fretting about you. Sayaint this grease and clay, on
your clothes?
Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist tend to your own business. Whats
all this blowout about, anyway?
Its one of the widows parties that shes always having.
This time its for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that
scrape they helped her out of the other night. And sayI
can tell you something, if you want to know.
Well, what?
Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on
the people here tonight, but I overheard him tell auntie today
about it, as a secret, but I reckon its not much of a secret
now. Everybody knowsthe widow, too, for all she tries to
let on she dont. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be
herecouldnt get along with his grand secret without Huck,
you know!
Secret about what, Sid?
About Huck tracking the robbers to the widows. I reckon Mr.
Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet
you it will drop pretty flat.
Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way.
Sid, was it you that told?
Oh, never mind who it was. SOMEBODY toldthats
enough.
Sid, theres only one person in this town mean enough to do
that, and thats you. If you had been in Hucks place youd a
sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You
cant do any but mean things, and you cant bear to see anybody
praised for doing good ones. Thereno thanks, as the widow
saysand Tom cuffed Sids ears and helped him to the door
with several kicks. Now go and tell auntie if you dareand
tomorrow youll catch it!
Some minutes later the widows guests were at the
supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little
side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country
and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little
speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing
himself and his sons, but said that there was another person
whose modesty
And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Hucks
share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was
master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit
and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under
happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show
of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much
gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable
discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable
discomfort of being set up as a target for everybodys gaze and
everybodys laudations.
The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof
and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money
she would start him in business in a modest way. Toms chance was
come. He said:
Huck dont need it. Hucks rich.
Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the
company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this
pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke
it:
Hucks got money. Maybe you dont believe it, but hes got
lots of it. Oh, you neednt smileI reckon I can show you.
You just wait a minute.
Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a
perplexed interestand inquiringly at Huck, who was
tongue-tied.
Sid, what ails Tom? said Aunt Polly. Hewell, there
aint ever any making of that boy out. I never
Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt
Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow
coin upon the table and said:
Therewhat did I tell you? Half of its Hucks and half
of its mine!
The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody
spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an
explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale
was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an
interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he
had finished, Mr. Jones said:
I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion,
but it dont amount to anything now. This one makes it sing
mighty small, Im willing to allow.
The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over
twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had
ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there
who were worth considerably more than that in property.
CHAPTER XXXV
THE reader may rest satisfied that Toms and Hucks windfall
made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. Petersburg.
So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It
was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of
many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy
excitement. Every haunted house in St. Petersburg and the
neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its
foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasureand
not by boys, but menpretty grave, unromantic men, too,
some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted,
admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that
their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings
were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow
to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power
of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past
history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous
originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of
the boys.
The Widow Douglas put Hucks money out at six per cent., and
Judge Thatcher did the same with Toms at Aunt Pollys request.
Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigiousa
dollar for every weekday in the year and half of the Sundays.
It was just what the minister gotno, it was what he was
promisedhe generally couldnt collect it. A dollar and a
quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old
simple daysand clothe him and wash him, too, for that
matter.
Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said
that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of
the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how
Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly
moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom
had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to
his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble,
a generous, a magnanimous liea lie that was worthy to
hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast
with George Washingtons lauded Truth about the hatchet! Becky
thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when
he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went
straight off and told Tom about it.
Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great
soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should
be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward
trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he
might be ready for either career or both.
Huck Finns wealth and the fact that he was now under the
Widow Douglas protection introduced him into societyno,
dragged him into it, hurled him into itand his sufferings
were almost more than he could bear. The widows servants kept
him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him
nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or
stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He
had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and
plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had
to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth;
whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization
shut him in and bound him hand and foot.
He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day
turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him
everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly
concerned; they searched high and low, they dragged the river for
his body. Early the third morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking
among some old empty hogsheads down behind the abandoned
slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. Huck
had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds
and ends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his
pipe. He was unkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of
rags that had made him picturesque in the days when he was free
and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the trouble he had been
causing, and urged him to go home. Hucks face lost its tranquil
content, and took a melancholy cast. He said:
Dont talk about it, Tom. Ive tried it, and it dont work;
it dont work, Tom. It aint for me; I aint used to it. The
widders good to me, and friendly; but I cant stand them ways.
She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she
makes me wash, they comb me all to thunder; she wont let me
sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them blamed clothes that
just smothers me, Tom; they dont seem to any air git through
em, somehow; and theyre so rotten nice that I cant set down,
nor lay down, nor roll around anywhers; I haint slid on a
cellar-door forwell, it pears to be years; I got to go to
church and sweat and sweatI hate them ornery sermons! I
cant ketch a fly in there, I cant chaw. I got to wear shoes all
Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she
gits up by a belleverythings so awful reglar a body
cant stand it.
Well, everybody does that way, Huck.
Tom, it dont make no difference. I aint everybody, and I
cant STAND it. Its awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too
easyI dont take no interest in vittles, that way. I got
to ask to go a-fishing; I got to ask to go in
a-swimmingdernd if I haint got to ask to do everything.
Well, Id got to talk so nice it wasnt no comfortId got
to go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a
taste in my mouth, or Id a died, Tom. The widder wouldnt let me
smoke; she wouldnt let me yell, she wouldnt let me gape, nor
stretch, nor scratch, before folks [Then with a spasm of
special irritation and injury]And dad fetch it, she
prayed all the time! I never see such a woman! I HAD to shove,
TomI just had to. And besides, that schools going to
open, and Id a had to go to itwell, I wouldnt stand
THAT, Tom. Looky-here, Tom, being rich aint what its cracked up
to be. Its just worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and
a-wishing you was dead all the time. Now these clothes suits me,
and this barl suits me, and I aint ever going to shake em any
more. Tom, I wouldnt ever got into all this trouble if it hadnt
a ben for that money; now you just take my sheer of it along
with yourn, and gimme a ten-center sometimesnot many
times, becuz I dont give a dern for a thing thout its tollable
hard to gitand you go and beg off for me with the
widder.
Oh, Huck, you know I cant do that. Taint fair; and besides
if youll try this thing just a while longer youll come to like
it.
Like it! Yesthe way Id like a hot stove if I was to
set on it long enough. No, Tom, I wont be rich, and I wont live
in them cussed smothery houses. I like the woods, and the river,
and hogsheads, and Ill stick to em, too. Blame it all! just as
wed got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this
dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!
Tom saw his opportunity
Lookyhere, Huck, being rich aint going to keep me back from
turning robber.
No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest,
Tom?
Just as dead earnest as Im sitting here. But Huck, we cant
let you into the gang if you aint respectable, you know.
Hucks joy was quenched.
Cant let me in, Tom? Didnt you let me go for a pirate?
Yes, but thats different. A robber is more high-toned than
what a pirate isas a general thing. In most countries
theyre awful high up in the nobilitydukes and such.
Now, Tom, haint you always ben friendly to me? You wouldnt
shet me out, would you, Tom? You wouldnt do that, now, WOULD
you, Tom?
Huck, I wouldnt want to, and I DONT want tobut what
would people say? Why, theyd say, Mph! Tom Sawyers Gang!
pretty low characters in it! Theyd mean you, Huck. You wouldnt
like that, and I wouldnt.
Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle.
Finally he said:
Well, Ill go back to the widder for a month and tackle it
and see if I can come to stand it, if youll let me blong to the
gang, Tom.
All right, Huck, its a whiz! Come along, old chap, and Ill
ask the widow to let up on you a little, Huck.
Will you, Tomnow will you? Thats good. If shell let
up on some of the roughest things, Ill smoke private and cuss
private, and crowd through or bust. When you going to start the
gang and turn robbers?
Oh, right off. Well get the boys together and have the
initiation tonight, maybe.
Have the which?
Have the initiation.
Whats that?
Its to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the
gangs secrets, even if youre chopped all to flinders, and kill
anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang.
Thats gaythats mighty gay, Tom, I tell you.
Well, I bet it is. And all that swearings got to be done at
midnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can finda
hanted house is the best, but theyre all ripped up now.
Well, midnights good, anyway, Tom.
Yes, so it is. And youve got to swear on a coffin, and sign
it with blood.
Now, thats something LIKE! Why, its a million times bullier
than pirating. Ill stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I
git to be a reglar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking
bout it, I reckon shell be proud she snaked me in out of the
wet.
CONCLUSION
SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a
BOY, it must stop here; the story could not go much further
without becoming the history of a MAN. When one writes a novel
about grown people, he knows exactly where to stopthat is,
with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop
where he best can.
Most of the characters that perform in this book still live,
and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to
take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of
men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest
not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present.
THE END
355 W Olive Avenue, Suite 207, Sunnyvale, CA 94086 | 408-738-8384
| info@improveyourenglish.com
Copyright 2003-2010, Improve Your English. All rights reserved.
|